Chapter Four
"Old Friends & New Acquaintances"
Rick crept alongside RJ, through the narrow hallway of the haunted maze, with its flickering neon lights and hanging cotton he figured was supposed to be spider webs. He pushed it aside and glanced down at his son's tense shoulders. "You sure you don't wanna go back?"
RJ shook his head but tensed even more as they rounded a dark corner.
"Boo!" A clown with bulging fake eyes jumped out at them and laughed maniacally.
RJ startled, grabbed Rick's hand, and hid behind him.
Who's goddamn idea was this, Rick grumbled to himself. These kids had enough haunts to last a lifetime, they damn sure didn't need any new ones. "RJ—"
"I'm cool, Dad." RJ stepped back beside Rick, once they passed the clown, but he kept an eagle eye on it. "All my friends are doing it. I can't be the only one who doesn't."
"Alright..."
They made it around the next corner and RJ breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the exit sign. Rick squeezed his hand. "You did it."
"Can we not tell anyone about that scream back there?" RJ cringed.
Rick raised his brows and pursed his lips. "What scream?"
RJ grinned as they walked through the black curtain and into the bright afternoon and hectic fall fairgrounds. "There's mom and Judith!" RJ yelled, over the carnival music and collective sound of the fair-goers. He ran off toward Michonne and Judith, who sat on an out-of-the-way bench and ate a powdery something they shared off a paper boat.
Rick strolled behind RJ, smiling at how adorable his wife and daughter looked. Judith was dressed in a homemade ghost costume, with her face painted and Michonne wore jeans and a white T-shirt with colored cotton balls glued to her stomach, accentuating the slight belly that had formed around her middle over the past three months. They were supposed to be gumballs and his wife's belly was the machine. It'd been Judith's idea, and Michonne, always the good sport, had agreed.
"Hey!" Michonne slid her arm around RJ's shoulder when he nudged himself between his mom and sister and stole a piece of the dessert. "How was it?"
"Alright." RJ shrugged. "Wasn't even that scary."
Michonne glanced up at Rick. "How'd you do, daddy?"
Staring down at her, Rick set his hand on his hip and wrinkled his nose. "Only got scared once. Damn clown caught me off guard." Rick leaned down to kiss her lips, which tasted sweet. "Mmm."
"You like that? Here. You have to try this." She peeled a piece of the dessert off her plate, slid it into his open mouth, and watched him chew with a face of eager anticipation.
The sugary confection melted in Rick's mouth and he moaned. "What is that?"
Michonne's face lit up. "A funnel cake."
"It's good," he said, in between bites.
"I know, right? We gotta see if Mom can figure out how to make these."
Rick laughed. His wife's belly hadn't been the only thing to sprout up in the past few months, her appetite had too. He was ever so grateful for this place and its abundance of food. And Dorothy, for all the wonderful things she managed to whip up with the meager selection of ingredients. She was a magician in the kitchen.
"You came!" Judith launched off the bench and ran past him.
Rick turned and saw her embrace a girl, who looked about her age. It wasn't until he looked beyond them and saw a crowd of people he recognized approaching, most notably, Aaron, that Rick realized the girl was the baby he'd found at the Savior's outpost all those years ago.
Aaron moved toward Rick, with watery eyes and arms outstretched. "I wasn't gonna believe it until I saw you myself." He brought him into a tight hug. "Welcome home."
Rick slapped Aaron's back. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you again." Michonne and Judith had been the root of his woe when he'd been locked inside The Civic Republic. But there'd been days he'd worried about his extended family too. The ones he'd journeyed alongside since the start and the ones he'd begun to build with before the bridge. Rick had been right in suspecting they'd not all make it. They'd lost Tara, Henry, Enid, Rosita... Siddiq. But more had survived. What he and Michonne had helped build had kept them alive. And when Rick pulled away from Aaron, the ones who'd lived stood there, waiting their turn for a chance to embrace him.
"Ah! Jefe! You're alive!" Jerry gave him a big hug.
Next was Nabila. "We sure are glad to see you again."
"Thank you." Three youngins were waiting off to the side. "Are these..."
"Yup! We've been busy, man," Jerry said, proud.
Rick laughed. "I can see that." He waved at the kids.
"Coco?" Michonne said from beside him.
Rick followed her gaze to where Gabriel stood holding a toddler.
Michonne walked to them and slid her thumb across the cheek of the little girl, who stared curiously at her. "Hi, sweetheart," she gushed. "You got so big."
"Can't seem to figure out how to stop her from growing," said Gabriel.
Michonne kissed Coco's forehead, then stepped back beside Rick.
"It is such a joy to see you both. Here. Alive. And—" Gabriel's gaze settled on Michonne's belly. "Expecting?"
"Yeah." Michonne's hand went to her middle.
Gabriel's eyes fixed on the wedding ring on her finger and his face scrunched into a look of confusion. He pointed at it, looking between Rick and Michonne. "Is that—how did you..."
"We should talk," Rick said.
"When she didn't show up this year, I suspected. I held a little hope it wasn't so. That maybe she'd just moved on. But, deep down I knew." Gabriel sat beside Rick in a chair on the front porch of the Grimes' home, later that evening.
They'd agreed to enjoy the rest of the Fall Festival with the kids. They waited to have the conversation until after the impromptu dinner Rick and Michonne had volunteered to host, for all of their friends from Alexandria.
Rick had invited Gabriel onto the porch when the kids had been dismissed to play in the backyard and the adults had moved dessert and conversation to the living room.
There'd been a lot to unpack and neither had been sure where to begin. After a prolonged silence, both of them sipping their respective glasses of whisky as they'd gazed at the sun descending below the walls, Gabriel had spoken first.
He'd told Rick about the first time Anne had approached him and their subsequent meet-ups, which only further pissed Rick off. All that time he'd suffered and fought to get to his family, and Anne had held onto her connection to Alexandria. "She never told you about me?"
"Not once did she even let on that you were alive."
"Why'd you give her the ring, then?"
Gabriel grinned. "As a symbol of hope—faith. For her to hold on to. She seemed... lost. Conflicted. Wrestling between who she needed to be and who she was. I did what I could to help her. And selfishly, it made me feel good, to make up for losing faith in her."
"For what it's worth, she came back around a little, in the end."
"It's cold comfort, but comfort nonetheless." Gabriel sighed. "I'm glad the ring made it back to you." He took a sip. "All things come full circle."
