Beating Heart
Timestamp: Season 5 Episode 2 - 12
NOW
"Do you mind if I film our talk?" Rick vaguely heard the woman, Deanna, say.
He didn't answer right away. He was too busy staring out her window at the poorly conceptualized perimeter wall. Off the top of his head, he could see about ten different ways to breach it.
"Rick?" Deanna asked, from where she stood behind the couch. "Do you mind?"
"What?" He turned but stayed by the window, still not sure of how to position himself in an actual living room. Let alone one that had frills. Frills. Fucking frills.
There were pictures of Deanna and her family on the walls, candles, and decorative pillows. The house was a mausoleum of a life that simply didn't exist any longer.
"Do you mind if I film this?"
He noticed the camcorder next to her, and placed his hands on his hips, tilted his head to the side. "Why film this?"
"We're about transparency here."
He waved his hand in her direction. "Go ahead."
Deanna clicked on the camera and then walked around to sit on the couch. Motioned with her hand toward the armchair across from her. "Please."
Rick stepped away from the window but hesitated before sitting on her finely appointed sofa chair cushion. He couldn't remember when the last time he showered was, and he'd been wearing the same get-up for the past two weeks. He was aware he reeked of the remnants of sweat and walker's guts. His whole body was caked in a fine layer of dirt.
Rick lowered onto the edge of the cushion, surveying the path to the exit on the way down. He looked to the side; the windows were unlocked, another way out. Then swiveled back to a smiling Deanna who sat waiting patiently, with crossed legs, her hands resting on her knee.
"How long have you been out there?" she asked.
"Since the beginning."
"How did you find each other? Did you know each other before or…"
He shook his head, picturing the people he now called his family… and the one who should be there with them. He clenched his jaws, the emotion that had been grief just a couple of weeks ago, had materialized into a protectiveness that he knew bordered on something he should probably be diagnosed for.
But the thoughts wouldn't release their hold on him and echoed in the chambers of his mind, mostly at night when the world was quiet; I should have killed them all.
Rick had vowed to himself, sitting there holding his hand as he slipped away, that presented with the opportunity again, he wouldn't hesitate. Rick wondered if Deanna would be sitting there so carefree if she'd been an audience to his thoughts.
"No," he replied, remembering she'd asked him a question. "We didn't know each other before."
"I was a congressperson," she said, apropos of nothing. "Ohio, 15th district. You?"
"I don't think it matters anymore," he remarked, snidely.
Despite his thinly veiled displeasure, Deanna didn't waiver. "Oh, I know it does."
"What is this place?" Rick countered.
"This is the start of sustainability, that's what the brochures we found say. This was a planned community with its own solar grid, cisterns, and eco-based sewage filtration. Starting in the low eight hundred thousands." She laughed. "If there is such a thing. And they sold them all."
Rick slid his dirty hand over his dirty face, wiping away the frustration at having to further indulge in the conversation. "How'd you end up here?"
"Well, my family and I were trying to get back to Ohio so I could help my district manage the crisis. And…" she sighed. "The army stopped us on a back road and directed us here. They were supposed to come later. They didn't. But there were supplies here and we made the best of it."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "You put up the wall?"
"Well, there was this huge shopping mall being built nearby. And my husband Reg is a professor of architecture." She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. "And who he was, mattered. He got the first plates up with our sons. And after a few weeks, more people arrived and we had help. We had a community."
Rick leaned forward too, his voice low when he asked with raised eyebrows and an unbelieving note to the tone of his voice, "you've been behind these walls this entire time?"
"Yeah… and we need people who have lived out there. Your group is the first we've even considered taking in for a long time."
"You should keep your gates closed," he warned.
"Why?"
And the fact she even had to ask, was more of an answer than anything he could ever say.
Still, he replied, "because it's all about survival now. At any cost. People out there are always looking for an angle. Looking to play on your weakness. They measure you by what they can take from you. By how they can use you to live…"
THEN
Tyreese held Andre with one arm, and Lori's hand with the other, trying to soothe the looks of fear on both of their faces. Lori was the only one of the two who understood the magnitude of the danger they were in. Andre simply fretted over the darkness of the room they hid in.
Carl stood in front of the door with his pistol at the ready, Father Gabriel sat in the front corner with his fist clenched around his rosary as he prayed silently, and Eugene who looked scared out of his wits was tucked into the back corner.
Tyreese looked over to the couch where Deacon lay sleeping. His temperature had risen significantly in the past couple of hours since they'd found him lying on the ground outside the church, his leg cut off, eaten by the vultures they'd encountered earlier that day.
Maybe Rick had been right. Maybe they should have gone back to kill them all. He hadn't been vocal when the group had gone against Rick at that moment. Because he trusted the man's instincts too much, even despite their tumultuous beginning—he still regretted his misdirected violent rage toward the man, after Sasha's murder. And Rick had more than proven himself worthy of being followed.
But, he could not lie, he'd been relieved when they'd ultimately decided not to go back. Killing walkers was one thing, but the living—no matter how lowest of the lows they were—he still couldn't bring himself to find justification for killing.
His granddad, who'd spent most of his life as a pacifist, had been part of Martin Luther King Jr.'s outer circle. He'd instilled in Tyreese and Sasha the importance of nonviolence, as a way to govern themselves.
His granddad had told them countless stories of the marches, and of how he'd stayed side-by-side with Dr. King, even through the smoke of teargas. Together, they'd stood before Officers, with rifles, vigilantly staring them down, looking for even the slightest flicker of just cause. But they remained, heads held high, unshakeable peace.
He'd promised his granddad, on his deathbed, that he'd carry on the cause. And Tyreese never forgot what his granddad said in return, "Tye, my boy, one man can change the world."
So, he'd devoted his life to the perpetuation of peace, as an activist fighting on behalf of his brothers and sisters. And then the world stopped being the world and there wasn't race against race any longer, it was the living versus the dead. Or so they'd thought.
The circumstances weren't the same, but he still was; and though violence was a necessary evil now and he'd do what he needed to in order to protect his people, he couldn't bring himself to raise his gun to the back of another man's head. No matter how justified it was.
Lori was startled at the sound of the church doors opening. Tyreese tightened his grip on her hand. Listened to the footsteps.
"Well, I guess you know we're here." He recognized the voice—Gareth. "And we know you're here. And we're armed…"
The footsteps moved in closer to the room. "So there's really no point in hiding anymore. We've been watching you. We know who's here."
Lori looked up at him, her eyes filled with fear. He wanted to speak. He wanted to tell her that it was gonna be okay and that he'd never let anyone hurt her, but words weren't an option. So instead, he handed Andre to Lori and unholstered his gun. Walked a few steps to stand next to Carl.
Side by side, they held their guns up at the door.
"There's Deacon," Gareth yelled. "Unless you've put him out of his misery already. And Eugene. Tyreese. Lori. Carl… not sure what little guy's name is, but we know about him too."
It was quiet for a moment before he heard a floorboard creak. Tyreese wiped the sweat from his forehead, and adjusted his stance, as he prepared for what he might have to do.
"How about the Priest? Father, you help us wrap this up, we'll let you walk away from this. Just open the door and you can go."
Tyreese's eyes cut to Father Gabriel, who, to his surprise, didn't even flinch. Maybe it was fear that kept him crouched in his position or a quick calculation that added up to them being his best bet for surviving the night.
Then he heard the rattle of the doorknob.
