The Aftermath
Timestamp: Season 2 Episode 8-10
"Go to sleep, baby. Mama will be here when you wake up," Michonne whispered, as she moved her hand in a circular motion against Andre's back. He lay face down in his crib, his long lashes fluttering as his eyes fought to stay open.
She'd spent most of the day in and out of a pain medicine-induced stupor, but every now and then she'd come to and hear Carl chasing Andre through the house. Her son laughing, his voice happier than she'd heard it in a good long while. She knew he'd been worn out because ordinarily, he put up a much more valiant fight at nap time, but today It'd only taken a few seconds of soothing for his eyes to fully close.
Michonne swung her legs off the edge of the bed and took a moment, before standing. The world tilted, but just a little, which was an improvement. She closed her eyes and waited until the world righted, before limping to the door.
She slipped out of the room and into the hallway, then moved slowly down the stairs of the quiet house. When she reached the landing, voices from the porch spilled in through the open front door. She followed the sounds out onto the porch; the sunshine and fresh air hit her like a ton of bricks. She took a deep breath, taking it all in.
"Michonne!" she heard a voice yell and knew instantly it was the youngest member of the group.
She opened her eyes and found Carl smiling and waving at her, from where he sat playing a game of chess with Beth and Patricia.
"Hey, Carl."
"Aye! She lives!" said a young Asian guy, who sat on the steps next to Maggie—who she knew from all the meals she'd delivered to Michonne's room.
The guy stood and made his way over to Michonne, extending his hand with a friendly smile. "Glenn."
She took it, and replied, "Michonne."
"I know. We don't see a lot of new faces around here and especially not ones wielding a badass katana." She couldn't help but smile at the youthful note in the tone of his voice.
"It's nice to meet you, Glenn." Her eyes flicked up to his bucket hat, and she just couldn't help herself. "You're kinda young for that hat, no?" Glenn smiled and ducked his head down at Maggie who was cracking up at the quip.
She stood and came over to him, draping her arm around his shoulder. "Right? He looks like he should be in line for an early bird special, doesn't he?" She slid the hat off his head. "Go get your cap, I'll wash it for you okay?"
Glenn obeyed and when he walked off Maggie looked over at Michonne and they chuckled as he walked away. She decided, at that moment, those two were alright by her.
T-Dog, who she recognized from the first day when he'd carried her up the stairs, and a blonde woman walked up to the group asking where Rick was. They seemed hurried and a bit irritated. Another guy, scraggly and unkempt—even for the state of the world—came bounding in yelling about a trail or something. The mood shifted quickly, everyone now on edge.
Michonne hung back and decided to observe, realizing she really didn't know these people and though Rick had given her the download on what was going on, she needed to be ready for anything. If her time out there in the wilderness had taught her anything, it was that people, no matter how harmless they seemed, couldn't be trusted. She cursed herself for not bringing her katana down but was too keen on figuring out what the hell was going on to go back upstairs to fetch it.
Then, Shane came stomping toward the house with a bag full of guns in hand and began passing them out and it suddenly dawned on Michonne what was going on. Rick had mentioned Shane wanting to take care of the situation in the barn, even though Hershel and he himself was against it. After what she'd seen of Shane, thus far, it didn't seem too far-fetched a move for him.
"Time to grow up," he said. "Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe. But now we know it ain't." With every word, his aggravation grew.
"Can you stop?" Maggie asked, her sweet southern voice shifting deep with anger. "You do this, you hand out these guns, my dad will make you leave tonight."
Shane ignored her and tried to hand a gun to Carl. Michonne's mother instinct kicked in and almost made her leap in front of the boy and take on Shane herself. Fortunately for all of them, a woman who she assumed to be Carl's mother stepped in.
"Rick said no guns," the woman hissed at Shane. "This is not your call. This is not your decision to make."
"Oh shit," T-Dog said.
They all turned, just in time to see Rick and Hershel herding two walkers. Her heartbeat kicked into high gear. What the hell was going on? Clearly, more than Rick had let on.
Shane was the first to run over and everyone else followed, even Carl's mother. Carl was about to run after her, but Michonne grabbed his arm before he could. Whatever the hell was going on, it was nothing a kid should see.
"Hey, I want you to go upstairs into my room and lock the door. Don't open it until I come back." Carl opened his mouth to protest, but Michonne cut him off, "Andre is sleeping. I need you to watch over him until I get back." Though she had ulterior motives, it wasn't all a lie. There was no way in hell she was leaving Andre alone in the house, and there was also no way she wasn't going to check out this shitstorm herself. And from what she'd seen of Carl, he was a better option than leaving her son alone.
