A/N: Thank you to those still here :)
It's been a month since I last updated, and I apologize. I was in the process of moving overseas for work, but that only justifies about two weeks' worth of delay, the rest I have to admit was my being lazy. Now that I'm settled, though, my plan is to update once a week.
There are two trigger warnings for this chapter which I decided to include in the end notes. I know that putting a warning at the bottom of the text would seem to defeat the purpose, but I kindly ask that those who wish to read them prior to starting the update quickly scroll down, so as to accommodate anyone who prefers to avoid possible spoilers.
If this is against fanfiction rules, policy, or etiquette, please let me know in the comments so I can change it. Thank you!
After goodbyes had been exchanged, including a nearly X-rated one between Marissa and Lucas, the three that were leaving got into a Hummer and drove off, soon heading north on SR 85.
"So, whatcha lookin' for? We gotta find an actual pharmacy or a place with over the counter stuff is enough?" Daryl asked from the back seat.
"We need a couple of uncommon medications, so it'll have to be a proper drugstore, and most likely one with a wide variety of pharmaceuticals at that," Lucas answered.
"Marissa mentioned a town named… Averton I think? Should we start there?" Michonne enquired from the passenger side.
"Alvaton?" Lucas said in an amused tone. "Did you notice that handful of houses followed by a diminutive convenience store we passed a couple of minutes ago? That was it."
"You mean to say we've driven through something that was considered a town?" Michonne asked.
"I don't think it was an actual town; it barely merits the term 'village'," Lucas responded. "Haralson should be coming up in another five minutes or so, and I know it had a pharmacy. It wasn't much to speak of, but we might get lucky."
After the predicted five minutes or so, Daryl asked, "That it up ahead?"
"Um-hum. If memory serves me right, we just need to find Main Street. Fortunately, people didn't tend to get creative when naming thoroughfares."
They located the road and the small establishment, but figured they'd better leave the car in a more inconspicuous location. A trail across the street seemed ideal, so they veered onto it, drove for a little bit, and camouflaged the vehicle as best they could before backtracking on foot. Lucas got his first look at Michonne in action when two walkers took notice of their presence.
"Wow!" he exclaimed in a hushed tone.
"Yep!" Daryl whispered with a small smile.
Michonne, oblivious to the attention she was receiving, flicked the blood off her blade and continued ahead, the men following closely. When they reached the edge of the woods, they stayed hidden and observed the area for a while. Not seeing or hearing anything, they crossed the road and made for the store. It was clear that the place had been raided more than once: front door barely hanging on its hinges, busted windows, shelves mostly bare, trampled items littering the floor, and a couple of walker carcasses slumped in a corner.
"Doesn't look good, but let me check behind the counter," Lucas said.
Daryl grunted a positive response and stood at the entrance scanning the surroundings while Michonne examined the few things still intact. As usual, makeup didn't seem to be in high demand.
When enough time had passed for Michonne to think something had happened to Lucas, she went to check, but ran into him coming from the back.
"Sorry, the drugs were scattered all over. I had to basically look at every one of them, good thing it's a small place. On the upside, I found two boxes of one of the medications, and still valid," Lucas said in surprise. "Did you happen to see anything for nausea?" he asked.
She looked through the shelves behind her and handed him two pink bottles.
"Fuck, I hear growlin'," Daryl hissed. "Ain't no hidin' in here, we gotta go!"
They looked around and, seeing a swarm of walkers coming from behind the store, darted in the opposite direction, which thankfully had them going toward the car. Not so thankfully, though, was their being flanked by two herds of about thirty dead once they entered the woods. Where in the hell had all these damn corpses sprouted from? Before Michonne knew what was happening, her brain had told her body to keep sprinting after decapitating a walker, her two companions knifing a few of their own as they followed her lead.
