"Have some," Michonne said, offering some Spaghetti-O's to Carl, using the can's narrow cover as a plate.

"I'm not hungry," he replied gruffly.

Michonne rested the cover on the dusty table next to her.

Rick was laid out on the living room couch, unconscious. Carl had tried to wake him numerous times but he was out for the count.

Regardless, Michonne had gotten the bullet out and sewn up the rest of the wound.

"He'll probably be out the rest of the night," she said. "He's been through a lot."

Carl said nothing and strolled over to the window, peeking out the curtains for danger.

Michonne wasn't bothered by Carl's lack of talking. She'd been alone so long the silence was a welcomed friend. She finished her portion of the meager meal, leaving the rest for Carl, and Rick when he woke up.

She removed her katana from her back and pulled it from its scabbard, the movement catching Carl's eye and instinctively making his body tense up. His hand went for his gun.

She looked up at the boy with an incredulous look.

"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead already."

Carl kept his hand on his weapon. "Some people don't show their true colors until it's too late."

She nodded thoughtfully. "You're right."

She reached into a bag and pulled out a stone. Carl watched her silently, and she made eye contact with him as she slid the stone against her katana blade, sharpening the surface. Once she showed him what her intentions were, she turned her attention back to her sword.

He gazed out the window one more time and then slowly made his way over to a nearby chair and plopped down in it. The only noise was coming from the scratch of the stone against metal, and an occasional soft wheeze from Rick.

Michonne continued tending to her weapon, and a minute later Carl pulled his gun from its holder, making her pause for a split second before continuing her work. He opened the gun and removed three bullets before using his shirt to clean the weapon.

Michonne was sure to keep her eyes on her own sword, but in her peripheral vision she could see Carl occasionally glancing her way as she serviced the weapon, seemingly interested in her katana.

"Was that always yours?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Michonne's eyes scanned across her sword. "No. I found it."

"Where?" he asked.

"My neighbor's house."

"You've lived by yourself all this time?" he asked, returning the bullets to his gun.

"Not all this time," she replied.

Carl nodded. "Yea, we didn't either."

Michonne pulled out a rag and began wiping the katana.

"Is this your house?"

"No. I just found it today."

Carl nodded. "Are you moving on tomorrow?"

Michonne paused for a moment and looked up at the boy. She was trying to decide if his question was a threat or just curiosity. He seemed very intelligent, and guarded, but underneath it all he was just a kid.

"I haven't decided," she replied, giving him a look that she hoped conveyed that if he was threatening her he'd better drop it.

He nodded again. "Thank you, for what you did for my dad."

She bobbed her head and put her supplies away.

"Where are you going?" he asked when she stood up.

"To sleep," she replied, "unless you want me to take first watch?"

"Watch?" he asked. He had planned to alternate watch with his father, not this random woman. But with his father out of commision he didn't know what to do. He was aware he was tired, and that there was no way he'd stay awake all night, but he also didn't want to sleep in this house at the mercy of a stranger. But she was also taking a risk too, sleeping in the house with two strangers herself.

"Yea, watch. To keep an eye out for danger," she said wide eyed, with a slight amused grin on her face.

"Oh… uh… okay. I'll take first watch."

"Okay, wake me up in a few hours," Michonne ordered, plopping down on the floor of the living room to Carl's further surprise. He thought she'd lock herself in a bedroom or something.

She lay on her side, facing Carl, with her arm propped up under her neck, and her katana under her other arm. She got comfortable and then promptly closed her eyes.

Carl was left alone in the silence. He'd never kept watch before. Before the prison he was just a kid, surrounded by powerful adults that always wanted to keep him safe. And then at the prison, someone was always on watch duty, but he wasn't in the rotation. But now, now there were no walls to protect him. No adults to protect him. No family, except for his father, and he couldn't protect him right now. Not like he could protect anyone anyway.

