Past, Present, and Future

"If we can somehow get outside the walls, get back to our cars at the quarry, we could use them to draw them away," Rick brainstormed aloud as he stood on his front porch, leaned against the railing, and looking out over the community.

"We'll set up more watch points. Coordinate the shooting of guns and flares so we could pull them out in even directions," Michonne added on.

"We'd need to get all our people on it. Carl, Tara, Rosita, Carol."

"What about everybody else?"

"Well, let's just keep this to our own for now," Rick said he as he straightened into a standing position and turned to face her, seeing the disapproving look that matched her tone and question.

"Really?"

"Look, if we had the time to bring the people along, sure. But we haven't had a chance to catch our breath," he tried to explain.

"Really?" she challenged again before sighing and looking away. "We're in here together. We're catching our breath right now. Anything else is just excuses."

"Michonne, they're not ready. That's not an excuse. It's a fact. How many of them did we lose out there yesterday?" he asked rhetorically.

"Five," she answered solemnly. "Maybe six depending on Nicholas."

Of course she knew that he thought to himself. She could probably name each and every one of them, as well. Before he was able to respond, however, the sound of footsteps caused him to break his gaze from Michonne's.

"Deanna," he said in way of a greeting to the woman climbing the steps of their porch.

"Rick. Michonne," she greeted as she came to stand in front of them, softening her tone and giving Michonne a small smile as she said her name. Michonne turned to face her, both her and Rick's eyes being drawn to the roll of paper in her hand.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Plans...for the expansion," she announced as her eyes landed on Michonne.

She offered the the plans to her as if they were an olive branch, a gesture that wasn't lost on Michonne. She looked at them, considering the implications, before taking them into her hands then looked up to find Rick staring at her intently.

"We got a few other things on our plate right now," Rick said as he pulled his eyes from Michonne's to address Deanna.

Michonne gave him a sidelong glance; she felt as though he was questioning her judgment, as if she was going to forget the hundreds of walkers at the wall, and start planning the next cocktail party.

"I know," Deanna said undeterred by his response. "These are for what Alexandria can be after this. Because one way or another, there's gonna be an after this," she said with a smile before turning to Michonne. "You and I have a meeting to reschedule. And I know now's not the time," she clarified as she held her hand up to Rick to preempt any argument from his side, "but it's my first priority when there is. "

"OK," Michonne said softly as she gave Deanna a firm nod.

"Good," Deanna said with a smile, genuinely pleased that she seemed open to coming back on board. "I'm off to training now," she said as she lifted the hem of her shirt and patted the small gun she was now carrying.

Michonne watched her walk away then looked down at the plans in her hands before drawing her focus back to Rick who was already focused on her.

"Looks like you got your job back," he said as he nodded toward the plans.

"Looks like it."

"I'm glad it worked out for you," he said with a faint grin.

"Don't worry, I'm seeing this through with you ," she offered without prompting as she waved her hand toward the wall and the situation beyond it.

"I know," he assured her with a nod. "And they're gonna need you if this place makes it."

"If? Look around us. We still have walls. You're talking like this place is a lost cause already." She shook her head in disbelief then looked upward for a moment out of frustration.

"Maybe they hold, maybe they don't," he said as he lowered his voice and leaned into her. "If it's looking like things are going south, though, we won't be around to find out."

"Rick."

"My kids and my family come first," he stated unequivocally as he placed his palm in the center of his chest. "I don't know why that's wrong. I don't. You ask any other person out there, and they'd tell you the same thing."

"You took an entire community of people into the prison, most of them less capable than the people here. You kept them safe. Sheltered them, fed them, exposed yourself to a deadly virus to save some of them...what's changed?" she asked, her question practically a whisper.