Where the hell are they, he wondered, right before he heard two succinct gunshots, and then the sound of bodies dropping to the ground outside the door.
"Put your guns on the floor," Tyreese heard Rick say, in his low country twang, and his body relaxed an iota. But still, he held his stance, alongside Carl.
"Rick, we'll fire right into that office." There was panic in Gareth's voice. "So you lower your gun–"
Another shot and Gareth gave a blood-curdling cry.
"Put your guns on the floor and kneel," Rick said, his voice was even, but it dripped with a venomous edge.
Tyreese didn't have to look back at Deacon to know why.
Rick had been beside himself when Deacon had told them what Gareth and his group had done to him. He'd picked up his rifle and charged blindly into the forest. Some of the group had gone after him, but none had been able to squelch the rage, he'd been blinded by.
It had taken Michonne, holding his tear-stained face in front of her own, for him to see clearly again.
"Do what he says," Gareth yelled. "Martin, there's no choice here."
"Yeah there is," he heard from a voice he didn't recognize.
"Wanna bet," Abraham replied.
When Tyreese heard the chorus of guns being laid down on the floor, he moved to the door and cracked it open. He watched Rick walk in front of Gareth, who was on bended knee, his pistol trained at his head.
"No point in begging, right?" Gareth asked, holding onto his bloody hand, the fingers shot off.
"No," Rick ground out.
Tyreese couldn't see Rick's face, but even in just that one syllable he heard a mixture of a grief-fueled vengeance that was spine-chilling.
"Still, you could have killed us when you came in," Gareth argued, trying to reach Rick's humanity. "There had to be a reason for that… we used to help people. we save peop–"
Gareth's statement, and life, were both cut short when Rick released his machete from its holder, and in one fell swoop slashed into the center of Gareth's skull. And then proceeded to desecrate his body over and over again, until he was just pieces on the ground.
Abraham with his rifle, Michonne with her katana, and Rosita with her knife did the same to the other three. Tara and Glenn stood shell-shocked with their guns held up, quivering at the sight. And unable to be a witness to the massacre any longer, Tyreese retreated back into the room.
Carl, on the edge of the sofa in Gabriel's office, sat next to his grandfather. He knew the group was behind him. He could feel the heat of the other bodies in the small room, but he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed by the tears that ran recklessly down his face. He hated—hated—crying in front of people. But there was nothing he could do. Once he'd wipe a fresh tear away with the shoulder of his shirt, more would bubble over; it was an endless flow.
He latched onto his Pawpaw's burning hot hand and held it in between both of his.
His Pawpaw's head was drenched in sweat, and his lips were cracked and dry. His eyes were barely open.
"Remember the snapper?" Pawpaw croaked, his lip turned up at the corner.
"Yeah." Carl laughed as he wiped at his face again.
"Fucker broke my line…" He swallowed. "Wouldn't let up. Hard as I tried… to pull him out of that water. His will to live was… stronger than my will to… have him for dinner."
"Yeah."
"That's you, Carl. You're stronger than… whatever's out there… wanting to cut your time short…" Pawpaw tightened his grip on Carl's hand. It was only slightly, his strength wouldn't allow much more pressure, so Carl made up for it, tightening his own.
"You are gonna beat this world… Nana Rose would be so proud of you. I'm proud of you."
"I love you Pawpaw." Carl fell into his chest, needing to be held by him just one more time.
His Pawpaw's frail hands went around him. "I love you, Carl."
Rick watched Lori peel apart from the group and walk to Deacon and Carl. She rubbed their son's back before gently pulling him away from his grandfather.
She leaned down and kissed Deacon's forehead and whispered, "We'll always remember you, Deke," before walking Carl out.
The others, who'd already said their goodbyes, filed out of the room behind them. Michonne reached for Andre, who was napping in Rick's arms.
"No, don't," Deacon said, weakly. "Let him stay."
Michonne nodded and squeezed Rick's arm before leaving. Rick watched her go, suddenly unable to look at his father. The man he'd known his whole life as the epitome of strength, was so small lying underneath those covers. And it's not how he wanted to remember him… but he had to look. He had to. So he turned back and walked a few steps to get to the couch.
When he sat down on the edge, he rested his chin on the top of Andre's head, staring at the wall ahead of him.
At this point, he'd watched many people pass, and prided himself on being strong. Being able to get past it, but this one… his father? He didn't know if he'd be able to just push it aside, and because he knew himself, he dreaded being in that place where no one could reach him. He could feel himself sinking deeper as the clock that ticked down to his father's final moment sped up.
"Son," he heard his father whisper before taking his hand. "Look at me."
Rick's lips trembled when he dropped his gaze down to his father, who smiled up at him.
"Nightmares end…" Deacon said.
A drop of salty liquid made its way down Rick's cheek at the words his father used to say to him, more times than he could count, to get him to go back to sleep when he'd wake in a panic.
"They shouldn't end… who you are." His father fought hard for his next breath. His gaze dropped down to Andre. "Just look at him and… tell me the world isn't gonna change."
Then he reached up with his frail thumb and wiped at the wetness on Rick's face. And Rick crumbled under the sensation of his father's touch and he gave up the pretense of being strong.
"I never told you…" Deacon uttered. "I loved you enough… when you were growing up."
"Dad, it's–"
"Bullshit is what it is… I thought it… that it was your mom's job… and mine was to… to make you strong...I was wrong." Water slipped through his nearly closed lids. "Every chance you get… you tell Carl… and Andre… and that baby of yours."
"How'd you know?" Rick bleated.
His father smiled as much as he could. "She told me… they need to hear it from you. Okay?"
Rick nodded. "Yes sir," he said, his voice breaking.
"I love you, son."
Rick opened his mouth to speak but emotion clogged his vocal cords.
A second later, he tried again. "I love you… I love you, dad." He placed his hand on his father's chest. "Rest now."
Deacon covered Rick's hand with his own. Then Deacon closed his eyes the rest of the way and Rick watched, through blurry vision, as his father breathed his final breath.
Rick slipped his hand out from under his father's and reached for his knife, but a cool hand stopped him, taking it away. He looked up to find Michonne there.
They watched each other for a moment, no words needed. He nodded in response and released the knife to her.
"You step out," she said.
Rick took one last look at his father, before walking out of the room, and leaving the rest to her. Later, Rick and Michonne stood together, silently digging Deacon's grave.
NOW
"I've killed people.." Rick admitted to Deanna, watching to see how her face changed at the admission. But, to his surprise, she didn't even flinch.
So he went on. "I don't even know how many by now. But I know why they're all dead." She needed to know what special type of hell people were living, just beyond the gates of their cushy little town. "They're dead so my family, all those people out there, can be alive. So I could be alive for them."
Deanna smiled. "Sounds like I'd want to be part of your family."
He stared at her, baffled that despite his blatancy, she still wasn't getting what the hell he was trying to tell her.
She must have seen the bewilderment on his face, because her smile faded, and she looked down. "I've done things too."
There it is. There were no clean hands in this world, and anyone who tried to make you believe otherwise was who you really needed to watch out for. It's why they'd come up with the three questions as a way to test potential new community members at the prison; how many walkers have you killed, how many people, and why?
Rick dipped his head, prompting her to look him in the eyes. "What have you done?"
She swallowed, before saying, "I exiled three men who didn't work out… And we both know that's as good as killing them."
Goddammit, this woman has no clue. These people had no clue. Rick stood and went to the window, ready to cut bait… ready to take his family and run. Because the truth was, their chances were probably better out there than behind these walls with these delusional people.
