Chapter Four

She was seated at the table when Daryl walked in, Andre in a highchair next to her. She waved and she knew she had a smile on her face. Daryl shook his head and walked toward them.

"Little man," he grunted at Andre.

His face lit up. "Hi," he said and waved.

Daryl raised his eyebrows and looked at her. "You scared him a few times. He's shy with new people," she explained.

He hunched his shoulders. "Sorry," he muttered.

"It's fine, Daryl. What I was telling you…" she trailed off.

"Yeah. Crazy."

The waiter approached their table. He was another young man she could tell wouldn't make it. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Sweet tea?" she requested.

He frowned. "This flu…our deliveries…they've been behind."

"Oh. That's alright. Soda? A Coke? And if you have some sort of juice. For my son."

"Medium or large?"

"Large for the soda and small for my son," she said. The boy looked at Daryl.

"Same."

"Did you want to look at the menu or did you want to order now?" he asked.

"I know what I want. Daryl?"

"Whatever you're havin'. I'm takin' the leftovers."

Michonne chuckled. "I'd like an extra-large pepperoni with some breadsticks for my son. Did you want anything else?" she asked Daryl.

"Don't know where the hell you're puttin' all that food," he grumbled again. "Nah," he told the waiter. "That's fine."

"Alright. I'll put your order and bring your drinks out," he responded with a smile and left the table.

She pulled a list out of her purse, along with Andre's sippy cup. "Here," she said and pushed it over. "Pick one. I'll get you plane and hotel reservations."

Daryl seemed to bristle at that but took the list. "Colorado?"

"Yes. Along the Rockies."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "That where you're going?"

"Nice try, Detective," she teased again.

"Shut up," he told her. "Why there?"

"Walkers aren't coordinated. I also put some islands on there. If you clear them and find fresh water, find seeds, you won't need to put up fences or walls."

"Clear them?" he asked.

"What we called making sure no walkers or people were in homes or businesses," she explained.

"Merle'll want his bike. So will I."

"Then I'll make hotel reservations. It'll take you a few days to get there. The place will, hopefully, be closed with no people."

"The walkers? Aren't they people?" he practically whispered.

"They're dead, Daryl. They're not coordinated. When they first turn, they're fast. As they got 'older', I guess would be the word, they slowed down. I've seen just heads snapping away."

"What the fuck?" he whisper-yelled.

"Hm mm. Some fall over and crawl on their arms."

"Fuck," he hissed.

"They're always hungry so they're dangerous. They don't walk like we do. It's almost like they have a limp or something. With the uneven terrain in the mountains, it might be a good place."

"Colorado?"

"I did put a few towns along the Appalachian Trail in Georgia if you and Merle wanted to stay close. Why would you want to do that?" She shrugged. "Oh, they don't swim but they don't need to breathe so you'll have to be careful in water."

"Son of a bitch," he bit out.

The drinks were brought out before Michonne could say anymore crazy, gross shit about 'walkers'. Damn, those things sounded scary.

"You…put any down?"

"Yes."

"Did you kill any," he looked around and noticed it was practically empty. "Living people?" he whispered.

"My share."

He believed her about killin' people for some dumbass reason. He noticed her boy was looking at him while he drank what was in his cup. Daryl was gonna regret askin' but he was gonna do it anyway. He…kinda liked the crazy woman. She didn't treat him like he was garbage.

"The boy's father?"

"Who?" Michonne asked.

He took a drink of his Coke and left that alone. "The girl. Sophia?"

She let out a breath and took a sip of her drink. "That one…We had to make difficult choices last time, Daryl. Difficult choices. I never met the girl, and I didn't particularly care for her mother, but at the same time, I could sympathize with Carol. On the other hand, it…doesn't seem real. Like I dreamed it or something." She looked at her son then kissed his head before she looked at him. "I had to make a choice. And I chose."

Yeah, he could understand. Those flashes he'd been havin' ever since she called. It's like he knew them people from school or something. Read about 'em in a book. And she could be hallucinating the whole thing.

"You could be hallucinating," he commented.

She chuckled. "You're right. I could be hallucinating."

