Chapter 10: We're all Mad here
Horns blared from vehicles lined up on I-85 heading into Atlanta. The noise woke Michonne from her sleep, she wiggled in her seat using a blanket to cover herself from the air conditioning and glanced over to Christie who voice cracked trying to hit the high notes in a song. Yawning, Michonne leaned against the window, her eyes grew heavier as her thoughts turned to last night. Before she left, Rick argued that he should come with her because he didn't believe separation should be an option. He tried to bottle up his desperation, but it leaked out little by little. Michonne didn't want to leave him either, their reunion was short-lived and there was still uncertainty about what was real and their best shot was figuring it out together.
We're going to be committed if we start chasing something that isn't concrete. What's concrete is my love for you. I'm not leaving you. But we have to try in this world. We have to… for Carl and Andre. That's why I'm going back and that's why you're taking Morgan's offer. We have our lives back and we can't throw that away.
All Rick had to do was object to her assertions and Michonne would have given in, damn the consequences. But he didn't, he gave her a small smile, a kiss, and then drove her back to the motel.
"I have class at nine," Christie mumbled. Michonne shifted part of her body to face Christie, the clock on the radio read 7:56. Christie readjusted the rearview mirror and scratched her eyebrow. "Come the fuck on," she glared at the driver that cut in front of them.
"I'm sorry."
Christie rolled her eyes and tilted her head to Michonne, "For what? Making me panic because you were three hours late, not answering your phone, me driving on two hours of sleep hoping to get to the A before this," she pointed to the line of vehicles surrounding them. "No apologies needed."
"You won't be late."
Christie clicked her tongue and drove to the next lane, getting them just a few yards further.
Michonne frowned, scoffing she turned the radio and air conditioner on low. "Christie?"
The young woman's focus was on the car that previously cut them off. Her knuckles tighten clenching the steering wheels. "Don't even try it."
"Christie?" Michonne felt for her seatbelt making sure it was secure in case Christie and the other driver wanted to play chicken. "Stop ignoring me."
"I'm not."
"Well, when do classes end?"
Christie blew air bubbles and sighed, "I'll be at work around 1." Traffic lighten as they moved steadily down the freeway.
What is her problem? "Is there something you want to say to me?" Christie's passive aggressiveness chipped away at Michonne's patience.
"Is it over between you and Mike?"
Michonne shifted away from Christie, "Yes," she whispered.
"Wow," Christie chuckled, "Wow. Just like that?"
"It's really none of your business," Michonne retorted.
"You made it my business!"
The two women stewed in silence as the speed of the vehicle increased. This is just a taste of how everyone I know will react to me choosing Rick over Mike.
"Where's all of this coming from?" Christie's lack of support dumbfounded her. Besides Rick, Michonne's only source of comfort was her.
"This Rick is unstable." Their eyes met. Christie's full of worry and Michonne's anger.
"You don't know him," Michonne said defensively, "You couldn't even trouble yourself to properly meet him."
"That's fair. I met his friend though and his friend had a lot to say."
Friend? Any friends of Rick's from before were unknown to Michonne with the exception of Morgan, and it was questionable whether Morgan was actually a friend.
"He said something happened to Rick like he snapped last week and hasn't been the same since."
Michonne shook her head, "Rick's friend talks a lot."
"Loose lips. A symptom of his drunken state."
"So he's an authority on mental health? If Rick is unstable then what does that make me?"
"Don't you get it," Christie sighed and drove towards the exit ramp. "Something happened and apparently something happened to both of you and it's affecting ya'll. The last thing you should be doing is making life changing decisions when you don't know what's up or what's down."
Michonne's eyes downcast, she removed the blanket and started folding it; her silence an admittance to Christie being right.
"I don't want to pretend that you're okay," Christie's voice soften. "You don't go from being career-minded and focus to half-assing your responsibilities as an attorney."
Because it doesn't matter, it could all end tomorrow and it wouldn't matter.
"You and Mike. Michonne, two weeks ago, I had the misfortune of walking in on you two all over each other. From the outside you were happy. I mean maybe you were faking the funk, but I don't think so when I compare that time to all of last week. The tension between you guys is thickening. And, now you're leaving him, just like that… for Rick."
