8 – Cállate

"You're on your own, Martin."

The young man dropped his supply of fireworks to pull his walkie-talkie from his back pocket. "You don't have to tell me. I wipe my own ass," he replied sarcastically. He looked up to the sky, gauging how much time and space he had, before he went on with his conversation. "Alex didn't get it, see. I knew that Sasha bitch was bad news when she showed up. Clothes covered in blood and shit."

"He was always a flappy-ass motherfucker," the voice on the other end replied.

He smiled in amusement at her answer. "Yeah, I told Albert not to kill the blonde girl yet, I want my shot before they bleed her out-" The sound of a gun cocking against his head brought his sentence to a halt.

"Keep your finger off the button and drop it," Rick instructed, referring to the radio. His Southern drawl was covered in authority as his blue eyes narrowed on their new hostage.

"Listen, y'all don't have to do this," Martin replied, while his comrade on the walkie continued to speak. "Whatever you want. We got a place where everyone's welcome."

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl retorted angrily.

"Okay…"

"We're friends with 'that Sasha bitch' and the blonde girl," Rick added.

Martin nodded, understanding that he was low on options then. The two men dragged him into the adjacent abandoned cabin and tied his arms behind his back using an old seat belt, while the woman and the kid holding the baby followed closely behind. He knew the likelihood of him getting out alive was low, but seeing them with a baby gave him a shred of hope that they would have mercy. They had to have some semblance of humanity if they'd kept two kids alive. "They attacked us," he declared desperately. "We're just holdin' them."

"I don't believe you," Rick answered evenly.

Daryl was walking in circles, unsure of why Rick seemed so calm about this. He was more than eager to get to Terminus, knowing at least two of their friends were still alive, but his friend seemed to be in no hurry. "Who else y'all got?"

"Just Sasha and Beth. That's it." He continued to insist, "We're just protectin' ourselves."

"I don't believe you," Rick repeated, glancing at him coolly. He and Michonne did a quick search through Martin's supplies, finding fireworks and food. He gave her a nod, and she immediately recognized that he would be leaving.

"How are you gonna do this?" she asked softly, unable to stop herself from examining his face. He had been so unbelievably composed since the night before, it was almost beginning to worry her.

"I'm gonna kill them," he nodded, but avoided her gaze, glancing over to where Carl and Judith stood near the door.

She nodded as well, knowing that that was likely the only option. They'd heard a long round of gunshots a few minutes earlier, and they were pretty sure none of their people had that much ammo. "You be careful out there."

"You be careful in here," he smirked as his eyes scanned the room and then Martin.

"We will," she assured him. She subtly ran her hand over his for just a second, silently pleading for him to come back to them.

Rick went to Carl and Judith, giving each of them a kiss on the top of their heads. "You take care of your sister."

"I always do," Carl confirmed, offering a small smile to his dad. He knew he would be back, but whenever they parted ways, it was hard to swallow. "Do you think everyone is there?" he asked hopefully.

"I don't know," he shook his head as he hoisted Martin's bag over his shoulder, along with a rifle. "Let's hope so."

"If they are, we're gonna find 'em," Daryl promised, taking a gun for himself.

Rick and Daryl arrived at the gates to Terminus, almost surprised by how tame and uninteresting it all appeared. After hearing so many gunshots, they figured the place would have been guarded from top to bottom, but at first glance, it looked like an abandoned old train station. Greenery was the only sign of life they could find when they approached.

"It's obvious somethin' ain't right," Daryl proclaimed, eyeing the largest building in the compound. "All those signs leadin' people here and there ain't a soul walkin' around?"

"I was just thinkin' that," Rick agreed.

"Don't make sense, Sasha goin' in here. She's smarter than that…"

"That kid said she was covered in blood," Rick reminded him. "She might've been desperate. Maybe injured."

He accidentally dropped his gun at the thought. He never stopped to think that Sasha might have been covered in her own blood. "You think so?"

"I don't know," he answered obliviously, peering towards a set of boxcars at the opposite end of the fences, noting a lot of movement all of a sudden. "You see that?"

He snapped out of his thoughts to see what Rick was referring to. A few hundred feet away, they could see four armed men enter a train car. The two of them skulked along the gate to get a better view, but stopped in their tracks when they saw four of their people – Glenn, Bob, Sasha, and Carol – being dragged out. They were bound and gagged, possibly drugged, as it didn't look like they were putting up a fight as they were hauled off towards a building that looked like a warehouse.

"If Glenn's here, Maggie is probably here," Rick observed, frowning at the sight.

"And we know they got Beth. So that's at least six."

"I'm guessin' there's more in there or they would've brought 'em all out," he deduced with a sigh. He didn't know what was about to happen to those four, but he could make an educated guess that it wasn't good. "What's the point in bleeding someone out?"

"I dunno." Daryl bit at his bottom lip and shook his head, knowing the two of them would never be able to get into the mind of a psychopath. "Torture?"

"But why lure people in here just to torture them?" As much as he understood that there were just evil people in the world, it seemed like a lot of work – the signs, the radio transmittal, the whole façade – just to torment innocent people.