"I guess they do." Rick thought about how familiar the moment felt. Years ago, he confided in Gabriel about wanting to marry Michonne on the bridge once they'd finished construction. As he'd spent days away from her and Judith heading up the work there, it'd motivated him, picturing Michonne in a beautiful flowy gown—not white, it wasn't her—something colorful, vibrant. "You still interested in marrying us? The bridge is obviously out of the question, but they got a pretty beautiful chapel here."
"You're having a wedding?"
"We are."
"When?"
"Two months."
"So soon?"
"We wanna do it before the baby comes. Michonne didn't wanna be rolled down the aisle—" He held his hand up. "Her words."
"I'd hope so." Ezekiel laughed and bowed his head slightly. "And, of course, I'll marry you. It'd be an honor."
They chatted for a few minutes longer. Gabriel caught Rick up on the goings-on in Alexandria, before they headed back inside and into yet another surreal moment for Rick: old friends from Alexandria and new acquaintances scattered all over the living room. They were laughing and chatting; ten conversations were happening simultaneously. Lucas, Ezekiel, Yumiko, Eugene, Mercer, Maxine, and Princess along with a few others whom Rick had met when they'd first arrived—Kelly, Magna, Tomi, Connie—were there too.
"Dana?" Princess was saying to Michonne, as Rick made his way over to where his wife sat, at the end of the couch.
"Bethune." Michonne smirked. "Yeah."
"No disrespect. But you do not look like a Dana," Princess said, passionately.
"I had next to no time to come up with that, let alone my cover story." Michonne took Rick's hand when he settled on the arm of the couch beside her.
"A cover story?" Jerry's eyes went wide. "Whoa, that's badass."
"Oh, she was." Rick rested their interlaced hands on his thigh. "That was the problem."
"Right. Right." Princess waved him off. "The whole don't show them who you are thing—yeah, she told us about that. Dude, you really thought this woman—" She jutted her hand in Michonne's direction. "Could play a shrinking violet? I've known her for like a few months and even I know that wasn't happening."
"I realize now it was unrealistic."
"He was only tryna keep me safe," Michonne said, lovingly. She smiled up at him.
He smiled back at her and lifted her hand to kiss it.
"That must have been so difficult for you two," Maxxine said, to a hushed room, everyone suddenly interested in this conversation. "Having to act like you didn't know each other." She looked at Eugene. "I can't even imagine that."
It'd been arguably the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do: watching Michonne walk by and not being able to touch her, kiss her, hold her. He'd had to act as if she wasn't the single most important person in the world to him, and it'd left him wrecked. The nights they'd been apart inside the Civic Republic had been the hardest of all the nights he'd spent there. And the way she'd looked at him after he'd tried to send her away... he'd spend a lifetime doing what he could to make up for that single moment of hurt. "It wasn't easy, by a long shot."
"But you both made it back," Aaron said, raising his beer. "Here's to that."
Ezekiel raised his glass. "I second that."
"Michonne, are you sure?" Aaron asked.
They stood in the doorway of her home, late that night with their daughters beside them, while the rest filed down the front steps. "I don't wanna put you out."
"Daddy, she already said yes." Gracie chided her father. "What more do you need to hear?"
Michonne suppressed a laugh. "It's fine, Aaron. It'll be just like the old days." Aaron and the others from Alexandria were staying in the guest complex; the next train didn't go out until the morning. She'd suggested Gracie stay the night at their house, knowing the girls hadn't seen each other in months.
"Okay," Aaron leaned down to kiss Gracie's head. "I'll see you in the morning, kiddo. I love you. Don't forget to—"
"Mind my manners. Yes, I know. And I love you too, Daddy."
"Come on." Judith took Gracie's hand. "I wanna show you my room." The girls raced away.
"Thank you for doing this," Aaron said. "She's missed Judith."
"It goes both ways. And you deserve a night off." Aaron had been the one she'd related to most, back in Alexandria. Single parenthood hadn't been easy on either of them. "How are you doing, Aaron?"
"You know... I think for the first time in a long time." He stuffed his hands inside his pockets. "I can honestly say that I'm doing good. We are. I've finally stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. This feels like how it's gonna be from now on."
"It does." Every time they'd found a sliver of peace, it'd been ripped away from them, but this bit of it felt lasting.
Aaron reached his hand out and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "We deserve it." He swallowed back his emotions. "After everything, we deserve it."
She patted his hand. "Damn right, we do."
Rick walked through the first floor of the house; he locked doors and turned off lights the kids had left on for the hundredth time, despite his constant reminders that their electricity wasn't unlimited. They were on rations.
He knocked lightly on Dorothy's door before he popped his head through the crack in it. It was dark and empty inside. Saturdays were when she went to have dinner with Elodie, but she'd normally be back by now. "Hmm," he murmured to himself.
Rick made his way upstairs and stopped by RJ's room—lights on, of course. Found him conked out in his bean bag. His Game Boy loosely hung from his dangling hand. Rick took it and set it on the nightstand before he squatted next to RJ and shook his shoulder slightly. "Wake up, bud."
His son was startled half awake, confused. "Huh?" He rubbed his eyes.
"You're bed. C'mon." Rick helped him up, guided him to the bed, and pulled the covers over him once he dropped himself onto it and almost instantaneously fell back asleep. Rick took a moment to study his son's face before he leaned down to kiss his forehead.
Next, he stopped by Judith's room to say goodnight and was about to knock, but when he heard the girls giggling about some boy, he decided to give them their space and instead went to his bedroom.
Rick paused in the doorway when he saw his wife standing in front of the floor-length mirror on the back of their bathroom door. In a sports bra and night shorts, she examined her belly's side profile.
He took a moment to gawk, revel in the impossible sight, made possible by the woman before him. Four months in this life and the sheer wonder of it all hadn't worn off yet. He guessed it was what it was like, to finally get something you'd wanted so bad you couldn't breathe without it. The only side effect he hadn't anticipated: still, out of nowhere, he'd find himself quietly losing his shit at the mere thought of losing his family again.
Because it was inevitable. By the time Judith, RJ, and their youngest were of age, he had a hunch the world would be more like it was before and they'd have options outside of the Commonwealth or Alexandria. And as much as he felt he and Michonne's love could move mountains, it wouldn't keep them young forever.
But her words brought him back every time, the words that were burned into his brain. We love on each other as hard as we can, while we can.
"Baby's growin'." Rick stepped into the room and shut the door
Michonne found his eyes in the mirror. "Weirdly, I'm looking forward to that. Right now the only baby it looks like I have in here is a food one."
Rick grunted a laugh, set his hand on her waist, and turned her to face the mirror. He slid his hand around to her belly and kissed her neck before he dropped his chin onto her shoulder. "I like your food baby."
