A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one. I've only written about scenarios post-canon up until this point, but, I liked exploring the development of these characters and their relationships in the early days. I'm especially curious about the time-jump from S3E16 to S4E01.
So this takes place not long after the season 3 finale.
The prison was quiet in the late hour. The mess hall had cleared out a little while ago and with it all the commotion from the survivors that resided inside had faded further and further into the cell blocks.
Michonne had been vaguely listening to their distant conversations from her post in the guard tower, not realizing how much the background noise kept her company until it was replaced with silence.
In the time that she had been with this group, she had come to learn they were different, more so than anyone else she had come across in the apocalypse so far.
They were strong and capable, having adapted to this life well enough to actually make a life.
But they also cared enough about each other to make sure they congregated together almost daily over shared meals where they would casually discuss their days of scavenging, setting snare traps, and killing walkers like some kind of apocalyptic version of a family sitcom.
And when the decision was made to take in the survivors from Woodbury, she had learned they were also merciful and kind.
Of course, she had experienced that firsthand when they took her in. Once both parties were able to get past their initial suspicion of each other, of course.
Now, for the first time in a long time, she felt like she actually belonged somewhere. And while she should have been happy about that, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that came along with it.
She worried that if she got too comfortable, if she let her guard down, then the veil of safety would fall away and the bleakness of the real world would inevitably reveal itself again.
It's happened to her before and it just happened again to Andrea.
Michonne sighed, not wanting to follow that train of thought any further. Instead, she leaned her head back against the wall as she continued to watch the dark prison yard from her position on the tower's ledge.
She didn't mind keeping watch. Besides it being a useful way to pull her weight, it was also a convenient excuse to keep a certain distance from the familial camaraderie inside the prison.
It wasn't that she didn't want to be a part of what they were trying to do. Once she realized the people here were genuine, the walls she kept up to protect herself began to dissolve almost unconsciously.
They weren't just a group of people surviving together. They were trying to build something and it was terrifying to realize on some deeper level she wanted to be a part that.
But the wounds from her tumultuous past were too fresh and the dangers of the present were equally damning. Until she could square that, keeping up a healthy distance was her best and only option.
She had fully expected to maintain that notion for the remainder of her shift tonight and was content to do so until she heard a soft rustling from the walk-up below her.
Curious, she leaned over the railing thinking maybe someone got their schedules mixed up. She intended to call down and let whoever know she was already there. Until she saw who it was.
Carl grunted softly under his breath as he made his way up the ladder to the guard tower. He flashed Michonne a grin as he tossed a knapsack into the post before climbing over the ledge himself. "Hey," he breathed, once he was inside.
"What are you doing?" she asked, peering over the ledge to see if he was by himself. He was.
"You skipped dinner," he said, as if it were obvious, "again."
Michonne watched, bemused, as the boy knelt beside his pack and began rummaging around until he found what he was looking for. He produced a wrapped parcel and extended it to her.
"I saved you some jerky," he said.
Speechless, Michonne hopped down and accepted the dried meat.
"You should eat. Skipping meals isn't healthy," he chastised, sounding much older than he was.
Touched by his gesture, Michonne smiled softly. "Thank you."
Carl seemed pleased with her reaction. "You're welcome."
She carefully unwrapped the meat and broke off a piece. "Do I want to know what animal this is?"
"I've learned not to ask Daryl questions about these things," he said with a laugh, "but I think it's rabbit."
Michonne tilted her head, considering him as she thoughtfully chewed a piece of her jerky. "Does your dad know you're here?" she asked after chewing the tough meat.
Carl shrugged. "I didn't see him on my way over," he said, a convenient way of avoiding the truth.
She leveled a look at him, saying his name plainly, "Carl."
"What? I figured you were probably bored and hungry since you left the cafeteria before we ate."
He wasn't wrong, but the last thing she wanted was for him to get into trouble with his father because he was looking out for her. "Thank you, for the jerky. But it's late and you should probably go to bed."
"But I'm not tired."
Michonne pressed her lips together, trying and failing to think of a reason for him to leave.
Ever since she had taken that trip to Kings County with the Grimes boys her relationship with them had shifted to a more positive note.
Until the Governor proposed his deal.
