[A/N: Before you begin the chapter, I would like for you to be aware that it's long. I've given up, and I take back the assurances that were made in the previous note. I thank each of you for reading, following, favoriting, commenting and kudoing. However. Please be aware that there may be more crazy long $$ chapters ahead. This is the only warning you will receive regarding this. Continue at your own risk. :-)]
Part 9: Decisions
Michonne heard that rabbit and squirrel were on the menu for dinner. After the somewhat brusque conversation she shared with Dawn earlier, Michonne went in search of the other woman to see if Dawn needed help. At the prison, someone else had handled the meals and other domestic responsibilities. Of course, Michonne helped out, but she wasn't viewed as the homebody type. Since being out in the open with Rick and Carl, she still had yet to display any culinary skills. As she sought Dawn out in the bank's former break room/kitchen, she wondered if the Grimes males had somehow determined that Michonne was deficient in that area. She had half a mind to show them her skills, such that they were.
"Hi," Dawn said. "The bottled water's in the bottom cabinet."
Michonne found the stash. Several cases filled the two shelves. The other cabinet contained bottled tea and Gatorade. Another had a box of DumDum lollipops. She released a low gasp. This was a gold mine.
"I guess when people ransacked the place they didn't think to check in here for edibles," Dawn said. She had the skinned rabbits and squirrels sitting in a pail of water. A cutting board and butcher knife were at hand. "You wouldn't believe what else I found."
"Coffee and oatmeal?" Michonne asked.
Dawn laughed. "Well, the oatmeal was found on a hunt way back when. The coffee was a good call. Check the top cabinet."
Michonne took a swig of water as she flipped the cabinet doors open. She smiled in spite of herself. Inside were some of the things she missed about the old days of before. A full box of sugar packets captured her attention first. Then there was the box of creamer packets as well as salt and pepper packets. Microwaveable popcorn, which could easily be popped over a fire. Packages of nuts and raisins. Peanut butter and crackers. Too many cans of coffee, both regular and decaffeinated, to count. Tea. God, how Michonne had missed tea. There were even several packages of Jell-O pudding and gelatin snacks. The refrigerator probably had been well stocked, too.
"It's incredible, isn't it?" Dawn asked.
"Yeah," Michonne said. "Haven't come across anything like this in a long time."
"My mom used to say, 'You never miss your water until your well runs dry.'" Dawn pulled a skinned squirrel from the sink and set it on the cutting board. "I get it now."
"I can help," Michonne said.
"Okay." Dawn handed the cutting board and knife to her.
When Dawn moved away from the counter, Michonne noticed the seasonings that lined the countertop. Garlic and onion powders. Old Bay Seasoning. Multiple dried pepper options. Oregano. Dried basil leaves, too. She pointed. "You found all that here?"
"Nah, just stuff we've acquired. If there's something you're allergic to or don't like, let me know. I tend to use a pinch of everything."
"The cayenne would be great," Michonne said. "I like it spicy."
Dawn laughed. "You and Lorenzo."
"Is this going on the grill or in a pot?" Michonne wanted to be sure of the best way to butcher the meat.
"Grill. Nik's playing chef tonight. I offered to prep." Dawn shrugged. "It helps to take my mind off things."
"I'm better with canned goods than fresh fare like this," Michonne confided.
"I always hated camping, but Nik loves it. So of course, our son does, too." Dawn sighed. "This new way of life will take the most steadfast prima donna to task."
"Prima donna?" Michonne bit back a chuckle. With the way Dawn handled the skinned rabbit and squirrel meat, the label didn't seem to fit.
Dawn laughed. "Well, obviously, not anymore. Not until we can settle someplace where we're away from…everything, you know?"
Michonne nodded. She understood perfectly. The prison had been that place for her group—no, her family—until the Governor brought his evil back to them and destroyed their home. Daryl had accused her of not being around enough to know the people, but at the time, she'd had her reasons for keeping a distance. It wasn't just the hunt for the Governor that made her stay aloof from the newcomers. She had feared attachments.
"It's a good idea that we're hanging out here for a few days," Dawn was saying as she seasoned the meat after Michonne handed her the butchered pieces. "The rest will do you all some good."