"You would." Michonne rubbed his forearms, as they gazed at each other in the mirror. "Tonight was good."
"It was."
"How'd your talk with Gabriel go?"
"He agreed to marry us."
"You told him everything that happened with Anne, right?"
"Yup, he took it well. Better than I thought he would."
"That man's come a long way."
"Right?"
She turned her head and kissed him, then stepped out of his hold and into the bathroom.
He heard the faucet turn on. "Where's your mom?" Rick threw onto the ground the extra pillows that now made Michonne hot during the night. "I went by her room, but she wasn't there."
"She spent the night at Elodie's place," Michonne said through a mouthful of toothpaste, and Rick heard the annoyance in her voice.
He kept quiet. Turned down the comforter, undid his watch, slipped his shirt off, and was sitting on the edge of his side of the bed, ready and waiting to listen, by the time the faucet shut off and Michonne huffed into the room with crossed arms.
"I don't get it," she said, exasperated. "She has dinner with Mom every weekend and works with you. So... I'm the only one she needed space from?"
"I don't think it's like that."
"It's been four damn months. I've kept my distance because that's what she said she needed, but, come on, this is ridiculous."
"She's not gonna make the first move—don't think she knows how. I—I think you gotta."
Michonne thought for a moment. "So, what? Just drop by one day?" she asked.
"It can't hurt."
"Yeah, okay." She uncrossed her arms and shuffled to slide under the covers. "I miss her," she said, looking at him with watery eyes.
"I know."
"She's right here and I can't... even tell her about the baby. Before, she was the first person I'd call when something big happened in my life. Was the first to find out I was pregnant with Andre. I just want that again."
"Things can't go back to the way they were before. All this time you two have been apart... neither of you is who you were." He scooted closer and took her hand. "But the bond you two shared, it doesn't just go away... ours didn't."
"No, it didn't." She kissed him and stayed close when she pulled back. Gave him the look. The look he'd been getting more often over the past few months. It was the look that told him it was another one of his moments.
Rick seized it. He pressed his lips to Michonne's. His hand slid beneath her rear and he hauled her on top of him.
"Johnson and Hanover need more time on the simulators," Lucas said to Elodie and Rick. The three sat around a conference table inside the University early the next week, reviewing the following quarter's curriculum. "But I think Corrizon is ready for her first in-flight."
Rick, who was leaning back in an office chair, lifted the progress report for the woman in question and looked over her numbers. Alessandra Corrizon was one of the top students in the flight program. "I'd agree. She's ahead of the herd when it comes to her sim scores."
Elodie grunted a disapproving sound, from across the table, her eyes on her copy of the progress report.
Rick glanced above the paper in his hand. "You feel differently?"
Elodie threw the report onto the stack of others in front of her. "The computer scores her well, yeah, but it's because she knows how to play the system. I've watched her during the turbulence sims. Her hands shake like nobody's business and she has trouble breathing. And that's just on a computer. I don't think she's ready. We should hold her back for another round of sim work and push her through with the second group."
"Well, isn't it saying something, that she's able to pull off scores like this despite all that?" Rick asked.
"Nah. It just means that she's good at playing a repetitive game. But what happens when she's in the air and all those things add up and she fucks up a maneuver? Ain't no way we're putting these people in the sky until we are absolutely certain they can handle themselves up there."
"She's right, Rick," Lucas said. "I've been in the air with pilots in over their heads before. Until she gets her nerves under control, she should stay grounded. I can talk to her. See what's going on."
"Alright," said Rick, tossing her report onto the stack. "Corrizon goes in the second group." He picked up the next one and reviewed it as Lucas typed the info they'd just agreed on into his laptop.
When he was done, Lucas' eyes flashed up from the screen to Elodie. "Great catch." He gave her a lopsided grin and in return, Elodie threw him a polite smile before going back to her reports.
Lucas gawked at her a moment longer, with an exasperated look that said, what do I gotta do to get your attention?
Rick felt bad for the guy and wished he could give him some kind of advice, but Elodie was a prickly one and Rick didn't have enough know-how to teach someone else how to get a lady. It'd taken him nearly a year to figure out his first move with Michonne.
He really wasn't sure how Elodie could miss that the guy was charmed by her; she was either ignorant of or ignoring Lucus' advances. Based on what he knew of his sister-in-law so far, Rick figured it was the latter.
"Uh—so, we need to talk about the flight exams," Lucas said. "I spoke to Major General Chopra and he volunteered to host it at their airstrip. He wants to make a big deal out of it. Fly the families out, so they can watch. I know it's not for a while, but we need to put a date on it so they can start planning on their end."
Elodie swiveled her chair around, to face the calendar on the wall. "We could do it the weekend before graduation? Or we could do it that same weekend and have it all at the Civic Republic. "
"That won't work," Lucas said. "It needs to happen earlier than that."
"Why? There's nothing on the calendar for then."
He looked at her as if it was obvious. "That's Michonne's du—"
Rick cleared his throat, loudly, shaking his head at Lucas, who stared at him in confusion.
But it was too late. Elodie's forehead wrinkled and her eyes narrowed at Rick. "What's Michonne got to do with anything?"
Shit. No walking it back now. "That weekend starts my leave... my paternity leave."
"Oh." Elodie's eyes fell to the table. "Michonne's pregnant," she said, in unbelief.
"Yeah. Four months. She wanted to be the one to tell you..." And, dammit, she wasn't gonna be happy she hadn't been.
The room was quiet.
Rick watched Elodie, unsure how to proceed. He didn't have to decide, though—because the static on his walkie-talkie tolled.
"Rick. It's Mercer."
He grabbed it. "Copy."
"The Civic Republic rerouted an S.O.S to us."
"Where?" Rick shot up from the table and hurried toward the door, Elodie and Lucas on his heels.
"Kansas."
Michonne woke to knocking on her door. She rolled over and reached her hand across the bed. She expected a warm, hard chest, but her hand touched cold, empty sheets. When she craned her neck to look at the clock on her nightstand, it was clear why. Seven forty-five. "Rick," she grumbled.
Michonne threw the covers back and stumbled for the door.
Judith stood on the other side, holding a towel and her toothbrush. "Shoot, did I wake you? Dad told us not to wake you."
Michonne ran a hand over her daughter's hair. "Good morning."
She relaxed. "Morning, Mom."
"You're fine. I needed to get up." She yawned.
"Can I use your bathroom? RJ's been in ours for the past thirty minutes. He says it's his stomach—I don't know. I'm gonna be late if I don't start getting ready for school now."