She knew Rick had every right to take it, but in the end, he didn't. Even still, she could understand why he would and since the admittance on both their parts, there wasn't as much mistrust between them now.
Her relationship with Carl, however, was like light and day.
She quickly learned the kid was easy to be around and wise beyond his years. So much so that he was one of the few people in the prison she did not go out of her way to avoid these days.
He would also actively seek her out to strike up conversation now, and, as it turns out, they have way more common interests than they first realized.
They liked to read the same genres of books, Carl was pleasantly surprised to learn about her interest in comic books especially. They also easily conversed about their favorite movies, their hobbies from before, or anything that interested them.
Michonne wasn't pressed for company, but when it came to Carl, she truly did not mind it.
She sighed and rolled her eyes away from his bright baby blues. "Well I'm no snitch," she eventually said, realizing he was likely waiting for her to respond, "but if and when he comes looking for you, you gotta go. Deal?"
Carl grinned at her and nodded. "Deal."
Michonne looked back down at his pack. "What else you got in there. Anything good?"
Carl reached back inside his bag and retrieved his father's MP3 player. "I got this," he said, handing it over to her before going back to retrieve a couple of worn comic books, "and these. I finished them already but I think you might like them."
Michonne grinned, this kid knew the way to her heart for sure. "Kind of dark up here to be reading."
Carl tilted his head as if to say 'duh' and produced a small flashlight from his back pocket.
Snickering at his expression, Michonne snagged the flashlight from his hand and returned to her place on the ledge. Carl followed suit and sat beside her, handing over the comic books.
"Why don't you ever eat with us?" he asked, watching her turn on the light to peruse her options as she chewed on another piece of jerky.
She glanced sideways at him and shrugged. "I eat on a different schedule, I guess."
"That's bullshit," he scoffed.
Michonne flashed the light in his face. "Language."
Carl squinted, holding his hand up against the light. "Okay, sorry."
She returned the flashlight to a dog-eared copy of The Flash and tried to ignore the kid's lingering gaze.
"Is it because of Judith? You always disappear when she's around."
Michonne sighed inwardly, "You're not gonna drop this are you?"
"I just wanna know."
She set the comic book aside, turning her body to face him and he did the same. He wasn't exactly wrong but she had no intention of having that conversation with him at the moment. She also knew, he probably wouldn't let up until she gave him something.
"I guess I'm a little out of practice with the whole group dynamic."
He nodded, as if to say he could understand that. He had mixed feelings about the changes within the prison himself. "When the people from Woodbury joined us, I noticed you starting to pull back again," he murmured.
Michonne slowly nodded her head once in agreement, there was no point putting up a front with this kid. He was much too perceptive for that anyway.
"It's a good thing your dad did, bringing them back here," she said, exhaling, "there was no way they could have survived on their own."
"But?" Carl pressed, tilting his head.
Michonne breathed an exasperated laugh at his persistence. "But having so many people around isn't really my thing."
Especially when those people, mostly widows and orphans, brought deeply buried sentiments raging back to her forefront. Avoiding Judith was one thing, but now there was hardly a free space in the cell blocks that spared her from the echoing laughter of children. She was almost tempted to move back into that overturned school bus. Almost.
"Oh."
Michonne blinked at his disappointed tone, watching as he slid down from the ledge to lean against it. "Did my answer not meet your satisfaction?" she deadpanned, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor.
"I just thought it might have been another reason," he told her, shrugging his shoulders.
This time, Michonne tilted her head leveling him with a questioning look of her own. "Such as?" she prompted when he didn't say anything further.
Carl glanced sideways at her before turning to look out onto the prison yard. "Never mind," he dismissed, "it's stupid."
Michonne frowned, whatever it was obviously had been bothering him so it wasn't stupid, not to her. "Try me," she said, nudging him lightly with her knee.
His eyes landed back on her and she could see him debating whether or not to take her up on her offer. In the end, he did. "You said you thought bringing the people from Woodbury here was a good thing."
"Yeah," she said, nodding slowly.
"Because the Governor killed his soldiers and those people would be defenseless, otherwise," he continued and she nodded again, unsure where this was going. She could see he was struggling to rationalize something with himself but she couldn't figure out what.
