Clear
Timestamp: Season 3 Episodes 10 - 12
7 AM
THE DAY BEFORE
Rick tilted the canister into the neck of the gas tank. He'd siphoned enough gas, from the stored vehicles they kept in the back lot of the prison, to get him and
Michonne to Columbia County and back.
He looked up and caught sight of Lori, standing watch on the guard tower. They hadn't talked since they'd arrived back at the prison from Woodbury. After throwing the canister into the trunk, he made his way over.
Hearing the watch room door open, she turned and grinned at him. "Morning."
"Hey," he said, moving to stand next to her in front of the railing. "You doing watch duty now?"
"Just covering for Glenn, he's helping Daryl get things together for the fence build."
"Right. Thanks for lending a hand, especially after everything."
Lori flinched. Shook her head."It was stupid. I shouldn't have been out there… If I hadn't, T-Dog would still be..."
Rick dropped his head at the thought of his friend. Losing people in horrific and unimaginable ways, on a regular basis, was the price of admission nowadays. But, it didn't get easier and T-Dog's death had hit harder than most. He tried his best not to put a percentage of the blame on Lori.
He sought for words to assuage her guilt, but nothing he came up with felt honest. Instead, he went with, "I'm sorry you had to go through that." Rick patted her arm.
An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and unsure of what to say next he said, "I should get going. I'll see you later."
When he made it to the door he heard her say, "so, you and Michonne are spending the night out there?"
Rick winced. "Yeah. We'll be back early in the morning."
He gave her a backward glance and found Lori nervously tapping her finger against the side of the gun, in her hand. "And you two are… together now?"
He paused, searching for the right words. "We're figuring it out."
He caught the twitch of her upper lip before she covered it with a smile. "Guess I saw it coming. Even back at the farm you were–"
He faced her fully. "I'd never cheat on you," he shot back firmly.
Lori deflated.
He'd unintentionally danced too close to the unspoken line they'd drawn in the sand; on one side were things they'd never speak of again.
"I didn't mean it that way," he said, softer. I just meant that nothing happened with Michonne before we–" He motioned between the two of them. "You and I… took our rings off."
"I know… and I'm happy for you."
He hadn't expected to have this conversation, ever, and he doubly hadn't expected her to say that. "Really?"
Lori gave him a small smile. "I'm trying to be."
"Where you going, mama?" Andre asked with wide eyes. He sat criss-cross on Michonne's lap. They were in their room, Michonne sitting on the twin-size bed they shared.
"Mama and Rick are going on a hunt, baby."
"For treasure?"
"Yup."
Her son lived in an upside-down world, which could be hard to rationalize for a four-year-old. She did her best to make it make sense for him. So, treasure hunting is how she explained scavenging to Andre.
She and the others also never referred to the dead as walkers when talking to Andre. She wanted him to be scared of them until he could fully understand what they were; scary monsters seemed most appropriate.
"And listen, mama and Rick aren't gonna be back until the morning, but I was
thinking maybe you could sleep in Carl's room tonight."
Andre pumped his fists in the air. "Yeah! Can I sleep on the top bunk bed?"
"You'll have to ask Carl that."
Andre climbed off of her lap and was about to run out of the room, but Michonne snatched him back and pulled him into her chest. "Give mama hugs and kisses first."
Andre appeased her, wrapping his arms around her neck, before placing a slobbery kiss on her cheek. Then he raced out of the room.
"Woah there." She heard Maggie's voice outside her curtain. "Slow down there bud."
Maggie stepped into the doorframe of her room and leaned against it. "Where's he off to so fast?"
"I just told him he gets to bunk with Carl tonight."
"Got it." She stepped into the room. "Can I sit?"
Michonne scooted over and gave her room, and noticed she had been holding something behind her back that Michonne couldn't see. She set it on the bed, behind her as she settled in. "Ya'll heading out soon?"
"Yeah, he's filling up the car."
Michonne watched Maggie stare at her hand, toying with the ring on her finger; Glenn had given it to her a couple of months ago.
Michonne all but screamed for joy, when Maggie had shown her the ring, remembering the conversation she and Rick had with Glenn after Maggie had told him she loved him. Glenn and Maggie were the epitome of young love and Michonne imagined the feeling was heightened to the nth degree in the world they lived in now.
She admired them though, for their ability to take the risk, even knowing how it could end. She was loathed to admit it, but the idea of her and Rick still scared the hell out of her.
"You okay," she finally asked Maggie.
Maggie sighed. "I need to apologize to you for the way I came at you about Lori."
"Maggie…"
"No. I need to say it… everything you've done… if you weren't here, we couldn't have done all this… and I don't want you to think I don't trust you. Because I do, more than almost anyone. I lashed out at you. You didn't deserve that."
Michonne placed her hand over Maggie's. "I appreciate it, but it's unnecessary. You go hard for the people you love… And I know Lori is one of those people."
"Yeah, but so are you."
"Maggie…" Michonne hugged her. "We're good."
"Okay. Good." They pulled apart and Maggie reached behind her back. She handed Michonne a brown paper bag. "Here."
"What- what's this?"
Maggie's eyes twinkled. Michonne watched her try, and fail, to suppress a laugh. "Just open it."