Michonne opened her door wide. "Go for it."
"Thanks." Judith ducked underneath her arm and made a beeline for the bathroom.
"Hey."
"Yes."
Michonne glanced over her shoulder. "Do me a favor. Next time your dad tells you to let me sleep in, wake me."
Judith grinned. "Got it."
Michonne walked the short distance to the kids' bathroom and knocked. "RJ, baby, are you okay?"
"Yeah." He sounded like he was straining. "Just need privacy."
"You yell for me if you need me, okay?"
"Privacy, Mom!"
She pressed her lips together and wandered down the stairs, doing a mental inventory of what was in the fridge that she could make for breakfast. When her foot hit the first floor's laminate, Michonne jerked it back at the wetness it touched. "What the hell?" A thin layer of water pooled at the bottom of the stairs.
Michonne looked up, anticipating a leak in the ceiling, but it was bone dry. She leaped over the puddle and followed the trail of flowing water to the closed guest room door, where it seeped through the undercut.
"Mom." Michonne banged on the door. "Mom? Are you in there?" She pressed her ear to the wood. She heard the bathtub faucet running. "Mom?!" She pushed the door open and a low tide of water rushed out of the room, pooling around her ankles.
Her mother's wheelchair was parked in front of the window.
"Mom?"
She didn't move.
Michonne's heart pounded as she sloshed through the water to stand before her mother, whose glazed-over eyes looked straight through her.
"Mom!" Michonne set her hands on either side of her face. "Are you okay?"
She came back to, blinking rapidly. "Michonne?" Her eyes darted all over as if she was trying to reorient herself. "What—oh, my." Her gaze landed on the water. "What happened?"
"You left the faucet on. I came in here and you were out of it. Are you okay?"
Her mother pushed her hands away. "I'm fine," she said, with a defensiveness in her voice that made Michonne step back. "I just... I... saw something—a bird—outside the window and I got lost in watching it."
"You were looking at me and it was like—"
"Child, I said I'm fine." Her mother rolled backward. "I'm sorry about the water." She pushed her wheelchair toward the door. "Clean it up for me, will you? I need to get ready for work. I'll fix something for the children in the meantime."
Michonne stood baffled, with hands on her hips, as she watched her mother wheel out of the room.
"Ten miles to destination," Rick said into his headset. He looked to the right seat, where Lucas sat. "Keep an eye out for an uncompromised place to land."
"Copy," Lucas said.
Behind them, Commonwealth soldiers armed with rifles sat, lining the long tunnel of the chinook's middle section. There were more in the smaller helicopter behind them, which Elodie flew.
"Sorry I put my foot in my mouth back there. I wasn't aware Elodie didn't know."
"I should have told you. Didn't wanna make things bigger than they were."
"Trust me, I know complicated sibling dynamics. My brother and I didn't get our shit together until the end of the world."
Rick hadn't asked him much about his personal life, because it seemed pretty clear cut. He'd assumed only a single guy with no attachments would willfully agree to move to a brand-new state, on his own. "Is he back in the Civic Republic?"
Lucas kept his eyes ahead. "He was... but he passed a couple of years ago."
Rick nodded.
Lucas' lower lip trembled, and then his face tensed. "We weren't that close before. Couldn't have been any different. I was the straight-laced West Point grad on my way to becoming an officer in the army and he was an enlisted high school dropout. But when the world ended we lost everyone. Everything. Even who we were... And it was just intuitive; he looked out for me and I looked out for him."
"I know what it is, to have that and then lose it."
"You had a brother?"
"Yeah." Jeffrey. He'd thought about his blood brother often over the years, but like his mother, he had no way of knowing how he'd fared in this. Early on, Lori had mentioned that she'd tried to reach them and her family, but the world had collapsed faster than any of them could have anticipated. "I lost him at the start. But a friend I made, in this, became a brother. Helped take care of my kids when I was away. Had my back. Wish I coulda had his..."
"Austin and I, we'd talk about having kids. Finding ladies and settling down. Our kids were gonna grow up together. And we'd tell them all about what it was like being a kid in the world like it was before. But first, we were gonna make a name for ourselves. Move up in the military. Give our kids something to be proud of."
"Wait, you mean he was part of the CRM?"
"Yeah. He moved up faster than I did. Died during an operation." Lucas looked over at Rick. "He was a Frontliner."
Shit, Rick thought.
"Never told you, 'cause I didn't want to put that on you. Austin couldn't tell me what they were doing out there. And if I'd moved up, I can't say I wouldn't have been there that day at Cascadia, too. I'm glad I never had to make that choice. But, if I had been there. If Austin had... it would have been our choice that got us killed. We'd have gotten what was coming to us, like all of them did."
"You really believe that?"
"Wouldn't be here if I didn't." Lucas turned his attention forward again. "Holy shit."
The helicopter hovered over a break in a mass of trees. Where it ended, a flock of packed tight, steady-flowing walkers began. They pushed against the perimeter of a walled-off community. People stood behind the barely held-up walls, some worked to reinforce it and the others steadily fought off the incoming onslaught.
"Three miles to the left, there's a clearing," Lucas said, his eyes suctioned to the binoculars in his hands. "Don't see any delts. That's where we land."
"Copy. Radio Elodie to hover over, have team 'B' provide backup from above." Rick steered the helicopter off the path. "Mercer, get your squad ready," he said into his headset. "We're landing."
It took hours and every towel in the house to get the water under control; it was a good thing Michonne had all day.
For three unemployed months, she'd filled her time helping out around the community: lending an ear to the old folk at the nursing home who were eager to tell their fascinating tales of the early days of the before world, delivering groceries to the shut-in, and occasionally consulting on cases for the lawyers at the firm.
But most of her time was spent making her house a home and caring for her family—doing laundry, cleaning, helping out at the school, and putting a meal on the table when her mother was too tired to cook. All the things she'd done on her own when Rick had been away, only this time there wasn't the weight of a million and one other responsibilities on her shoulders. Every morning on her way out the door, to drop her kids off at school, she'd walk by her katana, hung up above the mantel, and unlike those early years in Alexandria, it didn't call to her anymore.
Michonne was a bonafide housewife for the first time in her life, and she, surprisingly, didn't hate it. Not even bent over with her head inside the cabinet beneath her mother's sink, four hours into the clean-up effort.
Once the water was dried up, Michonne began to put the baskets filled with her mother's toiletries back beneath the sink, and that's when she saw the orange pill bottles.
