Author's Note: Just a heads up that there are a couple of very minor spoilers in this chapter for the first episode of Season 4. If you're averse to knowing any of the details for the new season, you might want to wait a bit before reading.
Chapter 7: Cleansing
As Daryl turned the corner towards the outside exit, he nodded a greeting at the two older women he passed coming from the laundry area. It was a few hours before the sun would set and things were winding down for the day. There were several people milling about but most of the prison's occupants were in the mess hall taking advantage of the latest meal. The game he'd caught the day before was a particularly big hit since it'd been a long time since anyone had feasted on fresh meat.
The watch shift had changed a while back and it seemed all the day's chores had been completed. Even though the snows had melted and spring would be upon them soon, it was still too cold to be venturing outdoors without a good reason. No one would be randomly hanging out in the back, or at least Daryl was banking on that.
He'd just come from a meeting with the other group members who'd taken a leadership role and he was feeling a little cagey. Without even thinking too much about it, he went in search of Michonne and his preference was that she was alone when he found her. A quick peek into her empty cell was a disappointment but a brief look around gave him a clue about where she'd likely be.
Getting organized as a group had been one of the first things that happened when the Woodbury folks joined. They'd formed the so-called council he was on and tried to get some order restored after the chaos of the previous few weeks. It was then that Daryl became the go-to guy for security. He kept up with the watch schedules and addressed any potential weak spots on the perimeter. Tyreese being in charge of fortifications and repairs worked a lot with him to keep all the fences and entryways sealed off. Glenn and Sasha usually coordinated the runs. Carol and a couple of the survivors from Woodbury took care of things on the inside of the prison like kitchen and kid duties and keeping track of supplies. Weapons were always the priority on Carol's list, both stock and training, while Beth and a few others handled other domestic tasks. Hershel, with the help of Rick, focused on long-term planning, especially all the farming proposals for spring. Apparently, it was important to get the soil ready and materials coordinated but Daryl didn't know much about that. He went hunting every now and again and there were the runs but that's about as involved with the food situation as he wanted to be.
Everyone else at the prison tended to fall in line around the main taskmasters and most managed to keep busy and make life worth something again. Michonne was one of those people that filled in where necessary. She wasn't shy about sharing ideas with the group but she also didn't want to be in charge of anyone. She definitely had strengths that made her indispensible, though. When it came to any errand outside the prison, she was always the first choice because she knew how to take care of herself.
Before meeting her, Daryl didn't think there was anyone out there more averse to people than he was but she had proven him wrong. And now he was trying his hand at running things and she was an official "productive member of the community." Yet even after almost two years of being with the group, he still liked those moments to himself free of the hectic energy that surrounded the community he swore to protect. Michonne similarly was usually on the periphery, never at the center of the conversation but content to watch from the sidelines while she exercised or did idle chores. After a while, people just got used to her ways rather than forcing her to be someone she wasn't. The only group things she committed to were hanging out with the kids and farming with Rick and Carl; and when it came to the latter she basically did what she was told since she didn't know much about agriculture. Her volunteering, she'd confessed, was because she liked their kind of calm company.
Daryl wondered about her solitary nature sometimes. There was an inkling in the back of his mind that she hadn't always been like that. He was bred to be a loner and learned early on how to fend for himself. However, Michonne's insular personality seemed steeped in loss rather than habit; embracing isolation wasn't who she was, it was how she coped. Perhaps he'd never know the details but this world had done a number on her.
The chilled air had seeped its way into the room closest to the exit. All this bundling up and hiding out indoors was getting to Daryl. He was starting to crave that deep Georgia heat even though it meant spending more time fighting off the undead. He paused to zip up his jacket and brace himself for the onslaught of frosty weather; opening the door, he winced at the gust of cold wind that hit him in the face. However, Michonne was right where he suspected he'd find her. She was tending to her new hobby by fixing up her gear, specifically cleaning her saddle and its attachments.
Leave it this woman to go out on a run and bring back a damn horse.
"Hey." She shifted her head to the side in acknowledgment but didn't pause her repetitive motion against the rich leather underneath the sponge in her hand. That had been happening a lot the last couple of days, her intense focus on a task when he'd stumble upon her around the prison grounds.
He walked towards her, noting how she had the saddle straddling her bench with her cleaning items spread out across the table next to her. As he approached her seating area, she dipped the sponge into the bucketful of water at her feet and continued with her meticulous stroking. Her katana rested on the table as well, conveniently placed for quick retrieval given the right kind of threat or the wrong kind of mood.
