Journey to You

Chapter Ten

Set in Motion

I have a few warnings to give out for this chapter.

There are sexual themes

and

Violence/Blood

I'm so happy you guys having been liking this story so far! I love Calla and showing the events of her life.

Am I gonna swim, am I gonna sink?

Am I gonna bend, am I gonna break?

Will I make it out alive?

Make it out alive?

-Will I make it out alive by Tommee Profitt and Jessie Early

Daryl felt the lump in his pocket, a familiar weight all week long, one that had been weighing heavily on his mind, tangling up his thoughts, almost as bad as the woman standing in front of him could. He was a mess. She made him this way.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

She looked nervous, test in her hand, as she stared at the small stick she had just peed on.

"What if it's positive?" she asked, her voice carefully blank, her eyes the only giveaway to what was going on inside her head. "We've never spoken about this. I don't want to force you into anything that you don't want." The words kept spilling from her lips, faster than the ones before, leaving Daryl spiraling to catch up as he watched her unwind, and work herself up.

Daryl knew what he wanted.

That stick, and what it had to say wouldn't change what he felt.

Nothing before had ever felt as right as having Calla by his side.

Having her right here, panicking, and worrying herself to death over something that she thought would drive him away prickled at him, but the words, to comfort, and ease her mind stuck in his throat, losing themselves before they ever even formed in his head.

Daryl was not a man who knew how to comfort.

He hadn't been raised by hands that uplifted and brought out a side of him that knew exactly what to say to ease someone. He only knew hate, and words of hurt, fists of fury, as they pounded into flesh, and left an imprint of their intentions.

None of that was something he ever wanted Calla to know from him.

Seeing her like this. Nervous. He could fix that.

What he wanted to say, what he knew was probably what she wanted to hear, disintegrated right as he opened his mouth, and something truer to himself, closer to his heart, escaped his lips.

"Yah should marry me."

"W-what?" Wide whiskey-colored eyes blinked up at him, as her lips fell open, and formed an 'oh' shape of shock. He loved the colors of her eyes, wishing to drown himself within their depths, to grow drunk on what they had to offer. His hand reached out, cupping her cheek, keeping them pinned on him so they had nowhere else to go. "Daryl, what are you saying? We can't just marry cause of the possibility of a baby."

That's not why he had said it.

It had been on his mind for quite a while, but he had never gained the courage to ask.

"Marry me, Calla." His other hand raised, cupping her other cheek, as he drew her closer, so that his lips could press warmly against her own. "It don' matter what this test tells us. Yah want a kid, we'll have one, yah wan' a dozen, I'll give yah whatever yah want. I love yah, Calla Wells. I want yah to share mah last name. A future without you in it isn't one that I want. Marry me."

His words left his lips far more determined than what Calla had ever heard come from Daryl before. She could see it in his eyes. How serious he was. This was not the same man who had run away from her when she had told him she loved him. Calla froze, having opened her mouth to respond, but the box he pulled from his pocket had her stopping as she stared in awe. There was barely any room between them, as they crowded one anothers space, him still holding onto her with his free hand, as he flipped open the lid, revealing a small diamond wedding band nestled beautifully in its velvet confines.

"I want you, Daryl Dixon."

There was nothing else Calla was more certain about.

"That a yes?"

"Yes!" She tugged him closer, melting against him as they kissed, before he was taking a hold of her hand, and then carefully slid the ring onto her finger. "There's no one else I'd rather have in my life." Tears had built behind her eyes, the need to release them, to become overrun with the joy she felt in that moment was momentous as she clung to him.

They stood like that, holding one another, basking in the glow of knowing what their future held. As long as they had one another they could do anything.

Baby or not.

"What does it say?" he asked her curiously as he nodded to the test she had dropped. Bending over Calla picked it up, taking in that there was no second pink line, as she squinted and made sure she hadn't just missed it.

"Negative."

She wasn't sure how she felt about it. Moments ago, Calla had been worried. Sometimes she felt as if they had been moving fast, that things were progressing at a speed that none of her past relationships had ever made it to. It was frustrating not knowing how he would react to something new. She knew how his childhood had gone, his misgivings about his father, and how he struggled with his own emotions on the subject. Calla hadn't known how Daryl would take the possibility of her being pregnant when they hadn't even been together for a full year yet. They had never had a conversation about babies, and where they stood on it.

