Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing of The Walking Dead.
a/n. After a lot of deliberation, I found that I needed to write this chapter from a different person's pov, and so I've decided to try with Michonne. I have been fascinated with the differences with her in both the comics, and TV series. I have never really written her before, and I'm really hoping that she comes across as okay. Mostly for this fic I write Merle's and Carol's pov.
A big thank you to all those that are still with me in this little tale. Thank you!
...
Michonne was crouched in the long grass, watching with sheer frustration as she saw Merle tumble out of the barn tussling with a walker. She was about to step out and go to his aid, when she saw several men from Woodbury, two that she recognized; Martinez and the hulking man at his side, Shumpert. Crouching back down and glancing quickly to her side at the man she had slain-his decapitated head lay several feet away from her, she gripped her sword tightly, holding it down amongst the thick vegetation that concealed her. She didn't need the brightness of the sun reflecting off the bright blade to reveal her location.
She hissed as she saw those men beating down on the helpless man at their feet, watched as his arms curled around his head protectively, and she felt a glimmer of rage and desperation course through her. Biting it down, she held herself back guardedly, knowing that she was absolutely powerless to do anything, and there was no point at all to the both of them going down before the Governor showed himself. Glowering largely to herself, she watched...and then-there he was, the Governor, and he was dragging the older Dixon brother to his feet and into the building, his arm a choke hold against the shorter mans throat.
Beads of perspiration run down her cheek and she wiped at her face with the back of her glove. A growl to her left made her glance quickly away, and she watched as a walker turned and snuffed its head in her direction. Martinez was still stood to the outside of the building, and she felt her lip curl when she heard his easy laughter as he joked with the others. Glancing irritably to her side, she listened as the groan of the walker got nearer, the shuffling gait of its body as the grass whipped and whispered against it loud to her ears as it stumbled nearer. Michonne frustratedly tore her gaze away from the men and she slid through the undergrowth carefully, before slowly thrusting her blade through its head. She paused for a moment before pulling the blade free, catching at the corpse with one hand, easing its fall to the ground. She quietly stepped back from the body and resumed her crouching position, her eyes rigidly focused once again on the men.
Seconds stretched into minutes and she held her breath shallow, her lips parting slightly as she waited. Finally Martinez gestured to the others -Shumpert was straight to his side and she strained her ears trying to pick up their conversation, but the slight wind was in the wrong direction, blowing the sounds away from her.
Her body jerked suddenly at the abrupt and sharp sound of a single gun shot ringing out clearly into the air and she stared wide eyed at the building, startling again when she heard a second shot-but she held her position as she knelt in the dirt, the fronds of grass tickling and brushing against her arms as a breeze blew softly again. She was poised silently, katana still held in her gloved grasp tightly, her muscles bunched finely and glistening damply with sweat.
Voices reached towards her again and she almost rushed from her hiding place but she held herself back, concentrated on her breathing, keeping the breath shallow as she struggled to listen. She licked at her dry lips, glancing up at the sky, at the vivid unyielding heat of the day.
What could she do? She hadn't achieved what she had hoped, to kill Blake, the Governor. It stung at her that she had failed, but she couldn't have reached him in time, not with his men there. There were too many to take down and she would have been shot herself by the time she had revealed her position.
She didn't know what those gun shots meant, but she felt a faint dread curl and taunt her that Daryl's brother was already dead. And if he was...and she was the only one left, it would be on her to tell him, and she wasn't sure that she could do that- she just didn't know if she had the heart to tell the man that his brother had died. The rest of the prison group were still suspicious of her, she knew it, she saw it...but it didn't bother her so much. She would be suspicious of her, if she was them. But, it certainly wasn't going to endear her to those people if she returned to the prison as the bearer of ill news.
Time passed so sickeningly slow but she held her position, ignoring the trickle of sweat that ran under her clothing, insidiously inching down between her shoulder blades. She cast her eyes about her, before a sudden movement to the front drew her eyes, and she blinked rapidly in utter disbelief as she watched a blonde haired woman dragging a body from out of the building. The blonde woman's hands were hooked under the mans arms and she moved painfully slow and Michonne swallowed at the dryness in her mouth. Cautiously she crept forward to gain a better vantage. The breath hissed in her throat and caught tightly. Andrea.
