Author Note: Hey everyone! For anyone familiar with the story, you may have noticed that it and my account disappeared a few months back. Months ago, I received some intense hate aimed at my stories and my writing. Let me say first, that I can take constructive criticism, but I am a sensitive person and not ashamed to admit it. So when that line was crossed and this hobby that I started, to get a little reprieve from the grind of my life, became a source of stress I decided to remove my stories and account. I really should have just kept the stories up and logged off but I was just way too deep in my feelings at the time. I apologize to anyone who was in the middle of reading the story or was planning to return to it at some point.
Having said all that, after watching The Ones Who Live and some convos with a friend of mine, I realized that I didn't want to give those people the satisfaction of driving me away from this hobby that 1 genuinely find pleasure in. And I want to continue to write in this fandom, especially now that our favorite couple's story is complete. Last week I was inspired to start writing a long fic that began after their happy ever after in TOWL and followed how their life unfolded now that they were back together. I was going to keep it to myself but decided, what the heck, why not share it?
But I wanted to make sure that I republished this story first, for those who might want to finish or re-read.
So here is the complete-ish, A Place to Call Home. I say complete-ish because, oddly, my documents manager no longer has a few chapters and I don't have them on my computer any longer. So there are some missing chapters here. I made sure to note it inside of the story. On the off chance anyone downloaded the story before it was deleted and has it, would you be willing to send it over so can I add those in, please message me!
Anyway, stay tuned for my new fic "The After", which I'm hoping becomes a mainstay, a sort of slice-of-life series that follows Rick and Michonne after the end of TOWL. I'd love to consistently upload weekly or biweekly from here on out.
Thanks to those who read my previous stories and were gracious in their comments and criticism.
I won't make any promises about the continuation of A Place to Call Home, but if I'm ever inspired to finish it, I will. But if not, then it will end as is.
A Place to Call Home
Timestamp: Season 2 Episode 5 -7
"Maryanne?" Shane asked, recounting one of his many conquests. This was their default. When things got too intense and heavy between them, Rick knew all he had to do was create a space for Shane to boast of his extensive mausoleum of lays. It was a morbid thought, but truth nonetheless, everyone in that life they now remembered as the past was most likely long gone or well on their way there.
"I told you about her?" Shane asked. His chest puffed out a bit and a small smile twerked at the corner of his mouth.
"In excruciating detail," Rick replied.
They spent the next few minutes musing about all the women Shane had been with along with the two Rick could recall getting far enough with, to even warrant a brag. The difference between him and Shane; Rick was a one-woman type of man and Shane, was a woman-of-the-night type of man. But, he never judged his friend and sometimes even envied him.
And often, he figured what drew him to Shane was the fact he didn't give a shit about what anyone thought of him. Because, if Rick was being honest with himself, he'd admit he cared way too much.
"What are you doing?" Shane asked, apropos of nothing. Rick looked back at his face, which had gone from slack and lighthearted to pissed the fuck off in record time. "You got every able body at your disposal," he continued. "Out scrounging these woods for a little girl we both know is likely dead."
Rick's jaw tightened. For days he'd fought the nagging thought that maybe the search had become futile. But a little girl goes missing and you look for her, especially if it's your fucking fault. I should have kept her with me, he thought. He should have known there was no way a scared little girl could navigate the woods on her own, with walkers on her tale, no less.
"But you've got this knack. You spread us thinner and thinner. You're out saving cats from trees," Shane said, with a disdainful smirk.
Rick looked away from his friend, his hackles rising. "Is that what you think Sophia is, a cat in a tree?"
"It's math, man. Alive or not, Sophia, she only matters to the degree in which she doesn't drag the rest of us down." And there it was, the part of his friend he had come to despise. The part that allowed Shane to so easily compartmentalize. But people weren't meant to be put in a box; weak or strong, worthy or disposable, useful or a drain on resources. Especially now, with the dead outnumbering them, every life mattered. Every life was worth the time and risk it took to save them. He needed Shane to understand that, needed to put it to him in a way he'd get.
"What if it were Carl?"
Shane scoffed. "As long as I'm around, It'd never be Carl."
He narrowed his eyes and wondered for a moment what he meant by that. He was just about to open his mouth and ask when out of the corner of his eyes he spotted a house nestled in the back corner of the woods. One of the windows shone a yellow glow.
"Psst," he whispered. "Over there." He jerked his head in the general direction of the house. Looked at Shane, who shrugged.
"Might as well check it out"
"Alright, on me." Rick raised his gun and moved slowly in the direction of the house. Shane followed behind, his eyes scanning in both directions, as Rick led the way forward.