Michonne remained quiet as she helped Dawn transfer the meat to an aluminum pan. Part of her wondered at the woman's resourcefulness. Also, she was surprised by how easy the conversation had been. She had sought Dawn out with the intention of getting a feel for the Cassidy family and she was confident that she had. They would have been welcomed at the prison.
"What those men—those animals had planned for you and your family wasn't right," Dawn said. "We've tried to avoid the lawless ones, but hell, what is law now, right? There is no law, but still, some things should remain off limits."
The memory of Chubs pinning Carl to the ground came to mind and Michonne grimaced. "Some things should."
"Nik accuses me of talking too much, but I have to say this…"
Michonne nodded. "Go ahead."
"Y'all need a minute to deal with that. Sasha told me a little about what happened at your prison, and she briefly mentioned her brother. When we lost our first camp, it messed with me for weeks. I tried to pretend for Dom and for Nik, but I was fucked up. We lost a lot of good people," Dawn said.
Michonne agreed quietly. "Good people are hard to come by."
"Another plus to the time off is that it will give us time to get to know each other before we move forward."
Michonne grabbed the tray of rabbit meat while Dawn followed with the tray of squirrel. In the hall, they walked beside each other and the conversation shifted from less serious discussion to hair. Dawn's questions about dreadlocks made Michonne smile, as she was more than happy to focus on something less harrowing than walkers and other potential threats. By the time they reached the grill area where Nik waited, Michonne decided that traveling with this family would be different but not in a bad way at all.
$%^&
Riding a Harley-Davidson, even a vintage model like the one Daryl just parked in the back supply room, had been the last thing he expected to do that day, but the ride through town had been stuff of dreams. He'd only be fooling himself if he denied that the best part was the feel of Sasha all around him. Her arms at his waist and her thighs pressing against his made him hot even now at least an hour later. Sleep would come slow tonight. Hell, he might as well volunteer for night watch and be prepared to be up until sunrise.
Their newfound understanding brought some ease to the situation. At least, he wasn't alone in the wanting. But damn, he never thought someone like Sasha Williams would want a man like him. He stepped outside and took a deep breath of the late afternoon fall air. Now that they were done pretending, he'd have to figure this out. He told her that he didn't know shit about relationships, but that didn't scratch the surface.
Friendship was one thing and he was cool with that. But to be her man, for real? And for her to be his woman? He rubbed his hand over his face. He wanted this, but damned if he knew what to do. She has no idea about me, he thought. All she saw was a redneck with a crossbow—No, that was Merle or their Pops talking. Sasha never looked at him that way or talked down to him. This could work. They could work. He just couldn't let her rush him.
"Hey!" Lorenzo appeared from behind him. "I didn't mean to startle you. Rick and I are heading back to check on the Tahoe. Wanna come?"
"Food's smelling good," Daryl said, noticing the aroma for the first time. "Is Dawn on the grill?"
"Nik," Lorenzo said. "He's still Grillmaster."
"Yeah, I'll come."
He and Lorenzo secured the rear exit by nailing the doors shut and boarding the windows. When they walked through the bank, Daryl was surprised to find Sasha nowhere in sight. Dawn and Michonne were comparing weaponry. Nik and Dominik sat near the grill and it looked like Dominik was having school. Carl's absence from the lobby made him wonder if the boy was joining them. Still, curiosity nagged him about Sasha's whereabouts. Where the hell was she?
"You seen Sasha?" he asked while Lorenzo slid his tire iron through his belt loop.
"She's here," Lorenzo said. "I think she grabbed some soap and towels and headed to the restroom."
Daryl nodded. "Okay."
"Nik!" Lorenzo called. "We're leaving."
Nik walked them to the door. When they met Rick on the sidewalk, Daryl could hear Nik on the other side of the door closing it tight.
"Where's Carl?" Daryl asked.
"Reading comics in the office," Rick said. "He didn't want to come."