"Christie. I don't want to talk about this," Michonne said quietly.
"When I was out of control, you were there. Even when I hurt you or did or said something hateful, you stayed and helped me."
Michonne looked at Christie who was staring straight ahead, biting her lip—a single tear came down her face.
"Christie?" She reached out and touched the young woman's arm. I wish I could remember everything about us. I really do.
"I'm just trying to look out for you as well." Christie drove into Michonne's parking lot and stopped.
"I need to get my car out of your parking space," she said getting out. She walked to a silver BMW and got inside.
A law student with a new model BMW? Michonne maneuvered to the driver's seat while Christie reversed her car alongside Michonne's. Rolling down her window, Michonne gestured for Christie to do the same.
"You don't need to come in today. Go to class and then get some sleep," Michonne said, hoping to not leave on sour terms.
"Yes mommy," she responded, smiling.
We're good. For now.
The clock on the wall ticking away and the distant sounds of Atlanta were all Michonne could hear when she entered her home. Michonne placed her bags on the couch and sighed, in 24 hours she'd have to argue her case in a court of law. Someone's life was in her hands and she felt ill prepared and unconfident. Her eyes darted to her katana back on the wall. Damn. I miss swinging you around. Slaying walkers with her weapon seemed easier than being a lawyer. She had a skill, a rare skill, it made her valuable, and it saved her life and others, countless times. Michonne knew what to do anytime she had to unsheathe it; a skillful swing towards the target, slicing through limbs, stabbing through guts and then moving on to the next. Easy. Going back to fighting with her words—not so much.
After having a mini breakfast of water and a breakfast bar, the clock ticked towards 9:30, Michonne needed to get to the office, but a warm bath called out to her. She picked up Andre's toy cars that were in the middle of the hallway and heard the soft melody of Twinkle Twinkle playing from Andre's room. Entering it, she began cleaning up the clutter until she found the source of the music underneath Andre's crib; an Elmo radio. Michonne grinned, skipping through different nursery songs until Twinkle Twinkle played again. Switching the radio off, she set it next to Andre's blocks, Michonne's fingers lightly tapped along the top of the colorful blocks until she paused at A.
"A. B. C. Can you point to the letter A?" Michonne asked. But, Judith couldn't or wouldn't instead the little girl's attention went to the red solo cups stacked neatly in the corner. She crawled to her beloved treasures, ignoring the blocks and a flustered Michonne. "I got your message loud and clear, Judy."
Michonne's eyes watered, out of all the people that she left behind in the other world, there was no chance she'd see Judith again.
"I need a bath." She sent Spencer a text, informing him she'll be at the office by eleven. Michonne suppressed a yawn, rubbing her tired eyes. She'd rather go on a run for supplies and collide with a dozen walkers then spend all day sifting through papers and tweaking her argument. The adrenaline rush she always got after cutting down walkers with her katana couldn't be compared.
Walking into her bedroom, her eyes fell upon a royal blue dress draped over the bed with a note on top of it. Michonne sighed and read the note:
Tonight. Dinner. You and Me. Baby, please be ready by 8. I love you and I hope you like the dress.
"Mike." You were happy just two weeks ago. Christie's word presenting themselves in her head. Michonne grasped her necklace, moving the 'M' back and forth on the chain as her other hand glided over the soft fabric. The dress was a sleeveless A-line cut with a deep V-neck; it will hug in the right places. "He knows what I like," she mused. Removing her hand from her necklace she viewed the dress with heavy resolve. I'm a cheater. She cheated on Mike, Michonne couldn't sugarcoat what happened last night.
She made her bath, dropping a bath bomb in the water; its purpose was to relax the mind, something Michonne desperately needed to happen. Mike was owed the truth and the engagement had to be called off. That was the plan. Her task was much easier than Rick's on paper; he had to go through an entire divorce proceeding and if Lori found out about them… Michonne sunk into the hot tub, the tension in her muscles already easing. Things were going to be messy for Rick and Lori, but Michonne knew his heart was with her. Can you say the same thing? Days, before the world went to shit, her and Mike, were in a blissful state. Marriage always on the forefront of their goals.