Carl sat on the edge of the couch next to his father and reached out and touched his hair, moving it away from his swollen face. He gently felt his forehead, and thankfully it didn't feel any warmer than it did before. Michonne said fever was something they had to look out for.

He moved in closer and stared at Rick. The man was beaten, helpless, a loser. The Governor had come in and destroyed everything, he'd beaten Rick in every way possible. He had always thought of his father as a superhero. A leader, a man that could never be beaten, and now…

Carl sighed and turned away from his incapacitated father. He couldn't count on his father to protect him anymore. He was a man now. He had to take care of himself. Tomorrow he would go out and find food, whether or not his father woke up. And after that… well, he'd have to see how it played out.

He removed his hand from Rick's face and turned towards the table, where the Spaghetti-O's that Michonne had offered him still sat. He was hungry. He hadn't eaten for at least 24 hours, and the cold canned pasta looked incredibly appetizing.

He didn't want to trust this woman, but she hadn't given them any reason not to. She was right, if she'd wanted to kill them she probably could've by now. She'd done nothing but help.

Carl glanced at Michonne who seemed to be sleeping already, and then back at the food. He sat down at the table and began to eat his portion.

Behind him, Michonne gave a slight smile.

***can08writer***

Carl had fallen asleep with his head resting on the table, a few hours after Michonne had pretended to go to bed. She took watch for the rest of the night, placing a sheet over the sleeping boy.

Throughout the night she kept an eye on Rick, who hadn't stirred. She was concerned about his condition. She placed a hand on his forehead to check his temperature but it seemed normal. She slid her hand down to his cheek to study the cuts and abrasions on his face. Maybe his deep sleep was due to a concussion and not just the pain from the bullet removal. He was really banged up. She wondered what happened to him.

She found it even more interesting that his son didn't have a bruise on him. Maybe he got beat up keeping his son safe? He certainly seemed the type.

Michonne wondered what Rick looked like when his face wasn't beaten in.

She allowed her eyes to roam over his jawline, and feel the prickle of his beard against her palm. She examined his nose and the gash across the bridge of it. She watched his forehead and how it would flex from time to time, as if he were having bad dreams.

"He's still sleeping?" she heard a voice ask.

Michonne turned her head to see Carl staring at her from the table.

"Uh… yea…" she replied. She realized her hand was still on Rick's cheek and she quickly snatched it away.

"He was sleeping all night. So were you."

"Oh. Yea. I forgot to wake you up," Carl said sheepishly. "Sorry, I don't even remember falling asleep."

"It's okay," she replied, standing up from the couch. She grabbed two gallon containers that were stashed under the dining room table. "I'm gonna be gone for a few hours. Watch out for your dad."

"What?" Carl asked. "Wait, where are you going?"

"To the creek," Michonne said. She realized that she was very unused to explaining where she was going, and having someone ask where she was going.

"Can I come?"

"You have to stay here with your dad. Make sure he's not getting hot. It might help if you keep wet rags on his head."

"Are you coming back?"

Michonne's eyes rapidly swiveled left and right as she thought of an answer to the question. "Yea," she agreed. She turned and left the duo.

The walk to the creek was just what Michonne needed. It was early morning, the sun had only just peeked over the tree line, and the night's chill still hung in the air, but she had to fulfill her desire to keep moving. Going about everyday tasks, having goals, moving from shelter to shelter, was what kept her going this past year. She always had to stay one step ahead of something. It kept her mind sharp, and not focused on the pain of the past. As a matter of fact it was usually only at night time when she had no task but to lay still in the dark, that she remembered the pain. It was then that she remembered why she was alone and what she had lost. During the day she kept herself busy if only to forget.

Once arriving at the creek, Michonne placed the water containers down, sat on a moss covered log, and watched the slow moving water go by. It was peaceful and still here, and although she didn't plan on staying long, she needed a break from the company of her companions.

What you did last night, baby that was something. Mike's voice began. Maybe you should've gone to medical school.

"Yea, thanks," Michonne said, letting out a breath.

