A/N: Well, I went out of town and managed to come back with a cold, so forgive me if this chapter makes no sense, haha. (Kidding.) I just wanted to say that this is definitely going to take a departure from the show, but still follow the same general outline of events. (That probably makes no sense in itself.) So… bear with me on the parts you've heard/seen before. We're gonna take a detour! Hope you enjoy! -Ash

4 – The Upheaval

"You're lucky you missed it," Carl declared as he took his seat across from Michonne and his sister. He had just collected his breakfast of stale cereal, complemented with fresh strawberries from the garden, and was sharing the details of his previous tumultuous night. "I think we counted over seventy walkers."

Michonne shook her head, feeling a bit of agony for her boys as she thought about what that must have been like. She held Judith close to her, feeling bad for not having been there. She was helping the prison in another way, and she knew that was important too, but it was obvious Rick could've used her help there. "It was just you and your dad, huh?"

"It was so fucked up," he nodded as he took a bite of his food.

She looked at Judith with widened eyes as she playfully gasped, and then fixated on Carl. "Are you kidding me?"

He looked up at her, confused. "What?"

"Watch your mouth!"

"Oh," he rolled his eyes dismissively. "My dad doesn't care."

"First of all, I doubt that's true," she quirked an eyebrow at him as she stole a strawberry from his bowl. "And second of all, I care."

"You do?"

"Yes," she returned as if it should have been obvious. "I do. And you definitely shouldn't curse in front of your sister."

Carl shrugged. "I figure with all the shi- excuse me – stuff she's gonna see in her lifetime, an F-bomb isn't gonna do much damage."

That actually did sound like his father's logic. "Maybe so," she offered him a small grin. "But maybe we keep her innocent for as long as we can?"

"Cool with me," he shrugged again.

"It's obviously too late for you, but there may be a chance she can be a kid until she's at least five or six."

"Oh, that's messed up," Carl laughed as he noticed his father walk into the cafeteria. They both smiled at him but continued their conversation. "It's too late for me, huh?"

"You already know too much," she smirked. She finished her strawberry and left the stem on an empty napkin. "How come you didn't bring Judy any fruit?"

"Well she's allergic to strawberries, and she doesn't like apricots, so… we kinda just stick to the formula and that rice cereal."

Michonne nodded. She had already given her the rice for the morning, but figured she could use something in her diet that wasn't white. "Maybe for dinner tonight, we can puree some of those carrots or peas your dad's got out there."

"I've tasted those peas," he made a face at the mere thought. "Judy definitely would not like that."

"Oh, whatever. You don't know her life," she teased him.

"I know my sister," he answered looking down at the infant. "She likes water, she loves oatmeal, she's definitely a morning person, and would rather you leave her alone after like five o'clock. She likes when Beth sings to her, but she cries when I do it." He shook his head as he recalled the last time he tried to sing her a Foo Fighters song. "Also, she'd rather play with garbage than actual toys, so I don't know. She's weird."

"Obviously runs in the family," Michonne stuck her tongue out at him. She saw Rick in the background talking to Hershel, and wondered if he was revealing to him that he'd banished Carol from the prison. In the few minutes she spent with him overnight, she knew it was weighing heavy on him.

"Do you think you'll really be here in five years?" Carl wondered as he finished off his cereal.

"What?" she frowned, refocusing on the young man in front of her.

"You said we should give Judith a few more years to be a kid. I was asking if you think you'd actually still be here in five more years."

"Do you think you'll be?"

"If things stay like this…" He looked around the room, dotted with his new friends and family, eating food, laughing, relieved that people were recovering from the sickness that had just spread throughout the prison. "I could see it."

"Then why would I leave?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "You seem to like leaving."

She frowned again, almost offended this time. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, sometimes you're here for a while, but then you go. I just wonder if one time, you'll decide to not come back."

"Carl..." Her face softened considerably, and she repositioned Judith so that she was no longer climbing all over her, but sitting in her lap. "I will always come back to you, okay?"

"And my dad?"

"And your dad," she grinned warmly at him before looking down to Rick's daughter. "And this little lady, too."

"Cool."

"We good?"

"I just… I know that I want you to always come back. I can only assume Judith would. And I know my dad does too, so it's nice to have confirmation."

"How do you know your dad does," she chuckled.

"Because he cares about you."

She felt a light flutter in her chest at the idea that Rick had spoken to Carl about her. She didn't think their relationship had gone past clandestine status, but maybe she was wrong. "He tell you that?"

"No, I just know my dad." Well so much for that, she thought. "You, Hershel, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie. Everyone we consider family. He cares about what happens to you guys. You're all we have."