The server brought over the pizza and breadsticks. Michonne cut them up in small pieces and put some sauce on the plate. The boy acted like his momma and hadn't eaten in a week. She watched him with a smile on her face while she ate her pizza.

"It's good," he said.

"New York style deep dish," she told him.

"How long?" he surprised himself with the question.

"Huh?" She looked at him.

"How long. You know. Before." He wasn't gonna say it.

"Oh. Give or take five years. I think."

He didn't ask anymore nosy questions and looked over the list she'd given him. Colorado? He'd never been there. A coupla days? If. "This one," he gave her the list and pointed it out.

"Are you sure? You could go, well, almost anywhere."

"Nah. Never been outta Georgia." She closed her eyes. "Huh. Guess I was in DC."

"Are you sure?" she repeated her question.

"Where're you goin'?" he asked.

"Nice try, Detective," she responded. "I'll make reservations and call you with the number. Two rooms or one?"

"Two," he shot back.

"Okay."

They spent the rest of dinner mostly quiet. Her boy got chatty. Just like his momma. He didn't say much just grunted at him. Michonne smiled, like he'd done something nice for him. The boy's dad must be an asshole. When dinner was over, he took what was left, which wasn't much. He shoved it in his saddlebag and headed home wonderin' where in the hell she was puttin' all the food she was eating.

Michonne looked at the phone on the night table with bleary eyes. "Hello," she said.

"Michonne? It's Daryl Dixon," he said.

"I know who it is, Daryl. I have caller ID. Remember? It's five in the morning. Is something wrong?"

She'd called Mike the day he was supposed to be back in town. She was going to give him the excuse her car broke down, but he'd ended up staying another day. He'd told her the flights were overbooked because of this flu and he'd be home tomorrow. It worked out well for her and she was grateful the butterfly effect was a real thing. Who knows what else changed?

"Nah. Uh," he cleared his throat. "Who's the guy with the leather jacket?"

She sighed. "Um, can you give me half an hour? I need coffee and something to eat." She thought she heard him mutter about food. "I promise, Daryl, I'll call you back."

"I'd just call you back."

"I could turn my cellphone off," she retorted. "I'll call you back," she said again and hung up. She looked at her still sleeping son in the pack and play and smiled. Talking about this helped. Even though Daryl didn't remember.

After a quick shower, checking on Andre and coffee she called him back.

"The man in the leather jacket. I'm going to have to give you some context."

"Shit. Go ahead."

"I could always give you the short answer," she offered.

"Nah," he sighed. "Give me the context."

As she sat on the sofa and sipped her coffee she started. "After we got out of Terminus we went to Richmond, Virginia."

"Why?"

"A young man had joined the group, we found him in Atlanta, and he told us his group was in a gated community in Richmond. Rick didn't have any better ideas, so we went. When we got there, it'd been destroyed."

"Destroyed?"

"Destroyed. Windows broken, some of the houses had been burnt. I think. We lost someone there and I pushed Rick into going to DC."

"Why?"

"The short answer is we were desperate. There was another person who thought DC would be the best place to survive this and I agreed. We left Noah's and headed for DC. We didn't have any water; no cars and we ate dog."

"You ate dog?" he sounded incredulous.

"Says the man that eats possum."

"Possum? Yeah, I had it before," he admitted softly.

"You ate what you could, Daryl. I've eaten possum. In my last life. Anyway." She took a sip of coffee and continued. "We were recruited to a place called Alexandria. It will be run by a politician by the name of Deanna Monroe."

"Musta been a clusterfuck."

She laughed. "It was. Huge clusterfuck. Deanna wasn't doing anything pro-active. Rick had started a garden at the prison, Hershel's suggestion, but she was relying on run teams."

"Wouldn't the food run out after a while?"

"Yes, which is why a hunter will be a valuable commodity. Deanna, I don't know what the hell the woman was thinking, relied on run teams. You and Rick, I think, were going to try and take over."

"What?! Why?"

"I don't know. Rick? I don't think he ever trusted me. Not completely. Moving on," she said. She wasn't going to dwell on things that never happened. "You didn't have to. Deanna died and Rick took over."

"He kill her?"

She paused. "No. She turned after a herd and her son put her down."