She rose to her feet and stepped out, unmindful of the long grass as it whipped about her shins. Her eyes were fixed on the other woman, and she didn't even pause as she heard a walker stagger across to her. She turned her head minutely, and just flexed her arm out. The katana whispered invitingly in the breeze and she heard the dull thud as the body hit the earth. She shook her arm abruptly, waved the blood off the blade as she silently approached the other woman, and she stood there watching as Andrea collapsed heavily to her knees in the grass next to Merle.
Michonne caught her lip between her teeth as she took in the other woman's condition. She had no idea what she had been through, but as Andrea raised her head to look at her, she saw the thick angry red weals about her neck and arms-the slivers of duct tape clinging around her wrists flashing in the sunlight.
"Andrea," she said softly, leaning down quickly and reaching her hand out to touch at the woman's arm. Andrea turned to face her, and Michonne saw thick tears brimming in her blue eyes.
"I shot him. 'Chonne...I shot him," she sobbed.
"The Governor?" she asked tersely, glancing over Andrea's shoulder towards the building. "Is he dead?"
"I don't know. I think so," Andrea's head bobbed up to look at her, tears running thickly down her cheeks. She shook her head, "I had to hide-I was going back to check, but I heard Martinez. I couldn't..." she sobbed again, "I didn't want them to find me. I... didn't want them to take me back to Woodbury."
"Wouldn't have happened if you'd come with me when I said," Michonne remarked mildly, glancing away from her to the man laying prone on the ground. Her gaze slanted as she watched him intently. She quickly knelt down next to him, dropping her sword at her feet and raising her hand to press two fingers to the side of his throat. She was quiet for a moment, before glancing sharply at the woman kneeling opposite her. "He's not dead," she hissed suddenly.
Andrea looked at her wide eyed in shock, before her gaze tumbled back down to Merle. Michonne's hands ran swiftly across his body, pulling his blood soaked shirt back, her fingers trailing up to a bullet wound. His shoulder and arm was covered in blood, his grimed white vest red and sticky. She pulled her hand back, rubbing at the blood on her fingertips.
"Give me your shirt," she said quickly. "We have to stop the bleeding."
Andrea glanced away from Merle, and started tugging the jacket off her back. Her hands trembled when she undid the buttons on her shirt, and she peeled it off quickly, throwing it to Michonne.
"Hold him up," she gestured to Andrea, watching as the blonde woman shuffled nearer and lifted his head, partly raising his wounded shoulder off the ground. Michonne held the garment out, before pressing it against him, wrapping and tying the arms of the shirt tightly under his arm. She wiped at her forehead, leaving a little trail of blood across her skin.
Andrea's gaze traveled past her, and as Michonne glanced over her shoulder, she swore she could hear the steady rumble of a motorbike. She looked at Andrea questioningly, before scooping up her katana and pushing herself to her feet.
She felt her arm nudged and glancing at her side, she saw the gun in Andrea's hands, saw the slight tremble in her hands.
The roar of the engine got suddenly louder and she gripped the sword firmly, only to let it sag in relief in as she saw Daryl ride into the clearing, Carol perched on the back behind him. She was off the bike before he had stopped.
Daryl quickly dismounted and hurriedly kicked at the kickstand. "My brother? Michonne, ya seen him?" he called out to her.
Michonne walked towards him, letting the blade dangle loosely in her hands and she watched as Carol ran quickly past her, her head turning and her eyes briefly following the woman as she saw her fall to her knees, her sudden sobs ringing out abruptly in the quiet. She turned away, the sound aching and hurting at her ears.
"Daryl," she said as he paced quickly over to her. His eyes didn't meet hers, instead his gaze fluttered over her shoulder, "Your brother. He's hurt, but he is alive."
"Stupid fuckin' son of a bitch. He ain't never should have fuckin' gone," Daryl spat harshly, shoving his way past her and running towards his brother.
Michonne sighed and paced restlessly towards the barn. She needed to know if he was dead. Andrea fell into step at her side, and the two of them walked in silence. She paused, glancing quickly at the other woman, before stepping inside. Her eyes squinted in the dimness of the interior, and she took a few steps forward, seeing the blood smeared over the dusty wooden floor.