She couldn't pretend she wasn't disappointed that Rick hadn't actually spoken to Carl about her. But she very well couldn't be mad that she had people to call family. And she didn't actually need the kid to tell her that Rick cared about her. She knew that. "Like I said, you don't have to worry about me not coming back." She saw Rick approaching as she finished her statement, and flashed a bright smile at him. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear."

"Mornin'," he grinned back at her before ruffling Carl's hair. "I was gonna let you sleep in this morning and here you are, already up."

"Are you kidding? I could barely sleep," he answered, looking up at his father. "Michonne stopped by to say she was taking Judith to breakfast, I decided to go with them."

Rick nodded and then looked back at Michonne and his daughter. "Thank you for taking her, by the way." He moved to her side of the table to retrieve his baby, but she declined.

"Don't be coming over here disturbing our mojo," she joked. "We're fine over here."

"You babysittin' today?"

"Oh no, I was still gonna take her to Beth." She moved over so that he could take a seat beside her. "I just mean you don't have to do it."

"What were you two talkin' about," he inquired as he accepted the proffered seat. "Some comic book or another?"

"We were talking about you," Carl piped up excitedly. "And Michonne."

"Me and Michonne?" he sputtered nervously. His eyes landed on her, wondering why she would do something so odd as to discuss him with Carl. "And where did that conversation lead you?"

"Absolutely nowhere," she promised, shaking her head at his obvious discomfort. "I was just telling Carl that I'll always come back to you guys."

"And I was just telling Michonne how she and everyone else here are really important to you, and you need her here just as much as you do everyone else."

"I'd say that's accurate," Rick nodded, now avoiding her gaze as he tried to regain his composure. "More than accurate."

She had to laugh to herself about the fact that Rick had no poker face whatsoever. And so, a secret they would stay, obviously. "Should we head outside and assess the damage?"

"Yeah, I guess we should," he sighed. "There are a bunch of dead ones that need to be taken out back."

"You talk to Daryl yet?" Michonne asked, looking at him.

"Not yet." His apprehension about it was palpable. "I think he's probably outside already."

She nodded. "I'll handle the bodies then. You do your thing."

"You sure?"

"I'm quite sure."

"I'll take Judy to Beth," Carl offered, wanting to be helpful. "Then I'll meet you outside, Dad?"

"Sounds good." He watched Michonne stand from the table to bring Judith over to her brother. He was starting to realize he loved seeing her with his kids more than anything, but he quickly left those thoughts behind as he stood up as well, prepared to start his day. As he passed behind Michonne, he discreetly gave her ass a quick tap and smiled back at her as he headed out of the room.

Michonne and Hershel had been at the back of the prison for the better part of an hour, burning the many walker bodies that Rick and Carl put down the night before, as well as a few Daryl had to take care of overnight.

"It's a wonder all that gunfire didn't draw more of 'em in," Hershel commented, wiping his hands on his pants. Handling walkers was quite a messy job.

"It's only been a few hours," she noted. She poured the last bit of gas across the pile of corpses and looked at him tiredly. "Who knows what's coming next."

"You're right about that. Might be a herd forming even as we speak."

She pulled a lighter from her pocket and grabbed a small plank of wood from the flatbed. "Let's hope not," she grinned. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"No, you go right ahead," he smiled back at her. He took note of how calm she looked, and almost… happy to be there. He didn't know Michonne extremely well, but liked to think he'd gotten a pretty good handle on her in the time she'd been living at the prison. He liked watching her transformation, from this truculent misanthrope to an active member of their little community. "I'm proud of you, Michonne."

She looked up from her task with a half smile, half frown. "For what? This is the easiest part."

"I don't mean this," he chuckled. "I mean what you've done all these months, opening yourself up, being a part of this family. I'm very proud of you."

"Oh, well…" She shrugged, trying not to think of Rick being the reason for that. She had done it herself, and she did deserve credit for that. "I appreciate you guys letting me in."

"It's the hardest thing in the world, isn't it? Trusting people?"

"Especially nowadays," she agreed. "Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking."

"How do you mean?" he wondered, leaning against the trunk of a tree to get out of her way.

"I mean, when I came here. I just sort of let myself be taken in. Maybe because Andrea trusted you guys so much?" She lit the corners of the pile on fire and then stood back as well, so that she could face Hershel. "It almost felt like I knew Rick and everyone before I even met you."

"I think it goes deeper than that. You know, I felt the same way about Rick. I couldn't figure out what made me innately trust this man, but it was just there."

