Chapter Six: Doorways (Part 2 of 2)

Glenn had finally won a round and was gleefully collecting his pot of chips. Maggie blew him a kiss which prompted Sasha to cry fowl that the two were in collusion. Beth swung by the table and dropped some snacks off leaving Rick and Carol to start chatting about something that brought a light into Carol's eyes. One of the older kids, Bill, listened for a minute to their conversation and then walked away, blushing. Carol and Rick shook their heads and chuckled.

It was almost like watching a television show from before walker times. As Michonne's attention was diverted from one group to another, the scene changed and another part of the plot unfolded. When her eyes settled on Daryl, she didn't know if it was time to change the channel or settle in and watch the action unfold like a true voyeur.

The fallout from her and Daryl's fight was rather anti-climactic. They just went back to how things were before they started hooking up but with fewer interactions between the two. Only Michonne was more distant, still stinging from being left behind. There was more to it for her, like a cruel reminder of sorts: when you get close to people, they turn on you or leave you or they die. Sooner or later, one of those was coming. You can fool yourself into thinking the stuff in between is what matters but that doesn't change the result.

Reconsidering all that she and Daryl had said to each other during their fight, Michonne thought keeping to herself wasn't just for her own comfort either. She tried to convince herself that everyone else needed to keep their distance from her as well. When she found her daughters and it was too late, she did what had to be done and it had killed a large part of her to do it. She mourned them fiercely. Maybe she didn't want anyone to have to mourn her like that.

Everyone knew about the fight, of course, even if they weren't privy to the details. Most knew it was inevitable when Daryl and the others walked out of the prison to confront the Governor without her. Michonne fully expected to wallow in her isolation, the group rallying around the favored son. He was becoming a leader to the people at the prison and he was family to a good number of the survivors as well. Who was Michonne but a straggler that was good at killing walkers?

But that's not what happened exactly.

Rick was the first to approach her. He didn't make any excuses for Daryl, said that wasn't any of his business. But he did say that he understood where Daryl was coming from. To him, being a leader meant having to make hard decisions where sometimes you realize too late that you didn't choose the best way. The responsibility wasn't easy to navigate and the weight of it messed with your head. It's one of the reasons why he didn't want to do it anymore. However, those that could handle it had to have people around that cared enough to call you out and then forgive.

He also said that he'd long trusted her, with his own life and the lives of his kids and extended family. He hoped she knew that. Michonne had been struck by how much she'd needed to hear it.

Sasha and Maggie had been next in line, joining her on watch one night under the guise of girl talk. They didn't get confrontational with her which was wise of them. But the direction of their conversation made it clear that they thought men were babies sometimes and that Daryl was sorry and didn't know how to say it. Maggie had many stories of Glenn trying to be the alpha in their relationship based on his preconceived notions of how a man should be. She almost felt bad smacking him back to reality by reminding him of what a badass she is. Sasha had similar stories about her brother Tyreese. Luckily, the big man knew when to take a backseat to his little sister who was a better shot and a better strategist than he was.

Michonne had put on an air of exasperation as a front but it didn't take long for her to smirk at the touching show of solidarity. Their revelations weren't going to make her issues go away; it was very kind to try though. More than ever, she didn't want any trouble reaching these people.

By the time Glenn rolled around to offer his two cents, she wasn't even really mad anymore. She was just disappointed in herself and Daryl and didn't have a clue how to fix things, or if she even wanted to. Glenn had been funny about the whole situation, telling her how many times he'd messed things up with Maggie by being too prideful. He didn't always recognize his own insecurities; he was trying harder not to impose that helplessness onto Maggie or anyone else in the group. Nothing was more awkward than having your significant other's dad sit you down to tell you to get your act together, he said. It was dumb luck, he joked, that he got to play that role with her.

