Wilting under the glare of Michonne's scrutiny, Rick wordlessly opened the driver-side door, climbed out, slammed the door behind him, and walked around to the front of the car. Michonne's eyes tracked him as he leaned backwards against the hood, head bowed, seemingly studying the asphalt beneath his feet. Sighing deeply, she remained rooted in the passenger seat, assembling her scattered thoughts. A high-pitched squeak interrupted her introspection, causing her to swivel her head towards the backseat. She looked on as Carl, clutching a whimpering Judith, pushed open the backdoor with his foot and exited the rust-covered vehicle.
Pausing for a few moments to clear her head, Michonne grabbed the door handle, pushed the groaning door open, and strode around to the front of the car to meet up with Rick, now seated on the car's hood. Using both hands to hoist herself up, she scooted closer to him, only stilling herself when their thighs and knees lightly touched. Silent, they both took in the surrounding landscape.
"Rick?" she asked, her eyes never straying from the horizon. "What's going on with you?
Awaiting his response, Michonne, brows furrowed, lifted her hand to shield her eyes against the midday sun. Sensing he wasn't yet ready to answer, she viewed the scenery in front of her, taking in the overgrown greenery framing all sides of their path.
Several minutes prior, the RV had stopped in the middle of the road, causing the car carrying Rick, Michonne, Carl, and Judith, to pull over a short distance behind it. Leaning back onto her elbows, she caught the side of Rick's face, as he fixated on the rest of their family, now huddled around the RV's open hood.
Carl paced back and forth between the hood and trunk of the car, trying to calm Judith, fussy and irritated from their extended journey in the suffocating car.
"Judy's grumpy," Carl said, positioning himself in front of Rick. "I'm gonna get her something to eat and drink, and see if she'll take a nap."
Rick nodded as Carl turned, bouncing Judith in his arms, and walked towards the RV. He shifted his focus to Glenn and Abraham tinkering under the RV's hood. He was anxious to see if they would be able to get the vehicle to start again. He watched as a frustrated Daryl aimlessly stomped across the roof of the RV. The others milled around, sitting in the dirt chatting, or simply inspecting the area for signs of danger. Anything to burn off some of the nervous energy buzzing amongst them.
As Carl climbed up the steps and into the RV, Michonne's question lingered, suspended in the surprising tension that had enveloped the two of them since Aaron's arrival at the barn. It was an unexpected feeling, reminiscent of their initial introduction those many months ago. He didn't like it; neither did she. But, both held firm to their current state of opposition, unwilling to delve directly into the conflict simmering between them.
Instead, they opted to let reticence prevail, directing their gaze beyond the RV, beyond their family, and onto the open, jungle-like fields encircling the roadway. Their itch to connect was ever present, but with neither able to find the necessary words to do so, their only choice was to wallow in the unspoken.
For Michonne, it had been a very long, yet ultimately promising day. As bone-tired as she was, she was also curiously invigorated by the prospect of what lay ahead. Aaron finding them was a serendipitous turn of fortune, considering how beaten and broken they all had been after leaving the church. If what he had shared with them about Alexandria was true, Michonne knew this could be the start of everything.
Convincing Rick to give this opportunity a chance was a different story, and Michonne felt more and more frustrated with his hesitation. She knew Rick wasn't yet where she was, but she hoped to pull him along. After all, she'd done it before.
Despite her exhaustion, Michonne could tell their earlier conversation, as they prepared to leave the barn, hadn't quite hit the mark. Rick doubted what was out there. She had her doubts as well, but for reasons she couldn't entirely articulate, her gut told her that Aaron was telling the truth.
She knew you could be out there too long; she certainly had been. Piece by heartbreaking piece, she had begun observing how they were all gradually deteriorating. Thankfully, Rick had listened to her and at least understood the need for them to get off the road. Contemplative, she bit down on her bottom lip, her mind racing, as she considered the possibilities. This could be it for them. They just needed everyone on board, because, Alexandria had to work for all of them, or it wouldn't work at all.