They stopped a few feet from the house and he caught Shane's eyes, directing them at the ground, at the small footprints in the mud that led all the way up to the front door. They were smaller than what he imagined Sophia's prints would be, but they were most certainly not adults. And they were fresh, possibly only hours old.
He climbed the stairs. Shane stayed at the bottom, his back to Rick as he scanned the perimeter, his gun raised. Rick placed his hand on the knob and turned it, to no avail.
"It's locked," he whispered, contemplating kicking it in for a moment. But if she was in there, he didn't wanna scare the girl, even more than she already was. "Let's go around back?" He'd learned, from years as a Sherrif, people were quick to lock their front doors but often forget about the back.
Shane nodded and led the way. The sliding glass door on the back porch nudged open easily and led into the kitchen. Shane stepped in and swiveled his gun around the room, his eyes searching before he stepped aside to let Rick in.
"Sophia," Rick whispered, moving down the narrow hallway, toward the living room. He was about to round the corner to clear the open bedroom door when he felt the metal tip of what he could only assume was a long knife, on the side of his head. Shit.
"Drop the guns. Both of you," he heard a deep yet soft voice whisper. A woman, he assumed, by the tenor.
He hesitated and was rewarded with a firm little prick of the tip of the blade. He wouldn't have been surprised to find out it broke the skin. "Okay. Okay. I'm putting my gun on the ground now. Nice and easy." He slowly bent down, the blade following his every move, and placed the rifle on the ground. She kicked it away from them.
"You too." He couldn't see her, but he knew this time she'd been talking to Shane. He prayed his friend would comply and not try to pull some shit like he was ought to do. He blew out a breath of relief when he heard the metal of Shane's gun clink on the ground. The blade let up from his head, but he still didn't turn. He felt its presence looming close by.
"Now, get on the ground. Face down and eyes closed. Both of you. Hands on your heads too." He followed her instructions without delay. After a moment, he heard her grab his gun and then Shane's. She stepped over his body and moved toward the front door, standing before both of their laid-out forms. Then he heard one of the guns cock.
"Now both of you stand and walk back out that door. And if I ever see you here again I will not hesitate to shoot you. One at a time." She lightly kicked his head with her shoe. "You first."
Rick pressed his hands onto the hardwood and pushed himself up, keeping his eyes on the ground until the very last second before he turned around to walk toward the back door. He only caught a glimpse of her; she was black with long dreadlocks, but that's all he had been able to gather.
He stepped over Shane and made it to the back door when he heard her say, "now you." He listened to the wood creak as Shane stood.
He was opening the back door, when he heard her frantic voice say, "Stop or I'll shoot." When he turned, Shane was running for the woman, grabbing the gun. And everything after happened fast, too fast for him to do anything but watch. The gun fired into the ceiling as they struggled for it. Shane got the upper hand and managed to bring the gun down, pointing at her thigh. Then BANG.
"Ahh!" the woman screamed, grabbing her thigh. Shane knocked her in the head with his elbow and she fell to the ground in a heap. Shane stumbled back onto his ass, reeling from the close gunshot.
"Shit man." Rick ran to the woman and examined the wound. A graze. He breathed a sigh of relief. But it was bleeding way too much. "You could have killed her."
"Yeah. That was the plan," Shane exclaimed, sitting up against the wall.
Rick ran into the living room and grabbed a thin blanket from the couch. He ripped it apart and wrapped it tight around her thin thigh, tightening it to try and stop the bleeding. "What the hell are you doing? She was just gonna kill us."
"She was protecting herself. I don't think she had any intention of hurting us." He moved to one side of her and threw her toned arm around one of his shoulders.
"There goes that wishful thinking again."
"She could have shot you when you came at her," he pointed out.
Shane shook his head. "Whatever man. You the most naive son of a bitch I ever met."
"Help me get her to the couch?"
Shane hesitated.
"Then we'll go," Rick added.
Shane stood and made his way to the other side of the woman. They dragged her body to the couch. Rick set her down as gently as possible, while Shane dropped her like a heavy piece of roadkill. "Easy," he warned.
"Come on. Let's get the hell out of here."
He was about to protest, argue that they couldn't just leave her bleeding out on the couch. He wouldn't want that for any of his people, what if she was someone's wife? What if she'd been Lori? Shit, Lori. He needed to get back before she started to worry.
Besides, even though his gut instinct told him this woman was well-intentioned, he didn't really know her. What if Shane was right, what if she was more dangerous than he wanted to believe? So, as much as he longed to help her, his first priority had to be getting back to his wife and son.
