Chapter 3: Whispers
Michonne's footsteps made the softest of sounds as she wandered along the catwalk towards her cell block. She tightened her scarf and tucked the strap of her katana underneath her collar.
Watch had been uneventful but it was still an adjustment getting used to a swing night watch. It had been Glenn and Daryl's idea to mix things up in case anyone was monitoring the prison and looking for weaknesses in their routine. So now instead of a full night's watch like before, it was split into first and second shifts. There was no indication of a threat yet but the Governor was still out there somewhere and they'd seen signs last week of a group passing a little too close to their territory. Better safe than sorry.
Michonne had been left with first shift, not ideal but she didn't mind much—or, at least, she didn't mind when her relief was on time, unlike tonight. Lillian's tardiness was understandable and only slightly irritating. Some people were going to struggle with changes in routine more than others.
Despite the delay, Michonne did her usual, post-watch rounds of the prison to assure herself that all was quiet and secure.
There was nothing amiss when she strolled through the mess hall. The only anomaly was that a few people had left their dirty dishes on one of the tables; Michonne moved them to the sink area. Whoever was on kitchen duty in the morning wasn't going to be happy.
The library was similarly quiet and deserted, but that was nothing new. Mostly it was used for the occasional group meeting. If folks were going to linger someplace around the prison, the preference was for a more open space with a greater number of exits. On the other hand, Carl thought it was the most normal place in the entire prison so he was a frequent visitor. She smiled thinking of her youngest friend. Ever since their trip back to his hometown, she'd found kindred spirits in both him and his father. They were wounded souls marred by unbelievable decisions made out of love. Yet they'd found a way to go on in the world thanks to a keen determination in the face of weariness. It was comforting to have people with whom she could heal.
The walk-through of the library and thoughts of Carl also reminded her that she had "kid duty" at the end of the week. She'd need to come back and pick up some new books for her lesson. There were a lot of raised eyebrows when she'd volunteered for that rotation. Everyone was used to seeing her as this stoic walker-killer and she didn't do much to disabuse people of that notion. Glorified babysitting didn't seem like it was in her wheelhouse. But like everyone else, she'd had another life once; being around the kids helped her remember part of it. And she had loved that part more than anything else. It came out of her when she was with the kids.
Many members of the group developed further suspicions about her upon witnessing this temporary transformation; only a few knew the actual, tragic facts.
There wasn't a whole lot of lecturing going on during her kid duty. She encouraged them to take books from the library and then write about them or come back to the group with questions. They spent a lot of time discussing whether many of the stories they read had any bearing on their lives now. Some of the things the kids said caused her to mourn for their youth. The killing and dying were so routine now, not that this hadn't been the case for millions of kids around the world before this thing with the walkers came about. But Michonne was adamant that even though civilization had changed, that didn't mean that people should forget some of the most fundamental aspects of humanity beyond survival skills. Learning and thinking for oneself were just as important.
Leaving the library, she shifted her inspection towards her home-base. It's where most of Andrea's group, as she thought of them, kept their quarters. There were a few additional people such as herself but the majority were the original occupiers of the prison turned commune. The first familiar landmark appeared in the distance; the stairwell to the upper level. She looked around for signs of movement then ascended the steps in silence.
Most of the cells were unoccupied. It had just turned out that way with most people settling downstairs, perhaps feeling less cornered at ground level. The extra cells instead housed various workstations or excess supplies. Michonne slowed her approach as she reached one of the central cells and peeked in on the heaped mass against the wall.
Daryl.
He'd come to visit her in her cell a while back after she'd gotten off of watch, mostly because he'd heard that she'd had a rough night. He'd even admitted as much which was surprising given how closed-off he could be. Maybe she was getting soft when it came to him but she'd thought it incredibly sweet. They were both loners and, despite the change in their affections for one another, she didn't want him to feel pressured to be anything but himself. He understood that too and yet he'd come anyway.
The more shocking turn of events was when he accepted her offer to stay with her while she slept. She hadn't really thought in her mind how that would actually work but when he put his feet up to join hers, she shared his disappointment that they'd both been too afraid to go for what they really wanted.
They didn't make that mistake in their following encounters, though. He was making her go soft … and she rather liked that.
Recently, she'd started creeping by when making her rounds, careful not to wake him but satisfied to see that he was safely tucked away. It was comforting to see the variations of his routine each night: he kept his coat hanging on the bedpost and a stash of arrows could always be spotted on the upper bunk on top of his poncho or bundled in the corner if they were soiled. The chair by his bed usually had one or both crossbows leaning against it. His favorite crossbow was there now a few inches from his bundled form, waiting for him to grab if necessary.