Pivoting towards him, Michonne sat up, noting Rick's face, streaked with dirt and etched with worry. He looked drained, defeated, and… something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. She would need to take special care in order to solve the puzzling emotions emanating from him. She had to wield her power cautiously, in order to push down Rick's reluctance to give Alexandria a fair shot. They needed this.
Michonne continued examining him, until, a moment of clarity flooded her senses. Suddenly, it seemed so obvious to her. Why hadn't she seen it before? Why hadn't she caught the fear and angst poured off of Rick, like lava usurping the edges of an erupting volcano? She knew his ultimate goal was ensuring the safety of his children and those he loved. But, seeing how palpable his anxiety was, honestly threw her. Rick was a lot of things, but scared? Never. This was a revelation.
Michonne looked down at her lap, absentmindedly scraping off dried bits of dirt and walker blood from the creases of her jeans. She was covered in grime, as they all were. The prospect of a safe place with warm beds and running water was beyond her wildest dreams.
Michonne chuckled to herself, recognizing the dichotomy of how what was once considered to be 'the basics', had become luxuries in this new world. The absurdity of it all wasn't lost on her, but she knew her primary objective, if they were to have a legitimate hope of getting to Alexandria, was to rein in Rick.
Rick had a tendency to let his apprehension get in his own way. When he did, Michonne would be right there as his counterbalance. She didn't mind. They had grown even closer since the fall of the prison and she knew him better than most. Really, better than anyone.
Michonne knew his mistrust could easily become dangerous if left unchecked. She was prepared to do whatever it took for them to get there. As long as they got there. She could handle Rick. She gently leaned into him, gripping his thigh and giving it a squeeze to get his attention.
"Huh?" he asked, a little confounded by her question, but knowing he needed to give her something. Anything. "Nothin' really. I'm good. Just– Just thinkin' 'bout how we get there if the RV won't start up. Why?"
Michonne knew that wasn't what was on his mind. At least, it wasn't the only thing.
"I don't know," she sighed, looking up from her hands and back to him. "You seem… like you're not here. You're not with us. It's worrying me."
Inhaling deeply, she continued,
"Look, I know you think I don't get it, but I do. I see you Rick. You're wondering how you're going to let go of who you needed to be in order to survive out here. How you're going to go from just surviving to actually living. How you'll ever be able to let go of the horror that thrives in this world, when it's been the knowledge of that very horror that has kept you here, kept you alive. How do you, how do we, bring back the good to this world?"
Rick held his breath, transfixed by her ability to cut through his bullshit to get to the crux of his unease. She did get him. She had, since practically the beginning. He knew he would eventually give in, as he always did. He just wasn't ready to concede. Not completely anyway.
"Don't worry 'bout it," Rick replied. "I'll be fine."
"Rick, don't you see that the fight is over? You've gotta let it go. No one knows better than I do how hard that is. How impossible it feels when the fight is what has kept you warm… kept you fed… kept you alive. But– But, the fight... turns on you. It swallows you whole, if you let it. You can't let it Rick. You've gotta let it go."
Michonne sensed the disquiet and fear cascading over him, like turbulent waves over a craggy shore. Her hand found his, and encircled it in a firm grip, trying to impart some of her tranquil certainty onto him and ease his trepidation.
"Yeah, I know," Rick replied, turning towards her and nodding slowly. "That's what Bob tried to tell me at the church. What to risk. When it's safe. When to let someone in."
He stared at her, looking for some sort of indication that all would be well. That he no longer needed to worry. Could he ever get to the place where he actually let someone in? After all they'd been through, it seemed inconceivable.
"Don't know if I can anymore," he continued. "The rules, they keep changin'. I'm not sure I have it in me to change with 'em. Look at who I've become, Michonne. I don't know if I can go back to who I was. I'm not sure I'd even want to. The old me woulda' been no good in this world."
"Yeah, the rules changed," she replied. "They did for me. Look around, they did for all of us. If they hadn't, none of us would be here."
Giving his hand another squeeze, she continued, "look, I know you don't trust Aaron, but you trust me, right? I've got a good feeling about this. This could be our chance to take our lives back. To have more than just shelter. We could have a real home. Don't you want that too?"