She slid further in the tub until the water was up to her chin, the sandalwood smell started to have its intended effect on Michonne. How will I tell him that we can't be together because of something he didn't do? How do I convince him we're done when I'm… when I need convincing as well? "Fuck. You're a lawyer, Michonne. Figure it out," she whispered as she drifted to sleep.
Michonne's cell rang, she opened one eye and closed it again, not wanting to be bothered, but after the third ring she sat up. Carefully reaching over for her phone as to not splash water on the floor, she grabbed it from the bath shelf.
"Spencer?"
"Ms. Cassel," Spencer breathed heavily in her ear. His voice rose giving away his panic state. "I can't find Daryl Dixon."
Michonne rolled her eyes. Fuck me. She got out of the bath, wrapping a towel around herself, "He couldn't have just up and disappeared."
"I'm standing outside his trailer, Ms. Cassel. His bike is gone and…"
"That doesn't mean he left town."
"I… I," Spencer stammered.
"Spencer, take a moment and breathe," his panicking had Michonne's heart racing, she quickly dried herself off and rummaged through her drawer for undergarments. Placing her phone on speaker, she listened to Spencer's efforts to calm himself down.
"I'm sorry. I went inside. That's breaking and entering!"
Michonne's eyebrows furrowed, "Ok… why did you break into his home?"
"No! The door was slightly ajar."
Michonne let out a frustrating sigh, "Spencer, you didn't break in. Tell me what you saw."
"Nothing."
"Then why are you panicking?"
"Because that's the problem. There is nothing, but standard furniture left in his trailer. All his personal belongings are gone. It wasn't like this on Saturday. Ms. Cassel, Daryl is gone!"
Michonne and Spencer sat on Daryl's porch waiting for Detective Brian Blake to speak with them. After Michonne arrived, she inspected the trailer except for one room she couldn't open, but everywhere else looked as if someone moved out quickly which was troubling. A couple of days ago, Daryl was on her back making sure she was doing her job to help his brother and now when he was needed for that same reason, he bounces. Spencer's knee bounced excitedly next to her, Michonne had to reassure him several times that he didn't screw up. Spencer was young and while they waited he told Michonne that he needed to prove himself a success to his parents. His mother was a US Senator and his father a renowned architect and he wasn't sure if he was cut out to be an attorney.
"I chose you to work for me. I wouldn't have done that if I didn't think you had what it takes," she said, patting him on the knee. Spencer nodded and placed his hand on top of hers.
"Thank you, Ms. Cassel." He squeezed her hand tighter looking into her eyes, she hesitantly smiled. "I mean it, you've helped me a lot this year and I appreciate you." Oh, Lord. Spencer tried to interlock his fingers with Michonne when a car approach, giving Michonne the opportunity to remove her hand.
She stood up, greeting the detective that was getting out of the vehicle. Detective Blake was tall, he ran his hand through his dirty blond hair and slammed the car door shut. Michonne held out her hand and he looked at it with disgust.
"What reason would the lawyer that's poking holes in my case have to call me?" He hocked up saliva and spat on the ground. Michonne folded her arms, I do not have time for this.
"I didn't call you, I called the police, reporting a missing person."
"And how do you know he's missing," his accent was strong. Michonne figured Atlanta wasn't his native home.
She gestured to Daryl's trailer, "See for yourself why."
Spencer and she followed behind the detective as they reentered the trailer. Blake looked side to side, scanning the small area. He then turned to Michonne, "What I see is a man who knows his brother is guilty of murdering those two junkies and figured he'd cut his losses and leave town."
"You've come to that conclusion after standing here for two seconds." Michonne's eyes narrowed.
"Why yes, I did. Nothing broken in here, nothing scattered. So it wasn't a robbery." Det. Blake walked through the narrow hallway and tried to enter the door that wouldn't budge for Michonne. He pushed against it harder and then slammed his shoulder into it breaking the door open. Michonne and Spencer shared a glance, Spencer swallowed, he was about to say something when Det. Blake yelled out.
"DID YOU TAMPER WITH ANYTHING IN HERE?!"
Michonne and Spencer rushed to the back. They stopped by the doorway with Det. Blake blocking their entrance.