"Okay," Carl said and ran back into the house.
Michonne limped down the porch stairs and jogged after the others. She got there just in time to witness Shane shooting the walker Hershel was holding onto. She watched Hershel fall to the ground in a heap, devastated.
"Enough," Rick yelled at his friend.
And then Shane snapped. "Yeah, you're right, man. That is enough. Enough risking our lives for a little girl who's gone! Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us. Enough! Rick, it ain't like it was before! Now if y'all want to live, if you want to survive, you got to fight for it! I'm talking about fighting right here, right now." He was wired, completely beside himself, fast walking in circles. She didn't know Shane well enough to diagnose it, but it almost seemed like he was having a manic episode. She'd seen it in a couple of her clients, in her early days as a litigator, when she'd been a public defender.
Shane ran to the barn door and began hacking away at the lock until it broke off and the doors split open just enough to create a hole for the walkers to stumble through. One by one, the Greene's family and friends limped out the barn. Shane, and those with guns, stood in a line shooting them to shit. All Michonne could do, sans weapon was stand stunned watching it all play out.
When the last walker hit the ground, her eyes fell on Hershel and his family who cried over the splayed corpses of their family members who had just brutally died for the final time, right before their eyes. Even though she understood the need to kill them, this was not the way.
The air was silent and uncomfortably still, everyone reeling in the aftermath of what this moment meant. Then out of the barn came the snarling sound they all knew too well. The firing line raised their guns again and waited... and then from out of the barn limped a young unhuman girl.
Michonne looked over at Rick. He'd gone completely white and his face was fit with a grimace as he watched the girl walk toward the group.
"Sophia," a short-haired woman ran toward the walking corpse. Goddammit, was it her? Was it the girl they'd been searching for? She'd been in the barn all this time?
The scraggly-looking guy grabbed the short-haired woman before she could get any closer. He held her and Michonne's heart pulled at the sound of her cries.
She watched Rick step through the crowd of people and raised his gun.
Michonne held the legs and T-Dog held the arms, of a lifeless walker. They shuffled the body to the truck and threw it into the bed, on top of the heap. Then they turned and walked back over to the mess of bodies, laid out on the ground. Andrea and Glenn passed by them carrying a body of their own, to the truck. The foursome had already buried Hershel's family and now they were driving the rest of the bodies a ways out from the farm to burn them.
Rick sauntered toward them and made a beeline for Michonne, just as she was bending down to pick up another body.
"You shouldn't be out here," he said, standing over her with a concerned look on his face. "Hershel said-".
"I'm done laying in that bed." She looked up at T-Dog and said, "come on." They lifted the body and she moved past Rick, ignoring his inquisitive stare.
"Just a few more trips," she said to the group.
"We got lucky," Andrea added, as she and Glenn threw another body into the back. "If the barn had any more we could've been overrun."
"Good thing Shane did what he did, when he did," T-Dog added.
"You can't tell me this was right," the older gentleman dressed like he was about to go on vacation said.
"It wasn't. It'll cost us with Hershel," Rick agreed.
The four of them went back and forth and Michonne stood off to the side, listening. She didn't know these people well enough to stick her nose in. Not yet. And her grandmother had always told her to mind her own business.
"Better get moving," T-Dog finally said. She walked around to the passenger's side, but a hand grabbing her arm stopped her.
She turned to find Rick in her space. "Thank you," he said.
"For what?"
"Carl told me you got him to stay in the house when everything went down."
Michonne shrugged. "I didn't want Andre alone in there and Carl didn't need to see that."
"No, he didn't. And I'm glad he didn't have to." Rick looked down at the ground. "He cared a lot about Sophia… I don't know, maybe that's part of the reason I wanted to find her so badly…" He sighed and grabbed the bridge of his nose. Glanced up at her and then away. "People counting on me and I had them chasing a ghost in a forest."
She watched him shake his head, unable to look at her. In the short time she'd known this man, she'd watched this world that seemed to revolve around him offer blow after blow with no sign of respite. And she was certain she didn't even know the half of it. And despite it all, he consistently went out of his way to make sure she and Andre were alright.
"Hey," she said softly, ducking her head to find his gaze.
He looked up at her and the anguish on his face pulled at her heart.
"Maybe this is a selfish way to look at things, but if you'd stopped searching for Sophia, Andre and I wouldn't be here. And to you and your people, finding us may not mean as much as finding her alive would have, but to me it's everything."