But, he'd promised Michonne he'd give this place a try. "What do you want from us?" he asked.
She came to stand next to him, but he kept his eyes on the window, watching a couple who walked leisurely in the street.
"These families... these families should be able to raise their children in a safe environment. Your sons should have a place to grow up..."
His resolve weakened at the thought of Carl and Andre. He looked down at her.
"What do I want?" she continued. "I want you to help us survive. I know you can help us do that."
"How do you know that?"
"If I didn't win reelection, I was gonna be a professional poker player."
Rick scoffed and shook his head.
"I'm not kidding…" She looked down at her watch. "Rick, it's three thirty-seven. You're skeptical, you have a right to be. But it's time to decide… if it's you who's doing the deciding…"
THEN
Michonne took one step and then another, and every single time, she was convinced her body wouldn't be able to do it again. They'd been walking for three days.
Eugene had lied; he'd taken Abraham, Rosita, Tara, and Glenn on a wild goose chase forcing them to circle back to the church. And from the disgusted looks Abraham had been shooting at him since the group left Grady Memorial, she figured it'd be a long while before Abraham let that go.
They'd lost Deacon and Beth and the only good thing that had come from their time since leaving Terminus was Noah. She fancied herself a good judge of character, and right off the bat, she'd known he was one of them.
And after driving the five hundred miles to get to Noah's community, in Richmond, Virginia, scavenging gas and cars along the way, they'd found his home destroyed and Noah's family dead.
With no place to go, Michonne had convinced the group to still make the journey to D.C.
Eugene lied about a cure, but he thought of Washington for a reason. He did the math and realized that Washington was the place where there'd be a chance. And they needed a chance. Instead of just being out there. Instead of just making it.
Because right now, making it looked like fighting every second you were awake, just to lose sleep out of fear of what might happen if you closed your eyes. She knew what being out in the wilderness too long did to you, and she couldn't go back there.
So, they'd set off on the one-hundred-mile voyage from Richmond to D.C. And twenty miles into their journey, their cars had quit on them and they hadn't come across a viable one ever since.
Rick walked at the front of the group, but he'd turn back to check on her every couple of minutes. She'd give him a smile every time, hoping it would assuage whatever new fears that specific moment brought.
But as soon as he'd face forward again, she'd breathe out an exasperated breath and her hand would return to her back.
They'd been eating and drinking what they came across, and Daryl would duck into the forest, to hunt every few miles but the animals seemed to sense their desperation because, in the past forty-eight hours, they'd found nothing. Her body was feeling every bit of the deprivation.
Her eyes went to her son, who was in Abraham's arms at the moment. Some of the men of the group had taken it upon themselves to organize an unspoken schedule—half an hour rotations between Abraham, Daryl, Rick, Tyreese, and Glenn.
And not worrying about Andre gave her time to focus on all the shit her body was going through at the moment: nausea, overwhelming fatigue, aching breasts, and the stop-you-in-your-tracks cramps.
But what she worried about most was the dizziness. It had snuck up on her earlier in the day.
"Shit," Michonne whispered, stopping and wincing in pain as her pelvic muscles contracted, just as the little bit of bile in her stomach threatened to exit her body.
"Michonne," Tara said, jogging back to her. "What is it?"
Michonne placed her hand on Tara's shoulder, the other one was at her hip.
"Michonne…"
"I'm fine," she mumbled, even as her body tingled all over. Her vision was reduced to a tunnel and the concrete in front of her became a grayed-out blur.
"Oh god. Rick!" she heard Tara yell before the blur faded completely.
There was something wet on her forehead, Michonne felt it, right before she opened her eyes. She expected to be underneath the scorching blood-orange ball in the sky, but instead, what she laid her eyes on were the unfinished wooden panels of a… barn ceiling?
She didn't attempt to get up, no, she'd passed out enough times in the past few weeks to know nothing good came from trying to stand, right after her body gave out on her.
Michonne rolled her head to the side and confirmed her speculation: bales of hay were scattered carelessly in the open space, miscellaneous farm supplies were discarded throughout, and the stench of animal refuse still permeated the space.
She spotted Carl and Andre sitting on the ground, playing with cars, but there was no one else around.
She felt the wet thing again, and then she looked to the other side. Carol sat next to her pressing a drenched cloth to her head.
"Welcome back," she said, straight-faced. She rummaged through the bag at her side. "I used to work in the pre-natal unit as a candy striper in high school when I thought I wanted to be a nurse..."
Carol pulled out a weathered can of green beans and proceeded to cut it open with her knife. "I learned a thing or two. You passed out from low blood pressure, it happens when you don't eat enough…" She handed Michonne the opened can, with a pointed look. "And your body is working twice as hard as anyone else's…"
In response to Michonne's raised eyebrows, Carol clarified, "Rick told us."
Michonne hesitated, "I can't take that. That's all we have left."
"Rick and the others went out to find more food. And from the look on his face when he left, they're not coming back until they find something. Take it."
Michonne sat up and scooted back to the wall, so she was sitting next to Carol, then took the can and scarfed down the beans with her fingers. She didn't realize how ravenous she'd been until the first bean hit her tongue.
Michonne set the can down when she was done, and stared at Andre and Carl just as Carol did.
The two women, who'd once been friends, and able to talk for hours about nothing, now sat quietly next to each other. They were both unsure of what to say to the other, out of practice from weeks of avoidance.
"How'd you find the barn?" Michonne asked quietly.
"Daryl saw it while he was out hunting. We had to get you out of the heat, so we circled back."
Michonne nodded and the silence, which she'd classify as awkward, returned.
"Thank you," Carol said finally.
"For what?"
"For letting me come back."
Michonne turned to stare at Carol. "It was Rick who decided."
Carol smirked and gave her a look that said, come on. "If it was Rick, it was you."
"What you did for us at Terminus. And going after Beth, no matter how it turned out. You earned your place back with us… so it was you."
Carol stiffened. "I'm sorry, Michonne."
And she'd tried, she really had, to find forgiveness for Carol.
Lord knows she'd done things too, and maybe she was being a hypocrite, but it had been Sasha. And something in her just wouldn't allow her to let go of it.
"Save it for Tyreese," she bit out, before standing carefully.
Walking over to the boys, she felt a nagging sense of disappointment, in herself, for taking that petty shot at Carol.
After they'd left Grady, Carol had wanted to tell Tyreese, but for the good of the group, Rick had decided to keep it between the four people who knew.
The group arrived a few hours later, with a couple of rabbits and a few bottles filled with fresh water. They split it up between all thirteen of them. Michonne had been mystified, when each and every person volunteered a portion of their rations to her.
And as she ate, Michonne felt her body restoring but wondered how much longer they could sustain their meager living conditions before it decided that it had had enough.
The worn group, savoring the last few moments of rest before they'd inevitably have to get up and continue the rest of their forty-mile trek, lazed around the barn the next morning.
After the night they'd had—a storm pushing through the area nearly ripping the doors off of the barn—morale was at an all-time low.
"Hey everyone," Michonne heard Lori say, walking into the barn with a strange man behind her. "This is Aaron."
Tyreese brought up the rear.
The group stood in unison, guns cocking as they aimed at Aaron. Daryl rushed past them, to the front doors, and scanned the outside perimeter. Michonne turned around to secure Andre, but Carl was already holding him.
"We met him outside. He's by himself," Lori said quickly, seemingly aware that it could all go left at any moment.