She unfolded the top of the bag and looked inside. She gasped, "oh my god," closing the bag right back up when she saw the pile of condoms.
She rolled her eyes over to look at Maggie. "Really?"
"Glenn and I have scavenged enough to last us years… thought we'd save you two the trouble."
"So everyone knows then."
"Yup. Pretty much."
"That's just… wonderful."
"Just go and have fun. You deserve this. We'll watch after 'Dre and Carl. And we'll get this place ready. Don't worry."
The two-hour drive to Columbia County quickly turned into three. Though they were going in the opposite direction of Woodbury, Rick worried The Governor might have scouts on all the major roads. So they traveled through the backwoods, clearing the road of abandoned vehicles every so often.
It was the last leg of the journey, and Michonne stared out the window. She hadn't left the prison in almost two months, for anything besides perimeter duty. But, even then, she only ever encountered a few walkers.
Being out in the wilderness again and watching the soulless bodies roam, she couldn't help but second guess the hope she'd built up over the past few months.
At home, every day she woke to what they were building; the sights, sounds, and smells of a life that hadn't seemed possible back at the FEMA camp.
Finally, it felt as if there was a finish line again and they weren't just aimlessly wandering the earth like the walkers. It had been easy to forget what the world was like beyond the gates.
On the other hand, she felt bad that a part of her longed to get away from the pressure and responsibility of everyone looking to her. Yeah, she had Rick by her side, but on the day-to-day, it was her who everyone came to. And when things went wrong, the blame fell squarely on her shoulders. She hadn't asked for it, to be put in charge and more and more, she wondered if maybe she was in over her head.
"We're ten minutes away," she heard Rick say quietly, from the driver's seat.
She rolled her head, against the headrest, toward him. "You feel ready?"
Rick stared at the road for a moment, then glanced at Michonne. "No," he said honestly.
"When was the last time you'd talked to them?"
"The day before I got shot. My mom called. She and dad were planning to come down for a visit. Dad wanted to take Carl and me for a fishing trip to Lanier. We'd do it every summer." He grinned at the remembrance of the memories.
"I bet Carl caught all the fish."
"He did. Me not so much."
"Yeah, I've seen you try to fish."
"That's not fair." He held up a finger, punctuating his point. "Spearfishing is a whole 'nother thing."
"I don't know… Daryl makes it look easy."
"Daryl is half caveman," he deadpanned.
Michonne's laughter filled the car. When she sobered and sighed, they fell into a companionable silence for a moment, before Rick picked back up where he left off. "Lori said they ended up coming down for a couple of weeks when I was in the coma. They helped her out with Carl and sat with me. She sent them back home, right before everything happened. She said she tried to reach out to them when everything kicked off. But you know how it was."
"Yeah, I do," she sighed, thinking of her mother.
He glanced at her again and as if reading her mind, asked, "what about your parents?"
"It was just my mom. My dad died when I was still a teenager… but, Mike and I tried to fly her out from Uganda when everything started, but they closed the borders right before. I tried for days, but I never heard back."
Rick reached over and took her hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of it.
"I just wish I knew, for sure," she said. "You know?"
"Yeah. I do."
Rick parked the car in the trees a mile away from the gates of the community. They sized down, just a gun and a knife each. The gates were still intact, which felt like a good sign to Michonne. She wasn't shocked, the community was tucked away far in the sticks, and she couldn't see many people going that far out of their way to scavenge and loot.
They climbed over the fence and surveyed the neighborhood; there were no walkers, none at all. And the street was eerily silent. She half expected to see some tumbleweed roll down the road. Rick glanced over at her, and gave her a look that told her he was thinking the same thing she was, what the hell is going on here?
Rick moved down the empty road."The house is down this way?" He unholstered his gun. "Keep your eyes open."
Michonne unsheathed her katana from its holder and held it at the ready, following behind him. She assessed the neighborhood as they walked through; the houses were all built colonial style, the lawns were overgrown but somehow still kempt, and cars sat in almost every driveway.
Rick stopped in front of the last house on the block. "This is it."
Michonne stepped up next to him.
"That's my dad's truck," he said of the candy apple red pickup. His face was set in a distant faraway look, as he peered at the house.
"I can… I can go in first. Clear the house and make sure… no one is in there."
When Rick didn't say anything, Michonne looked in his direction and saw glazed eyes and a helpless expression. "Rick?"
He peeked down at her, out of the corner of his eyes. "No. We do this together."
Michonne nodded. "Okay. But I go first." She walked toward the house, not giving him the chance to argue.
They cleared the house together. She held her breath, every time they opened a new door, but all they found was dust and cobwebs, and a couple of rodents.
His parent's room was on the top floor; it was the final room they cleared. Michonne reached for the knob and was about to turn it when Rick placed his hand on her arm. She glanced over her shoulder.
"I got it," he whispered.
"Rick…"
"I need to," he replied, the tone of his voice sounding low-pitched and slightly hoarse.
She stepped back and let him move into her spot; watched him take a deep breath, before pushing the door open with his gun raised. She followed after him, surveying the room. It was empty. She checked the bathroom and the closet. They were all empty.
Rick lowered his gun and dropped down onto the bed, wiping his hands over his face. He blew out a heavy breath. "God."
Michonne settled next to him on the bed and slid her hand over his thigh. "They could have gotten out."