His face relaxed a bit.
"You make choices because you are the one who can. And the burden of being that person means sometimes, in the moment, you don't get to know if it's the right choice. Not until whatever comes next."
He watched her, hanging on her every word. But she still wasn't satisfied with the remnants of the forlorn look on his face. So, she put it plainly, "looking for Sophia was the right decision. Even if in the end it wasn't."
"Michonne, you comin'," T-Dog yelled through the window.
"I should go."
Rick nodded. She gave him a little smile and a friendly pat on the arm before walking away.
"You're wrong," he called after her.
She turned to look at him.
"Finding the two of you… it means just as much to me."
The rest of her day was spent with T-Dog and Andrea, burning bodies. T-Dog, she learned, was much like a lot of the guys she knew from back home in Decatur. She thought maybe he might have been a high school, maybe even collegiate, football player. He just had that swagger, that build. She'd also noticed a quiet friendship between him and Rick. On the surface, it just looked like a cordial acquaintanceship. But if you looked a little closer at the way the two men, one a leader and the other a follower, collaborated and regarded each other you'd see a kindred sort of unspoken understanding, between two men of the same breed. They were both the type of men to get shit done and not ask for accolades after.
"Your son's adorable," Andrea said, as the two women walked back up to the house. They were both sweat-drenched and probably reeking of the dead and outside.
Michonne smiled. "Don't let him hear you say that. He can be a ham. And he loves attention."
"Well, there's plenty of that to go around here. I mean between Patricia, Maggie, Carl, and Rick, I barely get any time with the little munchkin."
"Honestly, I didn't know what we were walking into coming here… but I'm glad I took the chance. He needed this… to be around other people."
Andrea was quiet. Michonne looked over at her, and could tell she was thinking about something. "What happened at that house?" she asked. "Rick was kind of vague when he told the group. He said it was an accident, but that's it."
Michonne didn't have to wonder why Rick lied. From her observation, Rick and Shane were friends. They even seemed tight enough to have known each other from before. Rick had earned her trust enough for her to believe that if he wasn't telling everyone the full details of what went down, there was a legitimate reason.
"It's what Rick said. Just an accident."
They reached the steps of the house and were about to climb them when Andrea stopped her. "Did Shane do that to you?" she asked, looking down at her thigh.
The look on Andrea's face told Michonne she already knew the answer and was only looking for confirmation. So, as not to betray Rick with her words, Michonne simply tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows. She stared meaningfully at Andrea, hoping she'd catch her drift.
Andrea sighed. "I guess I already knew. I just hoped…"
Oh. She hadn't considered that maybe Andrea and Shane were a couple. "Is he… are the two of you together?"
She looked away. "No. Not really. I mean… it's complicated."
Michonne nodded. She understood complicated. She and Mike's relationship had been nowhere near a walk in the park. "Look, I don't like to stick my nose in other people's shit… so all I will say is… if Rick hadn't been there, I wouldn't be here."
She turned and walked up the stairs, leaving Andrea to chew on her words. She hoped Shane wasn't Andrea's husband or something deep-rooted like that, hoped it would be easy for her to break ties with him when the time came. Because the time would come. With guys like Shane, their true nature always found its way to the surface and high-pressure situations like the one they were now perpetually in, didn't help.
She opened the door to the house and Shane bulldozed past, almost knocking her down. She stumbled back, but caught herself, and then turned around.
"Watch where you're going, asshole."
He stopped. "What?" Grabbed his belt buckle and planted his foot on the step above the one he stood on. "You got something to say to me?"
Michonne inched toward him, close enough so only he could hear her next words. "What happened at the house-".
"You're the one who had a knife to Rick's head. A gun on both of us."
"I was defending my son against trespassers." She stepped up closer to him so only he could hear what she said next. "I was gonna let the two of you go and you tried to kill me."
Shane looked up, his eyes on the sky.
"If Rick wants to keep that under wraps, it's not my call," she continued. "but don't get it twisted… I see you."
He looked back at her, right into her eyes.
"I know what type of man you are. You keep away from me and mine."
She and Shane were in the middle of a staredown when Rick, Glenn, and Maggie stepped onto the porch. Rick walked over to them. Looked between her and Shane.
"Everything alright here?" he asked, his eyes on Shane for a moment before they settled on her face.
She turned to look at him. "It's fine."
Shane let out a rueful laugh before stomping away, mumbling to himself.