Daryl moved in behind the man and patted him down, rather aggressively.
"We took his weapons and his gear," Lori added.
Aaron had not one speck of dirt on his body, and his hair was styled neatly. After appraising him from head to toe, she was left wondering how he kept his khakis so clean. On the surface, he looked as harmless as the guys who used to come by her house every week to tell her family about Jesus.
"Hi," Aaron said, his eyes scanning over the group, and widening ever so slightly upon what he found. Rightfully so, considering what they must have collectively looked like.
But it wasn't until Aaron zeroed in on Rick, who stood directly across from him, that he took a tiny step back. She couldn't blame the man. Had she not known Rick, and encountered him out there looking the way he looked now, she'd probably have turned and walked the other way.
Aaron steeled himself and stepped forward, with his hand extended to Rick. "Nice to meet–" He didn't get far, the group closed in on him and he stepped back.
Rick looked at Lori. "You said he had a gun?"
She turned to Tyreese, who walked over to Rick and handed him the piece.
Rick checked the chamber, before sliding the gun back behind his belt—yeah, Aaron was not getting that back.
"There something you need?" Rick asked, snappishly.
"He has a camp nearby," Tyreese replied. "He wants us to… audition for membership."
Michonne groaned, on the inside.
Aaron must have heard how terrible it sounded too, because he quickly added, "I wish there was another word." Then laughed. "Audition makes it sound like we're some kind of a dance troupe. That's only on Fridays…" He looked around with a smile but was greeted by the serious faces of her group, his attempt at lightening the mood falling flat.
Aaron cleared his throat. "Um, and it's not a camp. It's a community. I think you all would make valuable additions. But it's not my call. My job is to convince you all to follow me back home."
Michonne was standing behind Rick, and couldn't see his face, but she watched his body tense and his weight shift from one leg to the other. His hand went to rest on his gun.
God, Aaron had unknowingly hit on every single one of her husband's trigger words.
"If I were you, I wouldn't go either. Not until I knew exactly what I was getting into." Aaron then asked Tyreese, "can you hand Rick my pack?"
Tyreese hesitated but walked the backpack over to Rick.
"Front pocket, there's an envelope," Aaron instructed.
Rick dropped down onto a knee and reached into the backpack.
"I apologize in advance for the picture quality," Aaron said. "We just found an old camera store last–"
"Nobody gives a shit," Daryl cut him off.
Aaron turned around and must have decided upon getting a better look at Daryl that his best course of action would be to agree."You're absolutely, one hundred percent right," he replied, congenially.
Rick took the photos out of the envelope and flipped through them one by one, his every move a pronunciation of his skepticism. He then stood, and handed them to Michonne with a look that said, what do you think?
She studied the first one, which was of a wall, held up by steel beams.
"Nothing I say about our community will matter unless you know you'll be safe. If you join us, you will be," she heard Aaron say. "Each panel in that wall is a 15-foot-high, 12-foot-wide slab of solid steel framed by cold-rolled steel beams and square tubing..."
Michonne flipped through each photo, too eager for the next, to stay on any one too long. Each photo presented something new for her to salivate over—rows of houses, a pond and gazebo at the center of the town square, and solar panels.
"Nothing alive or dead gets through that without our say-so. Like I said, security is obviously important. In fact, there's only one resource more critical to our community's survival. The people. Together we're strong. You can make us even stronger…"
"Michonne," Rick whispered.
She tore her eyes away from the pictures. Rick watched her with raised brows and a questioning gaze.
She shrugged and teetered her head from side to side. She wasn't one hundred percent sold on Aaron, but if this place truly existed, it could change everything for them. They could hear him out, they owed it to themselves.
Satisfied, Rick nodded and turned back to Aaron who was still steadily talking.
"Our community was first construc…"
Before Aaron could finish his statement, Rick had charged forward and knocked him clean out.
Michonne pursed her lips and tilted her head at Rick, as he walked back to her like it was nothing. "Just so we're clear…" she said when he reached her. "That look wasn't a… let's attack that man look. It was a… he seems like an okay guy to me look."
Rick dismissed her words. "We gotta secure him." He turned to Tara. "Dump his pack. Let's see what this guy really is." He moved away from Michonne.
"Rick," she called.
But he didn't even hear her, as he moved about the room ordering the group. "Everyone else, we need eyes in every direction. They're coming for us. We might not know how or when, but they are."
The group jumped into action.
Daryl and Carol tied Aaron up. Rosita secured the door. Abraham, Tyreese, Eugene, and Glenn posted up at the windows. And Carl carried Andre to the back of the barn, finding a hiding spot for them.
Michonne just stood there, staring at the passed-out man on the ground.
Rick could have very well been right, but her gut was telling her he wasn't. It could have also been her desperation disguising itself as her intuition, but either way, they had to know.
"Me and Tyreese didn't see him," Lori explained to Rick, from where she sat next to Aaron's head. "If he wanted to hurt us, he could have."
Rick gave her the brush-off. "Anyone see anything?" He wasn't hearing it, from anybody. He knew what he knew, and he was sure about it. And what he knew was that no one could be trusted.
"Just a lot of places to hide," Glenn answered, from one of the windows.
"Alright, keep looking." Rick made his way over to Tara, who was sifting through Aaron's bag. "What did you find?"
"Just this weird-looking gun."
Rick took it and he rolled his head in Aaron's direction, his lip twitching as he stared at him with a murderous glare.
Aaron groaned as his eyes opened. It took him a moment to reacquaint himself with his surroundings, but when his memory was jogged as to what had just happened, he laughed. "That's a hell of a right cross there, Rick."
"Sit him up," Rick ordered.
Michonne hurried to Aaron's other side and helped Lori get him off the ground.
"You're being cautious," Aaron said, rather goodnaturedly, for a guy who'd just been knocked out. "I completely understand."
"How many people are out there with you," Rick asked. He held up the flare gun. "You have this to signal your people, right? How many are out there?"
And yeah, it was a good question.
Michonne looked over at Aaron and caught his face tensing just a smidge before he checked it. "No matter what I say, you're not going to trust me…"
"Try me."
"One."
Rick scoffed.
"I knew you wouldn't believe me. If it's not words, if it's not pictures, what would it take to convince you that this is for real?"
Rick was an impenetrable stone wall, and it only took Aaron a few moments of staring at the man's unmoved face, for him to realize he was negotiating with the wrong person.
Aaron turned to Michonne. "What if I drove you to the community?"All of you. If we leave now, we'll get there by lunch."
"And you're parked a couple miles away, right?" Carol asked, from where she stood, just behind Rick.
"Yeah. We wanted to get the cars closer, but then the storm came, and blocked the road. We couldn't clear it."
"You've really thought this through," Rick jeered, but Aaron kept his eyes on Michonne.
"If I wanted to ambush you, I'd do it here. You know, light the barn on fire while you slept. Pick you off as you ran out the only exit… you can trust me," he pleaded.
Rick knew what he knew, he was certain of it, but she wasn't.
Michonne looked up at her husband. "We're checking it out," she said firmly.
He dipped his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. "There aren't any cars," he replied, his voice strained.
"There's only one way to find out."
Rick placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head up to the dark cobwebbed corner of the wall, then looked down at her out of the corners of his eyes. "We don't need to find out." His voice was somehow soft and hard at the same time.
"We do," she hissed before she could check her tone. The words, the way she'd said them, tasted nasty on her tongue.
