A/N: I just had to say thank you for the awesomely positive encouragement from all you guys. I know it's been a rough week for Richonne fans, but like I said, I'm here for you so long as you're here with me! We got this! I've been tossing around the idea of writing a one-shot from Michonne's perspective on that stupid party, but I'm still too annoyed to even re-watch the episode, haha.

But stepping away from that mess, I'm sooo glad you guys liked the last chapter! Vivvy1, I honestly don't know what to say besides thank you! So much. Thank you to all of you. I just love hearing your thoughts, and you're all so spot on. Rick has now taken the first step in acknowledging the problem, but it ain't that simple. As you will soon see, there are a lot of emotions wrapped up in this. Hope you enjoy! -Ash

18 – Uncomfortable Silence Can Be So Loud

Night had long since fallen over the hospital when Sasha came walking down the hall, with a tray full of sliced cucumbers, finding Rick still posted up at Michonne's door. She couldn't help but shake her head, somewhat amused, somewhat relieved to see him still sitting there. It had been two days, and the only time he seemed to have gotten up was to use the bathroom. She was proud of him for his resolve.

"Can I get you anything?" she approached him smirking. "Something to eat maybe?"

Rick yawned but shook his head adamantly. "I'm all right."

"There's no point in depriving yourself just because you're sitting here. This isn't a punishment."

He quirked an eyebrow as he looked up at her. "Isn't it?"

"Oh, don't get all sarcastic on me now," she knocked his shoulder lightly. "You said you wanted to fix it."

"I do," he nodded, turning to glance back into Michonne's window. She was still lying in her bed, avoiding him. "I just wish I had an active way to do that."

"This is it, Rick. You said she wanted you to be there. Well, here you are."

With a small smile, he accepted the encouragement. If she thought he was on the right track, he wasn't going to argue. "How about you. You holdin' up all right?"

"I'm fine," she nodded, taking a couple of bites of her snack. "Still not sleeping well, but… what can you do?"

"Well, we've got nothin' to do here but rest. May as well take advantage."

"You should take advantage of the cafeteria and eat something." A door opened and they both turned down the hall to see Beth and Noah head off in the opposite direction. "Where are you two going?" she questioned them in a very motherly tone.

"Gym!" they both called back at the same time.

"They're such liars," she observed quietly with a laugh. She also noted that Rick didn't seem interested in pleasantries, so she would leave him be. "I'm headed in for the night. But you know where to find us if you need anything."

"I do," he promised, watching her walk back towards her room. Before she could disappear, he made sure to tell her, "Thank you, Sasha."

She looked back at him, confused. "I didn't do anything."

"I mean for everything," he clarified with a small nod. "Thank you for helping."

She sent back a comforting smile and headed back into her room, where she found Daryl sitting on the floor, fiddling with his crossbow. "Why are you on the floor," she wondered with a chuckle as she made her way to the bed.

"Comfortable," he shrugged, deciding to hop up from it since she asked. He grabbed a bunch of cucumbers from her tray and sat down beside her. "This all they had?"

"All I wanted." It was then that remembered finding some old packets of almond butter, and immediately began to dress up her vegetable slices.

Daryl looked on, repulsed, as she happily bit into her delicacy. "That's fuckin' disgusting," he cited seriously.

She looked back at him with a full mouth and a frown. "I've seen you eat pig nose. Squirrel. I'm pretty sure I've seen you eat dirt. But this is what disgusts you?"

"The mind's a powerful thing," he shrugged again. He laid back on the bed crossways, staring up at the ceiling as he consumed his late night snack. "Rick still out there lookin' like a lost ass dog?"

"Yep," she laughed, shaking her head. "Won't even eat anything."

Daryl scoffed at the idea of passing up food when it was usually in such short supply. "I usually get what he's goin' through, but I don't understand this one, man."

"I do."

"Bullshit."

"No, I do," she said as she softly fell back as well, resting her head on his chest. "He's doing what he should've done in the first place."

"Stalkin' her ain't gonna fix nothin'."

She had to chuckle at his choice of words, but she didn't agree. "So are you saying you know what will fix it?"

"All I'm sayin' is, if savin' her life didn't do it, then this ain't gonna do shit. When she's ready to forgive him, she will."

"Maybe it wasn't her life that needed saving," she offered, smiling to herself as his rough hands gently rested over her head. "Maybe he's realized he needs to save her soul."

"Well hell, we all need that," he retorted jokingly. "We oughta form a line out there."

She gazed up at him, though she couldn't see him, amused by his candor. She felt she owed him the same, and quickly turned serious for a moment. "Daryl, I think we should go to Washington."

"You do?" He was trying to hide the relief in his voice, but failing. He had wanted to go since the night Eugene mentioned it. They were supposed to have a vote on it the following morning, but then everything went to shit with Michonne being taken, and suddenly, Washington seemed to be on hold indefinitely.