"You okay?" Rick asked.
"I'm fine. I can take care of myself," she said, not meaning to sound so annoyed. Her blood was still boiling from her interaction with Shane and she couldn't help it.
"I know. I was just checking."
She nodded and looked down, caught sight of the keys in his hand. "Going somewhere?"
"Yeah. Hershel went off on his own. We think he went to the bar in town."
"You're going after him?" she asked.
Rick placed his hands on his hips, his jaw flexing. "Yeah," he said, with a sprinkle of attitude in the inflection of his voice. She was sure he'd already heard from a few people what a shitty idea it was. And though she didn't think it wise, him running off after Hershel, there was no way the two of them were going alone. Not if she had anything to say about it.
"I'll go too."
"No."
"What happens if the two of you get caught out there?"
"I'd feel better if she went," Maggie added, from behind. "There's safety in numbers."
"Yeah, I agree," Glenn added.
Rick looked back at them and then at Michonne. "Fine."
She hurried upstairs and grabbed her Katana, kissed Andre goodbye, and asked Patricia and Carl to look after him, then hurried back downstairs where Glenn and Rick were waiting.
"Maggie said she loves me," Glenn said, from out of nowhere. He sat in the back, leaning his arms on the front passenger and driver's seats. His eyes ping-ponged between Michonne, who sat in the front passenger seat, and Rick, who drove.
Rick looked over at Michonne, an amused little smile playing on his lips. She held back her own laughter.
"She doesn't mean it," Glenn continued. "I mean, she can't. She's upset or confused."
"You ever been in love, Glenn?" she asked.
He thought for a moment. "No. I mean I don't think so."
"Okay. We'll go with no." She shifted in her seat, so she could face him completely. "Speaking as someone who has been… it's sort of a... when you know you know type of thing. Love doesn't care how long you've known the other person. Or who you were before you met each other. Falling in love is just two people who were always meant to find each other realizing the gravity of who they really are to one another. People make it out to be more than it really is. But it's that simple."
As Glenn stared through the windshield, considering her words, Rick looked over at her with curious eyes.
"What?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Never heard it put like that." He turned back to the road and seemed to further contemplate her words.
"Yeah. That may be true," Glenn finally said. "But I think she just wants to be in love, so she needs something to hold onto."
"It's pretty obvious to everyone Maggie loves you-" Rick replied.
"I've only been around you two a day and even I can tell," she added.
"So what's the problem?"
Glenn was quiet for a moment. "I didn't say it back," he finally admitted. "I just stood there like a jerk."
"This is a good thing," Rick said to him. "Something we don't get enough of these days. Enjoy it. And when we get back, return the favor. It's not like she's going anywhere."
Michonne turned back to face the windshield and as she stared at the wasted and the wasteland, she wondered if maybe Glenn's apprehension weren't fully misplaced. With the way the world was now, love seemed like more of a risk than ever before.
They reached town a few minutes later and found Hershel breaking his sobriety at Hatlins, the local bar.
In the end, finding Hershel was about the only good thing that happened that night.
After running into a group of unneighborly types, Glenn nearly getting shot, almost getting swarmed by a small herd, and saving a kid's life, they were back on the road and on their way to the farm with the young vagrant tied up in the back seat and in need of serious medical attention.
"He was blindfolded the whole way," Rick said to the group, of the kid they brought back, later the next morning as they all stood around the living room. "He's not a threat."
"Not a threat?" Shane retorted.
"They left him for dead. No one is looking."
Shane laughed. "I'm gonna go get him some flowers and candy."
Listening to Shane's buffoonery, Michonne gritted down on her teeth. "So you would have just left him?" she spat at him.
"Yeah. Because this ain't like before. In this world, you take care of your own and leave the rest."
"He's just a kid," Michonne replied.
"My God! Look at this folks- we back in fantasyland."
"You know we haven't even dealt with what you did at my barn yet," Hershel said, his face getting redder by the second. "Let me make this perfectly clear, once and for all- this is my farm. Now I wanted you gone, Rick talked me out of it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. So do us both a favor- keep your mouth shut," Hershel yelled.
The room fell silent. Shane huffed out a frustrated breath and stormed off.
"Look," Rick began, "we're not gonna do anything about it today. Let's just cool off."