Three of them, wedged between the toothpaste and mouthwash. She plucked one from the basket and rolled it around in her hand, looking for a label, but unlike her prescribed bottles of prenatals from the pharmacy, there was none. She picked out the others. They were all unlabeled and half full. Which had to mean her mother had been taking them.
She squelched down the initial instinct—overreaction—that she swung toward more these days. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for why her mother was hiding unmarked, and possibly unlawfully obtained pills. There had to be.
And when her mother got home, Michonne was sure she'd clear it all up.
Three hours later, the front door opened, marking the end of Michonne's time alone in the house. She stood in the kitchen prepping afternoon snacks when her mother and the kids' raucous conversation carried in from outside.
It was their routine; Michonne or Rick would drop the kids off at school and her mother would pick them up. It sometimes took them longer than it should to get home, and she never asked why, because remaining unaware of their occasional after-school trips to the ice cream shop meant there was no need for her to regulate. It was a grandmother's job to spoil her grandkids and Michonne wouldn't stand in the way of her mother doing her duty.
Today, though, they were on time. Michonne, itching to get answers from her mother, was thankful for that.
"Hey, Mom!" RJ shed his layers—backpack, jacket, then shoes—like a caterpillar. He dropped it all in a trail behind him on his way to the kitchen, while Judith took the time to neatly place her things on the hooks and mat near the door. "Oooh, snacks." He plucked a carrot from one of the two plates she'd prepared, with peanut butter toast and an assortment of the about-to-go-bad raw veggies from the crisper bin.
"How was school?" Michonne asked.
"Same old, same old," RJ said.
She tilted her head at him. "Your Nana teach you that saying?"
RJ chuckled. "Yup."
"Snack time," Judith sing-songed, leaning on the counter beside her brother.
Michonne slid a plate to each of them. "How was school?" she asked, Judith.
"Great!"
"You two take your snacks upstairs."
"Really? You never let us eat upstairs," said Judith.
"Well, I'm letting you today. Go."
They grabbed their plates and hustled out of the room.
Michonne spotted her mother by the door, hanging up her coat. She wiped her hands on a dishcloth and waited for her to reach the kitchen. "Hey, how was your day?"
Her mother rolled toward her. "Just fine." She parked her wheelchair beside the island and rested her forearms on the armrests. "Thank you for cleaning up my mess this morning." She looked abashed.
"No problem. Has that happened before?"
Her mother looked away from her when she said, "No. Not sure what got into me."
"Could it have something to do with the pills I found under your sink?" Michonne asked, careful to keep even a hint of accusation out of her tone.
Her mother's gaze snapped back to her. "You went through my things?"
"I was cleaning up the water when I saw them... where did those come from and what are they for?"
Her mother's lips pinched into a tight line. "I don't have to explain myself to you." She unlocked her wheels and pushed toward her bedroom.
Michonne followed after her. "Well, the fact that you're getting defensive right now, means—"
"What?" She stopped and wheeled around. "What does it mean, Michonne? Since it seems you've already got your mind made up about what's going on with me. Tell me what it means?"
Michonne crossed her arms. She couldn't deny coming into the conversation with a preconceived notion about what was going on with her mother and those pills. And her defensiveness made it all the more likely that Michonne's presumptions were right.
"Ask me."
"Okay... Are you abusing those pills?"
"You think I would do that?"
"That's not an answer."
Her mother scoffed and shook her head. "No, Michonne. I'm not a doggone pill popper"
"Then what are they for?" Shit, she hadn't even considered—"Are you sick?"
"No!" she spat back, seeming even more offended by that question.
"Then what are you doing with those pills? What even are they?"
Her mother went silent, a beat "It's my business."
"You're mixing pills! Do you know how dangerous tha—"
"Don't you patronize me, I'm a damn doctor! I know how pills work."
"Okay, then if you're taking them for legitimate reasons, why the hell can't you tell me what they are?"
"Because I am a grown-ass old lady who doesn't answer to any child of mine. If you can't respect that, I can't live here."
"What? You're serious?"
"As a heart attack."
Michonne gaped at her mother, trying to figure out how the hell the conversation had taken such a sharp turn left. She wiped her hands over her face and blew out a frustrated breath. "Okay." Michonne held her hands up. "Okay. Maybe... maybe I jumped to conclusions. I came on too strong. I'm sorry. I saw those pills and it took me back... but you have to see what this looks like to me."
"It doesn't matter what it looks like. I'm telling you, it ain't that!"
"Dad said the same thing," she shot back.
"I am not your father. Stay out of my damn business." She turned and rolled away to her room.
The smell of death and gunpowder rolled beneath Rick's nostrils. It overpowered the faint fresh water scent of the pouring rain. His ears registered every sound: the crisp crackle of rounds firing, the rhythmic thud of rain hitting steel, and the community's citizens shouting as they worked together to hall the wood planks of their wall back into place.
Rick had stood where they stood, with the dead encroaching and no way out, on the night that had been the dress rehearsal for losing his son. But there hadn't been a Commonwealth to fly in and save the day. Well, as far as he'd known.
"Hold the line!" Mercer shouted. "They're closing in!"
Rick squeezed the trigger, firing at the approaching heads of the dead, directly in his path. He advanced in one accord alongside the Commonwealth soldiers. His boots squished the soft skulls of the corpses lying prone in his path. They'd been at it for hours now, the uniformed effort had made a dent in the horde, with the soldiers in the helicopter that hovered above backing them up—sharp-shooting the ones that came too close.
Just as the last bullet in Rick's cartridge pushed through the barrel of his gun, Mercer shouted, "First team, fall back!"
Rick shuffled back with the rest and reloaded his cartridge as the second team fired explosive rounds.
They did that for hours, trading off positions and slowly advancing toward the walls of the community, and by the time they ran out of ammo there were only stragglers left. They fought what was left of the horde hand to hand. Rick using, for the first time, the knife of the brand new steel hand the CR had gifted him months ago. It was an exact replica of the one he'd left at Cascadia.
When the last walker dropped, Rick—drenched in blood and rainwater—looked up, and it was nightfall.
"Rick!"
He turned away from the section of the wall he was hammering, alongside Elodie, an hour later.
Mercer approached, with a serious-looking dark-haired woman at his side.
"You got this?" he asked Elodie, who held a wood plank and nail in place for him.
"I got this."
Mercer had split them up between helping with the wall refortification and burning the mounds of dead bodies on the other side. The rain had stopped, making their efforts less arduous.
Still, Rick was wet, worn, and growing exceedingly worried they weren't gonna get home tonight. He was itching to call Michonne to let her know he was okay. Though he was sure she'd already heard it through the grapevine, he wanted her to hear it straight from him.