And suddenly, she was aware that the entire group was an audience to their back and forth, watching as if spectators at a tennis match.
And she didn't like it.
She took a few steps to get to Rick, he watched her through hooded eyes.
When Michonne made it to him, she could feel the heat wafting off his body. She placed a soft hand on his hard chest, trying her best to diffuse the growing tension between them.
He looked down and dropped his arms from his waist. She felt his body relax, under her touch. "You're sure," she whispered. "But I'm not."
He met her eyes and when he spoke again, the aggravation in his tone had faded. "It's dangerous," he cautioned.
"So is passing up a place where we can live. Where Carl and Andre can live. And..." She closed the space between them. "I can't be out here anymore, Rick."
He watched her for a moment before nodding. "But you're not going. I can't have that… so I'll go."
"Then I will too," Tyreese said. And so did Abraham, Rosita, and Glenn. The rest stayed behind with Aaron.
As convinced as she'd been that she was making the right call, it didn't stop her from waiting by the window, until they arrived back. She was only able to release her held breath when they walked back through the barn doors and reported that they'd found exactly what Aaron had described.
The group agreed to go with Aaron and check out his community. Rick had agreed too, but when he stormed out of the barn shortly after they made the decision, she followed after him, still unsettled by their stand-off from earlier.
She found him checking the nooks and crannies of Aaron's car.
Hearing her footsteps as she approached, he turned around. "I'm thinking Tyreese, me, and Glenn drive with that guy. You, Carl, and Andre are safer in the van."
She observed him, through narrowed eyes.
"You okay?" Rick asked.
"Are you just trying to get this guy to tell you where his camp is?" she replied plainly. A side effect of knowing him all too well was knowing when he might be bullshitting.
He stood and leaned one arm against the hood of the car, before he stated, "we're going."
"Whatever it takes to get there. Just as long as we get there."
He thought for a moment. "When we first came up on the fence outside of Terminus… I heard nothing. And when we were outside of Woodbury, it was the same. And sometime tonight, we'll be outside his camp's walls. And without seeing inside, I'm gonna have to decide whether to bring my family in…"
Her chest squeezed at the agony she heard in his voice.
"Aaron asked me before, what it would take for me to believe it was real.
Truth is… I'm not sure if anything could convince me to go in there. But I'm gonna see."
"Okay," she replied softly.
Rick studied her face a moment, then he sighed, and pushed off the car. "Come here." He placed his hands on her hips and gently tugged her body into his. Michonne let herself be pulled and her hands went around his neck and they held each other.
"I'm gonna see," he whispered.
NOW
"Both of 'em?" Rick asked Aaron, from where he stood next to him with Michonne, who held Andre in her arms. Carl was on her other side. They stood in front of two large homes.
The others were at Deanna's house waiting to be interviewed.
"At your disposal," Aaron replied. "Listen, I know you're still feeling us out, but I'm glad you came."
Rick stared at the houses and was baffled at how, just the day before, they didn't know how they were even gonna survive the night and now they had their pick of a home. Michonne fainting had put things into perspective and more than anything else, he was grateful she and their sons would have a roof over their heads.
But still, two things could be true, and his other truth… he was very much not ready to let his guard down.
"Thank you," Michonne said, leaning around him to smile at Aaron.
"Of course. Deanna asked everyone to give you all your space. So they aren't all coming at you at once. Take your time. Explore. You need anything, you call me."
They all turned to look at him, even Andre.
Aaron tried and failed to hide his laughter. "I don't– we don't have phones. I- I just meant. I'm four houses down."
He walked into the house, Rick scanned from the living room to the kitchen, quickly clearing it with his eyes, before he stepped inside, making way for his family to enter.
They moved through the rooms of the first floor, surveying every inch of the sparsely decorated space: a throw pillow here, an empty vase there. It was nothing compared to Deanna's house; apparently, it was up to them to fill their new home with whatever they could scavenge out there.
He saw a stack of empty photo frames in the entryway and realized he had not one photo with Michonne and Andre. Lori had relentlessly held onto the pictures she'd torn out of their family photo album back at the farm, making sure they were the first thing she grabbed anytime the group had been displaced.
Then he chided himself for the train of thought; these trivial things didn't matter anymore. And in fact, if you needed a photo to remember someone, that just meant they were gone, torn away from you by this savage world.
He turned like a well-trained dog hearing a whistle, at the sound of water pouring from the sink. Carl stood there, in awe.
And then he remembered that running water meant… a shower.
A few minutes later, Rick stood under the hot spray spewing from the shower head. His eyes were closed and he was lost in the feeling of the droplets rolling down his skin, taking the impurities—the dirt and blood from weeks on the road—with them as they made their way to the drain.
He wished it were just as easy to wash away the memories.
Rick stepped out of the water, dried off, and slipped the fresh pair of jeans he'd been given, over his hips.
In one of the bedrooms, there'd been stacks of jeans and t-shirts in all sizes; for men, women, and children. Enough for each of them to get their pick.
And in the bathrooms, on the counters, there'd been towels and all the toiletries they might have needed.
Rick looked up and did a double-take at the blurry image in the mirror. He wiped the fog away and grimaced at what it revealed.
Shit, he looked like a caveman.
He picked through the toiletries lined up on the counter and found a pair of scissors, and then proceeded to trim his beard, before lathering shaving cream on it and razoring the rest off.
Rick wiped his face down with a towel. He was examining his work when he heard, "hey, is there any floss in–"
When he turned, his wife stood mouth agape in the doorway. He heard her take in a sharp breath. While she appraised him, he gave her a once-over. Fresh from her own shower, she was dressed in jeans and a tank top, her dreadlocks tied back neatly. Michonne's freshly lotioned skin glowed and looked more vibrant than it had in a long while.
A dazzling smile spread across her face. "Huh. I've never- I've never seen your face like that."
He thought back to their early days together and worked out that since she'd met him he'd had a fairly consistent scruff.
He wondered offhandedly, what she thought, but didn't have to guess long. Michonne moved into the bathroom and shut the door. She made her way to him, and ran her hands up his bare chest, resting them on either side of his bare face.
"So damn sexy," she muttered.
He chuckled, before pressing his lips to hers, putting everything into it. Kissing her deeper than he'd been able to in weeks, out of fear of prying eyes.
Lost in the moment, he steered her against the bathroom counter, effortlessly picked her up by the hips, and set her on top of it. He nudged her legs apart and moved in between them.
"Wait," she asserted, out of breath, pulling away from him. "Other people are waiting on their turn. We can't do this now?" It was more of a question than a statement like she needed him to convince her to be a responsible adult.
He sighed deeply, and dropped his hands to her thighs, rubbing his hands up and down. "No… we can't." Rick gave her a peck on the lips. "You feeling okay?"
"Better than I have in a long while."
"That shower did you good, huh?"
"God yes… oh! And…" She hopped off the counter, reached down for the hem of her t-shirt, and lifted it halfway, revealing a small rounded belly. "Looks like someone's been growing. Didn't realize how much, until I looked in the mirror."
Rick stepped back, getting a better look. She turned to the side and showcased her belly.
His hands teepeed in front of his mouth as he appraised her blossoming figure. "That's- that's just…" No words seemed adequate enough to explain what it meant to him.
Rick moved back to her and set his hands on either side of her stomach. He couldn't look away from it. He'd noticed it forming, a few days ago, but cloaked by her shirt he couldn't be sure. Seeing her bare belly now, it finally felt real.
There was a baby in there, their baby.