"Alright. Let's go."
Shane grabbed their guns from off the ground and moved to the back door. And just as Rick was about to do the same, he heard it. The cry of a child. His eyes followed the sound, to a closed door across from the living room. Sophia? He moved toward it and noticed Shane had stopped too.
As he got closer, the noise became more distinct. It was the cry of a small child, a toddler. He raised his gun, placed his hand on the knob, waited until Shane was close enough to offer him back up if needed, and pushed the door open slowly.
Standing up inside a crib, crying his eyes out, was a little baby boy.
On closer inspection, he noticed the boy had to be a least three, solely based on how big he was. They'd become quite good friends in the hour the child's mother, or whoever she was to him, had been knocked out.
After picking the boy up from his crib and soothing him as best he could, for a guy who hadn't held a baby in almost a decade, he propped the boy on his hip and set out for the kitchen in search of food. All the while, Shane reluctantly searched for anything first aid they could use to treat the woman.
Unfortunately, all Shane could find in the medicine cabinet were a couple of bandaids and expired painkillers. He and the boys' haul had been more plentiful, a cabinet full of baby food cans.
As they stared at the cans, he found himself wondering how this woman had managed to scavenge for food, let alone survive this long, with a child this small. He thought about Lori and baby Carl alone in this world and simultaneously winced at the notion. There was no way…
The boy whimpered and Rick looked down at him. "I know. Let's get you something to eat."
Thirty minutes and three cans of squished peas and carrots later, they were sitting in the nursery on the floor playing with some soft building blocks he'd found in the toy box. He smiled down at the little boy's sweet and carefree face and realized he envied him. There was no way he understood the extent of what the world had become. Rick had wished on more than one occasion since all this started, he could restore that innocence for Carl. Already, he'd seen too much and he'd surely done too much. For Carl, there was no going back; no unseeing. For this boy, if he had a place, a place like the one he'd told Lori about when she'd wished it could all end for Carl, he could have a normal and happy childhood. Or the equivalent of what a childhood in this new world looked like. He wanted that for Carl, and even though he'd only known the little guy for a short time, he wanted it for him too.
"Don't point that thing at me," he heard from the living room. It was the woman's voice.
He made sure the little guy was squared away, before hurrying into the living room. The woman sat up now, as much as she could with her wrist handcuffed to the window bars. She stared up at Shane, with a murderous gaze. Her eyes never left him, even as Rick moved over to his friend and slowly pushed his gun down until it was at his side.
Her eyes moved over to Rick and for the first time since they'd walked into the house, he clearly saw her face. She was beautiful, he off-handedly thought. And more pointedly noticed how much the little guy looked like her; he was quite literally a mini-me. Shit. Where was the little guy's dad? Was he on a run? Could he be coming back any minute?
"You alone?" Rick asked.
She ignored his question, her eyes darting just past him, at the closed nursery door.
"He's fine," Rick assured her. "Fed him some of that baby food you had in there. He's playin' now."
She looked back up at him and her face seemed to soften a bit, but not completely. He couldn't fault her for not trusting the guys who'd broken in, shot, and handcuffed her.
"Now, are you alone? Is it just the two of you?"
She hesitated, before nodding. He thought maybe he saw a tinge of sadness cross her face, but it fell away quickly and was replaced with a hard edge that seemed like a resting position for her features.
He dropped down on his haunches, in front of her. She scooted away from him as much as she could with the little space she had left on the sofa. "My friend only shot you because he thought our lives were in danger. We don't want to hurt you. Now I was able to stop the bleeding pretty good, but you need antibiotics and someone who knows what they're doing to treat that. We have someone like that where we're from."
"You want us to go with you?" she whispered. The way she said, made him feel like his invitation may not have come off as innocent as he'd intended. Then he thought about it; two guys she didn't know were asking her and her son to come back to god knows where. It did seem a bit skeezy.
"We're hold up at a farm. There's fresh water, plenty of food, and other people. Other women too. It'd be a safe place for your little guy. For you."
"We're making it on our own."
"Is that all you want for him? Making it?"
She looked away.
"I know you want more."
"You don't know a damn thing about me," she hissed.
"You're right. But I have a son too and If I were in your shoes, the place we're from... I'd want it for him."
He watched her face soften at the mention of Carl, almost too quickly for his liking. When she spoke again, gone was the hard edge to her voice from before. "Okay. We'll go with you."
Rick glanced up at Shane, who shrugged.
Looking back at her, he asked, "you sure?"