"No!" Michonne said, not backing away as he got into her space. She looked passed him and saw the mess.
"Omg! We… we didn't come back here," Spencer said.
A single dresser drawer was smashed and the bed eschewed. There were obvious signs of struggle, but no blood could be seen from where she was standing.
"Imma need you two to stand outside," he grabbed Michonne's arm making her slap his hand away.
"I can walk," she glared at him, "Without assistance."
Michonne and Spencer walked to the front door as Det. Blake dialed more than likely back up. "What are we going to tell Merle?" Spencer whispered, wringing his hands. Michonne sighed and closed the door behind them as they stood on the porch.
"Nothing. We tell him nothing."
"His brother is missing. Probably hurt."
"And he's also volatile and unpredictable. We tell him when we have more information on Daryl's whereabouts."
"He's expecting his brother to testify?"
Michonne wanted to scream, Daryl was Merle's alibi, not a completely reliable alibi, but still another tool to place doubt in jurors' minds.
"I know, Spencer. We need to sift through the details of the murder that happened in King's County. Tomorrow we'll try and get the judge to dismiss based on there being major problems with this case." Michonne walked to her car, putting her hair in the bun. "Or we have a better chance of delaying the trial. We need to show Judge Meyer's the evidence we gathered."
"Wow! So my contact was right, the murder that happens in King's County was similar."
"Not similar. The same. It's the same guy, it has to be."
"This is going to sound crazy, but do you think this guy is aware that someone else is on trial for what he did?"
Michonne eyed Spencer, it wasn't a crazy assertion at all. The only problem, if this person is aware of the trial then he's aware of her and those involve which was too close for comfort.
Walkers were easy. People not so much.
It had been too long since Michonne had a fancy evening out. She stepped out of the car and almost twisted her ankle, still not completely reacquainted with heels. She held onto the door to adjust her footing.
"Baby, I was going to get the door for you," Mike jogged to her side and held out his hand which she took.
Earlier in the evening, Michonne protested against going out. Her trial was resuming tomorrow, Daryl Dixon was missing—a fact she wasn't about to tell his brother yet, and mentally Michonne was exhausted. Mike insisted, calling tonight's dinner, a good luck date. He also argued it was needed especially when Michonne was about to drown herself in work again until the trial was over. Mike had good points, but Michonne didn't know how long she could last in his presence before telling him the truth about where her heart lay.
Mike closed the car door behind her and escorted her to the door of Aria; an Atlanta restaurant. Michonne found herself admiring how dapper Mike looked in his white shirt with blazer combo and dark blue dress pants. The entire outfit was tailored to perfection. Mike gave keys to the valet attendant and came back to Michonne, he kissed her on the mouth and walked her inside.
Aria lived up to its name for being one of the most romantic spots in Atlanta. The interior and decorating were white with black accents and black and white floral paintings hanging on the wall. They were seated by the host in a secluded area, there were only one other couple with them, an older man and woman who were quietly chatting, holding hands across the table, and occasionally taking sips of their wine. Michonne and Mike sat away from them, with her back to them, the only scenery she had was the chandelier casting a soft glow on one of the murals.
Mike took off his blazer, placed it on his chair and sat down across from her.
"You look absolutely stunning, Mich," he gently caressed her hand, his fingers gliding over the engagement ring she wore. Mike held her hand up, they stared deeply at one another; his eyes full of happiness while Michonne tried to mimic the same expression. He moved her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it and then her ring. Michonne smiled, giving Mike the false confidence that all was right with them, but her heart tugged remembering her hand entwined with Rick's, fingers clenched in the throes of passion, last night. Michonne swallowed and kindly removed her hand, occupying it with a menu.
"Welcome to Aria. We have several specials for tonight, would you like to hear them?" A waiter stood patiently at their table, he wore the typical penguin suit without the jacket that most wore at expensive restaurants. His dark tie matched his eyes. Michonne gaped for a moment before catching herself. He looks familiar.
"No thank you," she answered for both of them, Mike nodded in agreement. Michonne glanced over the menu, the majority of the food she hadn't tasted or even thought about in so long. The decadence and luxury of it all were disconcerting.