"Something in the way he talks," she smiled to herself. "It's soothing."

"Feels like he's honest," Hershel laughed lightly. "I remember him running up to my house with Carl in his arms. Seems so long ago now. But I remember thinking how dire the situation had to have been for him to trust me – a complete stranger – with his son's life. And I guess that's kind of where we all are now. We have to trust people, because we don't have a choice."

She had to laugh because he was so right. But then, Hershel was usually right, and she'd learned that in spades in the past few months.

"So how long you think you and Rick'll keep pretending you're not together?"

She found herself gasping lightly and then laughing at the question as it registered in her head. "I don't know what you're talking about," she grinned sweetly.

"Okay," he nodded knowingly. "It'll be our little secret then."

"Is it that obvious?"

"No, I don't think so," he assured her in that slow, comforting drawl of his. "Rick told me a while back and I've noticed it since then, but I'm not sure I would have otherwise."

"Rick told you?"

"He did."

"What did he say?"

"We should head on back," he proclaimed, turning to grab their gas cans. "I'll tell you on the way."

She was quick to oblige, as the smell of the burning walkers was becoming overwhelming. She started off towards their car, parked just a few feet away, but only made it a couple of feet before she was knocked out. Hershel grabbed his gun as quickly as he could, but found himself standing before The Governor holding his own weapon. He dropped his pistol, as directed, hoping his best chance of making it out of this alive was to do what the man said.

"It's not up to me! There's a council now!" Rick was yelling, unsure of what else to say. "They run this place!"

The Governor had a sly grin on his face, much in the same way he always did, as he asked, "Is Hershel on the council?" A few seconds later, Hershel Greene was being pulled to his knees in front of Rick and the others. "What about Michonne?" She followed suit, her hands tied behind her back, looking like she wanted to spit blood. "She on the council too?"

He stared in silence for a moment, wishing for this to be some awful figment of his imagination. His breathing became heavier as he came to the realization that it wasn't. "Goddamn it, Dillard," he whispered to himself.

He wanted to throw up. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. Why was she there? How did The Governor get the drop on her? That wasn't like her at all. Why was this happening? He had no choice but to walk down there and try to get them out of there alive. He had no idea how he was going to do it, but he had to try.

He looked back at Carl, saying a silent prayer that he wouldn't have to watch his father die. Not today. Not like this. The kid's bright blue eyes relayed everything Rick was feeling. Fear, hopefulness, confusion, anger, resolve. It was on him to save everyone, and they both knew it.

He trudged down the gravelly driveway, surveying the scene before him. He saw the tanks, he counted the twenty people standing in front of him with their guns aimed, he saw Hershel with his eyes closed, likely praying for a peaceful resolution, but his thoughts remained on Michonne. His hands began to shake when he realized how close he was to losing her. Hell, The Governor could've just taken her and killed her, and he never would've known. There was no telling what this man was capable of. He had to tread lightly here. He couldn't let them die on his watch. He couldn't let her die.

"You let 'em go," he demanded as he reached the bottom of the hill. He tried not to look at Michonne, but his eyes refused to obey. "You've got a tank. You don't need hostages," he told The Governor.

"I do," the man insisted with a nod. "This is just to show you I'm serious. Not to blast a hole in our new home. You and your people have 'til sundown to get out of here… or they die."

Rick could feel his heart beating out of his chest. He knew there was no reasoning with this man. He knew that they knew it too. "It doesn't have to go down this way," he returned evenly.

As Rick and The Governor spoke, Michonne tried to reel in Rick's focus again, catch his eye so that she could speak to him with just a look, as she tended to do. She wanted to tell him that she wasn't worth it. She wanted to ask him – beg him, really – not to give up the prison to save her life. The moment she realized she'd been captured, she came to terms with the fact that she wouldn't make it out of this alive. But Rick had to, for Carl and Judith. And the rest of these people, a lot of them sick, couldn't afford to lose their home over some vendetta Philip Blake had against her. She closed her eyes, willing him to hear her quiet plea. "Don't do this, Rick."

"We can all…" He stopped to collect his thoughts, and decide whether he really wanted to say this. But he had no other options. "We can all live together. There's enough room for all of us."

"More than enough," The Governor agreed. "But I don't think my family would sleep well knowing that you were under the same roof."

"We'd live in different cell blocks. We'd never have to see each other until we're all ready."

"It could work," Hershel turned to say. He was so proud of Rick for even putting the option out there. "You know it could."

It can't, Michonne thought to herself.

"It could've. But it can't," Philip echoed her thoughts. "Not after Woodbury. Not after Andrea."