"Shit," he whispered.

"As I said, Deanna didn't do, or won't do, anything pro-active. After Rick took over, we started growing food, but it wasn't enough. You and Rick went on a run and found Jesus."

"Jesus," he drawled.

"His real name is Paul Rovia. He looked like Jesus, so everyone called him Jesus. I know you and Jesus were friends."

"Huh," he grunted disbelievingly.

"Jesus told us about the Saviors. Rick and Jesus made a deal; for some food all we had to do was kill Negan, who wears a black leather coat, and rescue someone from Hilltop."

"Hilltop?"

"Ahh, there will be a few communities up that way. We got a few Saviors, an outpost, but not Negan."

"What was this guy doin'?"

"Extorting the communities," she answered.

"For money? I thought you said you could wipe your ass with it or use it for fires?"

"Food. And guns. Maggie was pregnant and we were taking her to Hilltop, where Jesus was, because they had a doctor. Negan and some of his group stopped us." She took a sip of coffee. "He made us; Rick, you, Carl, me, Glenn, Maggie, Sasha, Eugene, Abraham, Rosita and Aaron, get on our knees. He killed Abraham with Lucille."

"Lucille?"

"Oh, he'll carry a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire and call it Lucille."

"Sounds like an asshole," Daryl scoffed.

"He is. You tried to punch him in the face and then he killed Glenn."

"Huh."

"He took Rick off somewhere and brought him back. And he took you back to the Sanctuary." She paused. While she could remember that night, it was part of a dream she'd had, a bad dream. In that dream, she could remember trying to forget it. Michonne knew herself, had known herself well. Would she be frightened if it happened again? Yes. Would it happen to her or Andre? No. "I…don't know what he did to you, but I don't think you were raped."

"Raped?!" he yelled.

"Male rape happens, Daryl. Men don't want to admit it. I know you escaped, but I don't know how. Rick might've known but didn't tell me."

"What the hell?!"

"We got into a war. The first battle was a draw. I remember I'd been thrown off a roof."

"Thrown off a roof?!" he yelled again.

"Yeah. Uh, we'd found some guns and gave them to a group for help. They helped Negan and the Saviors instead. Rick and Negan fought, and Negan lost. The man in the black leather coat," she ended.

"You all ever not have problems?"

"Well, we had quiet times, yes. A few months here, a few years there."

"I'm sure there's more."

"Yes, Daryl, there is, but I went through, we all went through so much. It seems like a different life. Have you ever had a dream that felt so real but wasn't?"

"Yeah," he admitted.

"This," she threw her hand out. "What happened last time? That's what it's like for me."

"Alright," he huffed. "Why don't I remember?"

"Why would you want to?"

He didn't have an answer for that.

"I texted you the confirmation number," she told him.

"Yeah, I saw it. Merle wasn't there but I called and left him a message."

"Hm," she said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Can ask. Might not answer."

"Does Merle know anyone that ran guns?"

Daryl paused.

"I'm not a cop trying to set you or Merle up. Would I bring a child with me?"

He had to admit that'd be a new one. He'd think someone would get in trouble for doing something like that.

"I have money."

He waited.

"It'd be easier. I know I'll be able to pick up guns. They'll be all over. I have one but I need more and ammunition."

He thought about it. He knew Merle knew some guys. "Might be able to help." He…trusted her. Kinda. She asked him what was wrong. He'd called her at five in the morning and instead of hangin' up on him she asked him what was wrong. Like she'd help him or somethin'. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You can ask. I may not answer."

"Funny," he snorted. "What's your last name?"

"Nice try, Mr. Dixon."

"Mr. Dixon," he huffed. "Any of those people know your last name?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. Last names won't mean much. Even now. You can call yourself whatever you like."

"If them people, if they remembered?"

"Ah. Well, I was a lawyer, and I wasn't listed. Some clients didn't like being on the other side of judgments."

"Huh," he grunted. He guessed it made sense. He listened as she gave him the cross streets to Denny's and told him she'd meet him for lunch again. "Not the yuppie place?"

She laughed. "Zen. They closed. The burger was good."

"It wasn't worth fifteen dollars," he told her, and she laughed again before hanging up.