Daryl didn't wait for more of a reaction before hopping on the table behind her, his leg casually brushing her back as he propped both of them up on the bench. The slight touch interrupted her steady rhythm, albeit only for a moment.
He leaned over casually from atop the table. "Been a change in plans. Everybody's still squirrely 'bout it though. They think it's a crap shoot." He stared at Michonne's back as she resumed that back and forth motion against the saddle. She nodded and inspected her work before wetting her sponge again.
"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't but it's still best that we do it." She settled the sponge back onto the leather, focusing her attention on a section around the front. "It's not like you don't know that though. So what's the change?"
Daryl picked up one of the leather straps laying on the table that she'd taken off the saddle. He didn't know shit about horses so damned if he had any idea what it was called. Nevertheless, he reached around Michonne to grab a spare cloth and began wiping it down like he'd seen her do.
"Yeah, we do know. Aint gonna argue on that." They worked silently next to each other for a few moments before he spoke again. "Sasha's out; says she don't wanna go now."
That got Michonne's full attention and she straightened herself to twist around to face him. "Why not? She seemed fine with it yesterday when we talked about it."
"Who knows? Maybe she got cold feet or somethin' better to do. Hell, could be she's on the rag for all I care. Point is, she aint goin' no more." He ignored her glare at his explanation. It was more amusing than scary to him these days. "Don't gimme that look. Ask her yourself if ya want. You aint going out there alone if that's what got you riled up."
Michonne rolled her eyes and returned to her polishing. "Right. Because I'm known for how worried I get when I'm on my own." Daryl nudged her back with his knee at her sarcasm. "Figured you and the other folks on the council wouldn't be keen on a solo trip. Who's the replacement? And it better be someone good." She flashed him a warning look and wagged a finger at him. "I'm not spending three days out in the sticks with someone who's going to work my nerves." There wasn't anyone at the prison that she disliked really but there were quite a few he knew would try her patience if they were trapped together for more than half an hour.
Maybe it wasn't the smartest move but Daryl liked the idea of teasing her a little so stalled. Sure enough, when he didn't respond right away she got worried and paused again to catch his eye. "Daryl," she warned. But he simply stared at her with a satisfied grin on his face. Understanding dawned and she suppressed a grin. Really?" She tried not to seem too impressed as she returned to the object in front of her.
Daryl's face fell a fraction. "That all you gotta say on it?" His nervous chuckle broke Michonne's resolve and he caught her cracking a smile.
She appeared to think about the news for a moment and then let out a short burst of laughter. When her expression sobered, she shook her head. "No, it's just that I have a good idea of why Sasha dropped out. She was the one who suggested you replace her, right?"
Now he was getting annoyed, like she knew a bunch of stuff but wasn't telling him. He didn't like keeping secrets, especially when it had to do with business. "How'd ya know?" Michonne didn't miss a stroke as she ignored his frown, her swipes steady against the leather contraption at her lap.
"Just a conversation we had yesterday when we were planning stuff out. You know, girl talk."
"Girl talk? What the hell's that gotta do with this run?" His irritation only increased her amusement. He should have known teasing her would backfire. Damn woman had turned the tables on him without so much as a whiff of mischief.
"I may have let it slip what happened the last time we went on a run together. Me, you, a hatchback and some time to kill on a chilly afternoon." From what he could see of her expression, there wasn't a hint of modesty about it.
The built up tension in him receded as he recalled that particular day of errands. Damn, they'd been good together. Just thinking about it got him all stirred up. In the back of that shitty car, they'd experienced the kind of freedom as a couple that you rarely had opportunity for being cooped up in close quarters at the prison.
They both reflected on the memories for a spell before she spoke again. "I'm thinking that's she handing me an early birthday present?"
Forgetting the strap in his hand, Daryl took in her profile, trying to read her. "You sayin' your birthday is 'round this time? How does Sasha know that and I don't?"
Michonne shrugged. "It was a long conversation. And she asked. Besides, I wasn't one to care before the world went to hell. I'm not about to start now." She dropped the sponge into the bucket and picked up another one of the cloths from the table. "Holding on to that kind of thing is important to some people like Sasha so I'm not going to begrudge them. Especially if it ends up to my benefit," she added giving him an alluring sideways glance.