"Where is he?" she questioned, her voice feeling tight in her throat.
Andrea stared about her, then gestured with one hand, "He was here Michonne." She slapped at her face with her hand, catching a loose lock of hair before pushing it back impatiently. "Shit," she sighed. "Martinez...they must have taken him-"
"So, he isn't dead?" Michonne grated out sharply. She clenched her hand and hit out at the wall. "You should have finished it, Andrea."
"I did! 'Chonne I'm sorry, but I thought he was dead."
"Are you going to tell Daryl that his brother nearly died for nothing?" Michonne shook her head, ignoring the sudden hurt on Andrea's face. It wasn't quite her fault, she had never been an equation in the plan, but she had gone and lost them yet another opportunity, and once again it seemed that the Governor had escaped.
She strode out of the building in frustration, pausing and letting herself drop to the ground. She cradled an arm about her knees, watching as Daryl reached out his hands and grasped at his brother, the tears shining brightly on his cheeks.
Michonne shut her eyes briefly, letting the cool breeze sooth and caress her warm skin.
"Walkers!" Andrea called out suddenly, and Michonne's eyes fluttered open as she pushed herself up to her feet. She strode forwards, her eyes catching sight of a few walkers stumbling into their direction. She glanced curtly at Daryl, "We need to move him. His blood is attracting them."
She didn't hear his mumbled reply, instead she focused on the walkers, and she let her anger tumble outwards as she held out the katana, let the blade soothe her emotions as she cut through the bodies, not even paying heed as they tumbled to the ground.
She shook the blood off her blade,"We need a vehicle," she said as Andrea lowered the gun in her hands.
Andrea nodded at her, "I'm on it."
Michonne watched as Andrea ran past the others, past the barn and she stood there with her blade at the ready, keeping watch for more walkers. She glanced towards Daryl and Carol, her eyes softening as she listened and watched them.
Carol had Merle's head resting on her knees, the tears falling from her eyes hitting his skin damply. She brushed her fingers across his face, her other hand cupping at his jaw.
"He's gonna be fine Carol. It'll be a'right," Daryl soothed softly, his voice hitching abruptly. His hand was splayed out, resting on his brothers chest, tears gleaming brightly in his eyes. He paused for a while, staring down at Merle before saying: "He's a tough fucker, ain't none gonna kill him, 'xcept him."
"I'm scared Daryl...he's in a bad way."
"Hershel will fix him up. That old man will do right by him."
She leaned across him. "Daryl...his hand."
Daryl hissed loudly, "Shit." He glanced away from her, and tugged the red cloth from his back pocket. He held it out to Carol, and she took it. She grasped Merle's wounded bleeding hand, frowning and biting at her lip tearfully as she wrapped the rag tightly around it.
Michonne turned her head quickly and walked away from them, watching for Andrea. She couldn't help at the feeling that she was invading on something private. Michonne sheathed the katana, and hooked her thumbs into her belt. She heard the steady thrum of an engine, and she walked across as Andrea pulled up in a SUV.
Andrea stood with one hand grasping the door, and she smiled wanly at Michonne. "One of the Governors, it was abandoned, just left there," she explained.
Michonne went across and helped Daryl get Merle to his feet, both their arms straining with the weight and effort as they held him up. His head slumped loosely on to his chest, and they grunted in exertion as they half dragged him to the car. Carol darted in front of them, pulling the back door open, and after a few attempts, they managed to get him onto the back seat. He hung there limply, and Carol opened the other door and climbed in beside him, tugging him down so his head lay in her lap.
She reached out and held his bloodied hand by the wrist, pulling it across to rest on his chest. She placed her own hand lightly over the top of his, her other arm curled around his head protectively. Glancing up, she offered Michonne a tearful smile, her eyes dropping back down to him as Michonne climbed into the drivers seat. Michonne waited a moment for Andrea to climb in beside her, then she started the car up.
She watched as Daryl climbed onto the bike, kicking the stand away and starting the bike up, revving it loudly. He glanced over his shoulder at them, nodding curtly before riding off.