Michonne spent the rest of the day in bed, hanging out with her favorite guy. Carl would pop his head in for a round of UNO or just to shoot the breeze and Hershel would come in every now and again asking how she was feeling. She was loath to admit it, but after all the running and walker killing they'd done in town, her leg hurt like hell. Thankfully, Herschel was a mind reader and came up to offer her pain pills shortly after they arrived home. Michonne accepted, but saved them for later, not wanting to sleep the rest of the day away.
That night for the first time, since she'd arrived at the farm, she ate dinner downstairs with the rest of the group. Though it was quiet and intensely awkward in the aftermath of Hershal's blowup on Shane, she savored the opportunity to observe the group.
Glenn, Maggie, Beth, and another young guy she hadn't met yet, sat at the 'kids' table with Carl and Andre. She couldn't help but smile as she watched Carl and Beth cut Andre's chicken into pieces, as he patiently waited in the high chair they'd found for him. She could practically see her son's mouth water at the sight of real food and her eyes watered a little thinking of all the nights he'd gone to bed on an empty stomach.
Her eyes slid over to Glenn and Maggie and she off-handedly wondered if he told her he loved her yet. But, by how far away from him she was sitting and the fact that they weren't making eye contact, she guessed against it.
Hershel sat at the head of the table. He ate his food gingerly, taking a moment after every bite to appreciate it. The same way her grandmother used to. She wondered if it was a trait of the wise, to savor all things, even down to a tiny insignificant bite. She wished she could do more of that, savoring moments, but it was hard to stop and smell the roses when you were constantly running for your life.
Patricia and Carol sat on either side of Hershel and in Michonne's mind, they held equal esteem. Both were quiet and often in the background doing the simple tasks relegated to the less physically skilled members of the group. She figured, in the life before, some people would call them weak. But out of all the people in the group, she saw strength in them the most. They were still able to wake up every day after they both lost what not only defined who they were—wife and mother—but also meant the most in the world to them.
She looked over at Lori, whose name she had most recently learned. She hadn't had much of a chance to talk to Lori, the member of the group who mystified Michonne the most. She couldn't get a read on her. Maybe it was because everyone else pretty much wore who they were on their sleeve—Daryl the loner, Carol the helper, Dale the Wise, T-Dog the strong—but Lori… who was she outside of Rick's wife and Carl's mother? She was an enigma to Michonne and if her resting worried face was anything to go by, it seemed there was way more going on there than was on the surface.
Then her eyes settled on Rick, who sat directly across from her. She was startled a little when she found him watching her, but she recognized the look on his face. It was a look he'd given her too many times to count, over the past few days. A look that silently asked, you okay?
She gave him a nod back, I'm alright, and went back to her food.
In the life before, Andre's favorite time of day was bathtime. The tub was his very own ocean and she just loved watching him snorkel and splash around making a mess she'd inevitably have to clean up later. That night, after dinner, she gave him a bath and once again found her eyes watering watching her baby boy enjoy life again. Because, at the end of the day she was only as full, healthy, and happy as Andre was.
When they walked back into their room, Maggie was waiting for them with a tube of baby lotion, and a set of fresh pajamas.
"They were my brother, Shaun's," she said handing over the sleep set.
Michonne remembered Shaun had been one of the walkers in the barn. So, she accepted the clothes and held onto maggie's hand. "Thank you."
"No problem. My mom was a little bit of a hoarder, so there are boxes and boxes of clothes his size in the Attic. Maybe tomorrow we can go through them?"
"That would be amazing."
Maggie reached over and pinched Andre's cheek. "You sleep tight sweet boy, okay? Night Michonne."
"Night, Maggie."
"Alright," Michonne laid Andre on the bed and grabbed the bottle of baby lotion from the bedside table, and began lotioning him up. She massaged his little arms and legs as a way to help lull him into slumber. "Let's do your ABCs."
"A. B. C. D…" she listened as he went on, correcting whenever he skipped over a letter every now and then. "W. X. Y. N. Z."
"No N at the end. Just Y. Z."
"Y. Z."
"Good job." She managed to get his pajamas on as he wiggled around on the bed. Then she pulled him into her arms while leaning back against the wall. Snuggled him tight.
"Okay, what story do you want tonight."
"I don't want a story." His voice was indignant like she should have known better than to ask that.
She smiled."No, why?"
"I want a song, mama."
"Oh. I think I can make that happen. What number on the jukebox?"
Andre placed his index finger on his chin and make a thinking face. "Hmmmmm… number 3."
"Tulo Tulo. Good pick." It was the song her mother sang to him before bed when she visited from Uganda. Michonne snuggled him closer and cleared her throat. It had been far too long since they'd been in a place where she could sing without the worry of the undead hearing. She feared her voice might be a bit rusty.