Since the car had come and gone, it appeared Michonne's brain didn't think much of the Hummer as far as safe hiding spots went. A very southern-looking, large two-story home not much further ahead, however, seemed to better fit the term, so they ran flat out and barreled into the house, Daryl and Lucas securing the front door with a heavy china cabinet while Michonne watched for any trouble. They all heard growling inside the residence, but as it was coming from a closed room they decided to deal with it after all of the downstairs had been cleared and all of the curtains had been drawn. Once that was out of the way, Lucas remained in the kitchen to bar the back entrance with the refrigerator as Michonne opened a door to reveal a bathroom containing a lone walker, which got an arrow to the forehead before it even had the chance to realize it was no longer trapped.
"Looks recent," Daryl said as he prodded the corpse with his foot.
"Yeah… no more than a week, I'd say," she agreed.
"I peeked through the drapes and it's not good news, we're just about surrounded," Lucas whispered as he joined the other two.
Daryl motioned to the stairs with his head and they followed him, splitting up once they reached the landing to check all the rooms, where they found neither dead nor living.
"Looks like we'll have to wait this out," Michonne said.
"I'm sorry," Lucas said, looking downcast.
"Don't fret, we're used to this kind of thing. I'm not saying we're not in a tight spot, but this is nowhere near the worst we've had to deal with. So long as we hole up, we should be fine," Michonne said.
"Yeah… but I know you're in a hurry, so I still apologize."
"Like 'Chonne said, when we're outside we always end up runnin' or hidin', usually both, that's just how it goes. Let's block the stairs with a bed or sumthin', close all these doors and settle in the hallway for now."
Daryl's thoughts reverted to his conversation with Marissa, or rather to her monologue. She had called him desirable. But how could it be true when he was just a good-for-nothing redneck who was too stupid to hold a proper job? His father had told him so his entire life and that's exactly how things had turned out, even after he'd finally escaped home to go bunk with Merle. Who would desire someone like that?
And what about his scars? The first girl he'd dated had pitied him and the second had been disgusted, told him he was weak. They'd been right, of course. After that, he'd done all he could to make sure no one saw his back ever again.
When Marissa had used the word 'equally' he was sure he'd misunderstood her, because he refused to believe she'd meant to say 'Chonne and he were in any way similar. That was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. She was smart, fearless, skilled, confident, kind, beautiful, in sum, his inverse.
What really had him thinking, though, was that she'd made it sound like all this hell had somehow been a good thing for him. And the more he thought about it, the more uncomfortable he got, for it seemed Marissa might have been on to something. People had started looking to him for food, shelter, protection; he'd been put on a goddamn council, for fuck's sake! All it had taken for him to be worth something was for the dead to walk the earth.
Michonne sat reflecting on Marissa's lecture, for lack of a better word. The thing that had struck her the most was how the two of them could look at the same set of circumstances and come up with diametrically opposed points of view. Marissa had said that, since people could die at any moment, they shouldn't hold back from forming relationships, while Michonne had made a point of not forming relationships because people could die at any moment. But hadn't she been lying on the floor of that tree house just two days ago reflecting on how isolating herself had left her more dead than alive? It seemed like the other woman was the one with the right idea.
Did it follow that getting involved with Daryl was a good idea, though? Marissa clearly thought so, but Michonne hadn't thought of him like that. 'Why not?' flashed in her mind. Her fast-speaking host was correct, Daryl was a good person and, despite his best efforts to hide it, a sweet guy. He was also caring, resourceful, skilled, and most definitely hot. Not to mention Michonne distinctly remembered wondering if he might be able to help her open up. She threw a contemplative look his way and couldn't help but smile a little.
Some seven mind-numbing hours later found the three of them still upstairs, a detailed plan for the next day being the only good thing to come out of it all. The herd had started to dissipate, but not enough to make leaving the house a good idea, so they decided to spend the night and leave at first light. Daryl and Michonne weren't exactly thrilled, but it was nothing new for them. Lucas, on the other hand, was looking dangerously close to a panic attack.
"Lucas?" Michonne said in what she hoped was a soothing voice. "Are you OK?"
