Almost held failed potential
That it represented our ability
To be just not good enough
That we had come to the brink
Of something beautiful so many times
That we crafted a word for it.
- Bianca Phipps "Almosts"
It was disgusting. Her husband had invited that monster into her house and while she tried to throw herself into taking are of things without thinking about it, but then he had looked her in the eyes and thanked her. Their eyes met and she felt a surge of something she hadn't felt in a long time and that thought had made her want to throw up. She couldn't allow herself to forget what had happened and who the man with the misplaced manners truly was. Merle Dixon made no apologies for the man that he had become, and even Merle Dixon had not been as stupid and irresponsible as his younger brother had been. And the man had never once paid his respects or went to Michonne to apologize for breaking regular protocol with Mike. The setup Merle and Michonne had for years had worked, and with one sale from the reckless brother the worst of bad nightmares had come true.
That was on him.
Carol had stood in the shower, trying to scrub away the feelings that had risen in her and raised up over her skin when their eyes had met. She felt dirty in a way that disgusted her like nothing else ever had in her life. This was the man who had set up the environment - the idiot who had caused the death of her godson and her best friend. She didn't even allow her hands to ghost across her chest or vagina. She didn't allow her hands to ease up, rubbing the washcloth against her arms, stomach and legs as roughly as she could until the skin was red and raw and she felt nothing but the pain from the contact burn and the searing hot water stinging at her now-sensitive skin. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, thinking about times sitting at the park with a cup of coffee and Michonne as Andre darted here there and everywhere with any new child that he could find to play with at the park. Laughter and lightness in her life as her only escape from the hell at home.
Michonne's limp body laid out on the ground, curved over the gun as she sat in the spot on the floor where she had found her little boy that night. Everything was red and there were these abnormal chunks splayed all over the place. The smell of the meatloaf had been strong wafting up to her nose from its place in her arms and tying itself with the image of the body so completely that she couldn't even walk into a place that sold it without having a complete breakdown anymore. Ed making a request for meatloaf always ended up with her being beaten unconscious and him settling for takeout for the night when she refused. Meatloaf had been a specialty of hers, and now it was painted in pain and death and blood and brain splatter. It wasn't pretty like the movies, a soft montage and a couple hugs couldn't heal the damage left behind by the sight. Even Ed had tried that method in the week after Michonne's death. But Michonne was gone, and nothing would ever make that better.
So she had left the shower and found him outside the door and lit into him. She left him behind and went to her bedroom and sobbed herself into a fitful and restless sleep.
"Carol Peletier, don't make me drag you to the bathroom and clean your mouth out with soap." Michonne laughed, her eyes sparkling as she took another sip out of her wine glass, enjoying their freedom for a much-needed girls night after Ed had announced to Carol that she needed to be out of the house for the rest of the night because he was having the guys over to a poker night. Of course they both knew that by 'the guys' he meant some busty blonde from a bar or that he met through work and by 'poker night' he meant 'poke-her-tonight' but Carol didn't care and Michonne made it a point to not pester Carol too much about things like this anymore. Carol had enough of being bossed around and having her arm twisted into things, Michonne was just there to catch her when she fell apart and to put her back together again and to offer the look of 'you know what you should be doing, I shouldn't have to say it girl' when the moment called for it.
"You can drop the mommy mode now, Mich." Carol laughed, shrugging her shoulder. "I'm serious. I just - don't see the appeal."
"The Beatles are a national treasure." Michonne picked up a french fry and jabbed it in Carol's direction, making her point as she ticked her head back and forth.
"International treasure, you mean?" Carol teased, raising an eyebrow at the other woman as she reached over the table and fished a fry off of her plate and swirled it in ketchup before popping it in her mouth, offering a smile her way with a slight chuckle at the way that Michonne just rolled her eyes and grabbed a couple more fries and tossed them across the table at Carol, causing a couple patrons and the waiter to all turn a look on them. Michonne broke off into a fit of laughter.
"Seriously, Carol. If you don't love the Beatles, than you are basically just letting the terrorists win."
"Michonne!" Carol reached over and slapped her arm, pulling back the flute glass of wine with her arm as she did. "You can't say that. I'm cutting you off." She tossed back the rest of Michonne's drink for the other woman before drinking the rest of her own so Michonne couldn't take it in retaliation.
"I can-" Michonne's phone beeped and she held up a finger with a heavy sigh. "-hold on."
"That isn't your text tone." Carol stated simply, tucking her arms about herself as she watched Michonne's eyes scan the phone before she pulled back and dug through her purse to set some cash on the table. "What's going on?" Concern etched over Carol's face in that moment as she watched Michonne packing up to leave.
"It's Dixon's tone, so I know to check it, even if I'm not taking calls or messages at the time." Michonne smiled tightly and looked up at Carol with a nod. "Looks like girl's night is over, sorry."
"I'm gonna get a complex if you leave me every time that Merle Dixon shoots you a text." Carol nodded, reaching in her wallet to pull out some cash to leave behind on the table as well to cover her half of the bill and the tip. "Come on, we'll split a cab and I'll see you home."
"Thanks." Michonne hugged her purse close as they exited the restaurant. "Glad it happened now, instead of after we already bought tickets to the movie and wasted the cash. I'm gonna kill Mike."
"No you're not." Carol reached out to take Michonne's hand in her own, lightly squeezing it. "You give Andre extra hugs and kisses from Aunt Carol. Call me if you need any help."
"Help killing Mike?" Michonne perked up playfully as a cab pulled to the side of the road and both women laughed as they moved to slip inside and give directions to Michonne's house.
"Yeah. Call me if you need any help moving the body after it's done. I'll be there." Carol fished out the cash from her wallet to pass up a wad of cash to the cab driver, hearing a low groan next to her. "Mich are you-" She twisted around and screamed, scrambling off of the seat in the cab as she looked back into Michonne's glassy eyes, a good chunk of her head was missing completely, blown off, and her hand was reaching in Carol's direction, grasping. The only sound she made was a rasping, groaning noise. Skin was peeling from her face, dropping to the seat between them as she slid forward to reach for Carol, moving into her space with a snarl. Air swirled around Carol, the smell of meatloaf overtook her as she tried to push further away.
Carol jolted awake from her nap, coated in sweat, breathing ragged and panicked as her hand pressed tightly against her chest, her eyes squeezing shut to try to push aside the thought of her friend's mangled body, a sob crawling up her throat as she moved to curl into herself more on the bed, her hand closing tightly on the comforter underneath her body as her entire body shook with the power of her sobs, biting into her pillow.
Daryl Dixon had to pay.