With time brought reflection. It was difficult not to repeatedly turn the argument around in her head. Michonne had been right to question Daryl because his decision was emotional and colored by his own fears. They were always better when they had each other's backs. But he had been right to think of everyone's safety, including her own, and go with his gut when opportunity came beating down their door. And his concerns were good ones, as difficult as that was to admit. Sometimes Michonne's hatred for the Governor blazed so brightly who was to say what she'd do if and when they finally confronted him? Being a member of any close-knit community meant that she had to accept the dark truths about herself rather than letting her own demons create problems that aren't there. And she couldn't ignore that part of Daryl's hesitation was due to how much she meant to him.

Another impasse. And going on week three of not addressing the situation, neither knew how to cross it.

When Michonne walked into her cell, there was a package sitting on her bed. It was some kind of small bundle, probably a cloth bag or small article of clothing. She reached around to take off her katana to rest against the wall and then sat down on the bunk to consider the object next to her.

Upon further inspection, she noticed that the foreign object wasn't a bundle of cloth but a rectangular-shaped package of some sort, wrapped with a scrap of clothing. And she'd seen it before on someone if she was remembering correctly.

Michonne glanced from the object to the area beyond her cell and found the man in question lurking at the entrance. His arms were crossed defensively but he shuffled into her space, leaning against the doorway.

"You gon' just let it sit there?" he asked stiffly. She couldn't tell by his expression whether it was hostility or nerves driving his harsh tone.

But Michonne was speechless. Was this a peace offering? Was he returning something she'd left in his room as a symbol of finality? His ambiguity about it would be more frustrating if she didn't have similar unreadable ways.

She reached out and picked up the package, now recognizing the cloth item surrounding it: it was Daryl's, part of an old shirt he'd said something about turning into a bag. She also immediately identified what was enclosed inside the scrap of clothing.

Flipping the object over, she untied the material to reveal a slim book, plain, older print by the look of it. It had a black cover and the title "The Case of the Missing Man," in bold typography across the front.

The questions were evident in her expression as she glanced up at him. She was a reader, for sure, but this didn't seem like some random book he'd picked up for her. And the title? Was that supposed to mean something to her? She thought back to part of the reason they were fighting in the first place: the Governor. The man's mere existence had caused enough trouble in her life of late. If the book was referring to that, she didn't want to bother with solving that mystery. She knew how it would end—with the Governor dead and a blade through his head.

No, she was more interested in the man who'd been missing from her inner circle the last few weeks.

Noticing that her thoughts were going a mile a minute, Daryl crossed the cell and sat next to her, taking the book from her hands. "Heard it aint even good but I thought you might like it." He paused and flipped the book around before handing it back to her. "Andrea gave it to me a while back. It was like a present—a 'sorry I fucked up and I feel like shit' kinda thing."

Michonne's breath hitched and that familiar tightness came over her, the one she experienced every time she thought of someone she'd failed and lost. Running her fingers along the cover, she opened the book and flipped through the pages as if the answer to all her complications would jump off the paper.

When she felt like she could actually string a few words together after her emotional reaction, she wasn't even sure what to ask. "Andrea gave this to you," she repeated, still trying to put the pieces together.

Daryl shifted next to her but didn't get up. "Yeah. Don't make no damn sense, right? Even told her so, askin' where all the pictures were." Michonne smiled at that. She could completely believe that kind of charming, self-deprecating quip would come out of his smart mouth. It was a quality she found endearing. Perhaps spurred on by her mirth, Daryl continued. "It was back when we were still on Hershel's farm, camping out on the edge 'a the land like some damn fools danglin' a snack in front 'a the walkers. I'd gone out huntin' for Sophia and got pretty messed up. Came stumblin' back all crazy looking and out 'a my mind. She mistook me for a walker and shot me. Could'a killed me too, 'cept she only grazed me on the side 'a the head."

Michonne nodded as he explained. "I remember her telling me about it. She was all gung ho about learning how to shoot rather than getting stuck with the women-folk cooking and cleaning like a good housewife."

Grinning shyly at her, Daryl chanced catching her gaze. "Yeah, she and Lori got into it about that I heard." He sobered and seemed to shift his attention elsewhere. "Anyway, I wadn't even gon' keep it 'cause what the hell am I gon' do with a book 'sides use it for kindlin'. But I aint used to gettin' presents so I kep' it, just 'cause." He leaned over resting his arms against his thighs. "Don't think she'd mind me givin' it to ya. Figured you might like to have it too since it came from her."