The hope and expectations in her eyes proved too much for him. Rick turned away from her, refocusing his sights into the distance. He knew how much she wanted to get them off the road. He didn't want to disappoint her. Especially now, when they appeared to be so close to… something. Maybe finding a way to truly live in this monstrous world.
She sat there, lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed, trying to get him to see what she saw. Michonne's vision of the future would float in Rick's mind for a few moments, yet when he stretched his arm to grab it, it would disperse, like vapor, through his fingers. He couldn't keep his mind tuned into Alexandria being anything more than a pipe dream. A place like that couldn't possibly exist. Not anymore.
"Rick, please trust me on this," she implored.
"I don't know if I can," he replied, truthfully. "I feel like I'm outside my own skin. What if this is a trap? Is it even possible that someplace like that exists? In a world like this?" Rick gestured towards the stray walkers meandering across the otherwise vacant field.
"How can any light exist in all this darkness?" he asked, swiveling towards her once more.
"We've lost so much. It– It's hard to be hopeful. In my worst nightmares, I could never have imagined a life like this for myself, let alone my kids. After all we've done, all we've been through, how could we ever be 'normal'? What about– I mean, what if I don't know how to live in a place like that anymore?" he said, his eyes moving back to the field, and away from the intensity of her stare.
She had a way of burrowing into his soul. It sometimes unnerved him. Today, he welcomed it. If she couldn't figure out what was happening to him, no one could.
"Hey," she said, trying to draw him away from the walkers and back to her. "Look at me. Rick? Please look at me."
He rotated to face her.
"Didn't you say you were willing to do what it took to have one more day with a chance?" She watched him tilt his head slightly, close his eyes, then open them again to take a glance at her.
"Yeah, I guess I did," he chortled, leaning towards her, his entire side now abutting hers.
She studied him closely, determined to pinpoint the words that would cure his anxiety. She was good at that. Michonne knew he didn't want to fully admit just how scared he was, but she could tell. He was trying to be brave for her. She wished he knew that he didn't need to be. They were in this together.
"Well, I think this is that chance," she declared.
Rick looked into her eyes, awed by the strength of her convictions. Michonne had become an integral part of his life. She was family. Instinctively, he had known from nearly the day they met that her presence would somehow be the balm for his wounded soul. He felt balanced and secure when she was around.
He just wished he had Michonne's faith. He knew she struggled mightily, but she made it all seem so easy, so effortless. He wanted nothing more than to link arms with her and jump into this unknown abyss together.
So, he decided then and there, that he would try. He couldn't figure out why she was so sure, but he did trust her. If she said this was their chance, he wasn't going to fight it any longer. He'd do whatever was needed to ensure they got this chance. That she got this chance.
The loud rumbling of the RV coming back to life snapped them back into the present. Both looked up, taking in the view of the rest of their family hurriedly getting back into the RV.
"Motherdick!" Abraham roared, basking in the accompanying applause. "Glenn, you're a fuckin' genius! Alrighty then. Y'all ready to blow this popsicle stand? Aces! Let's get the fuck out of here."
Rick looked once more to Michonne, seeking, in her expressive eyes, the answers only she seemed to have.
"You can do this Rick," she said. "We can do this, I know we can. You ready?"
"Yeah, I believe I am," he replied, bobbing his head as he hopped off the hood of the car, pulling her down with him, her hand clasped firmly in his.
He wasn't exactly certain, but for her, he would see.
The moon had long since eclipsed the sun, obscuring the light, and shepherding all, but a handful of Alexandria's residents back into their homes for the evening. The murky, yet star-filled night cloaked Michonne in an iridescent hue, pinpricks of which captured, for just a moment, her face in quiet repose. Rick moved a few steps forward to get a better look. Her movements were achingly slow, only perceivable to the most diligent of observers. He wanted to be closer, wanted her closer, but was hesitant to disturb the bubble of despair currently enslaving her.
The funeral ended hours ago, the etching of his name on Alexandria's memorial wall now dry, but there she remained. On her knees, shoulders slumped, body gently heaving in rhythm to an unheard melody. Her arms hung limply at her sides, while her fingers slowly drifted back and forth, clawing at the ground around her, leaving absent-minded patterns in their wake. Her sadness overwhelmed him, but, the magnetic pull of her very presence, held his eyes in place, dedicating them solely to watching her.