Calla had never given any true thought to the prospect of babies.

As she stared up into Daryl's eyes she couldn't help but imagine a little boy, or girl, with his eyes and suddenly the need for a little human, a perfect mixture of them, blossomed in her chest.

"I want a family with you Dixon." She wanted it something fierce.

Daryl leaned over her, just a bit, as his hands grabbed at the back of her thighs, lifting her up, causing her to gasp, and instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. He pressed his forehead against her own. His eyes had darkened, with desire, or happiness at her words, Calla didn't know, but she suspected it was a mixture of the two.

"I think we should start practicin', don' yah?"

Her heart fluttered in her chest.

Icy, cold water drenched Calla, forcing her from the sleep she had managed to snag, and the dream where she had been safe, and happy. Her hair stuck to her face, her clothes dripping, but she continued to hang her head forward, not bothering to utter a sound, knowing it pissed him off when she didn't react. The pettiness would probably get her killed but Calla refused to back down and show defeat to this man.

"You are not an easy one to break," Philip scoffed, as he glared down at her, the bucket he had used to carry the water clattering to the ground. "I would have thought you'd give in by now. Seeing this room, being chained as you are, but that spirit of yours, it's strong." He squatted in front of her, not touching, just looking, as he frowned. "It's what captured my interest. That first conversation we had, well not so much a talk, as I was the only one doing much of that, but I could see that determination inside of you. I think I'll like it more when it's gone."

He reached out, patting her cheek, a brief spark of warmth, on her otherwise chill skin.

Her arms ached, the chains forcing them out to her side, and slightly above her head, as she knelt against the ground, the cold concrete bruising her shins. The only clear indication of time passing was from the window, a small thing, close to the ceiling. She had been here for three days already.

She hadn't spoken once, even when he goaded her, but she could see how it made him feel. Her silence was the only control she had in their game.

"That boy of yours," Philip moved on, frustrated by her lack of reply, or reaction. "He misses you something fierce. He's afraid you've left him like his old man. Don't worry though, I'm takin' real good care of him. Treating him like I would my own kid. Won't be much longer before he starts calling me, daddy."

Calla's eye twitched, her lips twisting, as she forced the crass words back down her throat, refusing to let them out, even as she felt the desire to lunge forward. It wouldn't do anything other than give him what he wanted.

She took pleasure in seeing how he had covered his eye with gauze, stating it couldn't be saved, that she had ruined a part of him. It curled inside her chest, beaming with pride, that for the rest of his measly life, he would be reminded of what happened when you fucked with her.

Once she was free she'd take his other eye as well and set him loose out in the world.

Between sliding into her mind and remembering her life with Daryl, and imagining the future where Philip would be dead, Calla spent a lot of time floating aimlessly inside her head.

It felt like what she had begun to do out on the road when her only goal was to survive another day.

That's what this room had become to her.

Just another obstacle and her goal to live through another day until her opportunity came to break free.

Calla was patient.

Philip would break before her. Free her from these chains. He would want to regain control where he could, and that would be her time to strike.

She'd take his other eye, and she'd be the one to decide the fate that led to his death.

That darkness inside of her grew bigger every day. A little more of the Calla from before drifted away, breaking to pieces, as it turned to ash, making way for the woman who would survive.

Philip didn't know what he was creating. She allowed him to keep talking digging his grave deeper with every word he uttered.

He stood, stretching his legs, as the frown on his face turned harsher before he suddenly reaching out, grabbed her by her neck, and dragged her to her feet.

"Things can get much worse. I'm holding myself back." Her feet scraped against the concrete as she was yanked forward, until their noses touched, as she steadied her breathing, showing no signs of fear, even as a small amount spiked against her pulse, while a hungrier sensation took hold inside of her. Blood lust. Calla wanted to force his hands from her, to break the bones in his fingers until he screamed, just so he knew never to touch another woman like he was her.

He didn't do anything else, dropping her without warning, and watching with a scoff of disgust and irritation as Calla simply slid back to the floor, to lean on her knees.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Michonne frowned as she watched the Governor pick up Maverick from the daycare for the third day in a row.