She set her hands atop his. "I have a good feeling about this place."
He peeled his eyes away from her middle and looked up at her serious face. "Yeah, but, we should all stay together tonight still."
"Agreed. And I get playing it safe… we should. I just- I want this place to work."
"I know… so do–" A knock at the door interrupted. Rick kissed her forehead. "I'll get it."
He walked down the stairs and around the corner, cautiously. Through the glass of the front door, he saw a blond woman on the other side, holding a box filled with stuff. She sported a friendly smile that shifted into a look he couldn't read, as he got closer to the door.
As soon as he opened it, she said, "hey."
He gave her a nod.
"I work in the pantry," she continued. "Deanna asked me to bring these over for you and your friends." She held the box up and he took it.
Rick looked into it and saw everything from paper towels to canned food, and a toy he suspected was for Andre. "Thank you."
The woman nodded and then looked just over his shoulder. He looked too and saw Michonne walking toward them.
"Hey," the woman said, to Michonne.
"Hi." She held her hand out. "Michonne."
The woman took it. "Jessie. Nice to meet you. I just came over to drop this stuff off… but if you guys need anything, I'm four houses down. The one with the red door."
"We appreciate that," Rick said.
"Okay. Well, I'll see you guys around." She gave a little wave and turned to leave.
Michonne caught Rick's eyes and then called to a retreating Jessie, "do you guys have a doctor around here?"
Jessie did an about-face, her eyebrows scrunched together. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah… I'm- I'm pregnant. I'd just like to get a check-up."
"Oh," Jessie looked down at Michonne's stomach, then back up, between him and Michonne. "Yeah… actually, my husband Pete's the Doctor around here. He usually takes the afternoon off, but he's pretty much always on call. I don't think he'd mind if you stopped over."
"Are you sure?" Michonne asked.
"Yeah, we can walk over together now if you want."
Michonne checked with Rick.
"Okay," he replied. "Let me just go get a shirt on."
"I'll be fine. You should stay with the boys, I know they're gonna want to go explore. I'll fill you in when I get back."
He hesitated before saying, "alright."
Michonne sipped her glass of ice-cold lemonade, sitting on a stool at the island of Jessie's kitchen. The other woman sat next to her.
"Oh my god," she moaned as the cold drink trickled its way down her throat, chilling her body.
They'd arrived at the house, and ran into Jessie's son, Ron, who'd been heading out the door to go hang out with his friends. She'd made a mental note to tell Carl about the kid, who seemed like he could be a potential friend.
Ron informed his mom that his dad—Pete—had been called away to help a community member who cut themselves cooking and had been in need of stitches.
Jessie had offered her lemonade as they waited for her husband. Thirty minutes and three glasses later, Michonne still marveled at the sweet drink.
She heard Jessie laugh. "It's the little things right?"
"This is not a little thing. I haven't had a cold drink in… I don't even know how long."
Jessie held up her hands. "Hey. Trust me, I get it. When I first got here, I showered for an hour every day, for like a week straight."
"You were out there?" Michonne asked and immediately regretted her disbelieving tone when Jessie looked down at the counter. "I didn't mean it that way. I thought everyone who lived here had been here since the beginning."
"No. Don't worry about it. We weren't out there that long. Nothing like what you went through. We were lucky to have found this place so quickly."
"Man…" Michonne looked around the kitchen and back behind them into the living room. "The electricity, showers, lemonade… which, by the way…" Michonne held her finger up, taking a long theatrical gulp as she downed the rest.
Watching her, Jessie cackled.
Michonne laughed into her glass and then slammed it onto the counter.
And when the women sobered, Michonne rubbed her hands up her arms, hugging them to herself. "I just never thought I'd see it all again, you know?" she said.
Jessie was quiet for a moment, and took a sip of her water, before asking, "does it scare you? Bringing a child into all this?"
"Yeah," Michonne replied, honestly. "As wonderful as it is to be having a child. It scares the hell out of me too… there's a lot I can't control."
Jessie placed her hand over Michonnes. "Well, Pete's an incredible doctor. So that's one less thing to worry about. And anything else you need, I'm here. I know we're practically strangers, but you're kind of stuck with me."
"Thank you."
The front door opened and a tall man, carrying a medical kit, walked into the kitchen a few seconds later. Jessie hurried off the stool and made her way to him.
"Hey, honey."
He leaned down and kissed her, before turning his attention to Michonne.
"This is Michonne." She moved her hand in between them. "Michonne. Pete."
Michonne hopped off of the stool and walked over to the man, who held his hand out and said, "good to meet you." His smile was warm and inviting. "Everyone's buzzing about all the newcomers. Nice to officially meet one."
"Honey, you have time to give Michonne a check-up?"
"Yeah, let's go to my office."
When the new members of their community arrived, Jessie had observed them from her front window, in the safety of her home, as everyone else had.
Jessie wasn't one to judge a book by its cover, but it was apparent these people had been through hell. She and her family had only spent a week out in the wild, and she couldn't imagine what these people had had to do, in order to make it out there this long.
She hadn't been beyond the walls in two years, and in all the time since the world had become the place it was now, she could count on one hand how many of those things she'd killed.
Sitting in her kitchen with Michonne, she'd had to stop herself from asking the million and one questions that were swirling through her mind. She wanted to know what it was like to live out there now because as safe as they were in Alexandria, in the back of her mind she constantly worried that one day they might not be. Her biggest fear was having to live out there again.
Jessie found Michonne intimidating, and not just because of the katana. It was the way the woman carried herself like there was nothing in this world she couldn't go up against and come out the other side victorious. Michonne seemed fearless, something Jessie had strived her whole life to be.
But to her amazement, after only thirty minutes and a few glasses of lemonade, she discovered the woman had her own set of fears too.
Pete held her hand as the two of them walked next to Michonne, on their way to the infirmary. She looked up at him and smiled, for no reason at all, and he placed a kiss on her forehead sliding his arm around her shoulder.
They'd had a stretch of good days, which usually came after a rough night. She still felt a sting of pain, from his most recent relapse, when she lifted her arms to pull her shirt over her head in the mornings.
But it wasn't fair to him, for her to dwell on the bad when he was trying so hard to be the man she knew he could be.
Inside the infirmary, she stood on the other side of the bed, watching Pete hold a stethoscope to Michonne's back as he listened to her lungs.
"... and breathe out," he instructed in what she jokingly called his "Doctor voice".
Michonne pushed out her held breath.
Pete removed the stethoscope from his ears and slung it around his neck, before stepping back. He spread his legs apart and crossed his arms, hunching his shoulders. "Overall, you're in good health, but your blood pressure is a little low for my liking. It's most likely due to malnutrition. So it should fix itself as you get more consistent nutrition here." Michonne nodded, hanging on his every word.
Pete looked over at Jessie. "Talk to Deanna about getting her double rations for the duration of the pregnancy."
"That's not necessary," Michonne interjected.
"Don't worry," Jessie assured. "We have plenty. And our supply team does really good out there."
"Do you know how far along you are?" Pete asked.
"About twelve weeks… I think."
Jessie noticed Michonne's face hadn't relaxed since they'd walked into the infirmary. She understood her apprehension. Jessie's youngest had been premature and the stress of that alone had about done her in. She'd had a team of doctors, working on her behalf. But there was so much that could go wrong during a pregnancy, and just because Michonne was showing didn't mean everything was okay. Spending weeks out there not knowing must have been torture.