Daryl narrowed his eyes at her and when she didn't react further, he shook his head and focused on his own busy work. "Women." His statement was sharp but there was a smile tugging at his lips when he said it. "I don't know why y'all always tryin' to run shit on the side."
Michonne full-out laughed at him. Daryl loved that sound on the rare occasions that he got to witness it. "Actually, I only mentioned that run to her in passing but I didn't suggest that we change our plans. I can go ask her to reconsider if her tactics were too underhanded for you."
"Naw, I guess I can live with it," he joked, peering down at her. Michonne nudged his knee with her elbow but she had a smile on her face when she did it.
Because of the weather, they tried to keep runs down to a minimum. It was too risky to venture out in the world when it wasn't necessary. In fact, they'd only been out twice since the snows melted: two quick trips, one of which was when Michonne stumbled upon her horse. Daryl had rallied the council around Michonne's idea to do an extended run and scope out some of the surrounding area. It was a good tactic for security reasons and it was necessary for adding to their supplies while identifying farther out locations they might need to hit come spring. As agreed upon by the council, he and Michonne would go alone because they were, by far, the stealthiest of the group. It also helped that Daryl's hunting skills could potentially score them some more fresh meat to add to his recent score. Michonne's knowledge of the area and her strategic instincts were the backbone to assessing any threats and doing reconnaissance for their future needs.
And three whole days with only each other's company? He was going to obsess about that up until they drove out the prison gates.
They again sat quietly together, settling back into the still mood from before. He felt the wind rustle his hair and noted a few birds flying overhead as they returned from their migration. With the sun still beating down on them, it wasn't as cold as Daryl had expected although when the wind picked up, it was hard to keep the chill out. It was actually a clear, pretty day and Daryl could understand why Michonne would want to be out here working instead of being cooped up in the prison or in the barn. And she spent a lot of time in the barn since getting that horse two weeks ago.
He hadn't been with her when she found it, but Glenn had mentioned how eager Michonne was to keep it like they were talking about a puppy or a hamster. Glenn told her she was crazy but Michonne had instantly tamed the beast and rode it back to the prison like a boss. After that introduction, she'd thrown herself into caring for it when she wasn't needed elsewhere.
Breaking into his thoughts, she asked, "You come all the way out here to tell me about the run?" Adding some wax to her cloth, she began to polish the saddle with the same intensity as before. That focus on her task had returned and he sensed a touch of tension in the question.
Daryl finished with one strap and replaced it with another one that Michonne hadn't yet gotten to. "Yep. Came to deliver the news myself. We gotta start plannin' and stuff."
"Hmm," was her noncommittal response. They continued to work in concert, Michonne bending over her saddle and Daryl behind her with the other equipment.
"You doin' alright out here," he asked, finally. It wasn't an accusatory question, merely curious.
Michonne's hand stilled and she stared down at her work as if inspecting every molecule. After careful scrutiny, she resumed her circular motions. Her response, or lack thereof rather, drew his concern. He stopped his polishing and set the cloth and strap on the table next to him. When he reached down to stroke her cheek while pulling her hair back, he saw her gaze flick briefly to the katana resting in front of her. She closed her eyes and leaned back against his leg, allowing herself a moment of comfort with him.
"I'm alright." Her towel lay on the saddle forgotten as she breathed evenly while resting against Daryl. "I guess I just wanted some quiet."
Daryl nodded. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gently pushed her off of his knee before lowering himself onto the bench behind her and taking her into his arms. She sighed and molded herself against him.
She had been on edge for a few days now. There was the jumpiness and how alert she'd become at the smallest provocation. In a structure like the prison, everything echoed and bounced across the hard surfaces. Mostly, you learned to tune out the more routine noise. Yet for people like Daryl and Michonne, assessing every sound for danger is what had kept them alive so far. Shutting off their instincts didn't come easy.
But it was something more lately with her, he just couldn't put his finger on what it was about. No one else thought much of her distance. He knew better though, and had recognized a slight shift in her mood since acquiring the brown horse she'd named Flame. Whatever the problem, she wasn't hiding it from him; it was more that she hadn't been ready to talk about it. The three days alone might give her the space to share her concerns with him.
Daryl tensed and then pulled Michonne closer. Now, Sasha's change of plans made sense.
It wasn't an early birthday present or some personal issue. She was Michonne's friend; it hadn't escaped her notice either that something was off. And she was also hoping that the time away with him would help her open up. He'd been right about her trying to run some shit on the side but he was grateful for it.
