15 - I'm The Hero Of This Story, Don't Need To Be Saved

Rick was running as quickly and as quietly as his beloved boots would allow. Across the main entrance to Grady, towards the center section of this unknown land, where his love was being held hostage. He tried to keep his focus, keep his mind off of what he might find when he got there, and concentrated on his footsteps instead. One after the other, steady, like a drum, as he made his way to the stairwell he'd assigned to himself.

A few stray walkers from the foyer had followed him, but when he reached the main wing, he realized why only four floors were in use. There were tons of them roaming the first floor. He could hear them groaning and clawing at the door on the other side of the staircase. But all he was worried about was the guard standing between them.

He had to hurry, so he tightened his grip on his knife and stealthily approached the unwitting subject, watching the wrong side of the hall. He pulled the door open, swiftly and silently slit the stranger's throat, and then caught him before his body could make a thud. He gently brought him to the ground, trying not to be rattled by the man desperately clinging to his shirt for dear life. Instead, Rick stabbed him in the head, and kept it moving. Up to the next floor. Same exact deed. Lather, rinse, repeat.

His hands were covered in other men's blood by the time he made it to the eighth floor, gazing down at the massacre. Red pools slowly seeping into view. Eight men dead, in a matter of minutes. Sixteen when he figured in Daryl on the other side of the building. And that didn't include the havoc they were about to wreak in the halls of that place. But then, these officers had fucked with the wrong people. Rick and his people had taken on Woodbury, brought down Terminus, and they would annihilate Grady, too.

"Listen to me," Sasha was whispering to Carl as she pulled him into a supply closet. Officers were still running all over the place, and they needed to give Rick and Daryl enough time to handle their part of the plan. "Noah said her room was somewhere on this floor. So when we go out there, as soon as you find her, you get the hell out of here."

"I got it," he nodded, keeping his ear near the door.

From her pocket, she pulled a shoelace she'd taken from a slain officer's shoe and handed it over to him. "Before you leave, you tie this around the doorknob to the room, so I know you're gone."

"What if I don't have time?" he asked quietly, folding the string into his pocket.

"Drop it on the floor then. Something so I know you found her room and you're together."

"Okay."

She gazed down at the teenager, realizing only then exactly how young he looked. How young he actually was. She was much more afraid than she let on, but she knew there was no time for doubts now, so she had to put on her game face. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," Carl nodded confidently. "We'll be fine."

"All right." She cracked the door just slightly, to get a view of what she'd be dealing with. Everything seemed quiet, thanks to Noah and Andrews' disappearances. "I'm gonna head down to the kitchen. You stay here a couple minutes, just in case someone's lagging behind. And you yell if you get into trouble."

"I'm not gonna do that," he chuckled, pulling his dad's gun from his back. "Not until I find Michonne."

"You're so damn hardheaded," she smirked back at him. "Just… hurry."

He didn't like the idea of any of them going at this alone, but he knew this was what it meant to be grown up in this world. He could do this, the same way he left the prison by himself. One step at a time. "Be careful," he told Sasha.

"You too," she returned, making her sly exit down the stairs, to kill a bunch of people she'd never met.

Meanwhile, Carl moved down the corridor, sneaking a peek into every window for any sign of Michonne. He mostly came across women sitting by themselves, either reading or sleeping; some were crying. He didn't know what to make of it. It was all so quiet. So quiet, he could hear the sound of Sasha's gun going off, even with the silencer. She must have found someone in the stairway, he figured. Another person dead.

He came across just one empty room by the time he finished one side of the hall. He almost sidestepped it to start searching the other side, but he caught sight of a studded belt on the floor and instantly knew that it was Michonne's. He cautiously tried the door and stepped inside, picking it up from the floor to inspect.

He did a quick glance into the bathroom and then searched the closet for any of her other belongings. Nothing. He couldn't tell whether she'd left on her own, or if they had taken her somewhere else.

"Now what do I do?" he asked himself.

There was definitely something odd going on at the hospital, Dawn knew, but she had yet to figure out just what. She rarely went outside anymore, but decided to head up to the roof to see if she could get a read on the situation at hand. Michonne had obviously lost her mind, and on top of that, she had no Andrews, no Noah, and her spotter, Torres, hadn't been heard from in hours. The damages were piling up so quickly, she couldn't even be surprised when she found him roaming the roof as a rotter.

With a frustrated sigh, she called on her two most reliable officers to get an update on where they were and what they were doing. "Lamson. Licari. What do you have for me?" She waited an entire minute for a response from either of them, receiving nothing. "Lamson, are you there?"

Silence.

"Licari!"

Silence.

She immediately began her sprint back downstairs, but she needed someone to answer her. "Is anyone there?" she shouted into her radio.

After a long few seconds of static, an unfamiliar voice came through on the other end. A man's voice with a slow and almost calming cadence. "Your people are dead."