"Yeah. Maybe." He looked around the room and fixed his eyes on the photos on the wall. "I'm just glad I didn't have to do it," he admitted.
Rick stood. "Let's get the guns and go." He went to the wall of photos. He, Carl, and Lori were in most of them, along with who she assumed were his parents.
He took the portraits down and removed the pictures from the frames. "We'll see if there's anything else we can take. The town has a fallout shelter, it was built during the Cold War. It's big enough for at least a hundred people. They built it under city hall…"
She set her katana down and moved to the wall of photos, began helping him.
"In the early 2000s, they turned it into an emergency bunker stocked with food and supplies for years. It's a small town and only the residents knew about it. There might still be some food left."
She stopped. "And people."
Rick's hands stopped too. He considered this a moment, like it hadn't crossed his mind until she'd mentioned it. He turned to look at her. "I don't know," he breathed.
"Maybe that's where all these people went. I mean it looks like everyone in the neighborhood got bussed out of here. All their cars are still here. And, they could still be there."
"You think... you think my parents could be there?"
"Let's get the guns and find out."
Michonne marveled at the sheer magnitude of his father's gun collection. The room was tucked away behind a bookshelf that doubled as a secret door. AK-47s, Rifles, pistols, revolvers, and shotguns were displayed on three walls.
Rick looked around the room, his hand on his hips. "He must have taken most of them with him, wherever they went."
"There were more?" she asked.
"Way more." At first glance, there had to be at least twenty or thirty.
"Michonne and Rick made quick work out of clearing out and loading up all the guns from his father's collection. An hour later they were on their way to city hall.
They walked through the abandoned town square and stopped at the sight of burned bodies, piled high in the center of the pavilion.
"What the hell?" Michonne whispered.
They kept moving and when they turned the corner, they stopped in their tracks. The street in front of city hall was blocked off by what looked like a life-sized mouse trap. Cars and tables, with sharp spears, lined the street. And from the blood on the end of the spears, she guessed more than one walker had been caught up in it. Spray painted on the crosswalk were the words, Turn around and live. A banner hung from telephone lines and it read, Just Listen.
Rick and Michonne took out their weapons and moved in between the traps, toward the city hall entrance. She appraised it all as they moved through; there was a bird cage with two bloodied pigeons flying around in it, and on the cars, the word clear was written. They heard a walker stumbling in behind them and she moved to go take care of it.
"Wait. She'll get caught." He said, his eyes on the rope that was in the walker's direct path. They watched the walker get caught in the rope and then a bullet sniped it in the head.
"Hands!" they heard a voice yell.
They both raised their hands and looked up at the roof of the city hall building. A figure, wearing a helmet, stood pointing a rifle in their direction.
"Now you drop what you got and go. Your guns, your shoes, and that sword. All of it. Ten… Nine…"
"Run for the car, I'll cover you." Rick said, keeping his eyes on the man.
"No. We need inside there. There have to be more guns where that one came from."
"Five… Four…"
"I think I can get up there," she whispered.
Rick chanced a glance over at Michonne and the split-second look he gave her said, do it.
Rick fired a shot up at the man and Michonne ducked as the man fired back. She ran to the building, and along the side, to the back. She heard the exchange of gunfire as she hightailed it up the stairwell that led to the roof.
When she got up there, the man was gone. She ran to the edge and looked down. Rick pointed his gun at her. "Where the hell is he?" she yelled.
Right as Rick stood, a bullet flew past his head. He lept to the ground and crawled to a large drum, ducking behind it for cover. The man was too close to the building and she couldn't see him. So, she turned around and ran back down the stairs. When she got to Rick, the man was on the ground, a hole in his middle, from where Rick must have shot him.
"You okay," he asked her, out of breath.
"I'm fine. You?"
"Yeah." He turned back to the man and squatted beside him. He pumped his fist against his chest, before ripping his button apart and revealing a bulletproof vest. The bullet sat lodged in the metal plate. "He's alive."
"Do we care?" she asked.
Rick removed his helmet and the ski mask he wore, revealing his face. Rick's expression was one of complete and total shock. "Yeah, we do."
Rick sat on a bottom bunk bed with his finger steepled under his chin and his elbows resting on his knees. He stared at his father who he'd just shot, where he lay with his hands tied up on the bed, across from Rick. Michonne had insisted on tying him up, as a safety measure. He didn't argue, not after what they'd seen.
They'd carried him into the city hall building and down into the bunker, bypassing booby traps he'd clearly caught others in, evidenced by the blood left on the set-up weapons. But what alarmed him most was the writing on the wall. Every wall was covered in words like; clear, Roman turned, sick after blood, you were supposed to, you had the knife you had the gun. And then there was a lot written on the wall that seemed like gibberish. The bunker was devoid of any others, his father seemed to be the only soul left in it.
After tying him up, they cleared the place; the kitchen and dining area, the communal bathroom, and the room full of bunk beds, which is where they were now. They found the storage closet was packed with boxes of MRE's and loads of guns.
He wiped at his wet eyes, watching his father. What the hell had happened to him? He felt the bed dip when Michonne sat next to him. She ran her hand down his back. He couldn't look at her.
"The axe, the spikes, the walls…" she said softly. It was a statement, but there was a question in it.