The walk to the Chevy Tahoe was short and filled with minimal conversation. Everybody seemed lost in their own ruminations. Daryl didn't like that a woman consumed his thoughts so, but there was so much left unsaid between him and Sasha. There were too many ways that everything could go wrong. If he had any sense, he'd tell her that they were crazy. Pretending was one thing. Reality was… It could be more than he could handle.
"Daryl?" Rick extended his hand for the keys. He caught them and unlocked the driver door. "The outside looks good."
"Just some ole Pine-Sol and a sorry ass mop," Daryl said. "I'm not sure if it helped the inside, though."
"Let's find out."
Rick opened the driver door. The three men braced themselves, but the move was for naught. The smell of industrial cleaner masked the odor of dead animal. Rick nodded and smiled.
Lorenzo said, "Let's see if it has any juice."
Rick claimed the driver seat and turned the ignition. Nothing happened at first. Lorenzo and Daryl went under the hood. After adjusting a few wires and plugs, they told Rick to try again. He did and the engine came to life.
Daryl opted for shotgun. Lorenzo took the back seat. He leaned forward and asked, "What did you think of Sasha's find?"
Daryl stiffened without catching himself.
"What did she get?" Rick asked.
"A Harley," Lorenzo said. "You know you got a good woman when she hunts down a vintage hog for you."
"Stop," Daryl mumbled, chewing his thumb. From the corner of his eye, he felt Rick's stare wander from the road to him.
The scrutiny was more frustrating than Lorenzo's teasing. Daryl kept his gaze on the passing scenery.
"The engine's sweet. I had one in college. I'd trade it for my pickup in a heartbeat."
"Not on your life," Daryl said.
Lorenzo laughed. "Can't blame a man for trying." He added, "You know she was real insistent about the particulars. I didn't know what we were gonna do if we hadn't found it."
"It's a good bike," Daryl said. He stored the rest to think on later. For now, he focused on the tangible. "It's a different ride than the last one I had. You tune up the engine?"
"Did my best," Lorenzo said.
"Good job."
Rick smiled and for a moment, he and Daryl looked eye to eye. A few minutes later, they had parked the Tahoe in front of the bank, having backed it up to the door for a quick getaway if needed. Despite the mop down, an odor still persisted. It wasn't lethal, but after a long drive, the smell could become sickening. Lorenzo volunteered to get air fresheners from his sister-in-law.
"No way," Daryl said in disbelief.
"Don't ask," Lorenzo said. "Be right back."
Daryl reached inside his jacket for a smoke. Instead of a small box of cigarettes, he pulled out the condoms that Nik had given him. "Shit," he mumbled. He had forgotten they were there.
Rick's eyebrows lifted. "Um…it's good to see Sasha. Specifically, it's good to see her with you."
Daryl felt the heat flood his face and he knew that he was bright, blood red. He nodded. Inside, he appreciated Rick's sentiment, but he wasn't ready. It was too soon. He moved to stuff the box back inside his jacket pocket, but Rick stopped him.
"Did you get those at the clinic or the pharmacy?"
"Uh…" Daryl swallowed hard. "Got 'em before we came here."
Rick frowned. "Oh," he said with a nod. "Yeah."
Daryl tore into the box and pulled out half. He handed them to Rick. His friend pocketed the foil packets and both tried to appear cool about the situation.
Daryl found the confidence to say, "Don't ask, don't tell, right?"
Rick nodded. "Sure. Thanks, man."
"No problem."
$%^&
The fallen world called for a man to be hyper aware of his surroundings. Cooking the meat demanded that Nik afforded the makeshift grill some attention. Bank security created a particular thickness of the walls and windows. Although he had seen a couple of corpses ambling past the front door, he didn't hear their usual grumbling. That was a gift, but not as precious as the smiles on his wife's face as she chatted with Michonne. After their earlier conversation about their daughter Noelle when Dawn wept in his arms, he wondered if her smile would be lost to him for a while. He was relieved to see that her recovery time had shortened.
He flipped the meat over and paused. Again, his focus was drawn to his wife and the soft, yet indistinguishable tones of her voice. From this distance, their conversation was a mystery, but when Dawn touched one of Michonne's dreadlocks, he wondered if she was planning to go through on her threat. Not that he had anything against the hairstyle. It looked great on Michonne. Nik loved Dawn the way she was and he didn't mind hearing her complaints about maintaining her natural hair under "these circumstances." But between her shaving her head or locking her hair, he'd style her hair himself.