Rick noted the look on Michonne's face at the mention of Andrea's name. He quickly piped back up before she could say something that got herself killed. "Look, I'm not sayin' it's gonna be easy. Fact is, it's gonna be a hell of a lot harder than standing here shooting at each other. But I don't think we have a choice."

"We don't," he smirked. "You do."

"We're not leaving."

In the courtyard, Daryl and Sasha armed everyone in sight with a gun, prepared for a battle. It would be an unfair fight, but they would go down swinging if they had to. "You all right?" Daryl asked Carl, seeing that he hadn't taken his eyes off of his father since the moment he walked down there.

Carl nodded, but his gun was locked and loaded. "Just staying ready."

"This is not gonna end well," Sasha quietly predicted as she sidled up to Daryl's right.

"If anybody can talk this man down, it's Rick."

Sasha looked at him, unaffected. "This is the man that shot down his own people in cold blood. For almost no reason at all."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that, because she was right. This Governor had no rational side to speak of. No matter what he said about taking the prison peacefully and the hostages merely being insurance, Daryl knew that the likelihood of all of them getting out alive was pretty low. He bit nervously at his bottom lip as he tried to think of a backup to the backup plan. "You said the bus ain't got any supplies?" he asked Sasha.

"Not much. Definitely not enough food for everyone," she frowned.

He nodded and then took a deep breath. "This goes south, you aim for The Governor's face," he told both her and Carl. "And those two that got their guns on Hershel and Michonne. You hear me?" They both nodded. "You shoot or you run."

Carl remembered his father saying the exact same thing the night before. This was his life now, it seemed. "Why can't we just shoot him now?"

"What do you think happens if a gun goes off and your dad doesn't know where it came from?" Sasha reminded him. "And all three of them are in the line of fire."

Carl figured his dad would know to get out of there if he saw The Governor got shot, but she was correct – Michonne and Hershel would be killed instantly. So he continued to stand there and watch them talk.

"Oh, shit," she gasped when she saw their enemy hop off of his tank and grab Michonne's katana. He held it at Hershel's neck, looking menacingly back at Rick, as if he were daring him to let this happen.

"Shit," Daryl repeated, now aiming his gun directly at The Governor as well.

Rick was panicked now. "You, in the ponytail," he pointed out a young lady that looked about as terrified as he felt. "Is this what you want? Is this what any of you want?"

The guy sitting on top of the tank was adamant about siding with The Governor. "What we want is what you got. Period. Time for you to leave, asshole."

"Look, I fought him before. And after, we took in his old friends, and they've become leaders in what we have here. Now you put down your weapons, walk through those gates, you're one of us. We let go of all of it. Nobody dies." He couldn't imagine that all of these people were as crazy as The Governor, so he tried appealing to them. "Everyone who's alive right now, everyone who's made it this far, we've all done the worst kinds of things just to stay alive. But we can still come back. We're not too far gone," he promised them passionately. In that moment, he remembered what Hershel so wisely told him – things break, but they can still grow. "We get to come back. I know we all can change." He saw the look of contentment on Hershel's face, he saw the hope on Michonne's, and he said a prayer to the high heavens that his words worked a miracle.

But there was an evil gleam in the eye of The Governor, one that said he wasn't going to allow Rick to win. He wasn't going to let him have the moral high ground. He was going to break this man. "Liar."

Rick could only see red as he watched Hershel get struck in the neck. It wasn't even enough to kill him, but it did everyone else. He couldn't help but scream – not only for the loss of his dear friend, but for what he knew Maggie and Beth had just witnessed; for Michonne, whom he still had no way to save; for the fact that they were inevitably going to lose their home. This was the beginning of an end.

He quickly ran behind an overturned bus to get out of the line of fire, but he couldn't leave without Michonne. From where he was, he could see all of his people scattered across the courtyard, shooting for their lives. He could see everyone but Carl.

"Fuck!" he shouted angrily. He was so unbelievably frustrated and lost. As he tried to figure out his next move, a figure appeared beside him, and he nearly shot it until he realized it was Michonne. "You're okay," he exhaled in relief, briefly grabbing her face. Her face covered in tears.

She shook her head sadly, feeling out of breath and equally as helpless. "We gotta get outta here."

He nodded in agreement. "I gotta find Carl and Judith."

"You find Carl, I'll get Judith."

"Michonne, you don't have to-."

"Go," she demanded, wiping the tears that were blurring her vision. "We'll meet you on the bus."

A/N: Hmmm. Thinking that bus thing might not work out… But hey, maybe! Stay tuned!