There had been no sign of Calla in that entire time, though those she asked held whispers of the woman getting in trouble, having been the one to hurt the man's eye, and was being held for her own safety, and the safety of others. They had been rest assured that Calla was fine, that she simply had a nervous breakdown, and was being kept somewhere comfortable until she was feeling better.

Michonne wasn't buying it.

Her taking his eye wasn't surprising in the least, not with the way Calla had looked pissed, but there had been no nervous breakdown, and Michonne was certain the Governor had some dealings in what had happened. That's the part that made her nervous because nothing about this place, and that man screamed safe. There was something off about everything.

This being only the tip of the iceberg.

Michonne didn't like anything that she was finding out and concern for her friend was high on her list of things to be worried about. Andrea didn't share her sense of concern and waved away every shred of evidence that Michonne had brought to her.

Glaring at where the man had disappeared with the boy Michonne turned on her heel and began to seek out Martinez. Seeing him come off his rotation on the wall, Michonne didn't hesitate as she fell into step alongside him, her lips set in a firm frown as she eyed him carefully.

"It's strange that the Governor, or whatever his name is, would be the one to watch Maverick when his uncle lives here."

Martinez stiffened at her line of questioning.

"I wouldn't know anything about it."

"I think you know more about it than you're saying."

"I'm telling you I know nothing. He told us Calla attacked him, he was forced to protect himself, and that she's being kept onsite in a room, and being watched after by a doctor."

"Merle, that's his name right, should be the one watching that kid, not him."

"Merle doesn't stick around inside Woodbury."

"You're lying." She had seen the way he twitched, his shoulders tightening, as he looked away from her as he spoke. "You know whatever is going on is wrong."

Martinez came to a halt, grabbing Michonne by the arm, not hard, but a warning.

"Look, I don't know anything. He won't tell me. All I know is that there's all kinds of red flags hanging around this situation, and the Governor is not someone you want to fuck with. Calla went and got tangled up in something she shouldn't have, and instead of keeping her head down, she agitated the man. I can't do anything else without having his wrath come down on me. I'd love nothing more than to help her, and that kid, but he's not a psycho to the point that he'd hurt that boy. He see's him as his."

"That's what's fucked up." Michonne shook her head. "That boy isn't his, and whatever he did to Calla is more than setting her up inside some cozy room until she gets better. You know that. It makes you no better than him."

Michonne went to walk away, pissed, and irritated by the lack of answers when Martinez stopped her.

"Look, I can't get involved, but I do know he decided to keep Merle in Woodbury. He didn't send him away as he had been. He's kept busy away from the daycare, not like Merle had any reason to want to be near the kids before, but he doesn't know anything about what's going on with Calla. Most ignore him and give him a wide berth as he scares them. You could probably find him over by the garden today. The Governor has got him doing some shit job that'll keep him irritated enough to avoid the man just so he can't be assigned to something worse."

There was no thanks, or nods his way, as Michonne took off toward where she had been told to go. It was the least he could do in this situation and they both knew he was falling way short of the mark on what to do when a friend of yours got in trouble.

As it was it hadn't taken Michonne long before she found the man in question. After stopping someone to ask if they had seen him, she had never seen Merle before, and didn't know what to expect, she found herself only slightly startled by the man that had been pointed out to her.

He was cursing up a storm when she neared.

A scowl was set firmly on his face, and it only deepened when he noticed her walking toward him.

"Yah can just fuck right off," he grumbled, not letting her get a single word out. "I ain't interested in nuttin' that you could have ta say ta me."

"I know Calla and Maverick Dixon."

By the way the harshness left his gaze, softening into something full of shock, before giving way to distrust, and uncertainty, Michonne knew she did indeed have something worth hearing to him.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Parched lips, dry, and cracked, parted when the glass of water was pressed against the tingling skin. She greedily drank the liquid even as it dripped down her chin and soaked into her shirt. The same shirt had begun to grow itchy, and rough, as it stayed in a state of wet more than it ever did dry.

The water was taken back far quicker than she would have liked, but Calla didn't cry out, or make a noise that reflected the deep need inside of her for more. She accepted this like she had any time Philip made his presence known, whether it be in the form of substance or her least favorite form of conversation.