"He wasn't like this before." He met Michonne's eyes. "He seems–"
He wasn't able to finish his thought, before his father lunged at them, a knife in his hand. Rick pushed Michonne out of the way, but in the melee, the knife sliced across her arm.
"Ah!" she fell to the ground and crawled to her katana, which sat against the wall.
He kicked his boots into his father's chest and he fell to the ground. Rick stood above him, not wanting to hurt him any more than he already had. "Do you know who I am? Do you see who I am? Dad, it's me."
The man's eyes were wide and wild. "People wearing dead people's faces," he screamed.
"Dad, listen to me–"
"No. I don't know you!"
"You do know me."
"I don't!"
His father pushed off the ground and lunged at him, steering Rick back toward the bunker wall. Rick maneuvered his father around in time and got him against the wall. Tightened his hand around his father's wrist, the hand with the knife in it.
"Dad, it's me," he yelled in his face as his father struggled against his hold. "You know me." His eyes were almost Feral as he struggled against Rick.
His father managed to push him off and Rick stumbled back. His father jumped on top of him and tried to stab the knife into his heart. Rick grabbed his wrist with both hands and fought against it.
"Rick!" He heard Michonne yell before he saw her fist connect with his father's head. His father tumbled to the side, the knife flying away.
His father crawled and reached for the knife. Michonne grabbed his collar and dragged him against the wall, holding her sword to his neck.
"Michonne, no!" He yelled as he ambled up.
He watched his father look into her eyes, pleading. "Do it! Please. Kill me. Please!"
Michonne took a few steps back and the two of them watched his father break down into uncontrolled sobs.
Rick went to him and grabbed the collar of his shirt, trying to force him to look at his face. His father dodged the eye contact. "Dad, look at me. I'm your son. It's me… Dad, look at me."
His eyes reluctantly moved to Rick. Rick watched them dart around his face and then they narrowed, recognition seeping into his gaze.
"Richard?" he breathed.
"Yeah. It's me."
"But you were in a coma. They didn't think you were gonna make it."
"It's me. I made it."
"You're alive!" he cried. "Lori? Carl? You found them?"
He nodded.
"And did they- did they turn?"
"No. They didn't. They're alive."
His father nodded. "So then you didn't have to see that, then. Of course not." He chuckled. "Not like me. No." He laughed again. "Not like me. Not like with mom."
Dammit. Rick dropped his father's collar and sat down on his knees. "What— what happened to mom?"
His father's eyes fell. "Your brother and the girls came back home when everything started happening. Tori and Chelsea were so scared. We tried to get to Lori and Carl but it was too late. Everyone in town came here. And after a while, they locked the doors to the bunker. We were all in here together. With no way out…" He shook his head. "But someone had been bitten and they didn't tell anyone. They died in their sleep and that's when all the killing started. I tried to protect them but it all happened so fast. Then it was over and it was just me and Chelsea. I put them all down. But I couldn't find your mother." He closed his eyes. "While I was looking for her, I heard Chelsea screaming and I ran… I ran as fast as I could. Your mother was standing there right in front of Chelsea."
He watched his father stare into blank space, remembering. "And I had my gun up… but I froze. I knew I was supposed to… but I was frozen… and then your mother was on her. And I see red. I see red! Everything is red! Everything I see is red! And I do it! But it was too late!"
Michonne sat on top of one of the round tables, in the dining area of the bunker. Rick stood beside her wrapping up the cut on her arm.
Rick's father, whose name she learned was Deacon Grimes, sat at another table eating an MRE. The resemblance was uncanny. He was Rick but with wrinkles and gray wavy hair, and a gray beard. Same blue eyes. Same sharp features. She couldn't stop herself from staring.
He glanced up and caught her. "Sorry about that," he said quietly.
"I'll be alright," she replied, with a smile. "Where we are, it's a prison. With fences to keep them out. And more people. You can come back with us… you can heal."
He considered it for a moment and then dropped his eyes. "I don't know… I haven't been around people in a long time."
"You can take your time. We have cell blocks that are away…"
"And what about all the guns ya'll came for… why do you need the guns?"
Michonne looked at Rick. He finished with her arm and sat next to her. "We got into it with another group, but we're strong. We can handle it. We'd be even stronger if we had you with us."
" 'Cause if you've got something good, that just means there's someone who wants to take it," Deacon said. "And that's what's happening, right?"
Rick took Michonne's hand. She saw Deacon stare at their intertwined fingers. She figured he was registering what that meant in relation to Lori. He looked back up at his son.
"I don't know…"
"Mom wouldn't want this for you." His father's face fell. "And I'm not leaving here without you."
Deacon stood and walked toward the bunk beds. "Well, it's too late to go now. Now isn't it? Might as well hit the hay first."
They'd found an empty room, big enough for them to stack a few mattresses on the ground. Rick wanted to give his father privacy, and more to the point, he still had plans for his and Michonne's night. He was reeling from seeing his father again, alive, but that didn't stave off the need that had been steadily rising since he and Michonne had kissed.
He was spreading the sheets and blankets when Michonne opened the door. "Hey," she said, walking in. "It's locked up tight. We should be good." She moved to the other side of the mattress and tucked the sheets under.
"How is he?"
"Sleeping now. He even let me look at his bruise."