A solitary street lamp, dimmed for the night, cast her in an eerie silhouette as she knelt in front of the wall. She looked so small and desolate. A far cry from the excitable energy overflowing from her when he had dropped Carl and Judith off at her house just a few days ago. Seeing her so deflated was agonizing, yet, his heart wouldn't tolerate looking away.
Standing there, enraptured, his arms were plagued by the phantom memories of the tremors he had felt pulse through her body after she passed out earlier that day.
Her stumble had been unexpected, but reaching out to catch her had been natural. He gently laid her on her back, pushing her locs from her face, peering into her slightly open eyes, seeing... nothing. She breathed in heavily, her chest haphazardly expanding and contracting, as he used his thumb to wipe the anxious sweat that had begun beading above her top lip.
Seized by panic, Rick slid his left arm under her knees and his right between her neck and shoulders, pulling Michonne towards himself and beginning to rise to his feet. Daryl, having witnessed her collapse, rushed over to help lift her into Rick's arms. The three then hastily made a beeline for the infirmary.
On the way, she had awoken, disoriented and frightened.
He pulled her closer to him, murmuring, "it's ok, I gotcha," instantly calming her nerves.
Dr. Soroyan opened the infirmary's door before Daryl even had a chance to knock.
"What happened?" the Doctor asked, ushering the three of them into the main treatment area, gesturing for Rick to place Michonne onto the first of three sheet-lined cots arranged against the wall.
Carefully setting her down on the cot, Rick replied, "she fainted, but couldn't have been out more than a minute or so though."
"Michonne?" the Doctor asked, shining a small flashlight into her eyes to check responsiveness. "How are you feeling?"
"I– I'm ok," Michonne replied, trying to sit up, but dizziness causing her to fall back down. "Just a little nauseated."
"Well, that's to be expected at this point in your pregnancy," the Doctor continued. "Let's check your blood pressure and make sure nothing else is going on."
Dr. Soroyan didn't notice Michonne cringing, Rick averting his eyes, nor Daryl's dumbfounded expression. He continued his cursory examination, eventually determining that while her blood pressure was slightly elevated, the real culprit was likely a combination of the stress of the day, coupled with mild dehydration. Despite Michonne's protestations, he insisted she stay to rest and properly hydrate.
Once Michonne was comfortably resting with an IV drip, Dr. Soroyan directed his attention to Daryl, forcing him to sit long enough for his extensive wounds to be cleaned and bandaged. Rick stayed by Michonne's side, but as soon as Dr. Soroyan had finished patching him up, Daryl bolted up and marched out the door, insisting on making sure he helped prepare him for burial.
After getting the okay from Dr. Soroyan, Michonne, leaning heavily on Rick for support, stepped out the front door of the infirmary. Rick, noting the considerably drop in temperature, took off his brown, shearling-collared coat and wrapped it around Michonne's shoulders, protecting her from the wintry chill that had settled in for the night. Huddled closely together, they walked, unhurriedly, towards the gates, quietly preparing along the way, to add his name to Alexandria's list of lost souls.
"What'll we do?" Daryl asked, catching Rick off guard and shaking him from his thoughts. "We ain't gonna let 'er stay out here all night, right?"
"'Course not," Rick replied. "I just want to give her a bit more time to herself. Why don't you head on home? I've got this."
"You sure?" Daryl asked.
"Yeah, I got this," he repeated, listening, as Daryl's footsteps dissipate into the darkness.
Periodically, the sound of her weeping found him where he stood, causing his heart to clinch, and his eyes to well with understanding. He would stand out here, supporting her, for as long as it took. Rick knew she would have never asked him to stay. That wasn't her way. But, he had no intentions of leaving her. He vacillated between running to her, and holding back to give her room to process what had happened in her own way.
Lighter, steady, footsteps pick up volume as they closed in on him.
"Dad?" Carl called out, walking up to Rick, a sleepy Judith in his arms. "We've got to get Michonne to go home. It's freezing out here."