Michonne reached for her katana and laid it across the newly cleaned saddle but she didn't unsheath it. Daryl moved his hands at her hips, rubbing circles against her with his thumbs. His chin rested on her shoulder waiting for her next move.
At the top of her saya, she lifted a flap in the binding to reveal a tiny slip of material reflecting in the waning light. She paused, tracing the protrusion and then slowly teased it out of its hiding spot. The scrap was wrapped in a tight plastic and rolled neatly and precisely. Opening up the item with care, she revealed the weathered wallet-sized photo: two smiling little girls, happy and thrilled to be posing for their mother.
He'd only seen this once before and just like then, it was a harsh reminder of everything tragic about this world. It was also a reminder of how amazingly resilient the woman in his arms was.
Daryl kissed Michonne's cheek before tightening his hold again and nuzzling into her neck and shoulder. "Such precious li'l ones. Probably woulda' been total badasses too, no matter what." He pointed to the youngest girl who was grinning wickedly at her sister. "'Specially that one right there. I can see the grit in her eyes, just like you." It warmed him to pick up the hint of a sad smile on her face. "Them there li'l girls? They'd be right proud 'a their mama." He meant it too. They were so obviously carefree and excited in this picture taken about a year before everything went to shit. And they had been a part of her, the best parts she claimed. He thought she was pretty amazing now so he could imagine how much more beautiful she'd been before; way out of his league for sure.
"I learned to ride because of them. They fell in love the first time I took them out to the country; said they were gonna be 'horse babysitters' when they grew up," she explained, a bit of brightness in her voice.
That solved the mystery of what had triggered her sadness. He'd thought that maybe she'd had a bad dream or a flashback. There were two young sisters at the prison that she'd sometimes stare at a bit too long, usually accompanied by a deeper melancholy than he was used to from her. He supposed the how and why of her mood didn't matter, only that she was having a tough time over it.
Michonne lightly caressed the images in her hand; Daryl reached out to join her tactile assessment of the two girls. He'd never get to meet them, this being the closest he'd ever come to seeing who they were. But he'd honor them by being good to their mom, just like he honored all the other innocents they'd lost for no damn good reason. He'd make their deaths mean something by helping the ones left behind to survive.
Even with the memories sitting so close to the surface, Michonne didn't cry. Daryl figured she had done enough of that in the past months. But she mourned. And through it all, he held her.
They stared down at the worn photo as the sun retreated further from them. When she'd had her fill, Michonne carefully resealed the picture before sliding it back into her katana's scabbard. Maybe some of the others would think it strange that she kept her last remnant of family there but it made sense to him. There was never a time where she was without her katana and saya. And keeping them so close to her weapon was a reminder of how important it was to protect the ones you love. Not that the others had any idea about her past. Very few were privy to that part of her life, only he and Carl really. And Carl understood the significance of her gesture better than most folks three times his age.
Her weapon returned to its former spot, she resettled in his arms, finding his hands wrapped around her waist and intertwining their fingers. The light faded from the sky as he rocked her gently every so often, hoping it would sooth her frayed emotions. Finally, she leaned back to offer a chaste brush of her lips to his before letting go and organizing her cleaning supplies and now clean equipment. Daryl didn't want to move and Michonne seemed not to mind. So he remained behind her, a silent, calming presence massaging her back while she prepared to return back to the civilization and community waiting for her inside.
"You want me to take that out to the barn for ya?" He stroked her arm, feeling the stress leave her muscles with his touch.
She briefly squeezed his thigh and shook her head. "I'll take it out in the morning. Thank you though."
Watching her store everything away to its ordered place, he pulled her hair behind her ear and placed his head against hers. "How you gon' get all this stuff back to your bunk?"
He felt her chuckle vibrate along his skin. It was a scintillating sensation but so were a lot of things he associated with her. "Got it out here didn't I?"
"Good point," he murmured in her ear before kissing it.
Daryl moved his hand farther up Michonne's leg to grip her thigh but made no move to face her. He realized it was probably best that they wander back inside but he did enjoy being like this with her, both in the good times and the not so good ones. They were each other's comfort in an insane, dangerous world. And with the spring and summer coming on, after their run together, moments like these would be few and far between.
And her desire for quiet held another meaning, too, one to which they tended to only submit privately.