"Did you want more?" he asked her sweetly, the words full of sugar, that threatened to curdle one's stomach if you ate too much of it. She didn't respond. "All you've got to do is say yes. I'll give you more." The silence wore on between them. "Have it your way."

He tipped the glass over, pouring it on the floor in front of her, forcing Calla to watch as every drop splashed against her bare feet. He had made her stand when he first entered the room.

Philip didn't linger today. Seeming uninterested in her today as he escaped as quickly as he had come in.

Calla suspected he enjoyed the torture part of this more than his wish for her to give in to him.

She was simply his plaything in his mind. Nothing more.

The idea of him ever wanting her because of any spark of desire over her personality was laughable. He was a psychopath. He didn't have emotions. She was certain Philip got off on having her like this. The type of man he tried to portray may think he wanted a picture-perfect relationship, but this is where he truly gained pleasure from.

He was the sick one, but Calla suspected if they had to measure their darkness against one another that hers would win.

She'd be able to test that theory out. The idea of it kept her going during the long hours of time when she was left alone with her own thoughts.

Daryl's fingers glided across her skin, tickling her, as he followed the path he made with his lips. Calla's eyes were closed, taking in the sensation that bubbled up at his actions, as peace and comfort settled against her soul. She sighed softly, arching her stomach further into his touch, as her lips parted. She felt the smile form against her skin as a flush of heat warmed her skin, building a pool of desire in her lower stomach, as his innocent touches grew more mischievous. He gripped her hip, easing her wiggle, as she moved against where he had settled himself between her legs, so he had easy access to her stomach, and the bump that seemed to grow every day.

"Daryl," she grumbled knowing he hadn't meant to start anything. It didn't take a lot these days for her body to respond to any sort of stimuli.

His cheek nuzzled against her stomach in reply.

"Don't act cute. If you keep that up you're going to start something, and I feel like a whale. It's not sexy."

His lips brushed against her stomach once more.

"I don' know what yer talking about." His nose brushed against the underside of her breast, forcing her breath to catch in her throat, as she wondered if he'd continue up until he brushed against her nipples. They hardened at the mere thought, and she squeezed her eyes closed tighter, knowing if she were to open them, to spot how he was looking at her, there would be no turning the desire off. "Yer the sexiest woman I've ever seen. Especially with my child growing inside of you. That does not make yah look like a whale."

A hiss of air escaped her as he moved, shifting up, moving to hover over her.

Pressed against her thigh there was no denying his words about how he viewed her. Her pulse quickened as the heat fanned out, spreading down to her core, as he drew a moan from her lips when his teeth scraped deliciously against a nipple. His tongue darted out as he drew it into his mouth, not bothered by the shirt he was ruining still between him, and his current goal, and Calla found she didn't care as it added an extra layer of friction that urged her arousal to grow.

He had long since grown accustomed to the bump between them, easily maneuvering around it, almost making her forget that she had grown bigger, and normal things like having sex had grown more complicated, and exhausting.

With the way he ground their hips together, one hand lifting the skirt of the dress she wore, and the other palming the breast not being nuzzled, Calla found it hard to think of why she had made her earlier comment as pleasure invaded her senses.

A sigh slipped free as a finger danced lightly over her clit, spiking a new wave of desire, that caused her toes to curl, and her knees to bend, as her legs widened letting more of him settle between them, and his hand better access.

"Ahh…. Daryl," her voice hitched, words slipping free, as no true thought process conjured them. "Please." Please, what? She had no clue, but it didn't matter as long as he didn't stop.

"I should remind my wife of how much I desire her," he whispered into her ear, his nose having carved a burning path from her breast to his desired destination.

What had even been the reason she questioned it in the first place?

Her mind felt hazed, and full, as arousal kept any thought other than where his hands, or lips, would or could go next.

"Make me feel good," she begged, urging him on.

He lightly nipped at her ear, dragging another desire-filled response past her lips, before they were kissing, and sparks of pleasure shot through her body, as wave after wave of her orgasm crashed through her unexpectantly.

Her body was his instrument to pluck, tease, and play however he pleased, and he knew her well.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Michonne wasn't certain how well this was going to go. The plan the two of them had concocted felt flimsy, and full of holes, but they didn't have many options outside of letting everything be, and going on as they were.