They followed behind him in the car, and all Michonne could hear was the sound of faint tears emanating from behind her. She frowned at the sound-they reminded her of the tears she had shed what seemed so long ago, in another place, another time.
...
Daryl had ridden ahead, and she saw by the time she pulled the car into the prison, he must have forewarned the others as to what had happened. Rick was pacing at the gate, only stopping to step back as she drove up to the gates, waiting as he rushed forward and pulled it open. He slammed it quickly behind him, locking it, then raced across to where Daryl was stood impatiently as she pulled the car to an abrupt stop.
She flung her door open, her boots smacking the ground, and she watched as Rick and Daryl took hold of Merle and half carried, half dragged him inside, Carol several steps behind them. The prison door slammed shut, and she stood there alone sighing as she looked back towards the car.
Tiredly, she went back over to the car and rapped at the window, her eyes dark as Andrea woke hurriedly, her eyes sleep filled and groggy. She looked at Michonne and half smiled, but Michonne had already turned her back on the woman and was stepping towards the prison block, listening as she heard Andrea slam her own door shut.
"What happened out there?" Michonne questioned, turning slightly as the other woman came up along side.
Andrea looked at her in confusion, sighing as she tugged her hair and pushed it back behind her ear.
Michonne looked at her carefully, "You're hurt."
Andrea looked down at herself, staring at the bloodied weal marks that circled both her wrists. "What do you want me say Michonne? That you were right?" She laughed bitterly.
"I wasn't going to say that," she shrugged.
"You know I got away, from Woodbury. I managed to finally escape. I reached the prison, but he...Philip was behind me. He caught me and took me back. Handcuffed me to a chair." Andrea rubbed at her wrist, "He'd shot Milton, left him for dead and left us together in a room. I...I didn't think I was going to get away. I watched Milton turn, I watched him as he came for me. Philip did that."
Michonne faced her, her eyes suddenly wide, "Did Milton bite you?"
She shook her head, "No. I managed to put him down. I left and I knew where Philip was going, I couldn't leave things at that. I wanted him to pay, and well," she sighed again, and Michonne could hear the strain in her voice. "We all saw how that panned out."
"You did what you could Andrea. Merle probably wouldn't be here if you hadn't."
Andrea shrugged dejectedly. "I didn't do enough. Philip's probably out there now...I just don't know. It's all my fault."
"You should go and get some rest. I imagine the others will soon want to know what happened." Michonne felt her gaze soften a little as she looked at Andrea. The woman's hair was a filthy matted mess, she had tiredness grooved viciously under her eyes, and smearings of dried blood and dirt thick on her forehead and cheek. She leaned out to her, grasping her wrist delicately, not wishing to chafe the wounds on her arms. "Get some rest."
She watched as Andrea inclined her head slightly, then stepped warily towards the prison block, stopping to pause briefly and look back at her as she held the door open.
Michonne sighed and rubbed wearily at her arm, contemplating that rest was something she could do with herself, and as she turned to move she heard the door squeak outwards and watched as Rick stood there hesitantly.
"Andrea? What's she doing back?" he quizzed as he watched her walk towards him.
Michonne rolled her eyes. "Not now Rick."
He shifted on his feet, his blue eyes squinting back at her intensely. "The Governor?"
"Gone."
"But not dead?"
"I don't know," she breathed. Really she didn't want to do this now, she craved some solitude more than anything to try to process everything that had occurred. "How is Merle?"
Rick rubbed at his beard, his fingers scratching, "Hershel's with him now. So is Carol. They're patching him up. He took a hell of a beating-"
"He took that beating on your orders, Rick," she breathed quickly. "You know he let me go?"
"But you went with him anyway," he replied tersely.
Michonne nodded, "Yes. You're not the only one that wants the Governor dead."
Rick sighed quietly, his gaze hitting the ground. "I know. I wasn't going to go through with it-"
"But you did anyway.
"I can't make these choices, these decisions on my own any more Michonne. I can see this now."
She looked at him warily,"You shouldn't have too Rick. You have a whole group of people at your back."
He glanced up at her, grunting softly, "And you? Are you a part of this now, a part of our group?"