"No… I mean, yes. I understand this happens all the time, and I do apologize for putting us in this situation, but, you see, for the better part of two years Marissa, Jonathan and I have been around each other 24/7, and now I won't make it back today, probably not even tomorrow," he said looking down. "I know it's stupid, they're in a locked basement, but I'm worried sick. And more than that, they'll be worried sick, which isn't good for her."
"You don't have to apologize," she assured him, thinking things like that happened anywhere, any time. "And it isn't stupid to worry about your loved ones." She considered if she should say anything else and, deciding to do so, added "specially if they require extra care, like Marissa does now."
Lucas turned to Michonne somewhat surprisedly and asked, "She told you?"
"No… I guessed, and you just confirmed… sorry," Michonne answered, looking appropriately embarrassed. "I assume you're out here looking for whatever supplies you're missing, and I believe you have medical training, right?"
"Yes, and yes."
"Then I'm sure everything will go well with the delivery."
"Delivery?" Lucas asked in confusion.
"Yes. Isn't that what's worrying you?" Michonne asked. When a full minute had passed and he continued to look bewildered she decided to add a bit more information, "the birth?"
"Birth? I don't unders…" Lucas stopped as realization showed on his face. "You think Marissa is pregnant," he said slowly.
"She isn't?"
"No. What made you think she is?" he asked, looking curious.
"Well… you're worried she'll get stressed, didn't want to leave her alone, looked for nausea medication, took away her coffee, denied her wine, told her to sleep, to eat healthy food. Not to mention she apparently doesn't need condoms, which is a lot more information than I needed."
"When did she talk to you about condoms?" Lucas asked in surprise, getting sidetracked by the oddity of the remark. "You know what? Never mind, I'm sure it was inappropriate enough without you having to recount it," he said. "Anyway, she's not expecting, she can't."
"Oh… I'm sorry," she said, her embarrassment increasing tenfold.
"Don't be, it was her choice, she's happy about it," he assured Michonne.
This seemed to get Daryl's attention, who was now regarding the other two.
"By the way, if you ever see her again, don't mention what you thought. She doesn't even like to hear the word 'pregnant' and her name in the same sentence," Lucas added, sounding amused again.
Not knowing what to say, Michonne just nodded.
"The reason for the things you mentioned is that Marissa suffers from bipolar disorder, and she's currently going through a mixed episode. I never realized how much in common the measures we're taking have with the ones adopted for expectant mothers. It makes sense, though, since a lot of it is just ensuring the patient's body stays as healthy as possible," Lucas said. "You only met her the once, so you wouldn't have been able to spot the changes in behavior, but they're obvious to Jonathan and me. On the one side, she's speaking a lot and much faster, has extra energy, is sleeping very little, forgetting to eat, and being even more sexual than usual. On the other side, her cynical pessimism, depressed mood, and guilty feelings are intensified. Those are things we can somewhat help her through, so, if that were all, we would be handling it with what we have at the house. But she's displaying two other symptoms that are dangerous, especially now: believing she is more capable than she actually is and taking more risks. None of us ever goes upstairs alone, and she's already done it twice, not even feeling the need to hide from two armed and seemingly capable individuals," Lucas pointed at them. "Worse than that, she took Elie with her when she normally won't let the dog out of the basement even with the three of us along."
"And you're out of medication?" Michonne asked more than said.
"No, we have plenty of it, but we noticed it was no longer working as it should during her last episode. It was a purely depressive one, so it wasn't as much of a problem as far as the corpses go, although she most likely felt worse. In any case, without proper treatment episodes can go on for months on end, so Jonathan and I decided one of us had to look for alternative medication, or for pills from different batches than the ones we have. We know that any drugs I may find have little chance of still being effective, or will only be so for a short while, meaning all we'll be accomplishing is to push the inevitable forward. But it might stop this episode, and, with any luck, it will be a long time before the next one comes," he finished in a saddened voice.