Rick handed Elodie his hammer and walked the short distance to meet them.
"This is the head of the council here," Mercer said. "Indira."
"Rick Grimes." He shook her hand.
Her hardened face cracked and split into a smile. "It's a pleasure." Her voice was warmer than Rick expected. "I was telling Mercer, the S.O.S was a shot in the dark. A lot of people would have died here today if you all hadn't intervened."
"Glad we could help."
Indira measured him, a moment, and glanced away before she looked back at him and said, "I was more than a little apprehensive when I saw you fly in with the three rings on the side of those planes. We've had a rather... tenuous relationship with the CRM. To put it mildly."
His eyebrows furrowed. "You mean, you've encountered them before?"
"More than encountered. My old community had a relationship with their research facility. But after we discovered what one of their scientists was doing inside—"
"What were they doing?"
"She was experimenting on people. They called them—"
"'A's'," he breathed, the puzzle pieces sliding into place in his mind. Okafor had said 'A's' were sent away and killed, but he'd never said how.
"Right. Things went bad after that and they nearly wiped us all out. We managed to get some of the scientists who were doing good work out of there t and we went on the run." She glanced sidelong at Mercer. "He said you killed their General and his force. Is it true?"
"She wanted to hear it from you," said Mercer.
"It's true. The Civic Republic Military is... under new management now. What they tried to do to you and your people, they don't do that anymore."
She nodded, but judging by her narrowed eyes, hearing it from him still wasn't enough. "Why don't I show you all where you'll sleep for the night? Get you a warm set of clothes. The wall is nearly done," she said to Mercer. "Grab your men. We can handle the rest in the morning."
"Yes ma'am." He stepped away.
"Come." Indira turned and walked off; Rick fell into step with her.
They strolled down the strip of dirt road that bisected the community—made up of rows of two-story attached buildings on either side. They'd built their walls around a few blocks of an old western town square and reconstituted what Rick assumed had been retail shops, into living spaces. Though it seemed they left some of the buildings alone, like the pharmacy and saloon. Through the windows, he saw the warmth of candlelights glowing and silhouettes of families gathered for dinner or tending to their wounds from the day.
"How many are here?" Rick asked.
"About a hundred. We—what was left of my community and the CR scientists we were able to get out—stumbled on Littleton when the Civic Republic found out about the underground mall we were hiding in. There were about seventy here when we arrived. A small group of locals built these walls close to the start and slowly brought new people in."
"How long since you been here?"
"Six months."
"And you're already a leader?"
"There was virtually no leadership before we arrived and none of the locals wanted the job. They're blue-collar types who'd rather be led. They were happy to concede the seats on the council to us." Indira stopped them in front of a building that read, 'hotel'.
"What were your scientists working on at that research facility?"
"They were trying to find a cure."
A cure? "And did they?"
"No. After the research facility fell, they continued their work in that mall, with some equipment they found at a local university. And one of the scientists, his daughter, made a breakthrough. She found a possible way to speed up the decay of the dead. In essence, neutralizing them. But when we left the mall in a hurry, we had to leave everything behind. They had to stop their work."
Rick stared at Indira, taken aback. After the CDC and the hopelessness he'd seen in Jenner's eyes, he'd long since believed that there would never be a way to rid the world of the walkers. That any new world they built would need to take into account the threat of them. Now this woman was standing here in front of him, telling him that there were people left in the world with the brain power to figure out how to weaken the biggest threat to human civilization. He didn't much believe in destiny, but if he did, this situation would fit the bill. Rick craned his head toward her. "Your scientists, if they had what they needed. Do you believe they could do it?"
"After seeing them work, I do."
"We have the facilities and whatever equipment they might need. And other scientists. My mother-in-law's an immunologist, she might have insights that could help. Your scientists could come back with us. Continue their work. You all could."
Indira's squinted eyes bore into him. "Is it really like Mercer said? A city of thousands? Living like the old world?"
"It's exactly that."
"I'll bring it to my people. We're tight-knit here, so it's an all-or-nothing deal. But I don't know that after what we went through with the CRM, and considering your ties to them, that anything you say could get some of them to go."
"Even after what we did here?"
She nodded. "The CRM came to us cloaked in kindness. I trusted them and they killed my son, Rick. And more of our people. Suffice it to say, we still have some trust issues."
Michonne was losing the fight against her eyes when the walkie-talkie on her nightstand squawked to life and jolted her awake.
"Michonne." It was Rick.
She scrambled to reach over and switch the lamp light on before grabbing the radio. Sitting back against the headboard, Michonne pressed the talk button. "I'm here, baby. Are you okay?"
"Fine. But we're staying the night to help out more in the morning. I should be back by dinner tomorrow." He sounded exhausted.
Michonne could only imagine how tired Rick must have been after the day he'd had. Ezekiel had come over early that evening and told her everything. "How bad was it?"
"There were hundreds of 'em, but no lives were lost."
Her eyes slipped closed, she let out a breath. "Good." Her sister's face popped into her mind. "Elodie's okay?"
Rick didn't respond right away and Michonne's eyes sprung open.
"She's okay," he finally said. "But, before everything happened, I had to tell her about the baby."
Michonne's mouth dropped open but she was at a loss. Elodie knew. Elodie knew and it hadn't come from her. Shit. How had she let this rift between them grow this wide? "How'd she take it?"
"Seemed surprised. Caught off guard. But, I couldn't tell otherwise. You know how your sister is."
"Yeah." She sighed. "I do."
"Sorry, I know you wanted to be the one."
"Don't be... you sound tired, I should let you go."
"Everything alright at home?"
Michonne contemplated telling him about the fight with her mom, but she wasn't certain what exactly was going on and Rick had enough on his plate. "The kids told me to tell you goodnight. They were sad you weren't home for dinner." It'd been their first without him since he'd been back. The overall mood in the house that night had been sour, with her mother refusing to leave her room. The kids could sense all wasn't well.
"Is it crazy that I miss them... miss you?"
"No, not at all."
"First time since I've been back that I gotta sleep without you next to me." She heard genuine sadness in his voice. "Don't know how I'm gonna get any rest."
She hadn't thought about the implications of a night away from home or what memories an empty bed might evoke. "Where are you right now?"
"In my room."
"Good. Lay down on your side of the bed."
"Uh—what?"
"Just do it, Grimes."
"Ah, okay."
Michonne flipped the lamp off and slid back under the covers. "Are you on your side?"
"I'm on my side," he said, sounding amused.
"Okay, face my side and put the radio there."
After a second he said, "I did that."