"You said it was safe for your son, right?"
"Alright, we should head out now. The sun goes down soon." He reached into his pocket and fished out his handcuff key. Stood up over her and unlocked the restraint.
The moment her hand slipped out of the cuff, she leaned back and with her good leg, kicked him in the chest. Rick stumbled back into Shane and they both fell to the ground, along with Shane's gun.
She lept for the weapon and then limped across the living room and into the nursery, slamming the door shut, as they scrambled to get up.
"Dammit," Rick wheezed
"Rick. This bitch is crazy. Let's go."
"No. She won't survive the night." He ambled up onto the couch, grabbing his chest. It was on fire.
"Who gives a fuck," Shane said, standing. "Everyone's probably wondering where the hell we are by now."
Rick stood and stumbled toward the nursery door. He tried to open it, but it was locked. He banged on it. "We're not leaving without you."
BANG. A shot was fired through the door and flew past his head. "Next time I won't miss," she yelled from the other side.
He ducked around the corner, out of the line of fire.
"Your wound is infected. If you stay here, you die!"
"I'll be fine."
"We checked this entire place." He yelled from his spot. "There's nothing here to treat your wound."
"Why do you care?" she yelled back, her voice cracking.
"Because…" He had to stop and really think for a moment. Saving her had been something of an autopilot reaction. But why did he care? She wasn't his family. Family. Lori. Carl. All it took was a quick flash of their faces for his to realize...
"Because, if I were gone… and you were my wife and he was my son, I'd want the same thing for them." Fuck it. He moved to stand in front of the door again. "Look, I know you don't know us, and you have every reason not to trust us. But in this world, all we have is our word. And I give you mine, that you'll be safe with us."
"You can't guarantee that."
"No. No, I can't. But I can guarantee that I'll do everything in my power to make it true."
He waited, and listened for any signs that she might open the door. Waited and waited, but all he heard was silence.
Shane walked up behind him. "Give it up man," he whispered. "Can't save someone who don't wanna be saved."
He breathed out a heavy breath. Shane was right and Rick had done his best, but it would be sundown soon enough and they couldn't risk walking back in the dark. Couldn't risk getting caught out there.
"Alright." He nodded. "Alright. Let's go." He turned back to the door. "We're leaving now. We won't come back. We won't bother you again." He waited for another minute for a response. Nothing.
So, he followed Shane to the back door. He was about to close it when he heard the nursery door open. After a moment she limped out with the little guy on her hip. Their eyes connected. "Okay. We'll go."
They packed the baby food away, as many toys as they could carry, and a few changes of clothes for the both of them and were on their way.
Shane walked a few yards ahead of them and Rick walked a few feet behind her. The woman carried her son on her hip—he'd offered to carry the little guy, but she'd refused—and she limped her way through the woods wincing with every step. He made sure to stay close enough to catch either of them if they fell.
His head was on a swivel. Thankfully, they hadn't encountered more walkers than they could handle. But even as they inched closer to the farm, he worried about what might happen if they did.
"What's his name?" Rick called softly into the silence.
She remained quiet for a few ticks, and it surprised him when she finally said, "Andre. Andre Anthony."
"That's a great name," he said, grateful to have something other than 'little guy' to call him. "And yours?"
"Michonne."
"It's nice to meet you Michonne. I'm Rick Grimes."
"It–" Her words were cut off by a walker limping from behind a tree. He reached for his knife, but even before he could get it out of its holder, she had already removed the katana from behind her back and sliced the walker's head clean in half. Then, without skipping a beat, she whipped the blood off the sword and slid it back into its holder.
He stopped in his tracks, damn.
They reached the farm just before sundown. He was impressed she hadn't collapsed on the five-mile walk, but she huffed and heaved the last few steps to the house.
Everyone burst out the front door, curious about the half-conscious stranger and little boy, they'd acquired on their search for Sophia.
Hershel looked on, apprehensive, as he appraised the two new mouths to feed. But he didn't let that stop him from being a doctor.
"What happened to her?" he asked, eyeing her leg.
"Gunshot wound. Just a graze but I think it might be infected," Rick said. He watched as Michonne looked around at the people. From the confused look on her face, he wondered if maybe she thought she might be hallucinating.
"Patricia, take the child and look him over. Get him something to eat."
Patricia moved to take Andre from Michonne, but the boy pulled away. Cuddled into his mother.
"No," Michonne slurred drowsily. "He- he stays with me."
Patricia looked at Hershel and he looked at Rick, who moved in front of Michonne. "Hey, Patricia's our nurse. She's gonna take good care of him."
