Hey guys so this is sister fic (more like 3rd cousin twice removed fic) to a drabble I'd written a while back. I wrote the bulk of this when I got word of MSF spoilers so some stuff is tweaked from that episode. I might go ahead and continue this after hiatus.
What lay before them were rusted gates, it was all such a similar sight. Every community they'd been to had them. All the same start; all the same finish more or less. What lie behind these particular ones was another mystery all together. Wordlessly, they both listened from inside their car for anything more than silence, praying and hoping that this would be different. What would be this town's sound?
To their surprise, the voices of children escaped the gate to meet them. Not just children, but children laughing. The furrowed eyes eased for a moment, looking at each other with an uneven combination of hope and fear, this was surely the start of something.
Suddenly the very center of Michonne acted before her mind could, lifted her hand toward Rick's, capturing the rough digits. It was new, to touch in that way, but not odd. Never odd. Her eyes wash over him, noticing that he is unbothered by the gesture; she lingers on them and exhales. "You ready?"
His façade is broken at her voice; finally breathing again he trails, "Yeah… yeah." In his eyes she could see how hard this was on him.
The sensation of Rick's hand rests on Michonne's thoughts, reminiscing on the time when she howled for him to never touch her again. What a broken man she'd met in that prison. Now, the pair had become much closer than hands could allow, sharing simple glances that could speak whole novels.
Deep inside Michonne, a voice yells to her, but she can't make out what it's trying to say. Too far to understand. Again, the rules were changing, in ways that she was aware and unaware.
Rick makes to remove Judith from the back of the car. Inwardly she sighs, "That hand. Oh, that hand."
/
Michonne laid there for a while on the floor with all of her family that she had acquired on her journey. It was bizarre to not wake to the smell of rotting flesh or unclean bodies. She glides her tongue on her the roof of her mouth and savors the taste of mint that remains. She can't sleep, and has given up on keeping the appearance that she is. Her push to find a safe place had fallen back on her and she was struggling. This place, it all seemed great. It all seemed good. But she knew enough to know what seems isn't always what is. Hope was still there, but if this place turned out as fool's gold, how could she deal with herself if someone got hurt over it? After all, she's the one that brought them there. Again she wonders, is this home, or is it just another stop along the way?
Rick has been up, plundering around for the past however many hours. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she realizes he's keeping watch. His posture shifts wildly and his head tilts every once and a while as though he's having a very stern argument, with himself. She feels like an intruder for stealing in on this private moment and lifts up on her elbows to signal that she's awake and she sees. Rick, frozen at the rustling behind him looks back and nods toward her, respecting if she chooses to lay back to sleep, but the look on his moon washed face hints he'd like her company.
Michonne got up with the grace of a cat to not disturb the sleepers around her and walked over to meet his side by the window, sharing the moon's precious glow. For a while they are quiet, editing their raw thoughts to present to each other.
Michonne whispers, "Deanna hasn't given me a job yet."
"Do you want one?" Rick's spoke in a tone she couldn't place.
"Yeah,Do you?"
He stands back on one on his legs, "That's signing the papers. That's saying yes to how it is." He's digging in his heels, nothing new and understandably so. Michonne respected that he still had his doubts and didn't want to go all in without knowing the whole card. He was willing to take every precaution to ensure that his family was safe.
Michonne pressed, "Are you afraid to do that?"
"Aren't you?"
Without a second thought she responds, "No."
He searched her face as much as the darkness allowed and questioned, "So, then why are we still awake?" She couldn't answer. She didn't want to.
Out of the silence he groaned, "I'm gonna go for a walk." Rick walks toward her and her breath is a paused at his advance. He places a comforting hand on the side of her arm as he left. She wasn't quite sure what it was, but all of the noise that clogged her focus, wondering if this was the right call, if they should sign those papers and take the jobs, what the future would bring…
Was no more.
And she sat there for an hour or more with stars in her belly. Those disquieting thoughts arose again like planets rotating around her, in and out of her concentration, but one sun pulsed and radiated from where Rick touched, ached to be remembered.
She whispered quietly in the fleeing night, "Those hands. Oh, those hands."
And the voice at her center is a little clearer, closer. Still though, she can't make it out.
/
"Now remember everybody, don't make any sudden movements. Move slow and still and everybody should make it just fine, okay?" Rick labored over the cracked chest of a walker, carving the insides out like a bloodied pumpkin. He had managed to lure one of the walkers into the Jessie's living room when they first poured in the wrecked gate. Carl, Michonne, Father Gabriel, Jessie, Ron and Sam surrounded him with worried faces. Judith peeked from under the makeshift poncho that Carl had on, playing a game of peek-a-boo. The heard caught wind that the group lay inside of the house and was scrounging to get inside, they grew louder and louder by the moment. Jessie, Ron and Sam, and Father Gabriel, the more unexperienced with the dead could not contain their sheer terror.
Rick stood up with his hands on his hips, staining the sides of his white shirt "Make sure to lay it on thick, this one should be enough for all of us to make it out." His voice tried to remain assured but fell flat upon the frightened eyes. To demonstrate, Rick first began to reach into the walker's chest and spread it on his shirt; the once white, becoming quickly red.
Michonne, no stranger to this had motioned to Carl to go ahead and begin to rub the guts on himself to add credibility to Rick's instruction, Michonne soon follows looking to Jessie and the others, acting as a tutorial. To comfort the group she quipped, "It'll work. We've done this before." Hesitantly, the rest finally join in, disgusted at the smells and textures now just inches from their faces.
After she had ensured that Carl and she were fully covered, Jessie was seeing to Sam and Ron and Father Gabriel was almost finished, Michonne peeked out of the window and into the sea of them, the dead that they could become. She refused to believe that this was the end of this place. The plans Deanna gave her would not be in vain. After what they'd been through here, this was not the finish. There will be an after this, for her and her Family. For Carl and for Judith and Rick…
Rick.
From the garage a larger commotion begins, sounds like the smashing of glass. It's the walkers; their weight must have smashed the door open somehow got through. The group wasn't sure how long it would take for them to make it to the living room but they knew there was no time anymore. It snatches her back to reality when Rick put's a hand to her shoulder. Asking, more like telling Rick says, "Michonne! Are you ready?"
In one split second, her quickened blood carried to her the unintelligible voice that's called so many times. It's wailing, it's desperate and she heard it louder and clearer than it has ever been. But the endless groan of the walkers overpower it, all she could gather was it was something about love.
Gaining composure again she answers, "I'm ready." sliding her katana from out of her holster just in case of emergency.
"Good," He says as he grabs a hold of Carl's hand with his free hand. He too is holding his weapon, an axe. "We don't have time to wait we've gotta do it now. Carl, hold on to Michonne. Michonne, Jessie, then Sam, Ron and Father Gabriel got it?" everybody followed suit, Jessie with tearful eyes, Sam with nothing. Rick hurries toward the door removing the furniture barricading it and opens it slowly, his demeanor switches to mimic the walkers: slow full and disordered. On the porch they are all able to see the terror that lay before them, infinite decaying bodies, the end could not be seen. Everyone holds each other's hands much tighter as they begin to tread the walker heard…
Despite the death and hopelessness in what they all witnessed, an unwavering determinism echoes inside Michonne,
This is not the finish.
This is not the finish.
To be continued…?
Thanks so much for reading!
xxxx
Songs on deck while writing this:
My hands – Leona Lewis (shouts out to the FF XIII fans)
I Wanna Hold Your Hand (Glee version)
Beautiful Goodbye – f(x)
Sound and Color – Alabama Shakes
Rise Up – Andra Day