"How's it look?"
"Good. Should be healed in a few days."
He nodded. "Thanks." Then he sat on the edge of the bed. "Crazy day," he said, taking his boots off.
She moved around to stand in between his legs, placed her hand on either side of his face, and tilted it up.
"Rick, I'm sorry… about your mom… your family," she said, cradling his face in her hands.
He pressed his cheek into the palm of her hand, closing his eyes to savor the warmth of her touch. He couldn't quantify how he was feeling. He'd just lost a lot and in the same breath gained something of great importance to him. All he really knew was he was thankful Michonne had been there.
Staring up at her face, he saw the woman who'd been his firm foundation since the moment she'd arrived in his life. The woman who he'd shown every part of himself. And she'd accepted it all without recrimination. Michonne had proven to him over the past year what it meant to have a partner, and more importantly, what it meant to be a partner.
Looking into her face, he remembered the words she'd spoken to Glenn. 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.
It was that simple.
He ran his hands up the sides of her hips and rested them on her waist. Opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He swallowed and then tried again. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper when he said, "I love you."
Michonne's mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. She took in a sharp breath. Lowered her face until they were only inches apart. "I love you too," she replied, her voice breaking at the end.
His heart pounded against his chest. His head felt light. The world was a little hazy. His view was a bit blurry. And time stood still for a moment as they watched each other, the words settling in the air.
She closed the space between them, latching their lips. They kissed slowly, each hoping to convey the words they'd just spoken, through their actions. It was sweet at first, but it didn't take long for it to become something more demanding.
Rick slid his hands around to her back, and they made their way under her tank top and onto her smooth skin, which felt hot under his touch. All Rick wanted was more; More skin to touch and more of her on him.
He pushed her tank top up and over her head and threw it to the side. Trailed his hands up her tight middle and felt her stomach ripple at his touch as his fingers made their way between her breast. Wanting to see all of her, he slipped his hand under the strap on one side and watched it fall away before going to the other side to do the same.
When the other side fell, her breasts dropped out in front of him and she pulled the bra down the rest of the way.
He smiled, staring up at this part of her he was seeing for the first time.
"What?" She asked.
His eyes begrudgingly peeled away from her breast and went to her face. "You're just so beautiful."
Rick stood and went behind her. He unclasped her bra and threw it to the side too. Placed his hands over her breast and pulled her ass into his hardness. Kissed her neck. She let out a soft moan when he sucked at her ear.
He easily flipped her around and lowered her onto the bed. Ripped open his button-down and threw it to the side. Lowered down and peppered her toned stomach with soft kisses working his way back up to her chest.
He took one of her plump breasts into his mouth and his cock jerked against the restraint of his jeans when she moaned louder as he sucked it. He stayed there a while, giving equal time to both. As he worked, she slid her fingers through his hair, her body writhing under the pressure.
He looked up and smiled at the face she made; closed eyes and mouth open in a pleasure-induced stupor. He got distracted by her lips. God, those lips. He needed some more.
He released the breast he'd been sucking and traveled the short distance up to her lips. Her hands found his face and held it in place. His hands were splayed out on either side of her head when he greedily took her lips and seized her mouth, his tongue searching for hers. He felt his cock harden even more as their bodies, scissored, rocked against each other.
He needed her hands on him. And as if she'd read his mind, Michonne reached down in between them and effortlessly delved her thin fingers past his belt and into his jeans.
"Oh shit," he breathed against her lip when her hand made contact with his cock.
She squeezed gently, before removing her hand. She rolled around so she was on top of him, and worked at unhooking his belt and then the buttons of his jeans. He helped her work his pants down and onto the ground. Once free, his cock bounced back against his stomach—rock-hard.
Michonne stood up and Rick watched her wiggle out of her own pants. He propped himself on his elbows, taking her in, head to toe. Her dazzling eyes, that smile, those soft and plump lips, that hourglass shape, those legs, and that ass. Damn, that ass was something else. How can someone be so goddamn beautiful?
She crawled back onto the bed. He kept propped up, watching as she took his length into her mouth. He slipped his eyes closed, and his head dropped back, at the sensation of her tongue on his tip. He gave himself over to her; let her have her way. He let himself feel every twist and lick, pleasure pulsing through his whole body.
But he wanted more. He needed more. "Come here," he whispered, pulling her up against his body until they were chest to chest. He allowed himself a single kiss, before rolling her onto her back.
He reached into the brown paper bag that sat among their things, on the ground next to the mattresses. Found a condom and ripped it open with his teeth, with more flourish than was necessary. He was satisfied when Michonne let out a hardy laugh at his antics.
After sliding it on, he lowered back over her and took a moment to admire her. "I love you," he whispered, hoping his words conveyed that this was so much more than a simple fuck to him. She was so much more. Then he slid into her.
Rick made love to Michonne and hoped their time together not only touched her heart but her soul too. And for a few hours, his upside-down world felt right once again.
7 AM
THAT DAY
Rick woke a few times that night, his ability to sleep through the night had been shot to hell after months in the wilderness. Even at the prison, behind fences and walls, he found himself startling awake when he'd hear the footsteps of someone coming or going or Daryl snoring loudly. And he'd wonder if he'd ever get a full night's rest again.