Rick looked away for a moment as her words sunk in then allowed his eyes to return to her face to find her still staring right back at him, challenging him and waiting for a response. His eyes dropped from hers and trailed downward across her lips to her chest then back up as he considered not only the words, but the woman standing here in front of him. She was right; but again, he found himself trying to cling to the rules that allowed him and his family to be alive in this community right now. The rules he imposed upon himself to allow him to keep this woman in his life and his children's lives. He heard her call to change, but in looking at her, he found himself unable to agree.

xxxx

"How is she?" Rick asked as soon as he reached the door of Jessie's upstairs guest bedroom, still panting from running wherever he'd just been and whatever he was tending to.

Denna and Michonne looked up at him simultaneously; Deanna from her spot on the daybed and Michonne from her seat at the side of the bed where she was tending to the wounds she'd sustained from falling on a table saw in the midst of the herd's invasion of their community.

"No offense to Michonne, but whatever she's doing hurts like a son of a bitch," she answered with a dry laugh.

"I just finished with the leg," Michonne said as she tied off the bandage. "And that seems to be the worst of-" She stopped herself short as she lifted the hem of Deanna's bloodied shirt to reveal the source of the stain: a set of teeth marks. She looked to Rick; her silence and the sad shock on Rick's face alerted Deanna to a problem. She looked down to her abdomen, and understood immediately what they were reluctant to tell her.

"Well...shit."

Rick walked silently into the room, dropping to a knee next to Michonne at Deanna's bedside, his eyes still fixed on the bitemark.

"How does it happen?" Deanna asked. Rick looked back at Michonne, wordlessly imploring her to answer for him.

"You get a high fever, weakness, and then you just fade out," Michonne explained truthfully, but gently.

"How long?"

"Depends," she said with a small shrug.

"If I could see Spencer…"

Rick looked to Michonne again then back to Deanna.

"They're all over now, there's just too many of them," he said, his voice strained from fatigue and motion. "I would if I could," he promised her. She returned his kind offer with a grin then grabbed his forearm where it rested on her bed, giving it a squeeze. As he looked at her, he was surprised at the sorrow he felt over her fate. He hadn't known her long, and he'd spent much of that time in opposition to her, but in this moment, he felt regret. Regret that she would no longer be with them, regret that he hadn't made more of their relationship, and regret for Michonne's loss. He tried to figure out what to say to her, but as he opened his mouth, the sounds of his daughter's high pitched cry began to fill the room. He looked toward the hall quickly then back to Deanna.

"I'm sorry," he said as he began to shift his weight onto his feet so that he could get up to tend to Judith.

Deanna nodded in understanding then closed her eyes for a moment. Rick reached his hand back from the bed and placed it on Michonne's knee, giving her a comforting squeeze before pushing himself to a standing position and quickly leaving the room. Even over the crying, she could hear Rick addressing his daughter in a hushed voice the next room over. Hey Judes. It's OK, sweetheart. I've got you. Shh shh shh. She smiled to herself as she sat there listening in, her elbows propped on her knees and her head resting in her hands. She allowed her eyes to close for a moment as she indulged in the small distraction. She was certain she'd never heard him call her Judes before, always Judith or Judy. In fact, she was the only person who used that nickname with the little girl, it was just their thing, or so she thought. The crying quickly subsided, and the only noise left was the hum of the walkers and the faint sound of music coming from behind Sam's closed door across the hall.

"Diabetes runs in my family," Deanna said breaking the silence in the room and causing Michonne to lift her head from her hands. "I always thought that's what would do me in. If I would have known how it was going to end, I would have eaten a lot more cheesecake, you know?" she asked with a wry smile, still cracking jokes despite the dire circumstances.

"Chocolate croissants for me," Michonne joked reluctantly, "but yes, I know."

A wide smile spread across Deanna's face and she began to chuckle, but her smile soon turned to a grimace at the movement of the muscles in her abdomen caused a sudden pain. She inhaled sharply then released a slow breath as she relaxed into her pillow and sighed.

"Here," Michonne said as she lifted a bottle of water to her lips, watching her take a few sips before she held her hand up to stop. It was obvious that Deanna didn't want to spend her remaining moments in mourning, she wanted to carry on as long as she could, so any distraction would be welcomed.