He exhaled through his nose, then. "But the Governor and his people tortured Glenn and Maggie, then he offered my dad a deal to do the same thing to you, and then he shows up at our gates with an army of his people to try and take the prison from us."
As he listed his grievances, Michonne realized his inner turmoil. "That's true, too," she said in a gentle tone.
"And after all that," he bitterly continued, "my dad just welcomes their people here with open arms?"
"Those people in there weren't a part of that fight," she reminded him, "they didn't know who or what the Governor really was."
"I get that. But why did they have to come here? Why couldn't they just stay in Woodbury and be glad we didn't burn it to the ground."
Michonne pulled back and raised her eyebrows at the severity of his tone. There was something detached not just in his words but the way he said them. As if the lives of the living weren't hanging in the balance. "Have you told your dad how you feel?" she asked, thinking this was a conversation he should have with his father.
Carl shook his head once, his cherubic face pinched with agitation. "He wouldn't listen to me before. This time wouldn't be any different."
"Before?"
Carl looked away from her then but Michonne wasn't going to let him off that easy, not after that outburst. "What happened before, Carl?"
He moved to stand opposite of her, against the wall of the tower. "The day they attacked the prison, one of their soldiers was running away through the woods, he ran right into us and he had a gun," he explained.
Michonne listened carefully, making sure to keep her face neutral.
Carl kicked idly at the ground, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. "I shot him...and I killed him," he chanced a glance in her direction before quietly admitting, "I told my dad he had his weapon drawn on us and I needed to protect Judith, Herschel, and Beth...but he didn't. He was lowering his weapon and I shot him anyway.
"He was one of them, and if we hadn't been ready for them to attack he would have done the same to us." He nodded his head as if he were trying to convince himself. "I did what I had to do."
That revelation hit Michonne like a punch in the gut. It was easy to forget Carl was a child sometimes but in that moment that was all she could think. He was a kid. Incredibly astute and perceptive, but a kid just the same.
She inhaled deeply, sliding off the ledge to near him. Without thinking she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.
Carl froze in her arms. Out of all the ways he thought she would respond to the bomb he had just dropped on her, this wasn't even close to one of them. He thought maybe she'd be disappointed, or angry, or ashamed of him. Maybe even afraid?
But there was something in the way she held him that reminded him of something he hadn't realized he missed until now. It was reassurance.
He gripped her back, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.
They stood that way for a while, comforted more than they cared to admit by the presence of each other in that moment. Until Michonne pulled back slightly and tipped the edge of his hat to see his bright eyes shining under the half moon light.
"I'm sorry that happened," she told him honestly, "even though I get why you felt you had to do it."
"My dad didn't," Carl sniffed, slowly pulling away from her to lean back against the tower wall.
Michonne could only imagine what went through Rick's head when he had learned of what happened, and to have to deal with it in the midst of everything else, especially.
"A parent's job is to protect their children," she said softly, "it couldn't have been easy for him to find out he wasn't there to protect you from that."
Carl furrowed his eyebrows, having not considered it that way before. "Maybe."
"Why did you tell Rick he had his weapon drawn?" she asked, not in an accusatory way but in a curious one.
"I dunno," he lied, avoiding her gaze.
"I think you do."
He didn't answer her, mostly because the truth was much harder to admit.
"It's not easy taking someone's life," Michonne said, as if she read his mind, "at least it shouldn't be. And I know you said you had to do it but I think a part of you thinks maybe that's not true."
"I couldn't take the chance," he whispered, thinking of his baby sister.
Michonne nodded in agreement. "Sometimes, you can't."
"So how am I supposed to know the difference?" he questioned, lifting his watery eyes to her desperately hoping she had the answer.
Michonne sighed, leaning back at the tower ledge as she thought of a way of explaining it in a way he would understand. "Do you know the difference between your dad and the Governor?" she eventually asked.
Carl opened his mouth to flippantly respond but he paused, snapping his mouth shut.
Michonne could see something akin to understanding washing over him and she offered him a small smile. "The Governor is vindictive and cruel, and he deceived all those people into believing that he was the exact opposite of that. When you start lying to yourself and the people you care about, that's when you know you're crossing a line."
Carl digested her words with a heavy exhale. What Michonne said made sense. In hindsight, the moment he decided to lie to his father about what happened was the moment he knew what he did was wrong. "I don't want to be that person," he murmured, "but what if I am?"