"I know," he replied, exhaling slowly, wondering how life had taken them to this point. He was grateful for the second chance at friendship Michonne had given him. The time spent outside her orbit had been proof enough that he was rudderless without her. He was gratified to be able to give her solace now, to be there for her in the ways she had always been there for him, even during their discord.
"Yeah, let's go get her," Rick said, hushing his rapidly beating heart, as they walked towards Michonne.
Michonne never turned to look, but she knew Rick was there, standing vigil. This knowledge brought her more comfort than she would have openly admitted. She wanted to turn around, tell him she was ok. Tell him to go home and get some rest after this horrifying day. But, she didn't. She couldn't. As her very pores cried out, expelling their grief, the silent comfort his nearness provided, felt like her only lifeline.
Clad only in jeans, her signature black boots, and his jacket, shielding her like a talisman, she knelt in the rapidly cooling dirt. The icy earth seeped through her pants, chilling her bones and causing her teeth to chatter. She couldn't help but go back to the night when they had all been subjugated, on their knees, forced to pay an devastating tribute to Negan and the Saviors. The fright had been the same. As had the anger.
And so, she knelt there, in front of their makeshift memorial, dejected and bewildered. Her mind a muddled mass of confusion, darting back and forth, desperately seeking an anchor to pacify her thoughts.
How could this man, who had inexplicably burrowed his way into her heart be gone? This man who had taken her bundle of worry and placed it on his back? This man who had known all about her transgressions, yet always looked at her as if the sun rose and fell in her raven-colored eyes. This man who, not because he wasn't jealous, but because he loved her, accepted Rick and his children into their lives.
She mourned for the man who had surprised her with the depth of his feelings. Who had helped her heal after so much loss. Her thoughts drifted to all she had loved and lost. Andre. Mike. Andrea. Hershel. Glenn. Abraham. Sasha. It was too much. She wanted to cry to the heavens, shake her fists for an answer as to why. She'd done everything she could to keep all that she loved and cherished safe. It was, however, not enough. It dawned on her that it might never be.
But, she counted her blessings for all the people who had left imprints on her heart, as well as those that were nevertheless here, continuing to show her how much she was loved. As her mind drifted to Rick, Carl, and Judith, she sensed the shift in the air as they walked towards her. Rick got to her first, dropping to his knees on her right side, grabbing her shoulders, and pulling her to him.
Carl took her other side, crouching next to her, Judith cuddled in his arms. Upon seeing Michonne, Judith leaned into her, giving her a sweet kiss, and opening her arms to be held. Michonne sat back on her calves, tugging Judith over and nestling her in her arms.
"I just wanted to bring her out to say goodnight," Carl said. "If it's ok with you, I'll take her over to your house for the night. Her playpen's already there, so we're pretty much set."
"Yeah, I'd like that," Michonne replied, giving Judith another kiss.
"Let me take her," Rick interjected, knowing Carl wanted to spend some time alone with Michonne. "I'll put her to bed. Just don't be out here too long."
He stood up and stepped behind Michonne, reaching for a suddenly very alert Judith.
"No!" the upset little girl shouted, clinging to Michonne. "Wanna stay with Meesown. No go bye-bye."
"It's ok baby," Michonne said, Judith's waterworks causing her own to reappear. "Please go with daddy. I'll be there in a little while."
"Promish?" Judith pleaded, eyes full of tears.
"Promise," Michonne answered. Mollified for the moment, Judith leaned in for another kiss, placing her chubby hands on Michonne's cheeks and swiftly wiping the wetness away.
Rick stood up, holding Judith snuggly against his chest, and started walking towards Michonne's house.
As Rick walked the streets of Alexandria, the silence of the night struck him as appropriate, as if it too were paying homage to today's loss. Striding past his own home, he saw that the porch lights were now off, but a solitary light was visible in the living room. it flashed in his mind that maybe he should stop and go in for a while. But, he didn't. Instead, choosing to continue on to Michonne's.
Arriving at her house, he climbed the stairs to the porch. Shifting Judith to his other arm, he turned the door knob, entering the dark, sullen house. Stepping into the foyer, Judith yawned loudly, resting her cheek on Rick's shoulder.
"Meesown 'ouse for night-night?" the tired child asked.