But that night, he didn't mind it. Every time his eyes opened, he was reminded that he wasn't alone in the bed. Michonne lay wrapped up in his embrace, her arm resting over his, as he spooned her. Their bodies tangled under the sheets.
When he woke for the final time, she was facing him, her fingers sliding through the waves of his hair. She studied his face. "Hey."
"Hey." He kissed her nose. When she pulled back and laughed a little, he asked, "What so funny?"
She shook her head. "Nothing… I just didn't realize you had rhythm like that."
His chest puffed out a bit. He pulled her closer, to himself. "Yeah? Guess there are still some things you don't know about me."
"Oh, I learned a lot last night… Richard." Her voice was sexy and seductive and he felt the need rising again.
Despite Rick's best efforts, Michonne refused to stay in bed a little longer. So, a few hours later, after going back for Deacon's truck they loaded the guns and food from the bunker into both cars, and then they were on the road back to the prison. Deacon drove behind them. Rick could tell his father was still quite leery, the once jovial full of life man, was now a mere shell of his former self. He knew his father was grateful to have some alone time before being thrown into the group.
Rick and Michonne were both thoroughly sated and wrapped up in a haze of love. His hand rested on her thigh, the other steering the wheel. She absently ran her hand back and forth on his arm, as she stared out the window.
A prevailing thought had ping-ponged around his brain since they crawled out of the bed; how were they gonna keep this up? He had an idea but was almost certain Michonne wouldn't go for it. It was worth a shot, though.
"You think Andre would want to permanently move into Carl's room?" Rick inquired, with a dubious smile. "Think he might be old enough?"
Michonne turned her head slowly, "Riiiiick…" she drew out his name, her tone half amused and half reprimanding.
He shrugged. "I'm just asking."
Michonne shook her head. "I don't think I'm ready to leave him yet." She shot him an apologetic look and squeezed his arm. "Doesn't mean I can't visit you every now and then."
"Alright," Rick smirked. "I'll take what I can get." He turned back to the road.
The walkie-talkie squawked to life, from where it sat in the middle console, and then they heard static. They were close enough in range to receive but still far enough away for it to not be clear.
"Rick. Michonne. Come in!" yelled a muffled, frantic voice.
Michonne reached for the walkie. "Michonne and Rick here, go ahead."
Silence. Michonne waited a moment before pressing the buttons again to say into the radio, "Do you copy?"
They heard static and then, "They're here…"
The voice cut out.
Michonne looked at Rick, whose hand clenched the wheel. "You need… be careful… If you… you'll run…"
"Go again," Michonne said into the radio. "You're cutting out."
"They… shot…" The voice dropped out again.
Michonne sat up in her seat. They waited for the voice to come back over.
"Shit," Michonne yelled. She pressed the side buttons again and brought the radio to her lips. "What the fuck is going on!" She yelled. "Do you copy!?"
All they heard was static.
Rick pressed his foot against the pedal.
4 PM
THE DAY BEFORE
"So, we'll reinforce this with some metal from the yard. If anything happens, we'll just duck." Lori said to Tyreese. The two of them stood on the bridge between the cell blocks, lining up metal pallets in front of the fence. Daryl, who was following Michonne's plan, had given the two of them the task. The rest of the group was working on the first section of the fence, using the wood and supplies they'd scavenged days before.
"You think this will do anything?" Tyreese asked, wiping his sweaty face with the sleeve of his shirt.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "But it's better than nothing."
"Yeah."
Lori continued working, carrying the pallet with her only hand. She felt his eyes on her and when she turned he was watching her, with an inquisitive look. "What?" she asked.
"What'd you do before all this?"
"Me?" She threw the metal pallet against the fence. "I was a housewife."
"Wouldn't have guessed that."
She dropped her eyes, aware he wasn't trying to intentionally offend her, but unable to stave off the feeling nonetheless.
"I just meant, after what you did at Woodbury, the way you were… I would have guessed you were former military or law enforcement."
Lori snorted a laugh. "No. Just a housewife, and if you ask my son and husband they'd probably say I wasn't a very good one."
"Husband?" He looked at her bare hand. "I didn't know you were married."
"Oh. No. I'm not. Well, not anymore…"
He waited for her to continue.
She sighed and waved her hand in a dismissive manner. "Rick and I were married before all this and… it just didn't work out." She held her breath, waiting for him to inquire further.
His face was serious when he said, "I'm sorry."
"No need for that. It's been a while… we're friends now, I guess. We're both kinda moving on."
He nodded and smiled. "Good to know." Then he went back to work.
Well okay, then.
10 PM
THE DAY BEFORE
"I could use a vacation," Glenn said. He lay on his bed, inside his room, with Maggie prone on his chest.
The day had been grueling, building up the fence. They'd worked sun up to sun down on the first section. He'd never been a stranger to hard work; had gotten his first job at sixteen, as a cashier at a grocery store to help his parents make ends meet. He'd worked there until he'd moved to Atlanta to go to Georgia state, where he'd paid his way by delivering pizzas.
A year and a half ago, he'd been an aimless general studies major, unsure of what life had to offer him on the other side of all the sleepless nights studying, after sitting in on lectures he had no interest in.