"Just leave it there and close your eyes. Now imagine I'm right there in front of you," she said softly, closing her eyes. "We're face to face. And I'm running my fingers through your hair, the way you like." Michonne settled against her pillow and knowing Rick loved to hear stories from when he was away, she launched into one he hadn't heard yet, of when the kids had surprised her with a burnt microwave breakfast in bed for her birthday. Well, it'd mostly been Judith's creation, as RJ hadn't been allowed to operate anything in the kitchen back then. She laughed softly at the funny parts and took the long way around to the end.
"Rick," she whispered when she was done telling it. "Are you awake?"
He never replied.
Michonne smiled, satisfied. "I love you," she said into the radio.
Michonne's pregnant; it'd been what had stayed at the forefront of Elodie's mind all night. She thought about it as she gave herself a sponge bath in her candle-lit hotel room. It had been the last thing Elodie had expected to hear Rick say that day. Shit, had they fallen so far out of touch with each other that Michonne felt she couldn't tell her?
Uh...maybe because you told her to stay away, her mind supplied.
At the time it was what she'd needed, but things were different now. Her reopened wounds had slowly begun to heal over the past few months. But having grown accustomed to walking through life satisfied to live as a shell of herself, she was scared to "rekindle" things with the only person who not only saw through her bullshit but called her on it. Despite how much it terrified her—the prospect of having that kind of accountability again—she wanted her sister back.
She wanted so many things, many of which scared the ever-living shit out of her and most of which she wasn't ready to admit.
Elodie brushed a towel over her water-curled pixie, then over her body. She stepped into the fresh underwear and bra Indira had given her and dressed in oversized basics.
At a knock on the door, Elodie threw the towel onto the bed and went to open it.
Lucas stood there, still in his damp duds that hugged his muscled form. Her eyes traveled the length of his frame.
Well, I'll be damned! Had he always been that jacked and she just hadn't noticed? And why did his hair, normally gelled and slicked back, but now poking up and tousled from the rainwater, make him look ten times sexier?
"Hey, I didn't wake you did I?" he asked, flashing a perfectly white set of teeth at her. Apparently, she hadn't ever noticed how great his smile was either.
"Nah," she said.
"Good." His large hands held up a blanket. "Well, I had some extra covers in my room. Wanted to check if you needed it. It's kind of cold in here and I asked Indira if there was any way to—"
"You wanna have sex?" The words just slipped out, but she couldn't bring herself to take them back. Elodie didn't normally "do" white guys, but Lucas seemed a worthy exception. And watching him take on the dead-heads from the plane, had done something for her.
Alright, and maybe she was a little bit—or a lot bit—horny. It was one of the many things she'd been afraid to admit. Because then she'd actually have to do something about it. But the good Lord, knowing just what she needed when she needed it, had dropped this sexy gift on her doorstep. Who was she not to accept?
Lucas' mouth hung open. "I'm sorry. You're asking me if I want to... have sex... with you?"
"I mean I've caught you checking out my ass more than a time or two. So I assume that you want it."
"Uh—I... yeah. I mean, you're pretty much the hottest woman I've ever met."
Elodie smiled, the honesty was refreshing. "You got someone back in Philly?"
"I'm unattached."
"Cool. Then it'll just be fun between two friends."
He looked surprised. "We're friends?"
She moved aside and gave him her best sexy, smoldering eyes. "We can be."
Lucas stepped into her room.
Rick woke feeling more refreshed than he should have after the day he'd had. Only when he rolled over and spotted the radio resting on the pillow did he remember why. He smiled as he picked up the walkie. He wanted to radio Michonne back right away but decided against it when he looked at the clock. She'd be in the thick of getting the kids out the door. But, damn, he was desperate to hear her voice again. Rick snorted and rubbed at his eyes. God, he felt like a teenager again.
He made his way downstairs. Following the smell of bacon he wandered into the small dining room packed with dressed-down Commonwealth soldiers, huddled around a long communal dining table.
"Rick, over here." Lucas, who sat at the end, held his hand up and motioned for an empty seat beside him.
"Morning." Rick walked over and settled in next to him.
Lucas slid over a steaming cup of coffee. "Not as good as back home, but it'll do the trick."
"Thanks."
"There's food in the kitchen if you're hungry."
Rick leaned back in his seat and sipped his coffee. "This'll do." He looked around the table. "Elodie come down yet?"
"Hadn't seen her," Lucas mumbled, focused on his breakfast.
"Oh, there she is."
Elodie carried in a plate of food and a cup of coffee. On her way to them, she drew the eyes of more than a few soldiers, but surprisingly Lucas' gaze didn't break from his plate.
"Morning," Rick said, as she dropped into the seat across from them. "How'd you sleep?"
"Ain't the Ritz, but it also ain't the wilderness. So, can't complain." She took a sip from her cup of coffee, her eyes shifting to Lucas above the rim. "Mornin' Lucas. You sleep okay?"
Lucas glanced up as if shocked that she'd spoken to him.
Rick looked on, surprised too. Those were the most non-work related words he'd heard her say to him in three months.
"Yeah," he said, staring at her with a slight smile. "My... sleep was really good. Best I've had pretty much ever. Yours?"
She smiled back at him, her eyes brighter than Rick had ever seen them. "Mine was surprisingly good."
"Surprisingly?!" He asked, indignant.
Elodie laughed.
Rick glanced between them. Uhh... What's going on here? He couldn't help but feel he was missing something.
"Rick."
He turned toward the dining room entrance and saw Indira waving him over.
"I'll be back," Rick said, though he didn't think they cared that he was leaving the table.
Rick walked to meet Indira and followed her through the front door, where a man was waiting on the porch.
"Rick, this is Leo Bennet. One of the scientists I was telling you about yesterday."
Leo stepped forward. "I've heard a lot about you. We all have. You and your wife are quite the folk heroes around here."
"Leo's originally from Ohio—Campus Colony."
"I was inside the CR when it happened," Rick said. "Saw the devastation. I'm sorry."
"Thank you. My daughter and her friends were in Portland when the attack was supposed to happen there. They went to warn them. You saved their lives and thousands of others."
"I'm glad they're safe."
Leo pointed at Rick but looked at Indra. "Humble to boot."
"I know," Indira said.
"Listen," Leo said to Rick. "Indira told us about your offer. And if the Commonwealth is what you say it is, if it has what you say it has, then we can't pass that up."
"Well, it is."
Leo looked at Indira, who gave him a nod. "We'd like to send a delegation to check it out first if that's okay. Me, Indira, and a couple of others."
"Got lots of room on my helicopter."
