Tangled and Dark Chapter Three

The peacefulness of the early morning hours was deceptive; for some reason, the walkers' snarls and groans weren't as apparent and for a brief time, as the sun-baked the dew from the grass, Michonne felt brimming with unbridled hope.

She stood at the kitchen window with a mug of tea, watching the sky when Carl shuffled into the kitchen and began foraging for breakfast food.

"Good morning, "Michonne whispered without turning around.

"Hey," Carl mumbled finding a granola bar and tearing the wrapper with his teeth. "Why are you whispering?"
Michonne smiled and turned around to face him.

"Quiet mornings are too damned special."

Carl shrugged and shuffled out of the room munching on the granola bar.

"This is the last granola bar," he said over his shoulder.

A few moments later, Rick ambled in shirtless and scratching his head. Noticing Michonne's beatific expression, he crept silently towards her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Looks like it's gonna be a good day," he whispered into her neck.

Michonne put her mug down and turned to face him. Her eyes searched his for a moment before she said, "We can't stay here forever, you know."
She hugged him and moved away slowly.

"Change of scenery?"
Michonne nodded her assent as Rick hopped up on the counter. He picked up her mug; there was still some warm tea left and he took a sip.

"Well, let's get what's left of the supplies here and move on. I'm sure there's a vehicle around here somewhere. I don't want to start feeling too comfortable either," he said.

Michonne smiled at him and went to find Carl.

That afternoon, driving in a beat up Suburban, they rode in silence. The day, while sunny, was crisp and cool and it felt to them as if they were simply taking a Sunday drive in the country as a family.

"Hey, there's a restaurant in that strip mall!" Carl said excitedly pointing at the row of stores to their right.

Rick pulled in easily and parked. With no sight of walkers in the vicinity, they walked to the entrance of Mama's Barbecue Joint.

Once inside the darkened space, they hurried to the kitchen to gather supplies. As she was packing canned goods into her sack, Michonne froze.
"What is it?" asked Rick.

"Shh…where's Carl?"

Just then she heard the snarl of walkers and dropping her bag; ran to the dining room area of the restaurant.

Groups of walkers came from the rest room area and the back patio section, approaching Carl who pulled his gun.

Praying that he wouldn't shoot, Michonne ran to assist him, cutting down two walkers.

Carl backed away, tripped and twisted his ankle. Rick came into the area wielding a butcher's knife.

"Carl! You okay?"
Carl put some weight on his foot and stifled a cry of pain.
"I'm okay; I think it's just twisted."
He pulled his gun and shot two walkers.
After they made short work of the undead intruders, Michonne ran to the kitchen and came back with a fire extinguisher, a stock pot, some kitchen towels and a plastic bag.

"What the heck are you gonna do with that?" Carl asked incredulously.

"You're gonna need ice and this is just as good as anything else, "Michonne said evenly as she placed some kitchen towels inside the stock pot and blasted it with a few short bursts from the fire extinguisher. Within a few minutes she'd made an ice pack for Carl, much to his amazement.

She pushed him into a seated position in a booth and frowned at him.

"Holy shit," he murmured as Michonne placed the dry ice pack on Carl's ankle.

Rick stared at her with wonder, a smile spreading across his face.

Michonne looked up at him.

"What?"

"You're a constant surprise to me, woman," Rick said running his fingers through his hair and shaking his head in disbelief.

"It's the zombie apocalypse we have to improvise."
Michonne grabbed the fire extinguisher and the bag filled with supplies as she walked out to the truck.

Moments later, they were back on the road.

"I don't believe it," Rick said pulling the car closer to a figure walking ahead of them.

"That can't be…"
They pulled closer to the walking figure and Michonne rolled her window down.

"Need a ride, stranger?"

Daryl Dixon turned to face her squinting, a broad smile crossing his face. He dropped his rucksack and leaned in the window.

"'Bout time; my feet are killin' me."

As they drove on, Daryl filled them in on what happened since they'd all been separated.

"So Beth just…" Carl started.

"She's just gone; I can't say where, but she was alive when I last saw her and now she's got some other survival skills. I bet she's okay," Daryl said looking out the window.