"What?" she frowned, stopping to both unlock the door and speak to the stranger. "Who is this!"

Silence.

She quickly wiped at the tears that had escaped to her face and frantically headed inside. Her hospital was under attack, and she knew that it had everything to do with one Michonne Grimes.

Michonne left Joan's room to find the entire floor completely silent. After the frenzy that had occurred just a few minutes before, it seemed that the hospital had suddenly gone on lockdown. It was dark and still – two things that didn't bode well for her search for Carl. She had stolen another scalpel from Joan's room and had it concealed in her cast as she moved down the hallway. She didn't know how much it would help her in a life or death situation, but it and her wits would have to do.

She had decided she would check the teenagers' floor for Carl, and if she didn't find him there, she would keep looking. But she didn't even need to make it that far. Just as soon as she'd taken a few steps out of Joan's room, she heard him call for her.

"Michonne!" he hissed down the hallway.

She turned back to the sound, so relieved to see him standing in the doorway of her room. He was wearing a bulletproof vest and a smile on his face. He was fine. "Thank you, God," she whispered, running down the hall to meet him. She gave him a quick but tight embrace as she asked, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"We came to save you," he answered as if it should have been obvious. His eyes widened and narrowed as he examined the bruises on her face and her broken hand. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she waved it off as if her injuries were insignificant. More than anything, she was weak.

"My dad and Sasha and Daryl are taking out everyone on the other floors."

She watched as he began to tie a navy blue shoelace around the knob of her door. She knew then that they obviously had very specific plans, and she needed to follow his lead here. "Okay, then what are we supposed to do?"

He took her hand, leading her back towards the stairs as he explained, "Dad and Daryl cleared the steps. We should be able to run straight out and to the bus."

No wonder it's so quiet, she thought. As much as she expected Rick to find her, she wasn't sure they would be able to do it so quickly. "It's just the four of you?" she decided to ask.

"Yep. Dad said the smaller the group, the easier it would be to go unnoticed."

It was no surprise that he was right. She stopped Carl before he could open the stair door, having him stand back while she checked to make sure the coast was clear. She had to smirk at the fact that Rick always did exactly what he said he was going to do. "All right," she began to allow him ahead of her.

Just then, Dawn stepped out from the supply closet – the same one Sasha and Carl had been in just minutes before – with her gun aimed at Michonne. "Don't fucking move," she told her ward.

Michonne immediately held her hands up in surrender, but she did not want Carl to get caught in whatever crossfire might occur. "Carl, run."

"But-."

"Go!" she yelled. "I got this." Her heart was racing, and she knew she didn't have it, but she needed to concentrate on herself. She couldn't do that with him standing there. Her body relaxed considerably when he followed her orders.

"Who was that," Dawn asked anxiously as she pulled Michonne in the opposite direction of her friend. She kept her gun barrel on Michonne's temple as they slowly made their way down the hallway.

"He's mine," she answered simply and honestly. "You fuck with him in any way, you die."

"You're not in the best position to be making threats right now."

She smiled maliciously in response. "That's a promise."

Dawn knew as much, but she couldn't let herself be distracted. She still didn't know what was happening or where the rest of her people were. "What is this, Michonne?"

"What is what?"

"Why are my people dropping like flies!" she shouted. "We did you a favor. We saved you."

Michonne's eyes nearly rolled out of her head. She couldn't fathom that Dawn really still believed that, so she didn't respond to it. "I don't know what's going on."

"Don't lie to me!"

"Dawn..." She began to speak more calmly. The last thing she needed to do was agitate a crazy woman with a gun to her head. She didn't think Dawn had the balls to shoot her on purpose, but she was certainly unstable enough to do so by accident. "I've been here with you," she rationalized. "I was taken against my will and brought here. Whatever's happening, I have no control over."

"Then why does my hospital start crumbling to pieces the minute you arrive?"

She wanted to tell her that it was because they took the wrong damn person, but she decided against it. "I don't know."

"This is you. I know it is."

Michonne could hear footsteps, the closer they got to the other end of the hallway. If it was Carl again, she was going to absolutely lose it. Instead, Rick came into view, his rifle already drawn. Her breath automatically quickened at the sight of him.

Rick almost stumbled when he saw Michonne. It had only been two days, but she looked like she'd been through hell. Her face was battered, her regal posture wilted. Whatever they'd done to her, whatever he'd allowed to happen to her, was devastating. But he had to ignore all of that and get her out of there first.

"Let her go," he commanded Dawn, his voice low and menacing. "Now."

She recognized the voice as the one she'd heard on the radio when she'd been on the roof. "Who are you," she demanded from behind her hostage.

"Does it matter?"

"I'm not letting her go unless you tell me," she shot back. "Unless you get me back my officers."