Tulo tulo kwata amwana, bwoto mukwate nga olimulogo ssebo wulila
She started the song off in her mother's native tongue, Luganda. Then switched over to English in the second verse.
Go to sleep my pretty baby, and dream sweetly through the night.
She repeated the two verses, alternating between the languages. She tried to capture the nuances of the way her mother used to sing it, but there was no way to replicate her soulful tribal tone. Her eyes slipped closed and she could almost hear her mother's voice singing in harmony with her own.
And then her mind wandered to her own mama. She'd been in constant contact with her, as the world began to end. They'd even made a plan for her to come to the States and ride the epidemic out with her, Mike, and Andre. But the day before her flight was set to depart, the United States closed its borders. A few days after that, communication was all but cut off. She wasn't naive enough to think her mother had made it, but there was still a part of her that wondered. And without a body to bury, how do you grieve? How do you squelch down hope, when you yourself have managed to stay alive?
Michonne looked down at Andre. His eyes were closed, but his lashes still fluttered a little. So she leaned down, her lips close to his ears, and sang it one more time. She let the last note ring out, her voice echoing through the quiet room.
"That was beautiful." She startled at the soft southern drawl that came from the man standing in the doorway. Rick stood watching her, the side of his mouth twerked up into a sort of half smile.
"Shit. You scared me."
He moved into the room. "Sorry. I was just checking on our prisoner before I went to bed. Wanted to check on you guys too." He reached down, motioning for her to hand him a sleeping Andre. "Here."
Michonne handed him over and watched as Rick lowered her son into the crib. Watched him pat Andre's back to soothe him to sleep again after the slight disruption of the transfer into the crib.
Her legs were stretched out on the bed. He sat down next to her feet. His eyes never left Andre. He was quiet for a long moment and she could feel he had something on his mind. So, she let her gaze wander over to Andre too.
"Lori's pregnant," he said into the silence.
Oh shit. So she'd been right. Lori did have a lot more than just the end of the world going on. Congratulations didn't quite seem appropriate, not in their situation. Unaware of what to say, she decided to keep quiet. She had a feeling there was more he needed to say.
"And I keep thinking about what you said. About what it takes to survive out there… you know, doing things you never thought you could, before. I get it. I do. And I could. Some people don't think I can."
She assumed one of the people he was referring to was Shane.
"To protect my family, I can… and I will. I just want, for as long as I can, to still be the man who goes out of his way to save a kid instead of leaving him for dead." He stared down at his lap, his shoulders slumped.
She criss-crossed her legs and leaned her arms on her knees. Played with the thread of the bed sheet and took a deep breath. She may not have been ready to say the words that came next, but she knew he needed to hear them.
"We were at a FEMA camp. It was Me, Andre, and his dad. His name was Mike. We'd been there for weeks. And it was just… depraved is the best word I can come up with to describe what it was like in there. Drugs and rape and… lawlessness. But we were safe from the Walkers, locked up in there, so we stayed. One night a woman died in her sleep and… well I'm sure you can guess what came next."
She thought about the screams, the children crying for help as they were being torn to shreds. That night, Mike had come to bed late, an hour before everything started. She could smell the weed on him, and knew it was much more than just that.
"Mike was high. Just completely fucked up. He could barely walk straight. The dead were all over. There was no way out." A tear slipped from her eye and trailed down her cheek. Rick was watching her, she could feel it, but she kept her eyes on the blanket, and continued to play with the thread.
"We made it up to the top floor of the building and found an empty room. Shut ourselves in there. But there were so many and they were gonna break the door down. I knew we only had minuets and it was way too high for us to climb out of the window. But I saw this little metal cabinet. It was the only place to hide in the room. And when I opened it, I realized there was only room enough for Andre and just one of us. I looked at Mike and he knew, too. He wanted it to be him. He said a boy needed his father. But I knew, if it were Mike who survived, Andre wouldn't make it either." More tears poured down her cheeks as she pictured Mike's face in those last moments. "So I did what I had to do."
"After that, I figured that was who I was now. Who I'd always be. And for a while it was… if you and Shane had come across me back then I wouldn't have hesitated. Anyone who I came across… I killed. Then one day Andre and I, were in a store scavenging and someone stole our car. It had all his baby food in it. All his clothes. All our shit. So, I followed the tracks to a house. I waited until it was dark and hid Andre in another house nearby. My plan was to go in, kill all of them, and get our stuff back. But when I got in there… I saw a mother and her two little girls and they were terrified of me. And rightfully so…"
She wiped her face and look up at Rick. His eyes were wet with unshed tears.