"I'll have the jumbo lump crab cakes," Mike informed the waiter. "The New York strip steak and for dessert, the devil's cake."
Michonne eyed him dubiously, she didn't think he needed that much food, she survived on less, but she silently checked herself. There was no shortage of food here and indulging in something she used to take for granted was harmless.
"I'll just have the crab cakes with a side of asparagus."
"And to drink?"
"A glass of Dolcetto," Mike responded.
"Chardonnay," said Michonne. She folded her menu and handed it to the waiter, thoughts that she may consume more than just one glass by the end of the night crawled into her mind. Michonne took a sip of water, giving her mouth something to do so that she wouldn't be the first to start talking.
"How was the trip?"
"It was fine," she responded, flatly, setting the water down on the table.
Mike chuckled, "Just fine? You didn't call back like you promised on Friday. Figured your trip was more than just fine."
"I'm sorry, don't really want to talk about it," she said, pushing memories of Rick and the treehouse to the bottom of her brain.
Dubious, Mike stared at her, licking his lips. He readjusted his seat and began tapping on the table.
Michonne rubbed her lips together, and grinned, "I don't want to talk about it because it might have been a waste of time, now that my client's brother has gone missing," she further explained.
Mike nodded, "Look, we're here to get your mind off the case and here I am bringing it up. Sorry baby." His fingers tickled the back of her hand, Michonne smiled, but couldn't look him in the eye.
The waiter came back, pushing a trolley with two bottles of wine and wine glasses. Michonne observed his features, her skin prickled as if there were electric wiring firing off thousands of signals to her brain to jargon up a memory. The waiter's hands shook slightly when he sat the glasses down and he struggled to open the first bottle.
"My apologies, I've never opened one of these before," he stammered.
Michonne smiled reassuringly meeting Mike's gaze, he was smirking.
POP!
The waiter gleefully grinned at his success and held the bottle up to them in triumphant. He poured a little of the red wine in Mike's glass, Mike nodded and took a sip.
"What's your name?" Michonne asked as the waiter started on the second bottle.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" He put the bottle down and bowed to her, Michonne started to tell him he didn't have to do all that, but he blurted, "My name's Glenn. I should have introduced myself first. Sorry, I've only been working here for a week. I was delivering pizza before and then this job kinda fell into my lap. And..."
I know that name? Her eyes widen, the same sensation she felt when she saw Tyreese's picture on television had returned. Michonne picked at her hands, furiously rubbing her thumb on her palm. Her brain blanked as if there was a common word on the tip of her tongue, but she suddenly forgot what it was.
Glenn poured white wine into her glass, she lightly touched his arm and made eye contact. Please remember me, please tell me you're going through the same thing. He seemed perplexed by her touch and Michonne knew it was because she was being weird. Mike's worrisome gaze could be seen from the corner of her eye.
"More. Fill it near the top," she quietly asked, removing her hand.
Glenn did as he was told and as soon as he was done, Michonne took her drink and downed it without taking a breath. Both men looked at her with stunned silence. "Fill it up again," she requested.
"Michonne," Mike started. But, Michonne put her hand up and smiled.
"Thank you," she said to Glenn. She felt tempted to down the liquid again, but Mike's face dissuaded her.
"Umm. Your dinner should be done soon. I'll be back with it," Glenn said to Mike, avoiding Michonne's eyes until the last second. His eyebrows quirked and he seemed lost for words. Heat rose to Michonne's face as her eyes quickly darted to Mike.
I'm being a fool again.
The air burst with silence between them, Michonne crossed and then uncrossed her legs, she took a sip of her wine, this time, around and set it back down. She willed herself to look happy even though she wanted to crawl into bed and sleep.
"Mom facetime me last night. Took ten minutes for her to use it right," Mike laughed quietly.
Michonne beamed, "Oh yeah, how is she?"
"Doing good, she told me how proud her doctor is of her for doing well with her diabetes."
"That's great!" She blinked rapidly and took another sip of wine.
"I told her about our engagement as well."
Michonne uncrossed her legs, kicking the table by accident as she leaned over it. "Why? Why did you tell her?"
"Why not?" He asked defensively.