Michonne didn't budge.
"How about I take him and go with him? So you can go with Hershel and get fixed up."
"... okay." She handed Andre over to Rick.
Rick's heart squeezed when the boy went to him without a fuss and it completely melted when Andre tucked his head into the crook of his neck. He rubbed the boys back and together they watched as Daryl and T-Dog carried Michonne up to the steps of the house.
Rick held Andre the entire time Patricia examined him—he refused to go with anyone else. Patricia's diagnosis was that he had slight mal-nutrition, but for a kid who'd wandered through the wilderness, he was otherwise healthy. After what Rick had seen so far, he was sure that his good health could fully be credited to Michonne.
Later, he and Andre crept into the guest bedroom, where Michonne was out cold with Hershel sitting on the edge of the bed checking her pulse.
Without looking up, he said, "you got her here just in time."
"She gonna be okay?" he asked, Andre heavy on his shoulder as he drifted off.
"After these antibiotics and a couple of days rest, she'll be right as rain." Hershel looked up at Andre. "I think we still have the girls' old crib in the attic, we can bring it down here so he can sleep properly."
"Thank you," Rick said. He punctuated his words, trying to convey how appreciative he was.
He'd been brought up to speed on what went down while they were away. Hershel was a good man, but Rick could tell his patience was wearing thin.
"How's Daryl?"
Hershel sighed. "I had no idea we'd be going through the antibiotics so quickly?"
"We're awful grateful and we'll do what we can to replenish. We'll go into town tomorrow and see what we can find."
Hershel stood, "I'd appreciate that mightly," he said while walking by.
Dammit. They needed this place, but there was no way Hershel was moving in the direction of letting them stay, not after today.
Rick moved to the chair next to Michonne's bed and repositioned Andre on his aching chest. He rubbed his back and listened to his breathing slow as he fell into a deeper sleep.
"So this is what kept you all day?"
He looked up and saw Lori standing at the door and simply smiled at her, not wanting to wake Andre or Michonne. Although, he was pretty sure they could yell their entire conversation and she wouldn't budge.
Lori walked to them and kneeled down next to the chair. She ran a hand down Andre's back and studied his face, with a smile. "He is so precious," she whispered.
"He really is."
She smiled up at Rick.
"What?" he asked.
"Hadn't seen you with a baby in a long time. You're good with him."
He shrugged. "We hung out a little today. I'm just the least strange stranger around."
"Don't sell yourself short." Her smile faded a bit. "God. A baby in this world." She looked back at Michonne. "And alone… I don't know if I could do it."
"Which part?"
"Either." He wished he could argue, but sadly, he had to agree.
He watched a shadow falls over her face. Placed his hand on her arm.
"Carl's fine," he reassured. "He's almost fully recovered now."
"I know. It's not–" she shook her head and stood. "Imma go fix you a plate. You missed dinner."
"I'll eat later. You go ahead to bed, I'll be in soon."
"You sure?"
"I don't wanna chance waking him just yet," he lied. Or rather, he hadn't told her the whole truth. And maybe it was because, at that moment, he himself didn't fully understand why for some reason he couldn't bring himself to leave these two alone.
Rick woke the next day, in the same spot he'd fallen asleep in. He panicked when he realized Andre was no longer on his chest. He sat up and looked around, his heart rate evened when his eyes landed on the crib next to Michonne's bed.
Andre slept peacefully inside, and he noticed someone—probably Patricia— had changed him into pajamas he knew they hadn't brought with them. He surveyed Michonne; she slept too. Satisfied they were both alright for the time being, he got up and started his day.
Most of the day was spent away from the house; he and Shane taught everyone who wanted, how to shoot guns. Even Carl. He'd been surprised Hershel had agreed to let his family participate in the training. Hoped it was the first step in him accepting them on the farm long term.
That hope had been squashed, when Lori confronted him about Hershel all but telling her they'd be kicked out soon enough.
"Carl's barely on his feet," he recalled her saying. "And Sophia's missing."
He wanted to add that Michonne was in no condition to be out on the road and Andre deserved the farm just as much as Carl did. But she was already pissed enough at his decision to give Hershal the time and space to change his mind, and he didn't wanna fuel the fire.
"It's not what I want either, but if we have to go, I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you and Carl are okay," he reassured her.
He wasn't proud of it, but he spent the rest of the day avoiding Lori. They'd been at each's throats the past few days and he hated they were reverting back to who'd they been before all this, after promising to start anew. But, most frustrating was the idea that she still didn't trust him to handle things.