"I'm sorry" was once again all Michonne could think of to say. She wasn't sure, but thought his downcast mood might be an improvement on his previous closeness to panic, at least in terms of his ability to rest, so she added, "why don't you try and get some sleep? Daryl and I will handle watch." Daryl nodded in agreement.
"I can't see myself being able to," Lucas answered.
"You'd be surprised how tired you get from stress, and you've had plenty of that today. If it helps you relax in any way, be assured we'll do our best to get the medicine you need," Michonne said.
"Thank you. I'll lie down at the end of the corridor, but please come and get me to rotate watch. It's not fair for it to fall to the both of you just because I told a sad story, we all have at least one of those."
Michonne was about to check with Daryl which shift he wanted to take when she noticed him looking pensive, so she lightly placed a hand on his forearm to get his attention before asking "everything OK?"
"Yeah…"
"You sure?"
He nodded. "I was just thinkin' 'bout what he said, you know, that his girl can't have no babies because she chose it. I never known any woman who didn't want a baby."
"I knew a few, but most of them ended up changing their minds. Which is why I was surprised by how final he made it sound, as though she'd had surgery or something, when she still looks to be in her mid-twenties," Michonne said.
"You mean she fixed herself? Like people do with dogs?"
"Well, that's not how I would put it, and I believe spaying removes the ovaries rather than just tying the tubes, but I suppose the end result is the same."
Daryl gave it some thought before saying, "I guess if she really didn't want no babies… it's just hard to imagine."
"Did you want children?" Michonne asked, suddenly curious.
He looked down and started fumbling with his shoelaces before answering without meeting her eyes. "I never thought 'bout it, you know, before the walkers; didn't think I was gonna get married. But when Lil' Ass Kicker was born, and I got the powder milk and gave it to her… I dunno… And then we was doin' good at the prison, got other kids; I thought maybe… But don't matter now."
Michonne's heart broke a little as she listened. She felt compelled to hug him, something that had started happening since they'd found each other a few days ago, but for some reason she was now too self-conscious to do it. So she instead made a spur-of-the-moment decision to share some of what she'd been through. "I had a son," she started, Daryl's head snapping to look at her in surprise. "His name was Andre; he was the best thing that ever happened to me. And now he's gone. I couldn't protect him." Her eyes started to well up. "The pain is… I can't describe it." Overwhelmed by the memories, she had to stop and take a deep breath. "I spent months dragging my walkers around, thinking and rethinking of how I could have done things differently. But never, for even a second, did I wish Andre hadn't been born to save myself the suffering." Wiping the tears that had escaped her control, she went on, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, when we eventually find a place where we're able to settle into a somewhat stable life, which I believe we will, it may be worth taking the chance, if the idea of having a baby still appeals to you." They locked eyes before she added, "and if, you know, there's someone you want to risk it with."
Some time passed before they realized they were still holding each other's gaze, Daryl being the first to look away as a crimson shade took over his face. He cleared his throat and said, "right… well… I, um… think I should take first watch."
"Right… wake me up when it's my turn," Michonne said before getting into a sleeping bag and falling asleep in less than five minutes, which left Daryl trying to process what had just happened as he listened to her soft, rhythmic breathing.
'Chonne had a son? And he'd died? Loosing Merle, who was an unmitigated jerk, had almost broken him, so what would it feel like when it was your child? He couldn't even begin to fathom. Her efforts to shut everyone out suddenly made sense.
But then she did a one-eighty and talked about how having a young'un in this fucked-up world might be worth the risk. And he was sure he'd imagined things, but it'd felt like she had implied that he might be a good choice for a dad. How could it be that this woman, who in the previous world wouldn't have looked at him twice, or once for that matter, now saw him as an acceptable partner?
Shit, he was confused. One thing he knew, though, and it was that no one wanted any babies right now, so he put his musings aside and proceeded to clean his crossbow.
A/N: Trigger warnings:
- implied past physical and psychological abuse
- discussion of mental disorder
I hope you enjoyed :)
Please let me know what you think. Comments are not only a great incentive, but they also give me an idea of where I need to improve.