"Dad?" Dominik tugged on his arm. "Are we done?"
Nik laid the fork aside and indicated that he and Dominik would return to their setup at the table. They sat on the floor. The day's lesson was on Nik's specialty, the American Civil War. In his former life, Nik was working toward tenure as a history professor at Vanderbilt University. At first, he wondered how his background could be useful to his family. Lorenzo's mechanical engineering degree had saved them more times than Nik could count, but what use was extensive knowledge about the past. Until he realized that living in this rustic lifestyle came easy to him because he had studied it. He could build a fire and fashion weapons out of anything. And he had a good understanding of the human psyche in trying circumstances and what the potential outcomes were. These were the lessons that he insisted on instilling in Dominik. His son wanted to talk about leadership, mistakes, and victories. Nik used their talks to emphasize how they can use the past to be prepared for whatever the future held.
"Hey." Carl joined them with comic books in hand. "What're you doing? Is that schoolwork?"
"We're going on a book run in the morning," Dominik said. "You should come if your dad's cool with it."
Carl frowned. "What's a book run?"
"We hit the libraries. Return our books and get new ones." Nik smiled at Dominik. "Some are for fun, right? Most of the time, the libraries haven't been touched."
Dominik shrugged. "But there has to be a balance."
"A balance?" Carl asked.
"Between the fun books and the stuff for 'broadening my mind,'" Dominik said, imitating the quotation marks with his fingers..
"Think we'll find comic books?" Carl asked. He glanced at Nik, who laughed.
Dominik grinned. "Yeah, sometimes."
"I wanna come," Carl said. "I'll ask my dad when he gets back."
After he left, Nik returned to the lesson. The Battle of Hoke's Run could have been a more decisive victory, if the Union officers had been instructed to press forward. "If the world returns to order, understanding the mistakes of the past will be crucial."
"We have to figure out what makes the dead keep living," Dominik said. "Not conspiracy theories, but the truth so it doesn't happen again."
Nik reached inside his folder and handed Dominik his paper on Andersonville, the Confederate prison camp that his son had written while they were camped near the lake. "I'm proud of you, son. The paper was constructed well and your argument was compelling. Here's your math homework. Class is dismissed."
"Can I practice with the crossbow when they get back?"
The eager expression on Dominik's face reminded Nik of his daughter that he had to catch himself. He swallowed hard before responding. "Don't bother Daryl yet. Let him get reacquainted with his family first."
"Okay." Dominik gathered his books and headed toward the manager's office.
Nik returned to the grill. He preferred the meat to be cooked slow and even. As he was contemplating the next batch of squirrel and rabbit, a distinctive pinch to his rear took his mind off culinary concerns. He reached behind him and pulled Dawn into his arms. "I know what you're up to. I have plans for you."
"Oh really?" she asked, sliding her arms around him.
"Really," he said. "Wicked plans to sidetrack your shenanigans."
"Sounds like my kind of party." She brushed her mouth against his. "But tell me where because you tend to get loud when you're being devious."
"The roof. You. Me. A few candles and a sleeping bag," he said. "Does that work for you?"
"It'll be cold up there."
"I'll bring the heat."
$%^&
The make-do bath had been just what Sasha needed, but she had to laugh at herself. She left the restroom smelling fresh and clean only to have the bright idea to go on a pseudo-run inside the bank. Maybe rummaging for supplies inside the space wouldn't alter her state of cleanliness. She hoped. After days of travel and not having a regular bathing schedule until they found the Cassidy camp, Sasha had told herself that she didn't mind the build-up of dirt under her nails or the collection of grime that made her neck and back itch. She supposed the prison had spoiled her, but the truth that she was pained to admit was that this part of their lives still came as a struggle for her.