Merle hadn't been pleased with Michonne's knowledge about how Calla had been here for months without his knowledge, and that she had gone missing. The fact that she had been right under his nose seemed to ruffle quite a few feathers, and the man had instantly demanded to know everything that she did.

The Governor was going to be a dead man unless he somehow slipped through Merle's clutches because Michonne had shivered at the look on his face when she was done telling him everything she had found out.

She could tell he wasn't certain about trusting her, but the idea of his family being in danger, and that Maverick was staying with the Governor, pushed her high on a very short list of people he was willing to work with.

That's how she ended up hiding in a warehouse, waiting for him to show up with the kid, a day after he found out where Calla was being kept.

Her heart pounded away in her chest, wishing they were going to free Calla, but understood his desire to get the kid out of the line of fire. Michonne felt partly disappointed in not being a part of the rescue of Calla later on, and partially relieved that her only assigned job was to get Maverick out of Woodbury and to the town Merle had shown her on a map.

If something were to go wrong Merle didn't want him remotely in the same area as the Governor when he figured out what was going on. He didn't want him ending up being a hostage, or a pawn, in whatever fucked up plan the man had for Maverick and Calla.

So, she waited. Even as her skin crawled, and nerves rose up inside of her.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Merle had to keep the rage he felt controlled inside of himself as he made his way through the town and came to a stop in front of the daycare that had been set up for parents who had young children. Through the glass of the storefront, the building the daycare was hosted in, as they no longer required a space solely for selling furniture, Merle spotted his nephew sitting by himself, idly playing with a toy.

He looked bigger than when Merle had last seen him. His brown hair, the same shade as Daryl's had grown longer, and now nearly reached his shoulders. Merle was certain those baby blues would reflect the same shade that Daryl and his own did. The only thing the kid got from his mama was the upturn of his nose, the long lashes, and the softness of his features that had never been seen on a Dixons' face until Maverick came along.

He was innocent, something that reflected in everything he did, as he had been raised among those that loved, and adored him. Something a Dixon hadn't experienced before Daryl and Calla broke the fucked-up tradition each hollowed-out kin of his seemed intent on continuing.

Except before this moment Merle had never seen such an intent look of sadness, or loss on the little man's face, which brought on a new wave of rage that he had to force back in place. His instinct to tear apart whatever fucker had put it there was strong, but Merle's desire to protect, and to get the kid out of here was stronger.

The lady that ran the daycare glanced up, a smile carefully plastered onto her face when she heard the door open, and only faltered slightly when she caught sight of him.

"Is there something I can do to help you?" It was obvious she believed he was in the wrong place. They had never spoken to one another before, never had a need to, not when she ran around rugrats all day. Merle despised kids, but his baby brother's spawn had never bothered him. Maverick reminded him of what it had been like to have a little Daryl running around, looking up to him in admiration, as protectiveness tugged at his heart, a piece of him that had been kept carefully guarded since he was young. The boy seemed to have the same gift for breaking down his walls as his daddy had been able to.

"I'm here ta pick up Maverick."

He spoke deliberately. No hesitation. It was his right to pick up his kin. More of a right than that bastard had, prancing around like the boy was his own, and fuck, that was another line of thought that had him scowling, and forcing back the rage that prickled under his skin.

"I'm sorry, but you're not on the list."

"The Governor on that list of yers lady 'cause I know he ain't that boy's blood."

The woman bristled, flustered, as she blinked, and frowned, trying to regain her bearings.

"You know he's our leader, Merle," she tutted, finally settling on something. "With what's going on with Calla right now he was nice in offering to take the boy in. I don't know what your thinking, or why you're here to get the boy, but you should just go on or I'll be forced to get the Governor involved."

Merle felt like scoffing, but he didn't want to bring attention to himself right now. He needed to go unnoticed as long as possible or his window to get to Calla would be forcefully shut before he could even try.

"I'm that boy's blood. He's my nephew. I'm here ta take him in." This gave her pause as she looked uneasily toward Maverick, uncertainty painting her features, as she searched for the obvious similarities between the two. There weren't many but the Dixon genes were strong in the kid, and what little was there that Daryl and Merle shared was obvious. "Yah knows I've been gone, I just found out that they've been here, and when the Governor told meh what happened I told him I'd take the kid in until Calla was better."