"Yeah, we're stayin' at Michonne's for night-night," he replied.
Seemingly pleased with the answer, she let out another big yawn, before tunneling more deeply into her father's arms.
Walking further into the house, Rick felt a charged energy coursing through the walls as he made his way through the living room, pausing to pick up one of Judith's red cups from the fireplace mantel, on his way past the dining room, and into the kitchen.
Looking around the kitchen, he took in remnants of the cake Michonne had been making for Judith's birthday. A small, sad smile crossed his lips as he envisioned Michonne and his children laughing together as they prepared for Judith's party. His expression took on a pensive sheen as he realized how that moment was so cruelly cut short. He had thought about taking Carl and Judith home tonight, but realized that there was no way he could leave Michonne alone, and the only way to justify his presence, was for them to stay there as well.
Hearing the soft snores emanating from his daughter, he grabbed her playpen from kitchen, and pushed it into a darkened corner in the living room. By the time he had set it up with pillows and blankets, Judith had begun snoring more deeply. He gently lowered her into the bedding, covered her with a blanket, and tucked her favorite stuffed lamb by her side.
Walking back into the kitchen, he looked over the ingredients of the cake Michonne had been making for Judith. Not knowing quite what to do, he gathered the empty bowls and dumped them in the sink with the utensils, then put what looked to be the beginnings of a batter into the refrigerator. He took a few minutes to wash the dishes, clear and wipe the countertops, as well as sweep flour from the floor. Satisfied with his efforts, he went to sit on the couch in the living and wait for Michonne and Carl to return.
Sitting there, the only light coming from the front porch, he couldn't help smiling, remorsefully, as he thought about how much they'd been through together and how she had remained true to him and his children, even when he had not always done the same. His smile morphed into a grimace as he recalled the pain he had caused her during their early days in Alexandria and how hard they had both worked, for the sake of their family, for the community, to come to a mutual understanding and appreciation.
He felt unworthy, but blessed. Blessed that her kind soul would not allow her to shut Carl and Judith out of her life, even when she didn't always want him there as well. In that moment, alone on that couch, waiting for her and Carl to come home, the realization of his love for her swept over him, causing his heart to ache at the mistakes he had made, and how her generosity had saved him.
She felt the warmth radiating from Carl as he shuffled to the right, moving closer to her, lifting his arm to drape it over her shoulders. She raised her right hand, clasping it around his. The love and devotion from this young man meant the world to her.
"You know, I used to think that the worst day of my life was the day my mom died," Carl began. "But, I was wrong."
She turned to face him, confused as to where he was going with this.
"The actual worst day of my life, was the day I thought we had lost Judith," he continued, taking in her mystified expression.
"Do you want to know why?" he asked.
Pausing to acknowledge her nod, he continued, "because, that was the day that I thought I had lost the last link to my mom. Even though she'll never really know her or remember her, Judith is the last piece of my mom, besides me, that still exists."
There she sat, vision blurry and eyes teeming with tears, stunned into muteness, steadily trying to absorb the truth of his words.
"You just gotta remember, you still have a link to him," Carl said. "You always will."
Facing the wall, he continued, "when you told me about Andre, I was honored. It meant so much to me that you trusted me. When we were clearing that house, the first thing that came to mind was that I hoped Andre and Judith were somewhere together. But, I also hoped that my mom was there too, so she could take care of them."
She stared at him. This astonishing young man, who saw to her core. She knew that, like his father, words didn't always come easy. But when they did come, the poignancy often brought her to her knees. He had more he wanted to say, she could tell. She wanted him to say his peace, and so, she waited patiently on that frigid soil, for him to continue.
"When I first saw you at the fence… at the prison., I don't know… there was something pulling me and telling me to go help you, so I did. When we got here, I felt like I was losing you. I know you and my dad weren't getting along, and even though I didn't really know why, it scared me. I was afraid you'd leave and I wouldn't see you again. I'd lose another link. And for a while, I didn't see you as much as before."
He dipped his chin into his chest, trying to keep the tears at bay and hidden from her.
"All I knew was that I didn't want to be out of your life and I didn't want you to be out of ours. It meant everything when you and Dad agreed to let us figure out how to make this work. And it does work. That's meant everything to me."