"What happened to you?" he asked Carl.

Carl then explained what Michonne had done.

"She was amazing," he said admiringly.

Michonne just shrugged as Rick stole a quick glance at her, patting her leg.

"I like to keep you boys on your toes, "she said laughing.

"That's mah girl," Daryl said leaning forward to rub her shoulder.

Rick looked down at the gas gauge and frowned.

"We're gonna need to siphon gas or find another car soon. Hope we come across something soon," he said softly.

They turned off the highway to another suburban area and found mall parking lot with abandoned cars and a healthy amount of walkers.

"It ain't ever easy, is it?" Daryl grunted as they exited the Suburban.

As tired as they all were, they attended to the walkers with their usual efficiency; even with his twisted ankle, Carl managed to dispatch his fair share of the undead before the rest of his group joined him inside a large department store.

Daryl ran to the hunting/camping section while the others searched for other useful items as quickly as possible.

With loaded bags and shopping carts, they arrived at the Suburban to load it up.

Rick and Carl siphoned as much gas as they could while Daryl and Michonne stood guard and soon they were back on the road with a full tank of gas and a full gas can in the back.

"Daryl, you look like you could use a good night's sleep and Carl needs to give that ankle some time to heal, so let's see if we can find a place to stop before it gets dark," Rick offered after they'd ridden in silence for several minutes.

A quiet street free of walkers and well off the highway seemed promising, so they agreed to make a small Colonial house with a propane tank on the property their ersatz home for the time being.

After unloading most of their belongings, which now included some Coleman lamps and another fire extinguisher, Michonne checked the stove, lit it and opened two cans of soup for their evening meal.

"Hot food and good company; that's enough for me," Rick smiled looking at his son. "How's your ankle, son?"
Carl shrugged and sipped his soup.

"It hurts, but I'll be okay."
Michonne tossed Carl a bottle of ibuprofen and instructed him to take two before she went back to the kitchen. Carl opened the bottle and did as he was told, listening closely as he heard the sounds in the kitchen.

Michonne came back out with another makeshift ice pack for Carl.

"We need to keep the swelling down, so put that on there, okay? Be careful; dry ice can burn your skin," she said before plopping on the couch and putting her head on the armrest.

Rick sat next to her and gently placed her head on his lap which caused Daryl to raise his eyebrows at him.

"She's exhausted," Rick whispered.

Daryl smiled and went to the front window and assumed the posture of a man taking first watch without question.

"Put her to bed, "he said without turning to face Rick.

Rick picked up the now sleeping Michonne and crept upstairs with her cradled in his arms.

"I think they're in love," Carl commented to Daryl after a beat.

"Ya think?" Carl asked. "How do you feel about that, bud?"

Carl thought for a moment, shifting the makeshift ice pack on his ankle and then looked at Daryl with a smile.

"I like it. They both deserve some happiness, I think. Plus, she's a good friend."

Daryl agreed and pulled back the curtain to peer out into the night.

"Yup; she is. She's tough and she's honest."

"You wanna play cards or something?" Carl asked hopefully.

Daryl turned to Carl with a smile and said, "Lemme teach you how to play poker, son."

Upstairs, Rick laid Michonne on the bed and attempted to remove her boots. She sat up instantly.

"Hey, I'm just putting you to bed; relax," Rick said softly as he tried to push her back down.

"No, we need to…" Michonne mumbled, easing back down on the bed.

Rick smiled down at her. Even exhausted and half asleep she was in warrior mode. He had to smile to himself thinking back to the moment he first realized that he loved this woman. She acknowledged that she spoke to her dead boyfriend and that she knew Rick "saw" things. It was a simple admission and she had no judgment in her tone when she said it. It was then that Rick relaxed enough to accept her for accepting him without question. He knew that she understood him, possibly more than he understood himself. Now, looking down on her as she slept, Rick felt overcome with emotion. He was grateful for the day he saw her through the peephole of the door and knew that he and Carl weren't alone. It was possible she would never know how much he needed her. Rick knew he wouldn't let another day go by without telling her.

As he took his boots off and crept into bed beside her, Rick vowed that he would never let Michonne take off again.