Now, he was a husband. He was married to the love of his life, and a part of something bigger than himself. When the world had still been the world, he doubted he could have pulled a girl like Maggie. In the beginning, back at the farm, he figured she liked him because he was the last age-appropriate guy left on earth, as far as she could tell. Sometimes he still wondered what Maggie saw in him. But then he'd turn around and catch her staring at him with a dazed look and a smile on her face and he was reminded that even in this world, meant-to-be could still be a thing.
"Just for a weekend," Maggie replied. "Hey, if Rick and Michonne can…"
Glenn laughed, thinking about his friends, who had left earlier that day for their sexcapade masquerading as a supply run. Hey, he wasn't mad at it. He'd been with Rick since Atlanta, and if anyone deserved to get laid, it was that dude.
Even with the threat of Woodbury looming large in their minds, he still felt more hopeful than he had in a while. Their group was strong, strong enough to take on anything or anyone. They could build a life in the prison.
"It could be our anniversary know it's coming up, right?" he asked.
"It is?"
"One of these days."
"I was almost impressed," she said with a chuckle. "You ever been to Amicalola Falls? Tallest Waterfall in Georgia."
"Mm-mmm, that sound so good right now."
"My dad took me there when I was little. When we were up there, all the way at the top looking down, I felt like I was flying."
"Maybe we can take our kids one day." The words slipped out of his mouth before he could filter them.
She sat up, her face serious. "You want that?"
He propped himself up on his forearms, so their faces were level. "Yeah. We can have lives here. And I don't wanna be afraid of being alive."
"Me neither," Maggie whispered, before kissing him.
9 AM
THAT DAY
"Glenn said he wants to have kids?" Maggie said.
Lori turned to look at her, her eyebrows raised. They were standing on the concrete just outside of the prison entrance, sipping on cups of water and trying not to melt under the blazing Georgia sun. It was their designated break from building up the fence. Carol, Hershel, Daryl, Glenn, Tyreese, and Sasha were still at it. And behind them, Beth and Carl drew pictures, in chalk, on the concrete with Andre. It was a good day that could have been made better had she not been bothered about Rick taking his new girlfriend out on an overnight date.
"And what'd you say?" she asked.
"I didn't really say anything."
"Why? You don't want to? Or…"
Maggie sighed. "I don't know. I think I do. I just hadn't ever thought about it." Maggie's eyes were on Glenn, watching him carry a piece of wood on his shoulder. "I guess I don't feel ready."
"Honey. Trust me. You will never be ready. Not until that baby is pulled out of you. And even then, it takes a while to get there. I wasn't ready… either time."
Maggie looked over at her, an apology in her expression. "Lori, I'm sorry. I didn't even think…"
"It's okay, I'm good." She slid her arm around Maggie's shoulders. "If there were two people who I believed could do it, it's the two of you."
"Yeah well…" Maggie laughed to herself. "We're gonna run out of condoms at some point."
Lori laughed too."Oh my god."
"And the alternative is not–"
Maggie's words were cut off and It was as if everything happened in slow motion. Lori heard the gunshot first. Then she felt the blood splatter on her face. Then she saw Maggie's head flop back. Then she felt Maggie's lifeless body fall on top of her own, shielding her from the incoming bullets.
"Beth!" She could barely hear it, everything was muffled as if she were underwater. "Beth!" It sounded like Carl, her mind processed and then threw the information away. Because there were more important things to consider; like her sister lying on the ground, not moving, with a bullet in her head.
"Beth!" She felt someone pulling on her arm, that might have been Carl too. But her body was stiff and frozen in place. Her eyes were on her sister, whose body was being used for target practice.
Then Carl was in front of her face and she saw Andre, crying and covering his ears. He can't be out here. I can't let him be out here.
Beth grabbed Andre out of Carl's arms and ran for the prison entrance. She covered Andre's head and they dodge the bullets as they moved to the door. She heard Carl shooting behind them, covering them.
The three of them ran inside the cell blocks. She rocked Andre in her arms, trying to get him to stop crying. "It's okay, 'Dre," she soothed, even as tears flowed down her cheeks.
Carl grabbed two rifles from the bin in the common area. "You stay here with Andre."
"What- where are you going!?"
"My mom's still out there!" Carl yelled. Beth's mind flashed back to Maggie's body, which had been covering Lori. "The rest are too. I have to."
Beth nodded.
"Lock the door behind me." Carl looked at Andre and hesitated. "Keep him safe."
He ran off and Beth followed behind him, turning the key in the lock. She slid down the bar onto her butt and held Andre to her chest. His whimpering had grown softer, but he burrowed into her, his body trembling.
"It's gonna be okay, 'Dre," she said, with a shaky voice. "It's gonna be okay. Your momma's gonna come and…" Crap.
Her eyes lifted to the walkie-talkie sitting on the dining table. Rick and Michonne… what if they were close. What if they ran right into the Governor? She grabbed the radio and pressed the side buttons. "Rick. Michonne. Come in…"
"In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also…" Her dad's voice broke and a tear slid from his red eyes, down his face.
Beth clung to Lori, with no tears of her own left to cry. Her body was tapped out. She knew the rest were standing around the hole in the ground too, but everything around her felt like a mirage. Like Maggie was just going to get something inside the cell block and she'd run out and tell them it was just a sick joke.