"Ain't got time to figure it out now," he shrugged. The earlier gunshots had brought on a barrage of walkers, and they were beginning to convene outside the gates. "We gotta get in there before they do."

Rick nodded in agreement and began to pull the fireworks from his bag, preparing for their assault on Terminus.

"He's gonna be back," Carl assured Michonne, seeing the look of worry that wouldn't leave her face.

She sat on the floor near the door, with Judith laid across her lap, fast asleep. She smiled warmly at the teenager as she rubbed the infant's back. "I know."

"You look like you're not sure."

"I just wish I was there, I guess."

"You didn't have to stay."

"No, I didn't," she granted, watching him pace back and forth across the floor. "Why don't you come sit with us."

"I don't wanna sit," he declined brusquely.

"Carl…"

"If I sit down, I'm gonna explode."

Michonne was hesitant to have a serious conversation with him in front of the stranger from Terminus, but she could tell he needed to talk, and she really wanted to listen. "Come sit," she softly insisted, nodding towards the empty spot beside her. "Talk to me."

He reluctantly did as directed and took a seat next to his friend, taking off his hat to rest his head against the wall. "I miss the prison," he sighed.

"It was safe," Michonne agreed, staring down at Judith. She couldn't help but ponder what kind of life these children would lead if they didn't find another similar place soon. "Until it wasn't."

"I thought I hated my dad being a farmer, but…"

"This is scary," she understood. "For him, too."

"What's scary is that I understand now, what he would do to protect me and Judith. I mean, he bit a guy's throat out to save me and you last night." He shook his head, still in disbelief that that happened. "I spent all this time being mad at him for wanting to have a normal life, for taking away my gun and making me do chores around the prison. I took for granted the fact that he would die for me."

She gave him a small smile. He was right, he had certainly taken his father for granted. But the fact that he recognized it, finally, would be a huge step in their relationship, and that made her happy for them. "That's what parents do, Carl. His only job in the world is to keep you two alive."

"Yeah, but what's the point if he's gone?" he wondered seriously. His baby blues searched Michonne's face for a legitimate answer to the question, even though he knew she wouldn't have one. "If that guy had killed him last night, I'd have to find some way to go on without him. And I'd do it, and I'd take care of Judith… but it would suck so much. Why would a parent want that for their kid?"

She sighed heavily and rested her head against the wall as well. "It's not what he'd want. But if the choice is between him and you, or him and Judith… he's gonna choose you two every time."

"I know," he nodded. "I just wish he wouldn't."

"I wish he didn't have to."

"That, too."

"Your father is a good man," she reminded him softly. "That's something you should be proud of. Not sad about."

"I am proud," he assured her quickly. "I guess I just think about how Beth had to watch her dad die and I can't help but think that's gonna be me one day."

She winced at the mere notion, and glanced over at him with a small shake of her head. She didn't know why his words surprised her. It made sense that these thoughts probably crossed his mind every day. She just never realized what kind of weight he carried around with him. "Jesus, kid."

"I know…"

"That's why you miss the prison."

"I was safe, which meant my dad was safe."

"Well how safe were we really? If someone could just show up and blow it all to hell."

"That's true." His eyes landed on Martin, sitting there listening to them. He didn't care, because he knew his dad would probably kill the guy the minute they got back. But he wondered if he had been through anything even close to what they'd experienced. Probably not, he thought. Bad stuff seemed to only happen to good people. "Michonne?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you think when you saw my dad do that last night?"

She smirked as she recalled her thoughts when she saw Rick's face covered in blood as Joe fell to the ground. "You mean after my mind stopped screaming, 'Holy shit?'"

"Yes, after that," he chuckled.

"Well, after all was said and done, I realized that that is exactly the man I know your dad to be. He's crazy, and protective, and reliable. What he did last night is the reason why I love him."

Carl's eyes widened to the size of saucers as he looked over at Michonne. They had been speaking at a fairly low volume, but his voice went up a few decibels as he replied to her admission. "You do?"

She almost hated to admit it, especially with the way he'd been so aloof all morning, but what was the point in denying it anymore? "I do."

"Since when?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, her eyes looking up to the ceiling. "It just hit me one day, and it seems a bit silly to keep trying to pretend I don't. Don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess so." He couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Does he love you, too?"

She found herself smirking again. "Honestly? I don't know."

Rick carefully made his way through the Terminus courtyard, doing his best to avoid the throngs of walkers that had invaded the place. He and Daryl had let them in and then used a combination of gas and fireworks to cause an explosion. The entire place turned to chaos rather quickly, which gave them the opportunity to split up and find their friends. Daryl had gone to free the people trapped in the boxcar, while Rick made it his mission to take out anyone that even looked like an enemy.

He'd gone through a series of rooms before stumbling across one that appeared to be a shrine of some sort. It was filled with burning candles and personal effects, with names and numbers inscribed on the floor. It was an odd sight in the face of all the other things he'd seen there – medieval, cannibalistic stuff. The memorial seemed so out of place.

Never again. Never trust. We first, always. Rick stared at the words painted on the closest wall, trying to figure out what it all meant.