"I don't know."

He wanted to push past her, and the pricklier side of Merle would have, but there was very little Merle wouldn't do for his blood, and sucking it up, and playing nice was a small price to pay if he got what he wanted. If the boy had been older and was able to properly protect himself, Merle was certain that the aggressive side of him would have won out, but Maverick was still just a small thing. He couldn't risk it.

"Don' believe me. Ask the kid yerself."

The lady looked as if her better judgment was telling her no, but she ended up relenting, seeming to think if Maverick acted like he didn't know him, then she could get rid of Merle faster and did exactly what he wanted her to. The boy glanced up at her voice, looking a little lost until his eyes landed on the familiar sight of his uncle.

A man he hadn't seen in months.

One that told him his daddy wouldn't be far behind.

He pushed himself to his feet, toddling over as fast as he could, which was as slow as molasses in Merle's opinion, but he played by the rules and kept close to the woman who seemed to do nothing but glare at him.

"Unc' Erle'!" the kid crowed in happiness at the familiar face.

Maverick was excited at seeing the man. He hadn't seen his mother in ages. Worry and sadness at her disappearance had tugged at him, making him cry, even when Philip tried soothing him, but if his uncle was here then his parents wouldn't be far away. They never were.

Without an ounce of hesitation, Maverick tossed himself at his uncle's legs, knowing the grumpy older man wasn't a danger to him, as he remembered the rare moments when they were alone and Merle would have tossed him up into the air, causing him to giggle, as he asked him to do it just one more time. He didn't understand that Merle had felt helpless in those moments, not sure what to do to make that look of tears leave his eyes when he had told him no, and his normal method of telling someone to shut up couldn't be applied. The action between them had stuck and the tension of being alone with the kid had slowly eased away. He hadn't been about to offer up his services for a whole weekend of freedom for the parents, but Merle had felt confident enough to take the rugrat for a few hours every once in a while.

"Yah doin' okay, little man?" Merle asked as he knelt down to view the boy more closely. He looked all right. No obvious signs of being harmed. It settled him a little more, helped ease the panic that had flooded him, and refused to leave after that lady had explained what she knew about his family.

"I want daddy, unc' 'Erle," Maverick sniffles. The kid moved forward, to bury his leaking nose into Merle's chest, as he rubbed his face soothingly against the rough fabric of Merle's wife beater. "Mama's gone."

"I know, bud," Merle tried to soothe, his hand moving to rub at the boys back. Nothing was all right at the moment but even he knew that wasn't something the kid needed to be made aware of. "You'll come along wit meh. I'll see what I can do 'bout those parents of yahs."

"Now, Merle, I really shouldn't release him to you without permission. Those are the rules."

"Listen lady," Merle crooned, feeling that anger bubbling up, as he moved to pick Maverick up. "Without his mama bein' here I'm his closes blood relative. Its mah right ta take 'im. Now yah can try ta keep me from takin' 'im but I ain't gonna be as nice as I have been."

Maverick wrapped his arms tightly around Merles neck as the realization of possibly being taken away dawned on him.

"I wanna go with Unc' 'Erle!"

"There yah have it. He's comin' wit meh."

Merle swiftly left the building, holding him close as they walked down the sidewalk, ducking into the garden, where Merle disappeared around a corner, taking to alleys as they carefully made their way to the meeting point. The whole way Merle felt doubt eating away at him as he wondered if sending Maverick with that woman was the right thing to do. A part of him bulked against the idea. He didn't know her, and other than her words on the matter of Calla being a friend, he didn't know if it was true or not. It wasn't like Calla was around to back her up.

It didn't settle right with him, leaving that boy in the hands of a stranger, but it felt even worse keeping him around, dragging him through dangerous situations, and Merle knew he would just have to deal.

He just got a piece of his family back.

It was a struggle to let his grip on the situation go.

If all went well it would only be for a little while. Then he and Calla would be reunited with the kid, and they could go off and find Daryl. They'd go by that little farm Andrea mentioned and figure it out from there.

Swiveling his head around Merle made sure to check if the coast was clear before he slipped inside the old building, the creaking of the door announcing their arrival to Michonne, who was still standing stiffly where he left her.