She shook her head, "Because..." she paused, readjusting her dress. Her thumb rubbed against her engagement ring. "Because I wanted it to be a surprise to her and my parents," she grabbed Mike's hand and smiled.
"You wanted to throw an engagement party?" His lips turned upward as his fingers interlocked with Michonne's.
Michonne nodded, "yes."
"Aww, Mich. Hey, you can still do the party. Mom will be happy regardless."
Michonne drank the rest of her glass, Mike wasn't even done with his first. "That's great!" Michonne needed to collect her thoughts, "Hey. I need some air. That wine went straight through me," she got up from her seat and smoothed out her dress. The older couple that sat behind them were gone.
"Mich, you okay?" Mike stood up as well, but Michonne stopped him, she tentatively walked forward, the alcohol really was affecting her. She gently yet firmly pushed against his chest, forcing him to sit back down. "I'm not letting you out there by yourself," he protested.
"I'll be right outside, I need to call Christie and see if there's an update on Dixon." She kissed him on the cheek and grabbed her purse, as she was walking to the door, Glenn was bringing the food. Michonne stepped in front of him, "May I ask you a quick question?"
"Yes Ma'am, sure," Glenn stopped and sat their food on the waiter's tray, the aroma of the crab cakes made her stomach rumble.
"Glenn, besides getting a new job did anything else happen to you last week?"
"Uh, no," he said hesitantly, dragging out the 'no.' "Do we know each other?"
Michonne stared blankly, "I... I think so."
"Did I deliver you pizza?" Glenn gave her a half-grinned.
"Are you sure nothing happen to you? No blackouts, headaches, really bad nightmares."
"Ma'am. Um no," he chuckled and then stopped after seeing Michonne's frown, "Ma'am are you okay?"
"Why do people keep asking that?" Michonne snapped. She swallowed, eyes of other guests were on her back, shaking her head, "I'll be outside," Michonne muttered, stalking out of the restaurant.
Michonne took in deep breaths as she paced, the air was warm and each time she breathed in her stomach rumbled; she was hungry and she knew she needed to go back inside soon, but her mind changed with each step. Cars honked and people brushed by her, music played two buildings down. Michonne began walking towards it until she came to the source; a man playing his saxophone. She watched as his fingers skillfully pressed the buttons, his eyes were closed only occasionally opening them to glance at her. She didn't know the song he was playing, but she allowed herself to become engross in the music.
For her, it's been too long since she heard live music. She tapped rhythmically to the tune and slowly opened her eyes. The musician smiled at her and she smiled back. Michonne looked to her right, a man holding hands with a woman and carrying a sleeping boy on his shoulders walked towards them. Her eyes darted to a group of young people, drunkenly laughing and talking over each other. And then back at the saxophonist, nodding his head to the elderly couple from the restaurant, they dropped cash into his hat. Michonne's smile dropped. All of these people died.
They all died, some of them turned, most of them became food for those who turned while only a few survived. And out of those few, most turned into thieves, rapists, animals killing to protect their own.
The music became faint, Michonne heart pounded in her ear drum as she tried to calm herself. She watched as the musician continued to play, but she could no longer hear him, Michonne took a step backward, bumping into someone. She turned, a woman spoke to her but Michonne couldn't hear. All she could do was mouthed her apologies. What is happening to me? Walking back to the restaurant, she stopped and stood her back to the wall. Michonne, relax, don't panic, just breathe. She closed her eyes and breathe deeply in and slowly let the air out. You can hear, you can hear, you can hear.
Grrr
Michonne held her breath, she wanted to reach for her katana, but it wasn't there. It's your stomach, stupid. Open your eyes! The crowded sidewalk she stood on was empty, cars were still on the street, but abandoned. Michonne swallowed, but her mouth was dry, she looked down to the right, hoping to see the musician, but no one was there. Wake up! Please, wake up. The air was significantly cooler as Michonne took a step forward. Her heels clicked on the pavement, the moans made her stop in her track. She turned to her right, facing what she perceived the noise coming from and slipped off her shoes. Once again, arming herself with her stilettos.