"Don't trust her," Michonne told Rick, looking him in the eye. Relieved to be able to look him in the eye again. "Whatever she says, don't do it."

"Shut the fuck up," Dawn inserted angrily.

"You, trust me," he told Michonne, ignoring the officer's request. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

Michonne's eyes closed, letting his words sink in. They were such a comfort, as much as she didn't want them to be. "I do," she promised. "I knew you would come."

Dawn observed the bond between the two people in front of her and it began to agitate her. Not only because she didn't have that connection with her people, but it made her change her mind about the woman she had deemed so fearsome all this time. "I thought you were strong, Grimes," she declared, frowning at the man ahead of her. "Turns out you need some man to save you? You proved me wrong."

Rick stared at the stranger, wondering how she knew his name and what the hell she was talking about; but he quickly realized she was talking to Michonne. "Don't listen to her, Michonne. That's not what this is."

"That's always what this is," she shot back. She was getting tired of her own damsel in distress routine.

He shook his head, wishing he had time to tell her all the ways that that wasn't true. That they were a team, and that was all that mattered. "We save each other," he said. "That's what we do."

Dawn could feel them trying to distract her, and she wasn't going to let them. She began to pull Michonne backwards, away from the man with the beard and the gun. "You two need to shut up."

"You need to stop moving," Rick replied.

Blood was dripping from Michonne's hand, where she had been trying so hard to conceal her scalpel, she was squeezing the thing. She looked down at her hand and back up at Rick.

He saw the blood and the look in her eyes, and knew she wasn't her usual cool, calm, collected self. So it meant that he had to be. "Don't do anything stupid," he begged, inching towards her as they continued backward. "We got this."

Michonne's eyes stayed locked on him. She understood what he was doing, and she was glad he was there, but she also needed him to know how much she hated it. She had dueling emotions, and the ones telling her to take care of Dawn herself were winning. "I told you, you can't save me anymore, Rick."

"I should've told you I love you." His eyebrows knitted over his eyes, begging her not to do anything that would get her killed. She was so stubborn sometimes, he wasn't sure he was getting through. "I love you, Michonne."

She smiled back at him sadly. "I wish you'd figured that out two days ago."

Rick noticed Carl and Daryl come into view behind the two women, and he needed them to not make any sudden movements. He held up his hand, warning them to stay back. "I wish I had too," he went on.

Dawn watched Rick's hand go up and instinctively turned to see what he was gesturing toward. With her focus shattered, Rick knew that this was the time to strike. He gave Michonne a quick nod and she sprung into action, knocking the gun from Dawn's clutches. She then plunged the scalpel into her knee, sending her to the floor with a loud smack. Rick walked up on the struggling officer while Michonne retrieved her gun.

"I told you to let her go," he proclaimed coolly, watching her pull the blade from her leg.

"You're all crazy," Dawn said, falling back on the floor. There was no point in fighting it. She had no backup, and literally no leg to stand on. It was over.

"It didn't have to be like this," Michonne said, approaching the officer with her own firearm. "I told you to let me go."

"I didn't know…" She shook her head as her sentence trailed off into the air. None of it mattered anymore. "I get it now."

Michonne stood there, with the gun aimed, staring at the woman that had tortured her. That allowed so many heinous things to happen to so many innocent people. That was willing to stand by idly while that disgusting officer raped her. And still, she felt sympathy for Dawn. She had believed so much in the purpose of the hospital that it was going to get her killed. Some greater good.

"You told me no one was coming, Grimes. Remember that," Dawn asked. "All the while, you knew your… knight in shining armor was on his way. Well played."

Rick watched Michonne, unsure of why she hadn't made a move yet. She was just standing there. "Why are you listening to her?" he asked.

Michonne took the shot, straight to Dawn's forehead, and watched the life fade from her eyes just as quickly as the bullet hit. She let out a loud sigh of relief as she turned back to look at Rick. With a small scowl on her face, she handed him Dawn's gun. "Just shut up," she told him.

Sasha made her way back up to the rest of the group as Michonne went to greet them. She offered smiles to her friends, thankful for them and their willingness to come for her when she needed them. And her smile got brighter as Carl came running down the hall, knowing his friend was finally safe. He gave her the biggest hug he could muster, and didn't let go.

"I love you, Michonne," he announced, his face buried in her shoulder.

"Oh god, I love you too, Carl." Tears ran down her face as she reveled in the quiet moment, and how good it felt to be hugged like that. To be loved like that. It meant so much more coming from him than it did his dad, for some reason. "I love you, too," she repeated in a whisper, stroking his hair.

Rick waited for the two of them to separate before he approached Michonne once more. He removed her sword from his back and handed it over to her, but not before catching her eye. "I can still save you," he said seriously and sincerely. "And given the opportunity, I will, every single time. No matter how you feel about me."

She had nothing to say in response, so she simply watched him walk away.