"Kind of our mantra around here," a male voice declared just ahead of its footsteps.

Rick turned immediately, his gun ready to fire, a bit surprised to find a twenty-something unarmed kid staring back at him. He didn't speak, but stared at him coldly, almost daring him to continue speaking.

"It was between this one and, 'Are you the butcher or the cattle?'" he accepted the silent challenge as he gazed at the wall himself. He looked at it as if he were feeling nostalgic. "Difficult but necessary lesson we learned."

Rick still didn't speak.

"I'm Gareth," the guy went on. He seemed bizarrely upbeat for a guy whose home was on fire and crawling with walkers. It was as though he was amused by it all. "You must be Rick," he knew from the way Glenn had described the man. He seemed positive that this guy would be coming, and lo and behold, he was right. "It's actually pretty cool to meet you. Your friends didn't even know if you were alive, but they said if you were, you'd find them. And here you are."

"Here I am," he finally spoke, keeping his gun and his eyes narrowed in on his subject. "You should've listened to them."

"Yeah, I guess so," Gareth agreed with raised eyebrows. "But we never had bad intentions."

"Yet here we are."

"It wasn't just a trap," he promised enthusiastically. "They had a choice. Either join us or feed us…"

"All those stuffed animals in that other room, those were from people you gave a choice?"

He offered a sarcastic shrug. "I can't account for bad parenting."

"You're a monster."

"The signs were real. It was a sanctuary," he contended, shaking his head. "But people came, and they took this place. They raped. And they killed. And they laughed. You ever have to watch your mom get raped, Rick?"

He shook his head, but couldn't help but think what would have happened to Carl the night before if he hadn't been able to save them.

"When you've felt helpless once, you'll do anything to never have to feel it again," Gareth nodded seriously. "We fought back, and we got this place back. But we heard the message loud and clear. You're the butcher or you're the cattle."

Rick was well aware of that helpless feeling, and on some level, even understood the urge to want revenge. But preying on innocent people never once crossed his mind, and so, he wasn't buying what Gareth was selling. "Where are the people they pulled from that train car?"

"You know, people don't taste as bad as you might think," Gareth went on to casually explain, as if Rick had asked for the details. "Women are actually pretty good. My brother Alex… who, by the way, is currently dead because of your people. He had this theory that it's because of the extra layer of fat women have. For childbearing, apparently. Even the skinny girls have it…" He looked Rick squarely in the eye as he added, "Like that one woman you were walking through the woods holding hands with. I bet she tastes good." He slowly licked his lips before smiling at the man in front of him. "Doesn't she?"

He could feel his face growing hot, but Gareth was clearly instigating, and he knew he needed to maintain his composure. "Where are my people?"

"Well, Rick, all my people are dead, so I can't say I give a fuck about helping you find yours."

"Those your last words?" he wanted to confirm, aiming his gun directly at the young man's forehead.

"You could've been one of us. You could've listened to—"

Rick didn't actually have time for last words. He put a bullet through his skull and took a small pleasure in the sound of his body falling to the ground. "Shut up," he told the corpse, just before walking away.

"Hey," Martin whispered, attempting to get Carl's attention when he noticed Michonne was preoccupied with the baby. "Did your dad really bite out someone's throat?"

"Don't talk to him," Michonne commanded firmly.

"I can talk to whoever I want," he shot back, smacking loudly on his chewing gum. "Kid, you don't have to listen to her. She ain't your mama."

"You should stop talking," Carl suggested calmly, much in a manner like his dad's.

"You can take care of his kids and wipe his baby's ass, but that don't make you their mama," he went on. "I know you gotta know how stupid you look, sitting around waiting to die with some random man's children. How long have you even known him? A couple months? You love him," he snickered, ignoring the fact that Michonne and Carl were clearly trying to ignore him. "You love him because he lets you take care of his kids? Congrats on bein' the nanny. And probably a pretty good fuck. But you sleeping with their dad doesn't make you their mom."

Carl was frowning now, offended for Michonne. "Stop it," he warned, his hand grazing his gun.

"Trust me, kid," he rolled his eyes. "I mean, it's obvious y'all've been through a lot, but once the dust settles, your dad ain't gonna need a babysitter or some samurai to go to war with. He's gonna find a nice homemaker, probably someone like whoever your actual mom was, and y'all will all forget this woman ever existed."

Michonne wasn't rattled by many things, including the notion that Rick was using her, or anything else Martin had said. He could say what he wanted to her. But she couldn't stand by idly while he tried to use his psychological warfare to get to Carl. She may not have given birth to him, but she cared for him as much as any mother would. And much like Rick, any threat to her kid would have to be eliminated. She slowly pulled her katana from its sheath and approached their talkative prisoner. "You got anything else you wanna say?"

"Oh come on, you gonna kill me for tellin' the truth? You'll die-."

His sentence was cut off by Michonne's sword, slicing across his throat. She watched his blood trickle down his body as it slumped to the floor, before using her knife to stop him from reanimating. As she wiped her weapon, she gave him one last glance of disapproval. "Shut up."