Michonne felt something crack inside her heart thinking of her old, deceased friend as well as the close friend next to her, very much alive. Alive and trying to make amends. "She didn't tell me about the apology part. I wish she had but I guess it would have ruined the surprise." They both laughed and the last of the tension seemed to leave the room.

"Well, don't nobody ever talk about the sorrys when the fight's the better story." Michonne had placed the book on her lap and was now rubbing the cloth he'd wrapped it in, threading it through her fingers to feel the familiar roughness of it.

"The fight's never the better story when people get hurt," Michonne said, looking down. "Or do the hurting," she added.

They sat in silence thinking about that. After a minute, Michonne reached across the space between them and took his hand; Daryl immediately wrapped his fingers around hers in welcome. Her remaining walls came down with that simple contact. She wanted to remember this, that he had taken the first step. The man she'd known to be broken and guarded, even with family, had put himself out there for her. It humbled her and she wanted to savor this feeling.

She turned her head to face him and waited for him to meet her gaze. "It was both of us. I'm sorry too." Daryl sighed and nodded but didn't respond. Michonne secured the book against her and closed the distance between them by scooting over to his side. He lifted himself up to meet her. Pulling her legs up, she burrowed into him, laying her head on his shoulder. Daryl was stiff at first, possibly out of practice with how they held each other. But he got the hang of it back pretty quickly as he leaned into her as well. He raised their joined hands to his lips and brushed several kisses across her fingers.

They let the moments of comfort linger before she released his hand and went back to paging through the book.

"You really gon' read that? Andrea made it sound like it sucked."

Michonne laughed. "You mean to tell me you didn't read it to confirm?"

Daryl sucked his teeth at her. "I told ya, all them words and aint no pictures? Don't sound like my thing."

She folded the piece of cloth Daryl had wrapped the book in and slid it into the first chapter as a convenient bookmark. "Well, if she said it wasn't good then I'll have to read it and see whether I agree with her or not." Closing the book, she grasped his hand again. "Besides, it'll feel like I'm sharing something with her even though she's gone."

She laid her head back onto his shoulder and reflected on the new link Daryl had created with the only other person she'd completely trusted after the apocalypse. She didn't have the words to tell him how profoundly touched she was by the offering. He probably didn't even realize the scope of the kindness; he just did it to make things right. She made a silent promise to repay his thoughtfulness.

"Come here," Daryl said, dropping her hand and scooting back onto the bed until he was leaning against the wall. He lifted his arm and waited for her to crawl towards him so he could hold her. "How 'bout we share it too. You read it for the both 'a us and tell me how it is."

Michonne grinned. "That sounds nice."

Before settling into him, she tipped her head up and felt his lips meet hers in the first kiss they'd shared in weeks. He stroked her cheek and pressed himself more securely around her. She squeezed his thigh in return and hungrily tasted him, never feeling as if she'd get her fill. It was desperate and tender and altogether satisfying.

Pulling away, she kissed his neck and snuggled into his shoulder. "I missed you."

He squeezed her in his arms and nodded his agreement. "Wadn't even really mad at ya after a while, just frustrated. And I didn't know how to handle it or what you wanted from me."

"I know. I was being hard-headed and punishing your for my own regrets. I'm sorry for what I said."

"Hey, no more 'a that. We're good. Least now I got a sense 'a how to keep off your bad side." Michonne smiled sadly in acceptance.

They rested against the wall and each other, holding hands and sharing an occasional kiss. As they shifted to a better position, the bed creaked and moaned underneath them. Daryl smirked at her. "Best get that fixed, speakin' 'a being back on your good side." There was a running joke about anyone requesting the WD-40 for their bunks and Michonne was not looking forward to the ribbing, especially given what it implied about her and Daryl.