They discovered the day before that the bank was two stories, but after rescuing their people, nobody wanted to separate for the night. Of course, they cleared the building. Seeing all the Cassidy clan in action was an eye-opener. For some reason, Sasha wasn't sure if Dawn could hold her own, but to her surprise, Dawn took the lead up the staircase and brained two walkers with her ax without flinching. Dominik proved just as capable as the rest of them. It had been strange to see a kid as skilled as Carl. Sasha had believed their group was special, but no one could survive this long without going in deep. And for a family to maintain themselves as a unit… Sasha was happy for them because their situation was rare.
Sasha grabbed an empty trash bag from the kitchen/break room and headed to the second floor. They had removed the annihilated walkers and left the windows open to air out the stench. Chilly air greeted her, but she knew that the more she moved, the more the breeze would become welcomed. Most of the rooms were typical office fare—desks, chairs, filing cabinets, etc. Nothing interesting or worth salvaging. In a few closets, she found discarded clothing, such as sweaters and jackets. There were even leftover gym bags. The Nike sneakers looked brand new. She preferred boots, but she wondered if the shoes would fit one of the boys. Of course, Carl would have first dibs.
The trash bag soon filled with her treasure find of clothes, granola snack bars, bottled water, the sneakers, and even a romance novel. She began to head back downstairs, but she paused at the conference room. There had been nothing of value there except for the huge table and a few chairs. She dropped the bag at the door and slid onto the tabletop. The hardness did nothing for her back, but with the sleeping bags and pillow, this would make for a good place to lay her head that night.
"Hey."
She started at Daryl's sudden appearance in the doorway. "Hey, yourself. How's the truck?"
"Fine," he said. "It's parked out front." He came fully into the room. "You nappin'?"
"Pondering," she said, rolling onto her side to look at him. He had pulled a chair from the table and propped his feet into another one. His steady blue-eyed gaze drew her in and she smiled.
He smirked before he began to chew his bottom lip. "Ponderin' what?"
"Bunking here. With the sleeping bags, it won't be so bad. Better than the counter."
He nodded. "Suppose so."
"That's all you have to say?"
"What else is there?"
"Do you think it would be more comfortable?"
Daryl shrugged and shifted. His gaze wandered around the room before settling on the wall behind her. "Sure, why not? If that's what you want."
Irritated, Sasha sat up and nudged his chair. "Not just for me. I thought… Well, you can stay, too. Unless you like sleeping on that hard ass countertop."
"It ain't the worst place I ever slept." He stood abruptly and headed to the window.
His stance was tense. Sasha wondered about the angel wings on his back taking flight. She thought if that were possible, he'd leave just to avoid this moment. But since he didn't storm out the door, she held her judgments inside.
"Lorenzo is really handy with mechanics," she said. "Dawn seems to like cooking. The boys are getting along, too—"
"I don't want to talk about that," he muttered, his back still to her.
"Maybe I should go and help open cans or something."
"Don't," he mumbled softly. "Hold on a minute."
"If I said something wrong, I won't know unless you tell me," Sasha replied. "You're not the easiest person to read."
"You ain't either," he muttered as he finally turned to face her. "I don't ever know what the hell you're thinkin'."
"You asked and I told you."
Are we seriously fighting now? Sasha thought as she stared at him. Thoughts churned inside her mind at his current state of agitation. The Harley ride had been so special and different. They had gone for miles. Although she couldn't see his face, she felt his happiness. And no, that wasn't wishful thinking. Daryl had been as happy as she was. They laughed and talked and simply enjoyed the freedom of the wide-open space. What happened?
"Have you changed your mind?" Somehow, she kept her voice neutral and void of hurt and disappointment. There wasn't even an edge to the question. She silently prided herself on the conversational tone when she felt anything but.
"About what?"
"Dammit, Daryl!"
"I ain't changed my mind 'bout nothin'." He stated firmly. "Just…you sure about this?"
"Sleeping here?" His expression remained blank until she added, "With you?"
He folded his arms across his chest as he nodded.
"Yeah," she said softly. "I am. It's not like we haven't done it before. In the Explorer."
"That was different."
"Was it?" she asked. "Really? Not for me."
"Me neither."