"You have time for that meeting now?" Michonne asked hopefully. Deanna tilted her head and paused for a moment before giving her a rueful smile.

"Michonne, I'm so sorry about the past few days. I cocked it all up-"

"It doesn't matter now..."

"You have a such good head on your shoulders and your heart is always in the right place. Whatever you've come up with, I trust is the right thing. You don't need my approval anyhow...it's all yours now," she said as she reached for Michonne's hand. Michonne clasped it, then covered it with her other hand and rested it on the side of the bed between them. "You and Rick, you're what they need."

Michonne squeezed her hand and gave a nod, accepting the responsibility she was passing on to her.

"The plans you gave me... I looked them over. I get it. They could work."

"Even now? " Deanna asked with surprise.

"Even now," Michonne assured her. "The Latin in the margins, what was that?"

"Dolor hic tibi proderit olim," she recited with a chuckle. "It was something Reg used to say when things went really, really badly."

"What does it mean?" Michonne pressed.

Deanna held her gaze for a moment, likely reminiscing about Reg and perhaps even a time he had said this very thing to her, then sighed. "Someday this pain will be useful to you."

Michonne tilted her head thoughtfully and gave her a small smile. It was a beautiful thought, one of those things she'd never heard or verbalized, but that struck a chord with her instantly. She had immense pain in her life, and now there was no doubt that Deanna did, as well. Deanna wouldn't be moving on, but she would for her.

"Your expansion will happen," Michonne promised, causing Deanna grin sadly.

"It's not about me, dear...what do you want?"

"I want this place to work," she answered without hesitation.

"Yes, but what does that mean for you? What do you want for you? " Deanna asked again, punctuating you with a squeeze of Michonne's had each time she said it.

Michonne felt a pang in her chest, the question striking her at the core. She could easily tell you what she needed, what they needed. Even her wants were just needs anymore. This community wasn't a luxury, it was a necessity. What do you want? The act of wanting something for herself, of desiring something more than what she needed, was something she had allowed herself since the turn.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, the shakiness of her voice giving away how shaken she was by the question.

"It may seem otherwise right now, but I'm lucky, Michonne," Deanna said with a genuine smile. "Working with my family towards a better future is-it's all I ever wanted. That's what I got. I got to do what I wanted...right up to the end."

She removed her hand from Michonne's grasp and reached her arm, growing more and more unsteady as the virus progressed, toward Michonne, cupping her cheek in her palm. Michonne covered it in hers, steadying the woman's trembling hand.

"What do you want?" she repeated. "Now you figure it out."

"I will," Michonne vowed, her voice just a whisper.

"You better," she said as she stroked her thumb against her cheek.

Rick! Oh my God, they're getting in. Help!

Michonne turned her head toward the sound coming from downstairs, dropping Deanna's hand from her cheek and holding it in her lap. She could hear yelling and things breaking, and could only imagine what was happening. She looked back at Deanna apologetically as she began to stand.

"Go."

She squeezed her hand once more then placed it gently at her side and ran out of the room to lend her help.

xxxx

Michonne sat in the chair at Carl's bedside, the same chair she'd occupied when she and Carl sat vigil at Tara's bedside just a few days earlier. So much was the same. He was unconscious, but stable, hopefully comfortable even, as they waited for his body to "heal itself" as the doctors liked to say. So much was different, though. She couldn't mistake him for sleeping because the reminder of his injury was right there on his face in the form of a bulky bandage that wrapped around his head and covered, what she was told, was now a gaping wound where his right eye used to be. She'd yet to see it, though, so part of her was still in denial. The biggest difference, however, was that this was Carl. She loved her family, but the space that this boy occupied in her heart was far deeper and wider than the others as evidenced by the constant ache she'd felt in her chest in the twelve hours since he'd been shot.

She had been sitting in the chair with her knees tucked to her chest with her head resting on them and her arms clasped around her shins. She didn't pray anymore, so she wasn't sure what to call this thing she was doing. Hoping, willing him to live, sending him good vibes...whatever it was, she was doing it intensely as she sat there in the silent room, the steady beeping of his monitors the only sound.