She turned her head away from his hovel to look down onto the rest of the cell block. At the higher vantage point, she was able to scrutinize the entire lower area for any security concerns. The block reflected its usual still life save for the few sounds that drifted in from outside. The wind was howling particularly loudly tonight and the snorers were having at it due to the collective sinus problems and allergies going around. Every now and again, you could hear someone dramatically shifting in their sleep or banging an appendage against the wall. It was everything she had become accustomed to at the longest place she'd settled since all the madness started.
A fleeting pressure hit her foot and Michonne instantly raised her arm to pull out her katana while taking a step back. Annoyance and a deadly focus welled up in her.
Looking down, she noticed that the object at her feet was a tight bundle, light-colored and round. Recognition registered and she kicked the offending object into the enclosed space to her right. The rolled up pair of wool socks was soundless as it hit the far wall and settled next to Darl's weapons. Shifting her gaze, the dim light revealed the source of the attack: the man who had now popped his head out of the pile of blankets and was staring up at her, a sleepy smirk on his face.
She dropped her arm, her katana remaining sheathed. Daryl pulled his head completely from the blankets and gestured for her to come closer. Now irritated, Michonne glared at him but then shuffled over to squat down and see what he wanted. Her hesitation was less about his antics, although it was never a good idea to surprise her. It was that she was embarrassed by being so easily startled and wasn't looking forward to his gloating about it.
When he indicated that he wanted her closer, she sighed and placed one knee to the ground, leaning over him.
"Why you makin' so much damn noise, stompin' all up and down my hallway? Can't a man get some sleep?" Even shrouded in darkness, she could sense his amusement at her expense.
Michonne rolled her eyes. They were getting to know each other pretty well lately. They both knew she was as stealthy as a panther if not just as deadly. And if she had really woken him up, he'd be about twice as grumpy and even more laconic, if that were possible. He couldn't hide it from her—he'd been waiting up, maybe not all night but for a little while.
"Looks like you're the one making all the noise, getting me on my guard and trying to have a conversation in the middle of the night."
"I can fix that." He pulled an arm out of his blankets and lifted the material to offer her a place next to him.
A tense breath caught in her throat. They occasionally kept each other company in their cells but usually not for long and usually not so closely, especially at this hour. Sure, they'd gotten a bit familiar with each other like that morning he hung out while she slept. A few times, she'd lingered for an intimate farewell before watch or monopolized him with an appreciative greeting upon his return from a run. Once, when they both had a morning to themselves he had crawled onto her bunk to clean his blades while she leisurely re-read a book she was preparing for kid duty. It had felt almost normal to sit with him like that, reclining in bed with her legs resting in his lap while he leaned against her wall and propped his up on her extra chair.
Each time they were together like that, it upped the stakes between them. If she joined him in his bed underneath the covers, there was no telling what private things they'd get up to on a cold night like tonight.
And there were also those feelings Michonne had whenever she found herself so in tune with Daryl: the hesitation and apprehension. It was difficult sometimes to accept what was growing between them. For every moment they spent being familiar, they invested just as much energy overcompensating for the perceived loss of independence. They both required time to themselves and finding a balance in this community was hard. On top of that, Daryl wasn't yet comfortable initiating anything too sexual or romantic with her, burdened by a lifetime of rejection and self-preservation.
Maybe it was silly, Michonne often thought. They should be grabbing any moment of happiness that offered itself. But their caution was an honest reaction to the difficulties of their lifestyle. And that struggle was causing its own kind of strange tension between the two.
This offer, it felt important somehow, for both of them.
"Hurry up, woman. I'm 'a freeze my ass off waitin' on you." He reached out and pulled at her hand resting on her knee. There was a subtle plea in his expression that he tried to cover and it pulled at her heart.
What was the alternative? Go back to her cold cell alone and possibly frustrated? Leave Daryl all by himself up here when he'd freely requested her company? Why would she want do any of that when she could be curled up in his arms under a warm pile of comforters? He'd accepted her company time and time again. Perhaps this was a key moment to return the favor.
Returning to her feet, she carefully unhooked her katana from across her back and laid it beside his crossbow. Michonne turned to take off her coat, hung it from the corner of his nearby chair and crawled into the the nook Daryl had created beside him. Before sealing them inside, they both paused to take in the image of their weapons resting together side by side, two deadly instruments waiting to be wielded by the perfect set of hands and compatible spirit.