So, he worked around the farm, at whatever Maggie and Patricia needed help with. Hoping it'd put a dent in the Hershel goodwill bank.
In between tasks, he'd go check on Michonne, who was on the tail end of her first full day of sleep.
Andre was warming up to the woman of the house, Patricia in particular, but he wanted his little friend to know he was still there. So when Patricia made the little guy a plate of macaroni for lunch, he and Carl sat with him as he did his best to eat the slippery mess. Then after, the three of them played on the floor of the living room.
He watched, with pride, as Carl took great care to make the little guy laugh. He hadn't noticed it before but Andre hadn't spoken yet, not until he'd officially met Carl Grimes. He loved that his son had that effect on the little guy.
"Where's my mama?" Andre asked, looking up at Carl with wide eyes.
"She's sleeping," Carl replied.
"Still?"
"Yeah. She's hurt. She has to heal?"
"Heal?"His face contorted into a look of confusion.
"Yeah, she had an owie."
"Oh," Andre replied and went back to his toys.
"How old are you, Andre?" Rick asked. He wanted to know all about Michonne and Andre and what went on in the months leading up to him finding them, but he figured this was the only information he'd be able to get out of the younger half of the twosome.
Andre looked down at his fingers, counted out three of them, turned around, and showed his fingers to Rick.
"This many."
"Wow, that's a lot of fingers." He made a surprised face. "Guess how many fingers Carl is?"
Andre's shoulders lifted and then dropped and he turned to Carl. Carl held up both his hands. "I'm this many."
"Wow. That's a lot."
Rick and Carl laughed.
"Yeah, it is," Carl said. "And one day you'll be that many too."
Andre looked down at his toys. "Only If I don't become a scary monster first," he said seriously.
Carl looked up at Rick, both of their smiles gone. Rick searched for words. Words to assure this baby that he wouldn't, in fact, become a walker. But he was too stunned at Andre's words to conjure up a proper response.
"Andre," he heard Carl say. His son waited until Andre looked up at him. "You won't ever become a scary monster. My dad and I… we won't let that happen. Okay?"
"Okay," Andre said, totally unaware of the weight of Carl's words.
Carl looked up at his dad.
"No we won't," Rick added, running his hand over Andre's coarse hair.
Rick stepped into his family's tent and took his gun belt off. He flung it over the chair and his eyes caught on a blue pill packet: The morning-after pill and a few were missing. What the fuck?
He found Lori sitting alone near the perimeter fence and as he walked toward her, he tried his damnedest to quench the anger building within him.
"Is there something you need to tell me?" he asked, holding the packet up.
"We can't leave. I'm pregnant."
"Are you?"
"l threw them up... you can yell if you want." For fucks sake. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of her words. Even in a moment like this, she was still trying to get a rise out of him. He could have sworn, before all this, she'd pick fights with him just so he'd show some sort of visceral reaction. Like she got off on it. And the more she wanted it out of him, the more he didn't wanna give it to her.
But in this particular moment, it was more than just Lori that made his voice rise, and his anger spill over. It was everything. He was fucking tired. Tired of everyone second-guessing him, tired of his wife lying to him, tired of worrying, and tired of not knowing if anything he did was even worth it.
So he let it out on her and became the man she'd been begging him to become for years. A man he didn't wanna be; a man who yelled at his wife and couldn't control his anger enough to have a civilized conversation.
And then the boom dropped. She said the words he'd been waiting to hear since he'd come back from the dead and seen the way Shane and Lori were now.
The worst part was that he was more upset at the fact they hadn't told him than he was at the fact they'd actually been together.
And, yes, maybe a part of him still wanted to beat Shane to a pulp, but it wasn't the part of him that was Lori's husband. It was the part of him that was Shane's best friend.
Later that night, after putting Carl to bed, Rick held Andre against his chest. He'd only planned to sit long enough for the little guy to fall asleep, then he was gonna put him in his crib. But after the day he'd had, he couldn't bring himself to part with the child's calming presence and the peacefulness of his slumber.
He heard Michonne groan and his eyes trailed over to her face.
Her eyes peeled open and settled on him and Andre. She furrowed her eyebrows and looked around the room.
"Hey," he said quietly.
She tried to lift herself off the bed but winced and slowly lowered back onto the pillow. "Oh, God. Am I dying?"
Rick couldn't help but chuckle. "No. Just feels like that."
"How long have I been out for?"
"A day and a half."
Her eyes widened. "You've been watching after him this whole time?"
"It's been a team effort. My son, Carl, he's really taken to him."
"He hasn't been too much of a handful, has he? He can be a lot."