You saved that dude's life. And the kid's too. He wouldn't survive long without his father.

"His name is Carl," Michonne reprimanded.

Well, Carl and Rick owe you big time.

"No they don't," Michonne said. "I chose to help them, I didn't have to."

Why?

Michonne paused for a moment, and kicked the dirt with her shoe. Why did she help this pair who kicked down her door, pointed guns in her face, and violated her privacy? She was using her very limited resources on them and she didn't even know them. As far as she knew, after Rick was feeling better he may try to kill her.

"I dunno," she shrugged. "They needed help."

Hmm, you going soft? You gonna start helping every person you pass? You never did before.

"He had a kid, I wasn't going to leave them outside in the dark. And they've obviously been through something."

She heard Mike's soft chuckle in her head.

Haven't we all. But when are you gonna head for the coast?

Michonne had been considering heading east for a while now. She figured the further coastward she went, the safer she'd be. She noticed more walkers in the rural areas now, as if they'd run out of food in the cities and they were starting to leave. The previous winter had lowered their numbers, but they were increasing once again, and Michonne was certain her best bet was to find an island somehow and stay there.

"I have to gather enough supplies to make it there. Food, clothes… there hasn't been much around here. Maybe if I keep looking for a week or so."

And the man and his son?

"He'll probably move on too when he's able. I don't know if they have a destination in mind. If not, maybe they want to go to the coast too."

As soon as the words left Michonne's mouth she realized the significance of them. All this time that she'd been by herself she'd never considered or really wanted to join another group, or to have them join her. People always meant danger, mistrust, risk, and lies in this world. The fact that she was even considering traveling with these men was shocking.

So you're gonna travel with them, to help them, right? Mike asked in his typical teasing voice.

Michonne had enough of this conversation. "Shut up Mike," she said, standing up and grabbing her water containers. She went down to the water's edge and filled up each container, and then headed back to the house.

***can08writer***

Carl had been sitting in the silent house with an unconscious Rick for hours. He found some books in a bedroom and read for what felt like forever, but he was still bored.

His father lay there, wheezing, not moving a muscle. Doing nothing.

"Dad!" Carl tried, shaking his father's shoulders. "Dad wake up. Come on!"

There was no response. Carl had never seen his father like this. Not since he was in a coma before everything went to hell.

Carl sighed and stared down at his dad. For months, Rick had been trying to make Carl a kid. He stopped him from going out on runs, he took away his gun, he encouraged him to farm, and care for the animals, and go to story time… and all for what? Now they were out here on their own.

There was no farm, no animals, no story time. All those kids that Rick had wanted Carl to be like were probably dead because they didn't know how to protect themselves. When Carl should have been learning how to remove bullets from wounds, he was planting peas. And now not even his father could help him.

A deep anger came over him as his father slept.

"I don't need you anymore," he said, moving closer to the unconscious man. "I don't need you to protect me anymore," he said louder.

"I can take care of myself, you probably can't protect me anyways. You couldn't protect Judith, you couldn't protect… Hershel, or Glenn, or Maggie, Daryl, or mom. You just wanted to plant vegetables. You just wanted to hide. He knew where we were and you didn't care! You just hid behind those fences and waited. They're all gone now, because of you! They counted on you, you were their leader! But now? You're nothing."

Carl paced in front of Rick who didn't flinch. Once he got out what was on his heart, the tears began. He tried to hold it back, but he couldn't. They slid down his cheeks, but he quickly rubbed them away, holding back the leaks that would turn into a torrent if not controlled. He breathed quickly and suppressed his emotions. Crying wouldn't help him now.

He stopped pacing when the tears were gone, and stared down at his father coldly.

"I'd be okay if you died," he stated. He then turned and walked out the front door, slamming it behind him.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the wonderful reviews. I read and appreciate every single one of them. Thank you for the encouragement to keep cranking out these chapters. I'm trying to write as fast as possible.