Sasha extended her hand and he came to her. They held hands in the room, getting a different feel for each other's touch. His breathing came rushed. She longed to place her hand on his chest, but she wasn't sure if he was ready. Instead, she pushed his hair from his face and just stared up at him.
"It's just sleep," she said, softly. "That's all."
He frowned. His face darkened with embarrassment. "It ain't that I don't know how."
"Never thought otherwise," she said, "but for now, just sleep."
He lightly ran his fingertips along her jaw. "Fine. If sleep is all you want."
She grinned. "I didn't say that."
"This is our room," he said, looking around and nodding. "It's plenty big enough for all the jabbering you like to do before you nod off."
"Daryl Dixon."
He gave her a half smile. "I'm the only one here."
$%^&
With every door and window accounted for with sufficient fortification, they decided to have a sit down dinner in the conference room. Rick chuckled as Sasha discretely pointed to hers and Daryl's stuff in the corners. Okay, he thought, we got it. The room was theirs and dinner was just an in and out thing. All the dinner guests were comfortable with a plate of grilled meat, mashed potatoes, and baked beans sitting before them. Rick sat between Carl and Michonne, allowing himself the pleasure of family surrounding him.
Conversation was delayed as everyone ate. Lorenzo called his brother Grillmaster, and Rick understood why. The taste of the meal reminded him of dinners at Hershel's farm and even before that when he and the guys had cookouts before ballgames. He complimented the Cassidy's on the dinner and Carl mumbled the same as he dug into his meat.
"Thanks," Dawn said. "I won't take credit for it, but I know Nik will."
Her husband nodded as she laughed. "Sure will," he said.
"It's the seasoning," Dawn said.
"Seasonings plural," Michonne added. "Their stash is unbelievable."
Rick smiled at seeing the light in his woman's eyes. He had seen the two women talking when he and the guys returned with the Tahoe. They were playing with each other's hair like teenagers. It was a good surprise to see Michonne unguarded yet having a deep conversation that didn't include strategy or staying alive. Hearing her laugh made him believe that all was not lost. Not when he had her and his boy beside him. He had reasons to keep going.
"You should see her shampoo collection," Sasha piped in.
Daryl coughed until his face reddened. Lorenzo handed him a bottle of water. "You okay, man?"
"Fine," Daryl muttered. "Piece went down wrong."
Sasha's tiny smile didn't go unnoticed by Rick nor the swift glance the two exchanged with each other. Damn, he liked seeing that, too. Michonne touched his thigh.
"What is it?" she murmured for his ears only.
"Tell you later," he promised.
"Now, that everyone's gotten their fill," Lorenzo said, standing from his seat at the end of the table, "let's talk about this." He pulled a map from his back pocket and unfolded it on the center of the table.
"Terminus," Daryl said.
"Yeah," replied Lorenzo. "I pulled this off a post when I was out hunting. Thought it'd be good idea to get a closer look and see what we're dealing with."
Rick slid the map to him. All lines pointed to the supposed safe haven. Everything about the map seemed simple. He was reminded of Dorothy and the yellow brick road. No Oz waited for her and her friends at the end of their destination. Only a little man made big by his lies.
"It's so welcoming, isn't it?" Michonne said.
"Remember that broadcast we heard?" Daryl said, looking across the table at her. "Back when we were on that run for the meds."
"Yeah." She nodded.
"Broadcast?" Everyone except Michonne, Daryl, and Sasha repeated.
"Came over the radio," Daryl said. "We were drivin'."
"Then a herd came through," Michonne added. "I had forgotten about it until now."
"If they have the means to broadcast," Nik said, "they could be legit."
Dawn frowned. "I don't know, babe. Look at the notes on here. How hard they're advertising this place?"
"Feels fishy," Rick said, making eye contact with her.
"That's the G-rated version of what I was thinking," Dawn said.
"Mama!" Dominik shook his head.
The adults laughed, but Carl and Dominik nodded in solidarity. Rick looked over the map again. The wording was just too damn welcoming. His gut warned against trusting it, but—
"Some of our people could be there," he stated simply. "If they saw these signs, they'd go there, looking for the rest of us."
"Looking for a safe place," Daryl added.