"You're not like the Governor, Carl," Michonne replied in a tone that left no room for argument. "You know how I know?"
"How?"
"Because it wasn't easy for you, not after."
He ducked his head. She was right, of course. Killing was easier than he cared to think about, but living with himself afterwards almost torture.
"You get to come back from this," she whispered, though she wasn't entirely sure if she was speaking more to him or herself, "that's what your dad did when he brought those people back here. He did what the Governor only pretended to do and it gave us all a chance to move past the fighting."
Carl lifted his eyes, frowning at her. "Then why do you still go out there to look for him? You said we get to come back but you keep going away."
Michonne looked away this time, shrugging. "After everything he's done, I can't rest until I know it's finished. Maybe, once that happens, things can be different."
"They're are plenty of reasons to stick around," Carl told her earnestly, "finding him doesn't have to be one of them."
Michonne felt an unexpected tug at her heartstrings from his words. She believed he genuinely felt that way but she wasn't sure how to respond without giving too much of herself away or lying to him.
"My dad wants me to start farming," Carl said plainly, simultaneously saving her and reviving the levity in the atmosphere.
"Saw that coming," she snorted.
"So I was hoping,now that the Governor is gone, that you would stick around more," he lamented, folding his arms over his chest.
"Oh I see, you just wanna use me as your scapegoat to get out of doing your chores," she teased.
"That's not the only reason," he returned, laughing lightly and Michonne was relieved to see his features break into a smile that revealed his youth.
"Yeah right," she giggled.
"No, I swear," he said through his mirth, "I like when you're around. It's not the same when you're not here."
Michonne smiled at him. That was saying a lot considering she hadn't been there very long to begin with.
They were interrupted by the sound prison doors opening just then, followed by familiar heavy footfalls crunching on the gravel pathway beneath them.
"Michonne," Rick called up to her, spotting her sitting on the ledge of the guard tower.
She looked over her shoulder to find Rick squinting up at her. "Yeah?" she asked as if she didn't know why he was there.
"You seen Carl anywhere?"
Michonne turned back to look at the boy, clandestinely hiding in the shadows behind her. "A deal's a deal," she said to him.
Carl sighed and slowly emerged beside her to look down at his father. "Up here, Dad."
Rick tilted his head as he looked up at them. "What are you doing?"
"Just talking," Carl supplied casually.
Rick considered the two of them for a moment before shaking his head as he made his way up the ladder to them. "Just talking," he muttered to himself along the way.
"He brought me comic books and jerky," Michonne offered once he was in the post, gesturing towards her presents displayed on the ledge.
Rick put his hands on his hips, chuckling softly despite himself. "Well that was nice of you," he said to Carl, "but it's late and you need to be in bed."
Carl shifted his eyes to Michonne and accepted defeat when she nodded in agreement with his father per the terms of their original deal. "Okay."
"Thanks for my goodies," she told him, flicking the tip of his hat gently. "I'll return the comic books at breakfast tomorrow."
Carl squinted his eyes at her. "At breakfast?" he asked, wanting to be sure he heard her correctly.
Michonne nodded, she couldn't promise him that she wouldn't leave the prison again but she could make an effort to be more available while she was there. "That's what I said."
"Okay," he replied, breaking out into a broad grin. He stooped to retrieve his empty bag, clearly reinvigorated by her promise. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, hugging her once more. "Thank you," he whispered against her, before pulling away to head towards his father.
Rick arched an eyebrow at the display, silently wondering when their relationship had progressed to this particular point. He decided to ask about it later, choosing instead to run his hand through his son's hair as he neared him. "Check on your sister for me. I'll be down in a minute."
Carl nodded and took the ladder back down, leaving the adults alone in the tower.
Rick watched him go and Michonne watched Rick, wondering why he didn't leave with his son.
"Does this happen often with you two?" he asked, turning to face her again.
She shrugged, reaching for her jerky to break off another piece. "First time."
"Well, I'm sorry. I'll make sure he doesn't bother you like that again."
"He wasn't bothering me, he was keeping me company," she assured him. "But I did make him promise not to protest too much when you came looking for him."
Rick exhaled a laugh at that. "I thought that went a little smoother than usual," he admitted, scratching his brow.