She nodded against his chest somewhat nervously. "I don't wanna live in this grave," she intimated, referring to the hospital. "And I don't care about Eugene or saving the world or whatever else is happening. I just think it's the best chance we have at a life."

"Maybe so," he agreed, staring back up at the ceiling as he mulled over everything she'd just said. He wasn't sure how he would broach the subject with Rick, knowing that his only focus was Michonne at the moment. But he knew he would have to. It seemed like everyone agreed that Washington could be their shot at something more. "Maybe it's the way to savin' our souls."

Michonne was sitting in bed, wide awake, trying to enjoy the silence of her room. She missed silence. She hadn't had it since the last time she was out on the road alone, searching for The Governor. It would be scary sometimes, only having her thoughts to keep her company. But now? That was all she wanted.

She didn't want Rick outside her door, watching her every move, or lack thereof. She didn't want Carl worrying about her as he so sweetly tended to do. She didn't want the others asking their twenty questions about what had happened to her. She didn't want or need their sympathy. She was sick of hearing doors slamming and people laughing. Judith crying. Sasha and Daryl obviously fucking. She just wanted to be alone. With the silence.

Alone.

That's what she told Rick she wanted the night she was taken. She had been lying to herself then. Was she lying to herself now, too? She couldn't even tell anymore. She hated wallowing in her grief. Especially when she wasn't even sure what she was so sad about Or mad about. Rick had done a number on her heart, but that hospital had managed to crush her spirit. She'd promised herself and Joan that she wouldn't let them win, but it was starting to feel like they had.

Images of Gorman's face flashed through her mind. Fighting not to be taken. Then fighting not to be raped. Her mouth full of his blood. She could so clearly picture the way those women walked around the hospital in utter fear because of him. Because of Dawn. And that woman holding her at gunpoint, still spouting her nonsense about the greater good. They were all dead, and yet, she still felt so much anger. She could feel herself losing grip, and she wasn't sure why.

Outside the door, Rick was still waiting. For what, he wasn't sure, but he knew it hadn't come yet, and so, he couldn't leave. He sat there, staring at the walls. Then the floor. Then the walls again. His mind had drifted to thoughts of sleep when he heard a door open, and Carl's sleepy face came peeking into view.

Rick immediately looked at his watch, noting that it was nearly 3:00AM. "What are you doin' up?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he answered, dragging the chair from his room out into the hallway. "I thought you might need some company."

"I'm all right," he maintained for what felt like the hundredth time. "Besides, what about your sister?"

"She's safe," he promised, taking a seat. "It's you I'm worried about. And Michonne."

"Worried about in what way?"

"I mean… I guess I just wish I knew what was going on. Like, what happened to her here."

Rick wished he knew the same. But he could only shake his head. "We'll just have to wait for when she's ready to tell us. If she ever gets there."

"Is that why you're sitting out here?"

"I'm out here for a lot of reasons, son. But mostly, just in case."

"You don't want someone to take her again."

He glanced back into her room, as he often did, just to be sure she was still there, inadvertently answering Carl's question without saying a word.

"That night they took her," he went on, "I understand that you blame yourself for it in some way or another. But I don't think that's fair."

He couldn't help but stare at his ever-perceptive son, wondering what he could possibly know about it. "What makes you say that?"

"Because I know how scared you were. It was like when Mom died," he remembered sadly. He never wanted to see that look on his dad's face again, but it had somehow come back to haunt him. "I don't know. But I know I blamed you for that, when I shouldn't have. So I don't think you should blame yourself for this."

Rick's eyes flitted down towards the floor and he smiled ruefully at his boy. He obviously loved him more than anything, but he also truly cherished who he was becoming. "I appreciate that, son."

Carl nodded, hoping he'd made his dad feel a little better, at least. He hated seeing him and Michonne like this. It was like watching his parents fall apart all over again. He obviously didn't know everything about their relationship, but he understood enough to know that they'd probably been together for a while, and it sucked to watch it tear at the seams like this.

"Have you told her you love her yet?" he asked hopefully.

Rick looked up at him with a small chuckle. "Yes, I have."

"Did she say it back?"

"She… umm…" He nervously brushed at his eyebrow as his words trailed into silence. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Dad?"

"It's complicated," was all he could come up with in response. He then heard the sound of Michonne's footsteps and turned to see her coming towards the door.

Carl felt a wave of joy when she stepped into the hallway to join them. It was the first time he'd seen her in two days. "Hey, Michonne."

"Hey," she returned flatly. "You mind if I talk to your dad alone for a minute?"

His stark blue eyes searched her face, wishing he would finally find something different there. Something besides misery. "Whatever it is, you know you can say it in front of me. I'm here for you too, Michonne."

"I know," she tried to smile at him. "But I'd really rather just speak to him right now."

With a big sigh, Carl got up from his chair and headed for his own door. "You used to be the one person that didn't treat me like a kid," he told her seriously. "And now you've just shut me out. What happened to you?"

"Hey," Rick inserted with a frown as he stood from his seat. "You don't talk to her like that."