"Beth could be there," Sasha said.
"Or Tyrese," Daryl said. He looked at Rick as he said, "Even Carol."
Rick didn't want to respond to that, so he turned to the most important issue now. "I'd rather wait a couple of days."
"Before we leave?" Michonne asked, "Or before we go in?"
"Before a few of us check out the place," Rick said pointedly.
"We can't forget about Lee and Aaron," Carl said. "There's that woman they were talking about, too. They want women. They want Michonne."
"Clay and Nash," Nik said, "are out there, too. They were on foot the last time we saw them, but that doesn't mean they still are."
"It's too many threats out there and they're personal," Lorenzo said. "I don't like it. Maybe Terminus is the solution. It could be fortified. It could be a safe haven. Maybe we've become too jaded."
Dawn shook her head. She touched her son's forearm. "Can't ever become too jaded. Being cautious has kept us alive. It's kept us together."
"Rick was talking about us splittin' up before," Daryl said. "We shouldn't all go in."
"This can't be one of those things were the men go in and the women are left twiddling their thumbs," Sasha argued. "My brother could be there. I'm in. Period."
"I'm in," Carl said quickly.
"Dominik isn't," Dawn said.
Rick added, "Carl ain't either."
"Dad!" Carl's voice deepened. "I'm not a little kid. I can handle myself. You can't shelter me—"
"I agree!" Dominik added.
"It's about keeping you both safe," Rick said.
"But—"
"Wait, stop," Lorenzo interrupted. "Parents still make decisions. With half of us going and the other half staying, we'll need you and Carl prepared to stand guard."
Carl looked ready to protest, but Michonne gave him a hard look. Rick was surprised at how quickly his son backed down.
"Let's wait another day," Rick said. "Get more ammo and weapons. We can work out a specific plan."
"We're still a few miles from Terminus," Nik said. "We should find a closer place to set up HQ."
Rick nodded. "Yeah, sounds good."
Later, Rick cornered Carl in the manager's office. His son seemed apprehensive at first until Rick sat on the desk and waited.
"Can I go on a book run with Dom and his dad?"
"What's that?" Rick asked.
Carl explained the details. His expression became animated at the thought of more comics and maybe finding some that Michonne hadn't read.
"Fine but one of us goes, too."
Carl sighed, but he agreed.
"Um…" Rick said slowly, unsure how to begin. "We haven't talked about yesterday. About what happened. I saw you with Michonne, but I'm here, too."
His son looked down at the carpeted floor. "I know, Dad. It's in the past, though." He raised his head and his blue eyes were clear, untroubled. "I'd rather just leave it there. We're okay now. That's enough."
Inside, Rick disagreed. He had worked with sexually assaulted victims numerous times. The thought that his son had been attacked, although he was not molested, bothered Rick. The bastard was dead, but what if something lingered inside Carl? What if there was something Rick needed to say or do? There were no rape hotlines to call or therapists to consult. He had no way of knowing that he was doing the right thing by letting it go.
"Dominik wants to swap comics," Carl said. "He's waiting…"
"Go ahead."
Rick watched Carl leave but he wasn't any more assured than he had been by Carl's statement of being fine. Still, his son's eyes had been steady. The fear and anxiety that had been there before was gone. Maybe his best move would be to trust that Carl knew his own mind better than Rick.
The scent of coconuts and the tropics hit Rick the moment Michonne returned. She had converted a t-shirt into a turban and pulled her hair inside. The contrast of the white cotton against her smooth ebony skin made him breathless. Hot damn, she was beautiful. Then his gaze travelled down to take in the white tank top and matching men's boxers that she wore. He swallowed hard, convinced that she knew the effect she was having on him.
"I thought you were playing checkers with Lorenzo," she said, her voice husky.
"I'd rather play with you." He stood in front of her. His hands rested low on her hips as he drew her close.
"You know we can't." She tossed her dirty laundry onto the pile against the wall. She flattened her hands against his chest.
"You smell…good. It's driving me crazy." Rick heard her breath catch a second before he licked her neck. His teeth grazed the sensitive flesh of her earlobe. His cock throbbed inside his jeans. He rubbed himself between her hard thighs. Her gasps turned to murmurs.