Immediately, he took her in his embrace, encapsulating the both of them against the outside cold. "Hey," he whispered, rubbing warmth into her arms as she got comfortable.
Michonne ruffled his icy, bed-mussed hair. "You should be wearing a hat," she chided softly before kissing him quickly on the lips.
He chuckled. "Aint even been in my place for 30 seconds and ya already tryin'a run things."
He waited for her to kiss him again and when she obliged, his added intensity spoke volumes about where his affections lay. Moving his hands from her arms around to her back, he pulled her onto him and secured the covers more tightly around them. Daryl may have been uncomfortable initiating contact but when it happened, he was more than happy to do his part. Now Michonne was positive he hadn't been sleeping. A man doesn't prepare that kind of welcome unless he'd been expecting someone.
Breaking off from him, she smiled to herself in the darkness. It was nice to come home to this.
She took her gloves off and felt him jump when she slipped her hands underneath the various layers covering his torso. "Don't be such a baby," she muttered against his shoulder, warming her hands along the plains and scars across his chest. He'd gotten used to her touch enough to allow it.
"Anything worth mentionin' happen out there?" he murmured in her ear.
She slipped her leg in between his and ran her fingers over his cold head again. "Not a thing."
"Good." He reached up to remove her hand from his head and placed it back on his chest. "I got kid duty later on so Carol's gonna cover my afternoon watch." He sighed which made Michonne chuckle. Whenever he got kid duty he made it sound like a chore. But he couldn't fool her. There was something deep within him that wanted to protect and be relied upon. It made him feel good to teach the younger members of the group how to be stronger and smarter for when they had to be on the outside.
She weaseled her hand back underneath his shirt and stroked along his back. "You want some company?"
Abandoning his hold on her, Daryl reached for her face, tracing along her cheekbone in the darkness. "Only if you aint got nothin' better to do. I don't wanna interrupt any ass-kickins or crazy ninja missions."
She pinched him in the side and imagined the wry grin accompanying his smartass words. "Just for that, I'll help you out but only as a favor. You're going to owe me a little something in return."
Now stroking her lip with his thumb, she felt his sides shake with silent laughter. "Is that how it's gonna be?" His lips joined his thumb as he kissed the corner of her mouth. He retraced his movements along her cheek and growled low in her ear, "Might have more than a little something for ya if you're nice." He let his other hand travel down her body to her backside where he gripped her, quick but firm.
Her breath quickened and she briefly gripped his back. Michonne was a bit shocked—and pleased—by his boldness. He insisted he wasn't very good with women but once he got the hang of things, he was quite charming. He didn't even realize how appealing he was and she wasn't the only one who thought that, much to her growing annoyance.
"That's some big talk, Daryl Crockett." If she pretended to hate when he called her "woman", he was equally pissy about the nickname she'd given him. She wasn't one for such informalities but the one-off insult had rattled him so much, she couldn't help but pull it back out on occasion. Presently, he managed to give her ass a sharp but soundless smack in retaliation.
She was loving the playfulness tonight. It wasn't clear to her what had brought it on but she was happy to go along with it.
Daryl continued to slide gentle touches across her face as he held her firmly by the waist with his other arm. In lieu of the night shadows they were accustomed to when together like this, he used his hands to take her in beyond the darkness. First she felt the caress against her eyebrow and along her nose. He dipped the tip of a finger into the pucker of her lips and outlined the coy smile of pleasure she tried to suppress. There was the fleeting tickle of his eyelashes as he tilted down to better navigate her body in the absence of sight. Gripping her chin, she felt his lips flutter across her own before he guided her head into the crook of his neck to settle against him.
"Feels nice bein' like this on a cold night," he whispered, as if speaking out loud to himself. "You comfortable, babe?" His breath glided along her skin, his words burrowing into her heart. She nodded, the movement causing a pleasing oscillation between the two.
As the minutes passed, she thought he would drift back to sleep. However, he continued to stroke her hair while occasionally rubbing her arm again. From time to time, he'd adjust himself so he could feel how solid she was against him. He'd pull his leg tighter around hers or check that her arm remained secure around him. Whether it was the late-night privacy or the darkness that surrounded them underneath his covers, it spurred her forwardness as well. She outlined his tattoos with casual strokes and then let her hand creep lower and lower down his back until she was running her fingers along the waistband of his pants.
Daryl stiffened at that suggestive caress before stirring against her once more. "Hold on, now. You aint done that favor yet so don't go gettin' fresh with me."
"Well, if you keep touching me like that, then all bets are off." Her words were muffled as she spoke into his body.