Lifting his tear-lined face to take a glimpse of her, he said, "I love you, Michonne. And, I can– No, I won't let you do this alone. I won't allow it."
She gave him a rueful smile and playfully asked, "so, I guess I don't get a choice, huh?"
"No, you don't," he answered, taking her hand from his shoulder. He rose up from the ground, drawing her up with him.
"I love you too, Carl," she said, smiling through her tears. Returning her grin, he tenderly linked his arm through hers, pulled her forward, and walked her home.
Her arm tucked under his own, Carl guided Michonne into her house. He held onto her as she stood in the foyer, soundlessly taking in the fact that she was returning to the home they had shared, but, without him. Gathering her bearings, she thought back to Scott's unceremonious visit to her doorstep earlier that day. How it had turned her life upside down, leaving her emotionally wasted, and unable to even think of what would come next. In that moment, she gave thanks to Carl's empathetic touch, as he stoically stood next to her, like a soldier, shielding her from this misery.
Stepping through the foyer, an odd quietude shrouded the space. The pronounced absence of the usual laughter and lightness she had grown so accustomed to when entering the home caught her by surprise. Somehow, even the air smelled different, her nose registering a nuanced change in scent, caused, she couldn't help thinking, by his sudden departure.
Arm in arm, they walked into the living room, where Rick lay dozing on the couch, one arm stretched out over his head, his hand over his face, as Judith slept soundly in her playpen in the corner. The view gave buoyancy to Michonne's downtrodden spirit.
Feeling wonderment in the few moments of calm this lightness of being had granted her, she surveyed the room, eyes ricocheting, no particular direction in mind, landing on reminders of him tucked into corners everywhere. It was inconceivable that the joy which had reigned throughout the house only a few hours prior, was now bridled, suppressed into bleakness.
Taking a step further into the living room, the creak of a loose floorboard jostled Rick from his sleep.
"Hey," Rick rasped, his body aching with fatigue as he lifted his head from the arm of the sofa. "Did y'all just get in?"
"Yeah," Carl answered, giving Michonne's arm a tight squeeze, before releasing it, and walking past his father and towards the kitchen.
Michonne walked in front of Rick, taking a seat on the coffee table directly across from him. From her perch, she watched Carl grab a glass from an upper cabinet, and fill it with water from the tap. He drank it in quick gulps, rinsing it out before placing in the drying rack. He then returned to the living room, standing next to Michonne.
"I'm taking Judith upstairs to sleep," Carl said. "She always wakes up when she's not in a real bed."
This drew genuine smiles from around the room, as they thought about the delightfully idiosyncratic ways of their lovely, little Judith. Noting a more harmonious aura in the room, Carl walked over to the playpen, bending down to pick Judith up, and slinging her over his shoulder. He soothed her by gently swaying back and forth, patting her back, as he made his way up the stairs.
"'Night, son," Rick called out.
"Goodnight dad," Carl replied. "Goodnight Michonne."
"Goodnight my dear," she answered.
Watching Carl disappear up the stairs, Michonne rose from the coffee table and walked towards the kitchen; Rick fell into step behind her. She could see as she crossed the dining room's threshold, that the kitchen had been cleaned and swept; the island had been cleared.
"What'd you do with the cake batter?" Michonne asked, walking towards the sink to wash her hands.
"Put it in the fridge," he replied.
Turning on the tap, she looked down at her muck-caked hands and fingernails, surprised by the sight, unable to recall how they had gotten so dirty. She turned up the tap's temperature, thoroughly lathering her hands with soap. Washing slowly, she kept her eyes on the sink's drain, watching as bits of dirt from her hands mixed with the cleanser, hypnotizing her, as the foam circled down the drain, taking the filth with it.
Drying her hands on the dish towel hanging from a hook next to the sink, she walked over to the oven and turned it on. Confused, he said nothing as she bent down to take two rectangular cake pans out from the lower cabinets, placing them on the island. A slow realization came over him. As she moved towards the refrigerator, he walked around the island to stop her.
"Chonne? C'mon now. This ain't necessary. We don't need to have the party tomorrow. Let's just take a moment to catch our breath."