"Carl could come back." She pulled back to cup his face and search his eyes. He wondered what she saw there because she licked her lips and sighed.
"Is that the only reason?" He held her close, staring in her brown eyes when all he wanted to do was so much more.
"Um…" She frowned and looked down.
He reached inside his jeans pockets and took a step back so that he could hand her the condoms.
Her frown deepened. "Rick…"
"I didn't want you to find them," he said. "It's obvious I want you. You want me, too."
When she didn't deny it, he continued, "It's been awhile?"
She nodded slowly. "Yeah."
"But that's not the only reason," he said.
"No," she said with a shake of her head.
"I won't hurt you—"
"I know." She rubbed his beard with the pads of her thumb. "I know you, Rick."
He waited for her to say more. The last few days had been a whirlwind. Their relationship had changed. They had been captured. They were back with part of their family. But he knew that more than the obvious troubled Michonne.
The changes had been fast for him, too. Kissing her had been one of the best decisions he'd made. One he didn't regret. They should have been able to process that before assholes grabbed them and threatened to rape her and his son.
Wanting to make love to her was a given. Her responses to him—which included the pebble-hard nipples that poked her top and distinctive fragrance of her arousal—assured him that his desire was not one-sided. In so many ways, she was a go-getter. This hesitation warmed him in a different way, making him want to protect her. Even from himself.
Rick nodded toward the condoms that she clutched in her hand. "When you're ready."
"Soon," she said quietly, moving to stuff the contraceptives into her bag. "Soon."
"I won't rush you." He grabbed his toiletries and fresh underwear. "Gotta find the equivalent to a cold shower, though."
She smiled.
"Um…"
"What?" She shrugged into a clean shirt and fastened the middle buttons.
"Mind if we find our own spot and let the boys have this," Rick suggested. "I'll sleep on the floor. You can have the chair or table or whatever."
"The assistant manager's office is down the hall—"
"Think Dawn and Nik took it?" Rick asked.
Michonne grinned. "They're on the roof tonight."
Rick nodded. "Oh."
"I'll take our stuff over and let the boys know," she offered.
Rick pulled her to him as she was about to walk past. His kiss was slow, deep, and thorough. When they parted, she caressed his bottom lip with her index finger. "Soon."
He watched her chat with the boys. Their eyes widened at the sight of her. Even from a distance, Rick knew she had their rapt attention. He smiled to himself because he couldn't fault them at being mesmerized. Even Lorenzo's jaw had dropped as he set up the board for another game with either his nephew or Carl. Rick was okay with them looking at her—respectfully—but she was his. And he was hers. He reasoned it had been that way since the first day they met. From the other side of the fence, her eyes had held his and he couldn't move. Back then he hadn't been ready, so it was easier for him now to give her the time to catch up. Rick prided himself on his patience. Michonne was a woman worth waiting for.
[A/N: Cont'd. I enjoy hearing from you and can't thank you enough for the response to this story! I have responded to registered reviews for Part 8 (check your inbox), and I plan to continue to do so. If you haven't already, check out my other Richonne/Dasha fic, "A New Day." It's a completed story with 3 chapters that show that my work is not always subjected to longwindedness. (Yes, that's a word now.) lol Only a month until the return of our beloved Richonne back onscreen. Rumors are abound about what's ahead, but I'm a firm believer that Richonne is endgame. The set up began in s3 and the slow build has continued with every scene they share. It's time to bring it.
Alex311 – I listened and I'm not worrying about the length anymore. lol I'm a huge Richonne shipper, too. They make it so easy, don't they? Sigh. Daryl is fun to write. I wasn't sure if he would be at first, but he and Sasha bounce off each other very well and make this very enjoyable on my end. I'm glad you like my OCs. They've been my "babies" for a long time. I couldn't imagine the ZA without them. Thanks!
Reader – Welcome aboard, the Dasha Ship! There's plenty of room, but watch out for Daryl's crossbow. Be careful not to ogle his arms (too much) or Sasha may take offense. lol Thanks!]