"And I made the choice to turn around and walk out of that house. That day, I realized that sometimes we're not given choices, but sometimes we are. And what keeps us who we are, from before, is choosing the right thing when given the opportunity. And having faith that in the end, the times we choose right will outweigh the times when we have no choice."
He nodded. Then placed his hand over hers. "Thank you," he whispered.
They stared at each other for a moment, neither aware of what to say but unable to break from the tension of the moment. Michonne looked away first; emotionally and physically spent, she needed out. Needed to lie down, close her eyes, and put it all away again. "I should get some rest."
"Yeah," Rick said quickly, scratching at the back of his neck. "Sorry to keep you up." He stood.
She let out a heavy breath and wiped her wet cheeks once more, for good measure. "Not complaining…" She reached for the pain pills and water. "It's just that today really did a number on me."
Rick looked down at her, his head tilted to the side like he was appraising her. "You didn't say anything."
"Because you worry too much." He squared his shoulder and crossed his arms.
"Really?"
"Yup." She threw the pills back into her mouth and guzzled the water.
"I do not."
Michonne slid under the covers. "Okay. If you say so," she said, noncommittal, before dismissing him with a "goodnight."
"Night, Michonne." He walked to the door, stopped, and hesitated before turning around with a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Hershel's been letting Carl help milk the cows in the mornings. Andre might find it fun. How about I come get him tomorrow morning so he can help out… then Carl and I can hang out with him the rest of the morning."
Michonne raised her eyebrows. "So I can sleep in?"
He lifted his hands in front of his chest, "it's not me worrying, I swear."
She didn't buy it. "Okay… that actually sounds really great and he'll love it. Thanks."
The week passed somewhat peacefully. The kid from town was still recovering and Rick made a plan to take him to the next city over, drop him off with some food rations and water, and let him fend for himself. After what his people had tried to do, there was no way for them to keep the kid at the farm. Fixing him up and giving him a second chance at life was as humane as it got. It was a choice, the right choice.
Over the next week, she spent her mornings either sitting on top of the RV watching over the farm, walking the perimeter killing any straggling walkers, or helping out around the farm. Her afternoons were spent in the kitchen, preparing meals with Patricia and the other ladies, and her nights were reserved for her favorite little guy.
With each new day, Hershel was trusting Rick more and more and subsequently giving him more responsibilities around the farm. So, every day, Rick would come to get Andre and take him and Carl along on whatever task he had to do that morning. One morning, Maggie decided to take the boys out for a riding lesson. Michonne had been invited, but her leg was almost all the way healed and she didn't want to tempt fate. But she watched from the porch as Carl galloped around the fenced-off area, while Rick, with Andre seated in front of him, trotted slowly.
Later that afternoon, Michonne stood in the kitchen chopping vegetables from Hershel's garden, when Lori walked in.
"Hey," Michonne said smiling at the other woman.
"Hi," Lori replied without even so much as a glance in Michonne's direction. Lori walked to the sink to wash her hands. It had taken Michonne a few days to notice that Lori didn't really see it for her. She figured the woman just had a lot on her mind and decided not to take it personally. Not until Michonne observed how Lori was with everyone else; cordial, friendly, and even kind.
So, Michonne had given her space, hoping whatever it was between them would just naturally resolve itself. Clearly, it hadn't.
"Did you see Carl out there on that horse?" she asked, hoping to cajole a smile out of her. "He's a natural."
"I did." When she turned back around, Michonne observed her face; tight and unrelenting. Lori grabbed a cutting board and knife and began chopping vegetables.
"Andre had a blast. He talked about it for the rest of the morning."
Lori's eyebrows raised. "Andre and Rick seem to spend an awful lot of time together." And the way she said it, the distaste that dripped off of each word, gave Michonne pause.
"Yeah," Michonne said slowly. "I'm grateful. Andre needs good men in his life."
"Yeah, well Rick's got a lot going on. Riding horses with your kid is the last thing he should be doing right now."
Michonne narrowed her eyes. "I'm not pawning my kid off on your husband. He's the one who offers."
Lori sighed and dropped her knife. She rested her hands on the counter and blew out a heavy breath. "Look, I'm sorry… it's not you that I'm upset with." She looked up at Michonne. "Or Andre."