Michonne smirked at him. "You're welcome."
He nodded as he approached the ledge, leaning over the rails beside her to look out at the fields. "So what were you two talking about?" he asked, glancing up at her.
"He told me you want him to start helping with the farm," she offered, deciding to stick to the safer topic of her conversation with Carl for now.
Rick dropped his head, exhaling a laugh. "Yeah, he's not too pleased about that."
"It makes sense to enlist the extra pair of hands," she said, "gotta a lot of mouths to feed around here."
"Tell me about it," he returned, scratching his brow.
"Least you won't have to worry about mine for a while."
Rick sat up a little, catching her gaze. "You know you don't have to keep going out there, right? He could be anywhere by now."
Michonne shifted her eyes away from him and held back a sigh. After having just gone through this with the son, she wasn't eager to rehash the conversation about her decision to leave again with the father.
"I get why you're going," Rick conceded, observing the way she avoided his gaze, "I'm just saying, don't feel like you have to."
She appreciated the sentiment, unexpected as it was. "I'm trying to lighten your load here," she told him, lightly.
"And I'm trying to tell you, you don't need to do that," he replied in a similar tone. One would almost think they were teasing each other. "Either way, there should be enough to go around from the harvest by the time you get back."
Michonne blinked her eyes back on him, raising a brow at his words.
Rick frowned at her expression. "What?"
Michonne shook her head, bobbing her shoulders as she considered him. "I was just thinking how a few weeks ago, we couldn't go five minutes without you threatening to kick me out of here, and now look at us. Talk about growth."
Rick dropped his head in chagrin, chuckling lightly at her sarcasm.
"What was it you said," she asked, tapping a finger to her chin and she pretended to dig for the recollection, "Oh yes, 'We patch you up and then you are gone!'"
Rick barked a laugh at her pinched expression as she did her best to imitate his dialect. She just had to bring that up. "A few weeks ago, I didn't know you very well," he said as an excuse for his poor manners at the start of their relationship.
"Oh and you do now?" she pressed with a giggle, only because he seemed to be in good spirits.
Rick let his eyes roam over her, his expression still light but also thoughtful. "I'm learning," he eventually said.
Michonne lifted her eyes to find his gaze already on her. His eyes were deep and unfathomably blue, it was one of the first things she noticed about him. Mainly because she had been the direct subject of his glare so often it was hard not to take notice.
He wasn't glaring now but his eyes still held the same intensity.
Michonne's expression softened. She was learning, too. "Like I said, growth."
The corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile before he forced himself to look away from her. "Anyway," he breathed, "I won't keep you. Thanks again, for entertaining Carl."
Michonne shook her head, dismissing his gratitude. "He's really no trouble, I like his company."
Rick smiled appreciatively at that. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it."
Michonne didn't voice it aloud, but she didn't really want him to go. As much as she thought she wanted to keep her distant, she was beginning to realize the opposite may have been true for the Grimes boys.
But this side of their relationship was new, and a little scary so she just nodded to him before reaching before retrieving the MP3 player Carl had left her.
Rick paused, tilting his head as he watched her reach for the familiar looking device, unraveling the headphones wrapped around it. "He gave you my MP3 player?"
She paused at the incredulity in his voice, covertly shifting it behind her. "No."
"You do realize I can see it," he said, flatly.
Michonne dropped the act and extended the MP3 player to him. "To be fair, I didn't know it was yours."
Rick chuckled, revealing his lack of actual indignation. "Keep it. It does get boring up here at night."
She glanced sideways at him. "You sure?"
"Wouldn't say it if I wasn't," he quipped. "You can return tomorrow at breakfast," he added, recalling the promise she made Carl.
Michonne shook her head, grinning inwardly at the fact that her absence around communal times was apparently noticed by Rick as well. "Will do."
Rick nodded, standing to his full height. "Good night, Michonne," he said, pushing away from the tower railing to rejoin his children inside the prison.
Michonne watched him go, following his trail until he disappeared behind the large double doors.
"Good night, Rick."
Final Note: I cannot let this day pass without wishing the Captain of our ship a very happy birthday! Andy is a Day-1 stan, and I will forever love him for that. Happy Birthday to the one and only, Famous Rick Grimes AKA Andrew Lincoln!