Rick found himself smiling again in the span of just two minutes. "He's got a lot of energy."
She smiled, only just a little, but he decided he liked it when she did that."That's putting it mildly." She rolled her head back to the center of the pillow. Pinched at the bridge of her nose. "Ugh."
He was about to offer her the water that sat on the side table, but before he could, she rolled her head toward him again and asked, "how's your chest?"
"What?" Oh. He'd taken some pain pills that morning and apparently, they'd been extra strength cause he hadn't felt even a twinge all day, from where she karate kicked him. Hershel had checked him out too, and thankfully, it was just bruising.
"Oh. Yeah. I'm okay." He smiled, once again. "You got one hell of a karate kick on you, though."
Her lips parted, wider than before, and he couldn't help but stare. Hell, the only word that came to mind to describe her smile was… dazzling.
"I work out," she joked.
I can tell, he thought impulsively and then pushed it aside. Thankful, at least, he hadn't said it out loud.
Her eyes traveled from Rick's face down to Andre's. She sat up in the bed and scooted her body back until she was upright against the wall. "Can I have him?"
"' 'Course." Rick stood, and ever so gently, he moved to the bed and transferred Andre from his chest to Michonne's. He sat back down in the chair and watched Michonne bury her nose into the top of his head, and he thought about the news Lori had just given him.
"How did you do it?" he asked, his voice drenched in emotion as he replayed the conversation with his wife while also contemplating the possibility of their new home only being temporary.
"Do what?"
"Keep him alive out there?"
A dark shadow crossed her face. She looked back down at Andre. Ran her hand over his head. "When you've been out there long enough, you have to do things. Things you never thought you'd ever do. But I don't regret anything, because he's still here."
"What are those things?" he asked cautiously. "Those things you had to do?"
She shook her head, closed her eyes, and snuggled Andre closer. "All I know is… we had to stop being out there. Because you can be out there too long. And we almost were." She looked up at Rick, tears in her eyes. "Thank you, for not taking no for an answer."
At that moment, with her eyes on him and his on her, Rick resolved that no matter what he had to do he would convince Hershel to let them stay. And not just for Lori, Carl, and his unborn baby. But for Michonne and Andre too.
That next day, after Glenn dropped the bomb that Hershel and his family were keeping walkers in the barn and the subsequent blow-up with Shane, Rick walked into the house and found Hershel studying his Bible and eating lunch.
He approached the man cautiously and laid the groundwork for a cordial conversation. "A little light reading for lunch?" he asked.
Hershel kept his gaze trained on the passage he'd been reading. "Been working so hard lately, I get my studying where I can."
Rick contemplated his next words. There was no way he could skirt around the elephant in the room, but how to address it tactfully? "We found the barn," he settled on saying.
Hershel paused, for only a second, before replying, "leave it be."
After a light back and forth, he quickly realized Herschel thought walkers were still viable human beings. He could excuse that, and maybe even understand it a little because the entire world had been flipped on its fucking head and anything was possible. But unlike Herschel, he'd been out there long enough to see and understand that the notion of walkers even being remotely redeemable or there being a chance to cure them, was a complete non-starter.
But, that's not what made him angry at the moment. It was Hershel's complete lack of foresight to see what would happen to him and his people if he turned them away.
"They may be dead, they may be alive," Hershel said, referring to his family of walkers in the barn.
"But my people, us, we are alive right now, right here, right in front of you. You send us out there and that could change."
"I've given you safe harbor. My conscience is clear."
"You've been shielded from what's been going on out there. Dale said you saw everything happen on the news. Well, it's been a long time since the cameras stopped rolling."
Hershel sighed and gathered his things. Rick stood with him and followed him into the kitchen. He couldn't relent, he couldn't let up. This was too important and Hershel was going to hear him out.
"The first time I saw a walker, it was just half a body snapping at me from the ground. My inclination wasn't to kill it. But what the world is out there isn't what you saw on TV. It is much, much worse."
Michonne's face flashed in his mind, the look she had when he'd ask her what things she'd done to keep Andre alive out there. He'd known at that moment, he hadn't yet crossed the line of which she was well on the other side now. But, if he had to, he wouldn't hesitate to do even the worst of what she'd possibly done. But he didn't want it to come to that.
"It is much, much worse and it changes you. Either into one of them or something a lot less than the person you were. Please do not send us out there again."
Hershel stayed quiet and stared out through his picture window. Rick stepped away from him. He wasn't certain Lori would approve, but Hershel had to know the full implication of sending them away. Because, if after what he was about to say Hershel still wouldn't allow them shelter, he needed it to at least be on his conscious.