"Yah better not be playin' me," Merle growled when he entered. "I'mma trustin' yah ta do the right thing here and keep yah word."

"I'm not going to do anything to the boy," Michonne scoffed, her eyes settling on him, as a rush of uncertainty rammed into her. The last time she had held a kid, a baby, cause the boy was younger than Andre had been, and fuck if he wasn't still a mere baby in her mind when he died, had been ages ago. It scared her a little. Michonne began to wonder if she should have been the one to grab Calla from wherever she was. Merle could take the boy and run. He'd be safe with him. Only they had already had this conversation, and she knew Merle didn't want to trust her with the boy, but he also didn't believe she'd be able to actually get Calla out of there without them both being caught. Michonne couldn't help but agree with him. "Hello again, Maverick."

Starting out small was for the best.

Greet him. Remind him that he knew her. Then she could try getting over the overwhelming fear of holding him.

It was all just terrible muddled thoughts in her head. They weren't real and held no true place in her ability to keep him safe, but it was hard not to listen to the demanding tones that rang loudly inside her thoughts.

"Yah take 'im where I told yah." Merle was still holding Maverick close, defensively, but the way the kid glanced over at Michonne in curiosity and then acceptance, was enough to get him to ease up a little.

"Mi!"

Saying her full name had always been hard for the kid. The shortened name wasn't totally unwelcome, and Michonne had thought it cute at the time. The way Merle's expression relaxed, his body not as tense, told her that it had been a saving grace to her just then.

"We'll go straight there. Nowhere else unless it's not safe."

"You'll leave me a trail to follow."

"Yes."

They had already been through this, but Michonne understood his hesitation.

This entire situation was difficult, and she would have had a hard time trusting a stranger if she was in his place.

"Ta Governor will send people after yah, once he realizes what happened, but I'll do mah best ta keep that from happenin' right away. He won' send meh after yah, and there ain't no other person here that matches meh in trackin'. Stick to ta plan and yah should be fine."

Michonne held no desire to deviate from the plan. This was not a man's bad side that she wanted to be on. Regardless of the fact that she wouldn't have done that to Calla.

The kid was traded, and words of comfort were spoken awkwardly on Merle's end, as he tried to explain why he couldn't go with him. Knowing that Merle was getting his mother helped soothe any panic within Maverick at the realization that another family member was leaving him yet again.

Michonne and Maverick were led out by Merle, showing them a weak spot in the wall, where no one was watching, and as soon as they slipped out, Merle turned back to find Calla.

He wouldn't be made aware of the fact that the whistle had been blown shortly after they left the walls, and that the Governor would soon have someone tracking Michonne down.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

She hadn't been running for long, a machete given to her by Merle, and her brains the only protection she had out here when she realized they were already being followed. Someone outside the walls had spotted them, and due to a recent plundering of radios, the Governor had been made aware of Maverick being spotted with a strange woman, and the direction she fled in.

The connection with Merle hadn't been made and wouldn't for a little while yet.

Michonne held tighter to Maverick, trying to control her breathing as she ran, the extra weight that the boy added causing her to grow winded faster, as she changed course. Merle had warned her not to go this way, that it was called the red zone because of the dangerous number of Walkers in the area, but Michonne knew how to trick the dead. It was the living that was chasing them that caused her to grow uneasy.

Behind her she could hear as they grew closer, neither seeming to understand that yelling at one another gave her the edge of knowing they were nearby, and how many were following them. Feeling frustrated with how slow she was going, and how they were gaining, Michonne knew she needed to do something about them. Slow them down, take them out, it didn't matter what she ended up doing, just that it was done.

Not daring to risk Maverick's life in the process, Michonne made a split-second decision, hiding him in a hollowed-out tree, and making him promise to stay inside, and hidden no matter what, she prayed he stayed safe, as she separated from him.

Climbing up into a tree a safe distance away from where she hid the kid, Michonne knew they wouldn't expect her to come at them from up above, not when they knew she had a kid. It would gain her just enough of an edge to keep her ahead of them.

Patiently she waited up above, watching as they moved past her, before she suddenly dropped from the branch, landing with a scuffle onto the guy in the back, as her machete cut through his shoulder blade, before she wrenched it up, across his neck. Blood sprayed out, coating parts of her skin, but she was mostly protected by his own body, which she was quick to rid herself of. Reaching for his gun, which now was strapped uselessly against his leg, Michonne managed to raise, aim, and fire at the second one before they gained their bearings.