Pete continued his line of questioning. "Any spotting or bleeding?"
"No."
"Good… everything looks good. Once you're settled, we can sit down and discuss a plan… and if you'd like to, today we can check for a heartbeat."
"What?" Michonne breathed. "How?"
The women watched Pete walk over to the kitchen counter and open a drawer.
The "infirmary" was really just a bunch of twin-sized beds, and scavenged medical equipment arranged in the dining and living room area of one of the houses.
When they'd arrived in Alexandria, Pete had led the charge in getting it set up. But, he was pretty much a one-man operation. There was another woman there, Denise, who had medical training, but Pete decided early on that she was more a hindrance than a help.
Jessie didn't agree. Denise seemed intelligent, but she was someone who Pete deemed needed too much hand-holding. Denise didn't seem to mind much, being released from her duty.
Pete pulled out a tiny machine that was attached to what looked like a mini ultrasound wand and moved back over to the women. "This is a fetal doppler. The run team came across it at one of those motherhood stores, they brought it back just in case. It's an early detection device. It can pick up a heartbeat as early as eight weeks."
Michonne stared at the machine as if it were a ticking time bomb. Jessie could see the woman's heart trying to beat right out of her chest. So she stepped forward and placed a hand on Michonne's back. "But you don't have to today if you're not ready…"
"No. I want to. But I- my husband… I don't wanna do it without Rick."
"I'll go get him," Jessie offered.
Michonne nodded absently.
Rick and the rest of the group stepped out of the house together, everyone showered and changed, but they were still apprehensive about the place.
Carl held Andre's hand and the boys made their way down the front porch steps, in front of Rick, who shut the door behind them.
He spotted Daryl, sitting in the corner of the porch deck. He'd been the only one of the group who refused to clean up, and he'd groused about, ever since they'd stepped foot into the community.
Daryl looked and acted on the outside how Rick felt on the inside. After what they'd been through out there, this place was like playing make-believe.
"They said explore," Rick said to him. "Let's explore."
"Nah. I'll stay here," Daryl replied.
Rick watched him for a moment, and he wondered if it didn't just boil down to his friend not trusting the place. Daryl was good out there, and Rick sometimes thought that maybe he was more comfortable in this new world—with no labels and societal hang-ups—than he'd been in the old one. This place represented a life Daryl probably didn't wanna go back to. So, Rick let him off the hook. "All right… we'll be back."
Rick jogged down the steps and scanned the area for Andre and Carl, but couldn't immediately find them. He walked further up the street looking on either side, they were nowhere to be found.
His heart rate picked up just as his feet's speed did. And then he was sprinting down the center of the gravel street, his breathing labored as destructive thoughts rippled through his mind.
He made it to the end of the block and looked around, they weren't there. Then he cut through a makeshift alleyway, formed by the side of a house and the wall of the gate. He turned onto a new street, rotating around in circles, to get a three-sixty-degree view of his surroundings.
When he turned to face forward again, he ran right into a metal structure and the pieces broke apart. He tried to catch them, but they went crashing to the ground.
"Rick," he whirled around and saw Jessie running toward him from down the street. "You okay?"
"Have you seen Carl and Andre?" he asked out of breath, his voice shaking. "We were out- and they were ahead of me," he stuttered.
Jessie glanced down the street. "It's okay, I think I know where they are."
She took off and he jogged after her. Followed her as she turned a corner down yet another street.
They slowed when they spotted Andre and Carl on the porch of a house. Andre was sitting in the lap of an older woman as she handed him a piece of candy. Carl sat next to an older gentleman, with a glass of lemonade in his hand, and they chatted.
"That's Natalie and Bob Miller. They had five kids and twelve grandkids. Andre's the youngest kid anyone around here's seen in a long time… he's just gonna have to put up with being doted on."
Rick exhaled, calming his shaky body. For a split second, he'd forgotten this place was gated, forgotten there was not the threat of walkers at every turn, and that his son's being out of his eye-sight didn't mean they were in apparent danger.
"Thanks." He looked at the ground, and pinched at the bridge of his nose."I just, um…"
"It's okay. I get it."
He wasn't sure she did, not really. But, okay. "I should go get them. When Andre gets to talking, there's no stopping him."
She laughed. He only walked off a few steps, before he heard her say, "wait… I actually was looking for you. Michonne wanted me to come get you."
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah… just, come with me."
Rick hesitated, looking over at Carl and Andre.
"They'll be fine," she assured.
"Alright," he replied and followed behind her.
Rick watched the man he had been introduced to as Pete, just moments before, place the metal end of the ultrasound probe onto the green slime he'd squirted onto Michonne's lower abdomen.
Pete rubbed it around, before flipping the switch of the small machine on.
He watched Michonne lean her head back against the pillow and close her eyes.
As soon as he'd arrived, Pete had given him a rundown of Michonne's examination results.
Everything appeared to be okay, but hearing the words wasn't good enough for them, at this point. They both craved some sort of tangible confirmation.
Rick laced his fingers through hers and she rolled her head toward him. He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
"Alright." Pete moved the wand around, as they listened to the static of the machine. "I'm just looking for the baby's heartbeat right now." He looked up at them. "Don't worry, if it takes a minute or two. And don't be alarmed if we can't find anything today. The baby is still very small so it might just be hiding in there."
Michonne and Rick waited, watching with bated breath as Pete moved the probe around her stomach.
Then the static turned into a steady whooshing. Rick's eyes flashed up at Pete. Was that…
"That's mom's heartbeat," Pete said absently, his eyes focused on her belly. "The baby's heart rate is gonna be a little faster." He pressed the probe deeper into her abdomen and moved it away from that spot, and they heard static again.
Pete slid the probe to the side and stopped. There was no mistaking the fast and faint pitter-patter they heard. Pete pushed down even more and the sound rang loud and clear through the tiny machine. "There it is," he said, beaming up at them. "That's your baby's heartbeat."
Rick's face burned as his throat tightened. His eyes connected with Michonnes. She was already far gone, thick tears rolled down her face and made a puddle on her chest.
He heard Jessie sniff, from where she stood at the head of the bed.
And for a few minutes, they all stood in awe, listening to the beautiful sound of Rick and Michonne's baby.
All this time, not seeing or being able to feel their child, he'd just taken it on faith that the baby was alive in there. But now, he had proof positive, and after everything Michonne had been through in the past month, it was safe to say that she was their little miracle baby.
That night, the group spread out in the living and dining room. Rick and Michonne were setting up blankets in the corner of the room designated for them when a knock sounded at the front door.
Everyone looked around at each other, their hands instinctively going to their guns. Rick went and opened it.
He found Deanna standing on the other side with a smile.
"Rick I…" Her eyes caught on his clean-shaven face. "Wow!"
He groaned.
"I didn't know what was under there. Listen, I don't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to stop by and see how you were all settling in…" Her words faded at the end as she scanned the room. "Oh my. Staying together. Smart."
"No one said we couldn't."
"You said you're a family. That's what you said." She shook her head. "It's absolutely amazing to me how people with completely different backgrounds and nothing in common can become that. Don't you think?"
"Everybody said you gave them jobs."
"Yeah. Part of this place… looks like the communists won after all." She chuckled at her own joke.
Rick couldn't help but smile. This woman was unlike any other leader he'd ever met. The ease with which she coaxed you into the fold, even if you didn't wanna be, was impressive. "Well, you didn't give me one."