Michonne nodded. "Then what is it?" she asked carefully. She remembered what it was like to be pregnant. Remembered the mood swings and the irrational feeling the entire world was conspiring against you. Only in Lori's case, it was somewhat true.
She sighed. "Rick always does this. When things are difficult between us, he finds something to distract him. Before, it was work or fixing things around the house… anything that gives him an excuse to get away."
"And you think he's using Andre?"
"No. But I do think you and Andre came along just in time."
What? Did she think… "He's your husband. I would never…"
"Oh no. Honey I… I know. He's not that kind of man. But I know he talks to you, about things he should be talking to me about."
Michonne opened her mouth to refute, but she snapped it shut when she realized she couldn't, not truthfully anyway. Ever since that night when she'd told him about Mike, Rick had made a habit out of coming in to "check on" her and Andre before bed. She'd figured pretty quickly that "checking on" her and Andre was also an excuse for him to sit and talk to her.
Michonne dropped her knife and wipe her sticky hands on a dishcloth, giving herself extra time to compose her words. "The last thing I would ever want to do is get in the middle of your marriage. And I get why you'd feel that way… but, honestly, I just think Rick doesn't wanna worry you. What with the baby and everything."
"Thing is, him not talking to me worries me more than anything he could say."
Michonne nodded. "You should tell him that, Lori. Let him know how you feel."
She laughed. "You know how many times we've had that conversation? Me begging him to open up? At the end of the day, I'm just his nagging bitch of a wife." Lori sighed and glanced down at the cutting board. "But maybe... if it came from you?"
"No. No. I'm sorry. I don't feel comfortable getting involved. And honestly, it's none of my business."
"So I'm to believe the two of you don't ever talk about me?" she snapped.
Michonne thought back to their conversations. The only time Rick had ever mentioned Lori was when he'd told Michonne she was pregnant. So, she could confidently say, "no. We don't."
Lori stared at her for a moment, before smiling sadly. "You know, that should make me feel better… it doesn't."
As if on cue and like he knew his mama needed a way out, the sound of Andre's cries came from upstairs. "I better get up there. He gets moody after his naps." She wiped her hands again and hurried toward the stairs.
That night, as she was putting Andre in his crib, Rick appeared at their door with a smile. Like clockwork. "Hey," he drawled.
Michonne smiled back at him as she placed Andre into his crib.
"I was hoping to read him a story tonight." He held up a picture book. "Found it in the study."
"Sorry. He was down for the count as soon as he got out of the tub. Not surprised after the day he had." She settled him inside the crib and adjusted the blanket. "Thank you for taking him riding."
"Ah, thank Maggie. It was her idea."
"I did already. And now I'm thanking you."
"It was nothing. I enjoyed it." He waved his hand in Andre's direction. "He makes it more fun too."
Rick tossed the book on the dresser. He walked around and sat down in the chair on the other side of the bed, as was their routine. Michonne dropped down onto the bed, crisscrossed her legs, and watched him settle in.
Something on her face must have given away her apprehension, because when Rick caught sight of it, he asked, "What?"
God, how to even bring it up? "I was thinking… maybe you shouldn't come up at night anymore."
Rick raised his eyebrows and asked again, "what?"
"You know…" she said slowly. "Sometimes perception is reality." She studied his face, looking for any signs that he got where she was going with this. But the blank stare on his face told her otherwise.
She sighed and lifted her knees, hugging them to her chest. Okay, maybe she needed to put it plainly. "You're a married man Rick… and if people see you coming out of this room every night they might think…" Please don't make me say it, she thought.
He leaned forward in the chair, his handsome face twisted into a look of genuine concern. "Has someone said something to you?"
"No, but I just got here. These people don't really know me and I don't want them thinking something about me that's not true… And I wouldn't want Carl or Lori thinking something's going on that's not."
Rick nodded and dropped his head. "You're right. I'm sorry. I didn't even consider what it might look like."
"You have nothing to be sorry for. And I genuinely appreciate everything you've done for Andre and me."
Rick stood, placed his hand on his hips, and look down at her with a dejected look on his face. It looked like he might say something else, but all that came out was, "night."
She wanted to tell him to sit back down. Wanted him to know their nightly talks were what got her through the long, hard days. She relished having someone there again, that sounding board. But she'd just drawn the line in the sand and there was no taking it back.
Lori was right; Michonne wasn't Rick's person and Rick wasn't hers.
"Night," she replied, and then watched him walk out of the room and close the door. She flicked the lamp off and slid under the cover... "Shit."