"My wife's pregnant. That's either a gift here or a death sentence out there."
Hershel turned and faced Rick, and for a moment he thought maybe he might say yes.
"Rick, I'm telling you we can't."
Rick's anger reached a boiling point. He tried to keep it in check but goddamn, Hershel's calm voice was taking him over the edge.
"You think about what you're doing… not just to my baby, but to Carl, and to Andre."
"I've thought about it," Hershel yelled.
"Think about it again," Rick matched his tone and then some. "We can't go out there!" He left the room, unsure of how this conversation might go if he stayed any longer.
After talking to Shane about his conversation with Hershel and dropping the pregnancy bomb on yet another person—God, Lori was gonna kill him—he slipped back into the house, careful not to interrupt Maggie and Hershel's conversations.
He moved up the stairs and into Michonne's room.
Patricia sat on the edge of the bed, redressing her wound. Carl and Andre sat on the ground, playing with cars
He rubbed each boy's head on his way around the bed, to the chair, he'd spent much of his time in over the past few days.
"Hey," Michonne said, wincing a little at whatever Patricia was doing.
"How's she doing?" He opted to ask Patricia instead of Michonne, fully aware by now, Michonne would probably say she was fine if asked.
Patricia kept her eyes on the wound she was tending to. "Healing up nicely. Hershel wants her in bed just one more day." Patricia gathered her things and said to Michonne, "Maggie's making lunch. I'll bring you and Andre some food here shortly and then give him a bath"
"I appreciate it, but that's not necessary. You don't have to wait on us."
Patricia gave her a small smile. "Don't worry, after today, there'll be plenty of opportunities for you to pull your weight around here."
"Alright." Michonne crossed her arms. "Thank you."
Patricia moved out of the room.
"Just wanted to check on you and Andre, before I go," he said.
"Go?"
Rick realized Michonne had no clue about Sophia or half of what was going on around the farm. "A little girl from our group got lost a few days ago. We've been looking for her. That's what we were doing when we found you. I'm going out with Andrea to look some more."
Michonne nodded. "If you don't find her today, I'll go out with you guys tomorrow to look. I know this area well. It's the least I can do."
"Thank you." Rick stood and turned to leave the room, but stopped in his track. "Look, I promised you safety here, so I need to be honest about what's going on."
Michonne's jaw clenched. She sat up in the bed and glanced at Andre real quick and then at the door before looking back at him. He figured she was hatching a plan to get them the hell out of dodge if what came out of his mouth warranted it.
"Hershel has walkers in the barn."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
"His family mostly and his friends. He still thinks there's a chance to… I don't know, heal them or something."
She nodded. "That's a hell of a leap, but I get it."
"Get it? How?"
"I don't know. We all have our own way of coping. For a while, I used to talk to my dead boyfriend."
Rick filed that piece of information away.
"Well, what do you plan to do about it?" she asked.
"Shane thinks we should either kill them or go."
"I asked what your plan was."
"We're guests here. This isn't our land. But we also can't go, not until we find Sophia. So I think, for now, we keep an eye on the barn, put someone on watch out there, and continue the search."
"Yeah. I agree. But, I'd like Andre in the house with me until all this gets sorted out."
"Fair enough." Rick wanted to run something else by her. "Hershel doesn't want us here long term," he said, cautiously. "I've been trying to convince him, but I don't know if he'll budge."
He braced himself for a negative reaction. Was caught off guard when she offered him a smile.
"If anyone can convince him, it's you. I know from experience." His chest puffed up a little, at her assertion. "Keep after it."
He nodded.
"Rick," he turned toward the door where Hershel stood eyeing the colt python in his gun holster.
"Hershel. I just have my gun out because we're gonna go look for Sophia."
"Before you do that, I could use some help with something."
"Alright."
"Meet me downstairs," he said, before walking off.
Rick looked over at Michonne, who gave him an encouraging nod. He turned to Carl.
"Hey. When you finish your schoolwork with your mother, come back in here and babysit Andre for the day, so Michonne can finish resting."
"Yeah, okay." Carl's tone was flat, almost uninterested, but his smile betrayed his outward indifference at being given the new responsibility.
Rick looked at Michonne to confirm it was okay. She nodded. "Thanks, Carl."
It wasn't hard to miss his son's blush at the positive acknowledgment from the Katana Lady, as he affectionately called her. He imagined Michonne might look somewhat like a real-life superhero to a kid Carl's age. Hell, it's kind of how he saw her too, but not just because of the sword.