Rolling her eyes, Michonne nudged him in jest and he unlatched two of her coat buttons to sneak a hand underneath her shirts. That led to a lengthy session of wandering hands that built to a breathless release of moderate frustration. Unfortunately, there was a longstanding agreement that the middle of the day inside her cell wasn't the best time to be having sex, even much anticipated make-up sex. Instead, they settled on sitting together and enjoying their closeness. Michonne had put Daryl's gift off to the side so she could cuddle fully into him.

They listened to the daily life going on around them as they held fast to each other. Footsteps echoed throughout the hallways and from a distance, Beth's laughter could be heard rising above the sound of objects being moved.

Michonne sighed deeply, truly grateful that they were back in each other's arms. "Bringing me that book was perfect, Daryl. But tell me, who's idea was it?" He pulled away from her slightly and she popped her head up to catch his offended scoff.

"Was my idea, woman!" Michonne tilted her head and continued to fix him with her death stare. "So maybe the peanut gallery had an idea or two. You know everybody 'round here is nosy as hell. They were itchin' to get all up in our business." Michonne's probing stare softened and a grin appeared on her face. Oh yeah, she knew quite well how "concerned" their friends were about them. "They might 'a said I should make, uh, what you call it, a 'gesture'," he emphasized. "But I chose the gesture and I thought the book'd be real nice."

"It is. I love it." She hesitated but only for a moment before reaching down and grabbing his ass. "I promise to return the favor later."

Daryl laughed. "Hell yeah, you will. We both got a lotta makin' up to do." She kissed him once more and accepted that the matter had been put to rest.

"So are you guys good?"

Michonne had heard Carl come into the room with Judith. She casually wondered if he was going to stop and chastise her about being social or head into the room to join the group.

And she didn't need any clarification about what situation he was talking about. He'd kept her company the most during her withdrawal from Daryl and the rest of the community. But he'd been practically the only one not to bring up their fight. Michonne suspected that he wasn't keen on bonding over mushy adult relationship business. It was ironic since they had bonded because she was the only one who didn't treat him like a kid.

She smiled at the boy and took Judith from him. "Why? You got some advice for me?" Judith cooed and tried reaching for Michonne's hair.

Carl laughed. "Nah. That's grown-up stuff." He grabbed Judith's foot and tickled it. From across the room, she saw Rick turn and smile at the three of them before returning his attention back to the game and his conversation with Carol. Daryl was shuffling cards but she caught his eye briefly as he smirked at the picture of her with the baby.

"You guys are really sweet together." Michonne whipped her head around to question her young friend. The last word she'd use to describe her or Daryl, much less the both of them together, was "sweet."

Carl shrugged. "I mean, you're both still scary killers and all," he added almost dismissively. "It's just that you're always taking care of us so it's cool to see you taking care of each other."

Michonne flashed him a skeptical look. "And here I thought you weren't interested in grown-folk business." Carl shrugged and resumed his efforts to make Judith giggle. Michonne uttered playful words to the baby before handing her back to her brother. "Well, don't you worry then because we're good." Carl smiled with a suspicious smugness and left her side to hand the baby off to his father. From the table there was a huge uproar as Glenn took the pot.

The poker game was on pause, Sasha busy collecting and then shuffling cards while everyone counted their chips and exchanged smack talk to boost their intimidation factor. Although she didn't hear what was specifically said, Maggie had apparently called Glenn out on something and everyone was heckling and joking at his expense.

In the lull of dying laughter, Daryl tilted his head, beckoning her to come to him. She paused and thought about it for a moment. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of Daryl summoning her in front of people. However, the sexy grin on his face made it seem like it might be worth her while. So she stalked towards him and felt a twinge of satisfaction when he shifted in his chair and turned away from the sight of her. Apparently he was still thinking about that lost time they both owed each other.

When she reached the table, Sasha was finishing her shuffling and teasing Hershel about whether he was ready to call it a night. Daryl slid his arm around Michonne's waist and pulled her to him. Unsurprisingly, his hand started to wander, leaving her to cover it with hers and return it to a safe position.