"It's fine," she said, still gazing at Carl. "And I'm not trying to treat you like a kid, or exclude you. But this one is between me and your dad. So if you wanna be treated like an adult, that comes with understanding that some things are none of your damn business."

He was taken aback by the fact that Michonne was being so blunt with him, but he said nothing else. He simply retreated into his room, leaving the adults to their discussion.

Rick was looking back at her, a bit surprised himself. Even he knew she had never spoken to Carl that way before. "You doin' okay?" he wondered.

Her face relayed boredom, inside, she felt like some sort of flame had been ignited, and she couldn't tell whether it was the good or bad kind of fire. "I dunno," she grimaced. "I dunno whether I wanna fuck you or fight you."

"Those are the only two options, huh."

"When you're at war..."

He smirked, remembering her saying that very thing the first time they ever had sex, that evening in the tombs. Had he known that night would turn to this... "So that's what you came out here to tell me? You wanna fight?"

"I came out here to tell you..." She shook her head as she glanced back into her empty room. "I don't know."

"Makes sense."

She rolled her eyes at herself before the words even came out of her mouth. But she no longer wanted to be alone with her thoughts. "Come in my room?"

His eyes darted up at her request, understanding that she wasn't asking to fight him. "Is that... is that a good idea?" he stuttered.

"It was fine four nights ago. Why wouldn't it be now?"

He caught the bite in her tone, and knew for sure that it wasn't. Her emotions were all over the place. "Why don't you get some rest," he declined diplomatically, taking a few steps away from her. "I'm sure there's an Ambien somewhere around here that would get you to sleep."

"I don't want drugs, Rick. I wanna fuck."

"Michonne."

She stared at him angrily, trying not to explode. All she wanted was to relieve some tension, and he couldn't even do that for her. "You are endlessly disappointing," she stated as if it were fact.

That one stung so hard, he nearly stumbled backward. Instead, he opened the door to her room and walked on in, taking a seat on her bed. She stood in the hallway watching. "Let's go," he called out to her.

She blinked a couple of times, trying to bat her tears away, and went inside, shutting the door behind her. She approached him slowly and deliberately, her fingers unzipping her vest as she moved. She kept her eyes on him and he didn't shy away from her gaze. They both had frowns on their faces, as if they weren't sure what was happening.

She pushed him backwards on the bed harshly, and climbed on top of him unhurriedly. Unsteadily. He could feel her quivering as she moved her hands up his torso to remove his shirt. He didn't make any movements himself, but instead, just followed her lead, allowing her to undress him. Her fingers trailed along his stomach until they reached the button of his jeans, and he noticed her take a deep breath.

"Michonne," he whispered, wanting to stop her. "You don't have to do this."

"Shut up," she retorted quickly. She couldn't be sure whether she was talking to him or the many emotions swirling around in her head. "Just… don't talk."

She went on to unbuckle his belt, but her fingers didn't seem to be cooperating. They fumbled with the worn leather, her hands shaking harder than ever. Rick wasn't going to press the issue – if this was what she needed, he would give it to her. But then the tears came, and he couldn't take it any longer. He gently rested his hands over hers, willing her to stop this self-torture. It was clear this wasn't what she wanted.

"Please stop," he softly pleaded, not releasing his grasp.

She quickly wiped her face before snatching her hands away, then went for his pants again. "I'm fine."

"This isn't 'fine,'" he knew. He repeated his action, grabbing her wrists this time to stop her. "I don't know what it is, but it's not fine."

"Let go of me."

"No," he refused angrily. "I'd rather fight than let you do this."

Her tears came harder now, more frustrated than ever. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she hated the fact that he still wasn't willing to give it to her. Before she could stop herself, she pulled out of his grasp to punch him in the chest angrily. She climbed off of him and sat beside him on the bed. "You can leave."

"I don't wanna leave you like this."

"You don't have much of a choice, do you."

He sighed as he sat back up and pulled on his shirt again. "Look, I don't know why you decided to come and get me, and I'm guessing you probably don't either, but I'm not goin' anywhere. Not with you like this. So you can talk to me, you can ignore me, you can go to sleep. But you can't get rid of me."

Frowning, she stared out of the window ahead of them before replying, "I'm gonna go to sleep then."

He looked over at her in this odd state of numbness and nodded. "All right."

He picked himself up from the bed and stood near the window so that she could get settled.

She silently laid on her side, with her back towards Rick, clutching at her pillow as she let herself cry. It was a silent weep – the one she'd reserved for when she was alone. The one she felt in her throat, with tears so heavy, her eyes blurred. The one where she actually wanted to scream, but instead, held her breath and grabbed her stomach to keep quiet.

Before long, she felt Rick climb into bed with her. She was thankful he didn't speak, because there were no words that could have helped in that moment. Nothing better than the silence. But he wrapped his arms around her tightly, intertwined his fingers with hers, and he held her as she sobbed.