She only had a second to dodge out of the way before the first one was aiming, and firing at her, and as she ducked into the foliage, disappearing from view, she felt a sharp, burning pain in her right thigh. The bullet had hit her, but she knew now that there were only two people left, and her odds of getting out of there had risen when she heard them begin to fight over following after her.

Michonne didn't hesitate to take off, reaching Maverick, where she found him still safe, and hiding, before going deeper into the red zone.

Time would tell if they'd follow after her, but Michonne didn't plan on making it easy for them.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

In the end, they had followed her, but Michonne had coated herself, and Maverick in Walker guts, which helped them maneuver through the dead, while the other two had to fight their way. It allowed Michonne to make it to the town ahead of them, but she already knew it wouldn't be safe to stick around, not when her two stalkers were still around.

That all changed as Michonne drifted slowly through the town, keeping out of sight, as she searched for a place for them to rest, and leave a sign for Merle before they moved on. She would not ditch out before doing as promised. The last thing she needed was that man on her case on top of the shit that was going down with the Governor. Her stomach twisted, and her instincts begged her to make it fast, as her arms shook with the exertion it took to keep holding Maverick.

They'd rest later.

She'd set him down when she knew it wouldn't end with them being killed, captured, or both.

The thought didn't ease the anxiety that was steadily rising, but it didn't make it worse either.

She came to a halt, hearing voices, those that she didn't recognize, and realized that two strangers had been searching through a long-abandoned store.

Michonne didn't call out, she didn't try to get their help, knowing that people were dangerous, and it wasn't just her life that required her to make smart choices. For all she knew these people were just as bad, but as she hid in the shadows, watching them, and wishing that they would just leave already, Michonne heard them talking about the formula, and the baby they needed to get back to.

The couple seemed nice.

Normal.

Except looks were deceiving, and though she didn't feel her gut telling her that they were dangerous, she still wished they'd hurry, and move on before her stalkers arrived.

If only there had ever been anyone listening to her.

Pressing closer to the building she was hiding beside Michonne watched as the men took the couple, looking pissed, and she could hear their voices, carried by the wind, that they thought the couple knew something about Michonne and Maverick.

Guilt tugged at her gut, but Michonne wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was hardly capable of stepping in and saving those people, not without possibly injuring herself, and there was no way she could hide Maverick like before. There was no time. She simply watched as the couple was taken away, arguing over not knowing whom they were looking for, as they were shoved into the car the couple had been driving.

It had been obvious to her that the men were looking for an excuse to ditch chasing after Michonne and were hoping to appease the Governor with some half-ass bullshit about how they believed she was meeting up with those two.

After they left Michonne limped toward the basket that had been discarded on the ground. She stared down at the formula, remembering the couple's conversation about how a baby needed it, and the place that had been briefly mentioned in passing. It was enough for her to go off if she wanted to chase down this group and give them their supplies. It could possibly even earn her an ally long enough to get patched up, and to get help for Merle, and Calla. With how quickly they had started to chase after her, Michonne knew that Merle wouldn't be grabbing Calla, and making a quick break out of Woodbury.

All hopes of that part of the plan going easily had been dashed even before they had made it. Neither of them truly thought it would be that easy. Just yet another reason he had wanted to do it himself.

Shifting her grip on the boy Michonne leaned over, wincing as it irritated her bullet hole, as she felt the slick wetness of the blood ooze free before she grabbed at the basket.

There was no way Merle would be meeting up with her as planned. More than likely he had probably been caught as well, and there was now no one that would be able to save the two of them.

This group, if they were decent people, would have an interest in getting back their own people. Michonne could work it out so that they'd help her with her people as well.

It was another shit plan, that relied on too much luck, but there wasn't any other option besides ditching Calla, and Merle altogether.

Begrudgingly Michonne began to leave town, searching for signs of the prison, as she made slow work forward.

The boy on her hip stayed quiet, his head leaning against her arm, as he quietly took in the events unfolding around him.

Luck, Michonne would soon find out, followed Maverick around, and soon fate would reveal that her decision to head toward the prison would be life changing.