"I have," she remarked. "I just haven't told you yet." She looked over at where Tyreese and Lori were sitting. "Same with Tyreese." Then her eyes went to Michonne. "And I'd like you to stop by my house in the morning to talk about what I have planned for you."
He already had an idea of what Michonne's job in this place would be. He looked over, watched his wife grin at the woman, and his heart warmed.
He'd seen Michonne genuinely smile more in the past twenty-four hours than she had in weeks.
Deanna then turned her attention to Daryl. "And I'm just trying to figure Mr. Dixon out. But I will." Then to Rick, she said, "you look good," before walking out the door.
The next morning, Michonne found herself following Deanna through the foyer of her house while the rest of the group, the ones with job assignments, got acquainted with their new duties. Deanna had based the jobs on their initial interviews.
Abraham had been assigned to the construction team. They were in charge of executing the plans Deanna's husband—Reg—created for Alexandria.
Glenn, Tara, and Noah were supply runners, and they'd left earlier in the day with the more experienced runners, to get the lay of the land.
Rosita had been assigned as a medical assistant to Pete in the infirmary, Lori was assigned to the pantry, Gabriel was the town's Priest, and Eugene was the town's engineer.
The only placement that seemed off to Michonne was Carol, who had been given cooking duty. Maybe when she'd first met Carol that might have fit, but the Carol she knew now, seemed woefully underutilized in that role.
"Hope you like pancakes," Deanna said, ushering her into the kitchen.
Set on the island, Michonne saw two plates of a three-tiered tower of fluffy flapjacks, next to a boat of syrup.
Her mouth watered. "Yes, I do." She sat down in one of the chairs and tore into the stack.
"Everyone settled in okay?" Deanna ate daintily next to her. "How was the night?"
Nodding, she chewed what was in her mouth before she replied, "yeah. Definitely beats sleeping on the ground or in the backseat of a car."
"Rick says you didn't know each other, how'd the two of you find one another?"
Michonne thought back to almost two years before. She felt so far removed from her short time on the farm.
And she could barely remember the specifics—the day-to-day stuff—of her time in the wilderness alone with Andre. Or maybe she'd blocked it out because she could still vividly remember how it had felt. She'd never forget that shit.
"Rick saved me. After Andre's father… died, it was just him and me for a while."
Deanna paused, her knife and fork stopped. "You were alone out there with him?"
"For a good long time. All I could do was try to keep Andre alive… Then Rick found me and I realized I could make a life for my son too."
Deanna set her knife and fork down and sat up straighter. She tucked her hair behind her ear on one side. "You know, every single person I talked to credits not only Rick, but you, with getting them here. They told me how you built that prison from nothing. How you led them… and I want you to help lead us."
"Deanna, I appreciate that, but I made a lot of mistakes…" she said quietly.
"Funny, no one told me about those. Because that's not what they remember."
"People died because of me. I don't know if I can take that on again."
"People die, Michonne. We don't get to choose how it happens or when. The only thing we can control is how we live. All I'm asking is that you help me make this place what it can be. For your family and mine and all of our friends."
Michonne thought for a moment, but she didn't need long to decide. "Okay."
"Dammit," Rick cursed as he stared into the blender where he'd hidden his Glock a few miles down the road before they'd entered Alexandria the day before.
He'd put it there just in case Alexandria had turned out to be what Terminus was. And now, he was seeking it out for a whole nother reason; Deanna had taken all of their guns.
Rick had made himself a promise back in that church, never again would he drop his guard. Because they were never safe. No matter how high the walls or what anyone told them. And there would come a time when the people of Alexandria would get a rude awakening, and he was gonna be ready to protect his family.
"Dad?"
Rick was startled and turned to find Carl walking from behind the little house he stood in front of. Before he could ask his son what the hell he was doing out there alone, they heard walkers approaching.
Rick yanked his knife out of its holder and Carl did the same. "Get ready," Rick said. Side by side, they took out the walkers, with ease.
As they walked back to Alexandria, Rick asked, "why were you out here?"
"These people, they're weak," Carl said bluntly. "I don't wanna get that way."
"So you were out here practicing?"
"Isn't that what you were doing?"
Rick wanted his son to give the place a try, without any reservations. Carl deserved that. He and Lori had tried to give him the life this place could offer, back at the prison. And now that it was possible, he wasn't gonna project his uncertainties onto his son. "Is that all you think about this place," he asked, in lieu of an answer.
"Nah. I like it here."
Rick nodded. "Yeah, it seems… nice."
"Andre loves it… I had to stop him from jumping in the pond, in all his clothes, earlier."
Rick snorted, thinking of the youngest member of their family. To say Andre was a trouper was an understatement. Nothing could break that kid's spirit.
He'd felt an overwhelming sense of pride, the day before when he'd heard Carl talking to some kids his age, and he'd referred to Andre as his brother.
"Hey, listen… I was gonna tell you about the baby when the time was right. I didn't want you to have to find out with everyone else."
Carl shrugged, staring at the ground. "It's cool."
"Yeah?"
"I like being a big brother. I mean Andre can be a handful, but it'll be fun to have another sibling." He looked up at Rick. "I hope it's a girl."
"Yeah. So do we."
Rick reached out and removed the hat from his son's head and pulled him in for a quick hug, before setting it back on his head. "I love you, son."
"Love you too, dad."
Rick and Carl made it back to Alexandria's gates just in time to catch Glenn punching Deanna's son. A group of people had crowded around, trying to stop the fight from escalating any further.
Rick sprinted over as Daryl tackled one of the Alexandria supply run guys.
"Whoa, whoa." He got behind Daryl and tried to pull him back, but the guy wouldn't budge. "Let's not do this now," he whispered fiercely, in his friend's ear.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Deanna's son reeling back to come at Glenn again, but Tyreese stepped in front of him. "You wanna end up on your ass again?" he warned.
Rick managed to pull Daryl back and then pushed him away from the chaos. He held his arm against Daryl's chest until he cooled down.
"I want everyone to hear me, okay!?" Deanna yelled. "Rick and his people are part of this community now… and always. As equals." She turned and cut her son a sharp look. "Understood?"
He rolled his eyes, and grumbled, "understood," then walked away.
"I told you I have a job for you…" Deanna said to Rick. "I'd like you to be our constable. That's what you were. That's what you are."
And to Tyreese she said, "you too."
Tyreese checked with Rick and so did Deanna. "Will you accept?" she asked.
His eyes found Michonne, who watched him with a measured gaze. She wanted so badly for this place to work, he saw it in her face now. "Okay," he said to Deanna but kept his eyes on Michonne.
"I'm down too," he heard Tyreese reply.
Daryl scoffed and stormed off.
Rick was lying awake next to Michonne, that night when he heard Daryl walk out onto the porch. Carefully, he removed his blanket and followed him out.
Daryl sat on the ledge of the porch railing, lighting a cigarette. Rick went to stand in front of the railing next to him.
"Can't sleep either?" Rick asked.
"Yeah," Daryl grunted out.
"We good?"
"Yeah… you a cop again?"
"For now."
They both turned when they heard someone approach. It was Carol. She came to stand next to Rick at the railing. "So, we're staying?" she asked.
Rick nodded, looking out over the quiet streets of Alexandria. "I think we can start sleeping in our own homes. Settle in."
"We get comfortable here, we let our guard down… this place is gonna make us weak." Carol cautioned.
"Carl said that. But it's not gonna happen. We won't get weak. That's not in us anymore. We'll make it work. And if they can't make it work. Then we'll just take this place."