"It wasn't even the herd…"

Michonne lifted her head and looked to her left where Rick sat leaned back in his chair, his hands limply hanging over the armrests as he stared steadily at Carl.

"What?" she asked groggily.

"A boy tried to kill me because I killed his father," Rick said, his hoarse voice devoid of the emotion you'd expect to hear with a statement like that, probably because there was nothing left at this point. "That's why my son is lying here."

"He killed Reg. Deanna ordered it."

"But I don't even know why I got involved in the first place..."

"Because you're the constable, and Pete was abusing his wife," she said, wanting it to be the reason, though she doubted it was that simple.

"That's why I would have at one time, but I don't think that man exists anymore…" he trailed off as he ran his hand over his face. "I heard what you said about Pete and then I saw the bruises on Jessie, and I put it all together, of course I did," he said as he leaned forward in his chair, bringing his elbows to rest on his knees as he dropped his head and focused on the floor below him. "I've seen it a million times before, but I didn't care. Those aren't the problems we deal with now...they're not a threat to my family, so I had half a mind to let it run its course because people like them? They were gonna die no matter what, one way or the other."

Michonne silently listened as the thoughts and feelings he'd kept from her over the past few days came tumbling out. She felt tense as he spoke; the things he was saying were hard to hear, but it was still a relief to hear them because it was the only way they could begin to heal.

"But then Noah and Tara...I just got so…" he shook his head as he searched for the words to explain himself. "I was so angry with them, with myself for letting that happen...I just snapped and he was the easy target, and you know the rest…" he said as he waved his hand in front of him.

He sat quietly for a moment before finally turning his head to face Michonne. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears, his breaths jagged, and the muscles of his jaw tensed as he fought to keep his emotions at bay.

"I'm supposed to be protecting these people, and I don't even know how to do that," he said shaking his head. "I don't even know if I care anymore," he added quietly.

Michonne felt her own eyes begin to sting with tears as she looked at him. She'd heard this sentiment from him before, but today he wasn't saying with defiance. He was saying it with defeat.

"Bullshit," she whispered harshly, her lip trembling. "You saved me, and I've seen you save others a thousand times over. You know how," she assured him as she leaned forward in her chair to close the space between them. "And yes, things have changed, but we'll figure it out like we always do. We have a home, a family, a community to protect. You and Me."

She held his gaze and raised her eyebrows slightly, hoping to elicit some sort of positive response from him, but all she saw was fear in his face. He licked his lips, then opened his mouth to speak and released a shaky breath before he could.

"I don't trust myself right now…" he admitted just above a whisper.

The tension fell from his face fell, allowing some of the tears he was holding back to fall, as well. Michonne felt the ache in her chest intensify as her chosen long-time leader, fellow warrior, and best friend unraveled in front of her. She reached out to him and placed her hand on his cheek, using her thumb to wipe away the tear sliding down his cheek.

"Then you take whatever time you need to get your head straight. I'm here, we're all here for you...but you will come back. You have to."

He stared back at her for a moment before relaxing into her touch and beginning to nod weakly as he brought his hand up to cover hers letting it rest there for a moment before nodding again, this time more resolutely.

Too many shadows in my room

Too many hours in this midnight

Too many corners in my mind

So much to do to set my heart right

Oh it's taking so long I could be wrong, I could be ready

Oh but if I take my heart's advice

I should assume it's still unsteady

I am in repair, I am in repair

In Repair-John Mayer

A/N: I left the lyrics to an old song I rediscovered while looking for inspiration for the story, and I've been listening to it quite a bit as I've started working on the final chapters. I think it really sets the tone for what's to come, and I wanted to share.

Thanks so much for reading and special thanks to mamgrimes, ShunnieIsFine, sleepywitchsamurai, courtgirl26, and literaturechick for taking the time to share your thoughts. I love hearing from you and appreciate the support. :)