She felt his smile press against her forehead. "Figured you wouldn't mind. You want me to cut it out? 'Cause it seems to me you kinda like it."
There was no denying that. Sliding her foot against his leg, she tightened her embrace of him. "What happened to trying to get some sleep? It's the middle of the night, remember? We're supposed to be keeping each other warm so we can rest, not keeping each other warm to get into some trouble."
"Won't be no trouble if you quit tryin' to start some."
His fingers brushed against the exposed skin below Michonne's ear before pushing her hair back from her shoulder. Her shiver was a combination of the cold and his sensual touch. "I didn't start this," she protested.
Daryl breathed her in. "You sure as hell don't make it easy to keep my hands off 'a ya."
Pushing back a bit, she turned her head up to face him in the dark even though he couldn't see her. "I can go back to my cell if you want some cold, alone time after all."
His response was to return her to his tight hold. "You aint goin' nowhere, woman."
She laid her head back on his shoulder and skimmed her fingers against the scratchy roughness of his beard to tip his chin towards her. "No. I'm not."
Their lips met in mutual desire for each other, steamy breaths warming their cocoon. Instead of extinguishing the desire, their banter had gotten them more worked up than ever. Yet both knew this wasn't their moment to take things to the next level. The wave of lust crested and then receded; their kisses slowed as the dull roar of passion ebbed to a loud whisper.
Michonne pulled away and kissed Daryl on the chin. "Sleep." He squeezed her one last time and then loosened his hold to lie completely back against the bunk. They relaxed into each other and she closed her eyes to follow her own advice. As time slipped by, she was lulled by the rhythm of his breathing and the rise and fall of his chest against her arm wrapped around him.
When they arose in the morning, it would be business as usual. At this hour, they could explore more hopeful versions of themselves.
Through the haze of her exhaustion though, she could tell that Daryl wasn't close to falling asleep. Rather, she noticed a tension in him as if he was fighting it. Michonne was momentarily on alert, holding still to listen for disturbances but also ready to pounce into action if necessary.
Noticing her attention, Daryl quickly unclenched and sighed across her head as he tried to calm himself.
"What is it?" she asked. He didn't respond but that was his way. She could be slow in her admissions too—it's one of the things they understood about the other.
However, as the minutes passed she became more worried. Things had been a little different between them just now, she reflected. Desperate almost. Did he know something that he didn't want to tell her? Did something happen while she was on watch that would change things for one or both of them?
Daryl sensed her worry and began rubbing her arms again, both to sooth her and to make use of his nervous energy. "Sorry I woke ya." She shook her head to reassure him that she hadn't been sleeping. "It's nothin' to get worked up about. Just not sleepin' great the last couple nights is all."
Now things were starting to make sense—his being awake at this hour, the invitation to join him, even the sexual tension. He had other stuff besides his yearning for her going on in his head.
Whatever was keeping him awake, if he wanted to talk about it, he knew she was there to listen. Otherwise, she wasn't going to push him. She laid her head back onto his shoulder and stroked his torso, hopefully providing some comfort for him. It didn't take anything special to trigger this kind of reaction, no close call or anniversary of tragedy. Sometimes the mind just caught up by itself on all the horrors that could befall anyone at any time. There was no getting too comfortable in this new world.
She kissed his neck and stilled her hand against him. "Why don't you give it a try? I don't want you all cranky when we have to deal with those kids." He pulled one of her locks to tease her. "No pressure. If you get some sleep, that's good; if not, then we'll try again tomorrow."
He nodded against her head but didn't answer her immediately. After a few moments of laying beside her lost in his own thoughts, he grazed his lips across her head again. "Sounds easy when you say it that way."
Michonne laughed. "Of course, it does." Reaching up to stroke his cheek, she felt his muscles twitch into a tense smile yet it still warmed her. "Anyway, at least one of us is going to get some sleep and I aim to be that one. You can join me if you like. Tell your demons they'll have to answer to me if they keep us up."
He chuckled into her ear. "Alright, then," he replied. Her laughter joined his.
"Just close your eyes." He sighed as she caressed his cheek once more and presumably complied.
Twenty minutes later, his soft snores soothed her exhaustion and she joined him in a deep sleep.
AN: Thanks for reading, especially all you kind folks that reviewed or alerted or PM'ed me. I very much appreciate your indulgence of my extracurricular project and the feedback you've offered. These two have proven to be quite challenging to keep in character in the midst of these scenarios. I want to clarify that these are mostly only edited by me so apologies for any sloppiness. This one, in particular, I wrote very quickly and polished it aint. More soon!