He smiled as she casually reached up to let her fingers linger at the nape of his neck. It was fun when they got on the same wavelength without even knowing it. "Thanks for the company. You're still the best kind of quiet," reminding him of that first time they'd connected together. Her teasing touch made his breath hitch and his hand give her hip an involuntary squeeze.
Oh, that had been another good run, just the two of them. That felt like both yesterday and ages ago.
"Likewise," he responded. At last, she swiveled ever so slightly to face him and met his lips for a soft touch of her mouth against his. Taking in a breath, he began exploring her with a practiced thoroughness and felt her lean into him. They let the sensation simmer over them, Michonne sliding her fingers through his dingy hair and Daryl's nails scraping against her dirt-encrusted slacks. When they pulled away, she settled against him once more and held him to her.
They remained sitting close until the sun's descent plunged their nook into a deep shadow. It would be evening soon and the watch shifts would need changing and they both would want some dinner. Plus, Daryl hadn't been entirely kidding about needing to take the evening to coordinate the run and fill in the rest of the group about their plans.
With one last caress to his hand, Michonne rose and carried the bucket at her feet to the edge of the building. Probably someone else in the prison had some use for the used water. An unwelcome cold from her retreat and the absent sun forced a frown from Daryl.
The rustling of her movements signaled a return to responsibility. In the distance, Karen and Glenn met along the fence, exchanging information and getting updates as Glenn relieved her from watch. Maggie appeared a moment later and the two women shared a laugh before Karen re-directed herself and left the two alone. Judging from Glenn's body language, he wasn't nearly as amused as the two women so their joke must have been at his expense. However, he did seem to now notice the presence of Michonne and Daryl facing them from afar. He muttered something to Maggie and they both smiled a little too cheekily before waving at the two.
"I don't even want to know what that was about. None of it," Michonne said, raising a hand in greeting and grabbing the saddle from the bench. She'd loaded up the rest of the gear and supplies into a canvas bag and had slipped it onto her shoulder while his attention was diverted to the others.
Daryl gave a half-hearted wave as well from his seat. "No kiddin'," he agreed. "Aint no tellin' with those two." He made no move to get up but just turned so he could lean back with his elbows resting against the table. "Maybe they're thinkin' you like that horse more 'n you like me, as much energy you put into keepin' that beast up. Maybe you need to start takin' care 'a your man as good as you take care of that animal." He tilted his head towards her with a smirk meant to rile her up. Judging by the side eye she was giving him, it had worked like a charm.
A moment later, she smirked back though. "I'll take that under advisement. But something tells me that Glenn and Maggie have better things to discuss than whether I'm giving you enough personal attention." She strolled around the table but stopped to rest the saddle while she finished their conversation. "They're ones to talk anyway," she added, nodding towards the retreating couple. "They've probably had sex all over this place by now."
Daryl couldn't argue with that speculation. "I say they can have this place. We'll take our show on the road." He tossed her another heated leer over his shoulder and sensed his pulse quicken when Michonne returned it.
"You staying out a while?" She'd picked up the saddle again and wandered to the door, expecting to leave him behind.
Daryl shrugged. "I'll be around in a while." It was still kinda nice out and he didn't mind enjoying the peace and quiet for a little longer. A genuine appreciation for that down time was another way they fit so well together.
Michonne didn't answer just opened the door and slipped inside. No goodbyes. No acknowledgments. They didn't need that.
Instead Daryl sat in the approaching dimness, waiting a few more minutes before heading across the yard to do a random perimeter check. Despite his eagerness to get away for a while, he would still worry about his group, his family, while he was gone. It'd make him feel better to be a little extra diligent with the security until he and Michonne took off.
When he stood up at last, he noticed that Michonne had dropped one of her polishing cloths under the table, the one she usually used to wipe down her katana. She had probably set it aside so it wouldn't get mixed up with the other swathes of material. When he picked it up, he could smell the odor of steel and the strange woodsy solution she sometimes used to clean the handle. The combination would always remind him of her.
Perhaps he'd conveniently forget to return it to her until it was time to hunker down for the night. Nothing was much better than being quiet together with her.
AN: And that's it for now. Apologies for any wonkiness. I wanted to get this done before the premiere so sometimes the editing suffers for the rush.
Thanks for reading and bearing with me as I got through this series. It was a really fun challenge and I appreciate all of the feedback and PMs and alerts to let me know your impressions.