She let out an exasperated sigh and raised her eyes to meet his, the first time she'd done so since entering the house. He stared at her, the salt from tears long-dried, had left jagged, ashen smudges across her cheeks and down to her chin.
"Judith's birthday is tomorrow," she said, sternly. "I won't let anything ruin it for her."
Flabbergasted, he could only watch as she sidestepped him, opening the refrigerator to pull out the mixing bowl Rick had previously covered and placed on the shelf. She set it on the counter next to the cake pans. He studied her, mesmerized as she went about the rote task of baking a birthday cake amid the sadness permeating the room.
Shaking his head slightly, he walked over to the pantry to grab the latest concoction from Eugene, oil from the soy beans they had harvested that fall. He walked over to work next to her in silence, drizzling a bit of oil in each pan, waiting for her slight nod as approval, then using his fingers to spread the oil across the pan.
Michonne sifted flour into the egg and honey mixture, then reached over to grab a few tablespoons of melted goat's milk butter and some homemade lemon extract to add to the bowl. A dash of vanilla and a vigorous stir completed the recipe. Rick stepped aside as she tilted the mixture into one of the rectangular cake pans, then the other. He opened the oven door, letting her slide the cakes into the heat, before she set the timer and turned back to look at him.
"I'm going to sit down for a bit," she said, breezing past him on her way to the living room.
Not knowing what else to do, he decided to go upstairs to check on Carl and Judith.
Instead of the couch, she opted to take a seat in one of the Ikat-patterned wingback chairs framing the living room's book shelves. As she prepared to sit down, she noticed a book propped on the chair's armrest. This had been his favorite spot to sit and read in the evenings. He would have usually taken whatever book had caught his fancy up to bed with him. Picking up the book, she sat down, feeling strangely comforted. She opened the book, balancing it on the arm of the chair.
He must have forgotten to bring it up to bed.
Moving the book to her lap, she let her eyes flit across the pages. Her unexpected calm continued as she flipped through the book. She didn't know what to make of it, so she sunk deeper into the chair, slowly working her way towards the page that he had dog-eared. This made her smile. They had bickered over whether or not dog-earing was acceptable as a page marker, or if wouldn't be much better to simply use a scrap of paper to mark progress. He had been a firm believer in dog-ears, while she had had a divergent opinion.
It all seems so silly now.
She quickly scanned the pages, desperate to find a sign of what he might have read that last night. Begging for just a glimpse of any essence of him that might persist in this world. The minute she came to the passage on the dog-eared page, she knew this was it. The last thing he had read, and it had been one of her favorites.
This is so like him, she smiled, dormant tears, once again, finding their way out of hibernation.
Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.
A soft knock on the doorway separating the dining and living rooms shook her from her musings. The tears had come again, but this time, her body did not shake. These were indebted tears, thankful ones that fell, like a waterfall, down her cheeks and onto the open pages of the book. Gratified that, though their time together was short, it had been meaningful. Purposeful. She said a silent pray, sharing her appreciation with the universe.
Eyes still on the page, she heard the distinctive staccato of his boots as he made his way to her, taking a seat at her feet, placing his right hand on her knee, and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"What can I do?" Rick asked, gazing up into her weary eyes. "Carl and Judith are sacked out on the bed in your guest room, so figured I'd come back down and check in, see what you need."
Almost too tired to speak, she reached for his hand, gripping it in hers.
"Just sit with me," she whispered.
Maybe, she was being a little selfish. He should go home. But, she couldn't bear to be without them. Without him. Not today. Today, she needed them. She needed him.
And for him, there was nowhere else he'd rather be. She looked depleted, spent. But he knew her, so he braced himself for the question he had been waiting for her to ask, ever since they drove through Alexandria's gates. He knew that she was tired, but sleep would not find her without the details of how this wretched day had unfolded.
"What happened, Rick?" she asked. "I need to know."
Taking a deep breath, he started where he knew he should.
"Spencer did everythin' he could to get back home to you."
A/N: The poem is an excerpt from "Don't Go Far Off" by Pablo Neruda, one of my favorite poets of all time.