Grrr
Now the moans came from behind, Michonne whipped around, seeing a lone man facing away from her. He was hunched over, squishy and munching noises came from him. You're dreaming. This is a dream. It's not real, wake up, Michonne.
Michonne knew better than to make a sound, this wasn't her first rodeo. That man was no longer a man.
She inched closer. And closer. One swing. The base of the skull. Michonne held her breath, two years of experience that never left her came to the surface. The walker kept eating, oblivious to its enemy behind it. Michonne raised her shoe and swung. What! The walker had her arm, she swung her other shoe, but it caught that too. What is going on! It snarled at her, its rotting skin had peeled off around its mouth. Its teeth snapped together as Michonne moved her head, she moved forward, pushing the walker against the wall and wiggling one of her arms loose. She kicked at it.
"Michonne!"
That voice coming from the walker made her stop momentarily, she blinked rapidly and shook her head. The walker lunged for her, Michonne moved out of its reach, yanking her other arm loose. She walked backward, trying to put distance between her and it as she looked around for another weapon.
"Michonne!"
What! The voice was coming from the walker, but its mouth wasn't moving. Ignoring it, she glanced to her left and saw lead pipes lying on the ground. She picked one up and stalked towards the walker.
"Put it down Michonne!" The walker lunged for her again, but she sidesteps and swung only for the walker to dodge it. In disbelief, Michonne swung but stopped midway.
"Michonne?"
It was Mike, his clothes were tattered and bloody and in his hands he carried a small body. Michonne blinked, tears fell from her eyes. This isn't real. It isn't real.
"I'm sorry Michonne."
Rage. That's what she felt now, her heart pounded and all she saw was red. "YOU'RE SORRY!" Her hands held onto the pipe tighter. "You did this! You were his father, Mike! You chose to get high over protecting your son, you piece of shit."
Michonne raised her pipe. Mike stood before her, armless, eyes vacant. She'd seen this before, she'd caused this. "You're dead and I found someone better. You're dead because you gave up and I found someone who would rather die than watch his children be torn apart," she spat. Her eyes became blurry through the tears.
"I don't love you anymore. I did, but not anymore. Not after finding real love and true partnership." Michonne swallowed, she took a step back and gazed upon what Mike had become. An armless, jawless pet. "Goodbye Mike," she whispered. Michonne swung the pipe, connecting it to the walker's skull. She was about to swing again until she felt arms wrapped around her, constraining her.
"Michonne! Stop. Stop. Baby, stop."
Her head turned, Mike was holding her. The nighttime breeze brushed across her wet face. Michonne was in a dazed, she turned and saw a crowd had formed. Not again.
"I have you. Michonne, I have you."
No, you don't have me. I don't even have myself. Michonne slowly fell to her knees, Mike came down with her. There were broken glass and the saxophone inches from her, twisted and dented in. She looked up and saw the saxophonist holding his head.
"I'm sorry. I…" she croaked out to him.
"Shh… we're going to take you to a hospital. Michonne look at me," said Mike.
She shook her head. I can't go. They'll think I'm crazy.
"I… I need to rest. I have court tomorrow. Merle—Merle's innocent. He'll die. I can't—."
"Michonne, baby please, look at me."
Michonne looked up, Mike stared painfully into her eyes. She felt his muscles jumping and saw his jaw clenched. He knows, but he won't say anything. Not yet. The ambulance sirens ranged in her ear, she felt more people surrounding her.
"Sir." Voices were becoming inaudible as Michonne felt Mike loosen her grip on her.
"It'll be ok." He mouthed to her as more hands touched her, lifting her up, carrying her. Michonne closed her eyes, she wanted to believe it'll be ok, but how could it be. How was she going to be able to function as a normal person if her mind was stuck in two worlds? She opened her eyes, the bright lights made her squint. She felt a sharp sting in her arm, she looked down and saw a man removing a needle from it.
"This is going to help you, Ma'am. Just relax."
Michonne's eyes flutter, drowsiness knocked on her door like an unwanted guest. "I…," her throat burned, she swallowed to lessen the pain and tried speaking again, "Call Rick. Rick Grimes. I need him."
Michonne didn't think they heard her, but she couldn't lift her head. Darkness began seeping over the light and overtook her just as she was about to speak his name again.