She smiled a little at his bluntness, "I suppose I am."
Rick stared at her for a while and Michonne let herself be scrutinized by his vivid blue eyes. She had nothing to hide, no reason to feel ashamed. He blinked at her, leaning back and rocking softly on his heels, and she almost smiled again.
"I...I'm going to check," he frowned at her, then gestured vaguely towards the fences and gate, "The perimeters."
Michonne nodded, tilting her head a little to the side as she watched him stride away, and she turned, spying a metal bench against the wall. She went over to it and sat, leaning her back tiredly against the chair and stretching the kinks out of her legs. The heels of her boots scraped against the concrete and she allowed herself a leisurely yawn, as she watched Rick down at the fence lines.
...
As she stepped into the cell block, the first thing she was aware of, really had no choice but to listen to was the sheer amount of obscenities being thrown about a little too loudly. She stood with her hand itching towards the katana now resting against her back, and listening, she let herself marginally relax as she recognized the sound of a very angry and now fully awake Dixon.
Her gaze drifted across to where Beth sat at a table with the baby tight in her arms, she saw her blue eyes wide open in alarm, her sister sat next to her gripping a bottle full of baby formula a little too tightly. Michonne let her eyes travel across the room, stopping as she saw Carol stood in the entrance of the cell, her arms banded around herself.
"Mother fuckers, ya ain't gettin' it!"
She frowned and feeling the curiosity bite at her a little, she hastened across to the cell, bumping her arm against the other woman's. "Well, he's awake now," Carol said raising her eyebrows and glancing at her.
Michonne leaned next to her and peered into the room.
Daryl was leaning over his brother, trying to restrain him as Merle fought against him, while Hershel was sat back as far as he could on the chair. He was trying to unbuckle the straps of Merle's prosthetic arm.
"Oh no, ole man, you ain't gonna fuckin' have it."
Hershel was jostled in his seat as Merle attempted to pull his arm back, and Michonne could already see red spotting through the bandages wrapped tightly about his bare arm and shoulder.
"Son, we have to remove it," Hershel insisted and she thought she could hear the weariness creep into the older mans voice.
"Listen to him brother, for fuck's sake," Daryl hissed. "Just quit this shit already. Jesus. You can have it back."
"When? Huh. I ain't givin' it up," Merle rasped thickly, "Y'all think it's funny?"
Daryl spat back, "Ain't none think it funny Merle. Fuckin' stop this, or I swear I'm gonna go kick your fuckin' ass when you get out of here. Fuckin' idiot."
"Since when you been gone an' grown some man balls, huh boy?"
Daryl huffed loudly, and gripped his brothers arm tightly. "Since you went out like a dumbass and got your stupid fuckin' hide all beat up to shit."
Hershel finally undid the buckles and before Merle could react, he slipped it off his arm and gestured to Carol. She brushed past Michonne and took the metal contraption in her arms, standing back and out of the way. Hershel mouthed a silent 'thank you', rubbing his hand over his face, before hobbling back into the cell.
"Cock sucking bastard!" Merle wrenched his arm from Daryl's grip, grunting loudly and suddenly in pain.
Daryl stepped back a pace glowering, "Watch your mouth, ya fuckin' jackass." He glanced across to Michonne and frowned, giving her a small nod, then he took his place next to his brother, leaning over him, and placing his hand on his unhurt shoulder. "Hershel gonna have to look at that again, ya idiot. Ya ain't ever gonna learn, bro."
Merle grunted in reply, and Michonne watched as Hershel raised his hand to his shoulder, saw the way that Merle flinched back from him.
"Anything I can do?" she asked, seeing the sudden spiteful glare the older Dixon shot her.
"No, we're good, thank you Michonne," Hershel replied carefully, not taking his eyes off the man laying on the bunk. Daryl's hand tightened on his brothers shoulder, and Michonne turned from the cell, glancing across to Carol. "Good luck with that one," she said.
She was halfway across to her cell, when she heard Hershel call out, "Carol? I'm going to need your assistance with his hand." And Michonne found that she couldn't quite help at the small smile that tugged at her lips. As she sat on her bunk, tugging her boots off, she mused that for some it was going to be a long night.
...