It was a simple exchange but a reassuring one. They were indeed good.

"Oh no you don't," Glenn said from across the table. I am not playing poker with Michonne. No way. I live with enough fear in my daily life without having to think about trying to bluff my way through that," he added, pointing towards her usually stoic face.

Michonne shook her head, amused. "I don't even play poker that well. Spades is my game."

"So you say, like I'm supposed to believe that. We let you sit down and next thing you know, we're all eating standard rations for the rest of winter while you're living it up with our snacks. Right guys?" Glenn turned to Sasha who had been dealing cards during his tirade.

Sasha gave a stiff shake of the head as she doled out a card to each player. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, doll, too risky."

Michonne turned to Maggie. "Uh uh. I know better. You know I know better."

Hershel sat quietly looking at his cards as they came to him. "Michonne, you are always welcome at my table." There was a twinkle in his eye and now Michonne was sure he had something up his sleeve. Her smile at him was both in thanks and an acknowledgment of his scheming ways.

Glenn stared at his cards. "Don't even bother asking Daryl. He just got out of the dog house and can't be trusted to give an honest answer. Besides, I'm sure he's got a different kind of 'poker' in mind for you." He grinned across the table but was met with a glare from Daryl as Michonne stared down at him with wry amusement. Maggie leaned over and swiped at his shoulder.

"Hey, I'm just kidding, geez." He frowned and then narrowed his eyes at Michonne. "Wait, I've won the last three hands—that's every hand since you showed up. On second thought, pull up a chair and join us."

Daryl dropped his hand from her waist and picked up his cards. "What do ya say, babe? I can teach you a thing or two; have you cleanin' up in no time."

This felt weird although it was also nice, the joking and inclusion, the casual public connection between her and Daryl. She wouldn't say she was comfortable, per se, but for the first time, this scene of family and relaxation seemed like something she might actually want to be a part of.

But not tonight.

"Sorry, I have watch in a bit. I just popped in for a minute before going to grab some food. Maybe next time." She briefly touched the nape of Daryl's neck and tangled her fingers in the shaggy hair hanging down over his neck. Even to her, this felt like a genuine postponement rather than her usual veiled rejection.

She moved her hand to Daryl's shoulder. "I'll see you later okay."

Daryl stared at his cards but reached up to squeeze her hand. "I'll be there in a minute."

Michonne leaned into his shoulder to check out the cards in his hand. "Yeah, it looks like you will." She pulled away and stepped back from the table.

"I knew it," Glenn muttered while staring at his chips. "She's a ringer."

"Sonofabitch. That wadn't even right, Michonne," Daryl called after her. "She gotta point though," he added before throwing his cards down. "I fold. Who wants my pile?"

Glenn shrugged, throwing some chips into the pile with a sly smirk. "Still feeling lucky, are you?" Before Daryl could comment, Carl had hopped around from the other side of the table and practically pushed him out of the seat.

"Seriously?" Glenn whined. "First, the scary Samurai lady and now the pint-sized walker assassin? Thanks, Daryl. You too, Michonne. I take it back, I like when you two are fighting. The next time I mention making a gesture, just ignore me."

"If you'd like, I could return 'a gesture' for you. Might not be as nice as the original though," Michonne answered sweetly. As she walked away, she raised her hand and flashed her middle finger, somehow making the act seem dangerous, teasing and classy all at the same time. Everyone in the room howled and oohed over the burn, even Glenn.

Daryl put his arm around her and led them towards the exit. "That's my girl." He kissed the side of her head and waved the room goodbye. As they got closer to the entryway, he murmured in her ear, "We really goin' to dinner? 'Cause I got some ideas for us stirrin' and you might need to refuel afterwards."

Michonne grabbed his hand at her shoulder as they passed through the doorway and into a future of their own making.

"Lead the way."

AN: I've got one more chapter in my pocket and then that'll be it for a while (I tend not to write for a show when it's on its run). But I'll try to get the last thing spruced up and posted before Sunday. Thanks again for reading and for the kind reviews.