She couldn't bring her eyes to look inside the hole. So, they went to Glenn who was across from her. He stood staring, despondent, into the hole.
Her dad placed his bible on the ground and picked up the shovel, dug into the mound of dirt. Then dropped the dirt into the hole where Maggie's body lay. The others took their shovels and joined in. She couldn't… so she turned and walked away.
Glenn sat on the steps of the cell block, staring at the spot next to him, where Maggie had always sat when they'd have these meetings. It was empty, just like his bed, just like his whole world was now.
The group was debating what to do next.
He looked at Michonne, who stood staring at the ground with her arms crossed. Heat rose up from within. She was supposed to be their leader. She made the decision for them. To stay back, like bitches, and wait for The Governor to attack. Maggie had trusted her and she led them into this…
"We're not leaving," he heard Rick say to the group.
"We can't stay here," Hershel replied.
"What if there's another sniper? The pallets won't stop one of the rounds," Sasha added.
And then Carol said, "we can't even go outside. And now we're sure he's got scouts on every road leading out of here."
"We ain't scared of that prick," Daryl replied.
Glenn's body shook with a rage that was building, he knew, from a place of grief. But, he couldn't tamper it, as much as he tried.
"It's not just him," Lori said from where she stood next to Carl, and the man he thought he heard someone say was Rick's father."
Everyone turned in her direction. "I should have said something before…" She looked at Daryl. "Merle is with them."
Daryl pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against. "What?"
"He's the one who killed T-Dog at that strip mall. The one who took me."
That was the last straw, Glenn couldn't hold it any longer. He stood. "You knew this whole fucking time and didn't tell anyone!" He charged in Lori's direction, but Rick cut him off. He would never hit a woman, it wasn't who he was, but he didn't feel like himself at that moment so he was grateful for the intervention.
"I thought it would make things worse." She was crying now. "… I'm sorry, Glenn. I'm so sorry."
"You know what, fuck you!" he spat in her direction. "And fuck this!" Glenn grabbed his gun from the table. "You guys sit around here and discuss it all you want. I'm going after that asshole myself."
"Glenn!" Rick placed his hand on his shoulder. "I can't let you do that."
He slapped Rick's arm away. "Get out of my way," he growled.
"You'll die if you go out there alone."
"You think I care anymore!?"
"We care. Okay? And Maggie wouldn't want this for you."
Glenn saw red at the mention of her name. He squared up to Rick. "You don't get to tell me anything about what Maggie would want." He turned back around to look at Michonne and then made a beeline for her. Both Daryl and Rick cut him off, standing between the two of them.
"Look at me!" He yelled at her.
"Glenn!" Rick warned, pushing him away.
Michonne raised her eyes, he saw fresh tears at the surface, but it didn't derail his anger. "This is on you. Guys like him, you end them. You know that. But you wanted to play it safe. You decided for us all. You're the reason Maggie's dead."
A tear slid down her cheek. Michonne opened her mouth to speak but snapped it shut. She walked away.
"Glenn, come on now," Rick said, getting in his face. Glenn could see the other man getting angry himself. "I know you're hurting, but–"
He turned away from Rick and moved to walk out of the cell block, but Hershel cut him off. "Hershel, please. I don't wanna…do this with you."
"Son. Think this through clearly. T-Dog lost his life to those people. Lori almost did too. And my daughter… We can't risk losing anyone else. I can't lose you too. This rage is gonna get you killed." Hershel placed his hand on Glenn's shoulder. "We'll square this… you have my word we will. But this is not the way."
Glenn stared at Hershel's face. What stopped him wasn't the man's words, it was Maggie. He saw her in the older man's eyes. Thought about what she would say if she saw or heard him at that moment.
"Fine." Glenn moved out of Hershel's hold and stormed away, up the stairs, to one of the empty cells. He couldn't go back to their room.
As he was walking away he heard Hershel say, "Rick, you know I respect the hell out of you and Michonne. We all decided together to follow her lead. And the decision she made may have been right at the time. But Glenn's right about one thing, we can't just sit on our hands anymore. So the two of you need to come up with a plan to take this Governor down or we need to leave."
Rick found Michonne standing in front of Maggie's grave. The helplessness he felt after what they'd just lost intermingled with the rage he felt for the man who'd taken yet another member of their family. Then there was the part of him that had wanted to lay Glenn out after what he'd said to Michonne. But he knew where it had been coming from. Even though she did too, he could tell she was starting to believe some of it.
"You shouldn't be out here," he said, carefully.
She was quiet. Kept her back to him. He moved closer and placed a soft hand on her shoulder.
She bristled but didn't pull away. "Please don't."
He kept his hand there, "baby…"
"No. This is not about me." She sniffed. "It can't be… I won't make this about me. Not right now." She wiped at her face and turned around. "T-Dog, Lori, and now Maggie-"
"It's not your fault when people die," he said, taking her shoulders in his hand and ducking down so they were face to face.
"But every single time, you knew what was right and you went along with what I wanted. Because what?... If it had been up to you. If I wasn't the one deciding… Lori would have never gone… and you'd have gone back and killed him."
"Michonne…"
She stepped out of his hold. "It can't be me. Whatever we do next… you decide. It shouldn't be me anymore."
She walked away, leaving him alone in front of Maggie's grave.