Michonne's stomach plummeted the next morning when she found her mother's room empty. They'd never argued before—ever. Her mother had missed the angsty teenage years when a mother-daughter relationship was most fragile and had skipped straight to the years when Michonne was old enough to cherish the relationship.
When she went into her mother's bathroom, she hadn't expected the pills to be there still, but they'd been exactly where she'd seen them the day before. She grabbed the bottles and stood in front of the toilet, but couldn't bring herself to dump them. Not when she wasn't sure. Not until she knew exactly what they were. So she'd stuffed them in the pockets of her jacket, and after dropping the kids off at school, made her way to the hospital.
"Michonne, good to see you," Tomi said, as he stepped inside his office and shut the door.
"Thanks for making time for me."
"Everything okay? My nurse didn't specify the reason for your visit."
"I need your professional opinion on something." Michonne reached into the pocket of her jacket. She set the pill bottles on his desk. "Can you tell me what these are for?"
His gaze lingered on the bottles. "Where—might I ask—are these from?"
"Not sure. Someone I know has been taking them, possibly mixing them. I need to know what I'm dealing with."
Tomi removed the reading glasses from the pocket of his lab coat and grabbed a bottle. "Well, drugs made here must have an imprint that states what it's for." He popped the cap and shook a pill into his hand. "Ah, here we go... this is Zoloft."
Michonne leaned forward. "What's that for?"
"Zoloft treats a variety of things. Anxiety, depression, PTSD, OCD." Tomi took the other bottles and cracked them open. "This is Tegretol. Used to treat seizures and nerve pain. Sometimes, it is prescribed for patients who are bipolar. And..." He examined another pill. "This is Namenda, it's to treat symptoms of..." Tomi's words trailed off. He eyeballed the pill, then dragged his eyes up to meet Michonne's. "Who did you say these pills belong to?"
"I didn't," she said, pointedly.
"Michonne, these aren't just a random cocktail. They're usually prescribed together."
"For what?"
Tomi swallowed. "I can't say exactly unless I see this person's file. I wouldn't want to misspeak on a diagnosis. And before you ask, I can't reveal medical information without the patient's consent. They're cracking down on stuff like that." Tomi put the lids on the caps and handed them back to her. "I suggest you give these back and have an honest conversation with whomever they belong to."
Michonne weaved around the tables of the research lab buzzing with scientists immersed in their work. One of her mother's colleagues, a woman in a white coat, escorted her to the back, to a bay of glass-windowed offices.
She stopped at the one that had a nameplate on the closed door that read, 'Dorothy Hawthorne'. "This is her."
"Thank you," Michonne said.
"It was nice to meet you." The woman walked away and Michonne knocked.
"Come in," her mother said, from the other side.
Michonne pushed the door open and the pleasant look on her mother's face fell at the sight of her. She held up the rolled-up paper bags she'd stopped on the way for and hoped her mother could smell the caramelized onions and mushrooms from the burgers inside. Knowing her mother was just as much of a foodie as she was, Michonne had been sure she'd have a better chance at a civil conversation with her if it involved something tasty. "Hungry?"
"That's not fair," her mother said.
Michonne took that as an invitation and closed the door. She sat in a chair on the other side of her desk and set the food up on it.
Her mother quickly unwrapped her burger and didn't hesitate to sink her teeth into it. "What's in this?" she asked, around a mouthful.
"Cajun seasoning."
"They can do that?"
Michonne smiled, nodding. "You just have to know how to order."
"Mmm..."
They ate silently until their burgers were only scraps and Michonne couldn't take it anymore. She reached into her jacket pocket and set the pills on the desk between them. "I jumped to conclusions. I should have asked and not accused."
Her mother leered at the bottles.
"I wasn't listening before..." She leaned back and crossed her legs. "But I am now."
Her mother picked up a napkin and took her time wiping at her clean face. Michonne noticed her weathered hand shaking slightly. She wanted to reach over and grab hold of it, but she could sense her mother needed space.
"Do you know what CTE is?" her mother asked.
"Um—I think so. That pro football player... what was his name—Mike something."
"Webster."
"He had that right? From playing all those years, getting concussions."
"Right. He died of a heart attack, but it wasn't just that that killed him. His traumatic brain injury played a big hand in it too, and in the mental illness he'd been dealing with." Her mother paused. "When I was in that plane crash, I suffered a severe TBI. The doctor said it was ten times what Mike Webster would have dealt with getting his head smashed in week after week for seventeen years. I was unconscious for days."
Michonne gripped the arm of her chair.
"After I recovered. I was fine for a long time. But a few years ago, I started forgetting things. Things I should know. Like my name and where I was. Couldn't control my mood." Her voice trembled. "It got so bad that I knew I had to get checked out, even though I knew what it was."
"You have CTE?"
"No. That can only be diagnosed through an autopsy after death. The clinical term for what I have is TES."
"TES?"
"Traumatic encephalopathy syndrome."
"I don't—I don't know what that means."
"My brain cells are dying," she said plainly. "It's called degeneration. And... just recently, before you arrived. The doctors said that... that it's developed into dementia. I've been taking the meds to keep the symptoms at bay. But... they were never going to work forever." A tear slid from her mother's eye.
"Mom..." Michonne reached over and took her hand, trying to be strong. "Is there anything they can do?"
She shook her head. "There's no cure, baby. Not even from before... It's just gonna get worse, until I can't speak anymore or move on my own. I won't be me, anymore."
Michonne didn't want to ask, but she needed to know. "How long?"
"They don't know for sure. But a few more years, maybe."
Michonne walked around to kneel beside her mother's wheelchair. She placed her hand on her arm. "Why didn't you say anything? Does El know?"
"No. I couldn't do that to her. I didn't wanna do that to you. I figured I could hide it for a little longer, so we could have a few more good years together." She placed her hand on Michonne's cheek. "I didn't take into account my nosey daughter."
Michonne covered her mother's hand and shook her head.
"After everything you and your sister have been through. I didn't wanna be another reason your hearts broke all over again."
It was early evening when Elodie steered the helicopter into the Commonwealth's hangar and eased it into position beside the chinook Rick had landed ahead of her. She switched it off.
"Thanks for the ride, prof.," Javius, one of the soldiers in the back said, pushing the door open. He was one of her flight students, and even though he was the youngest—eighteen—Elodie saw a lot of promise in the kid.
"Got a tip jar?" he asked.
She turned her head slightly. "No, but don't let that stop you."
He laughed, as he jumped out.
Elodie waited for both doors to slam before she dropped her head against the headrest. It'd been one hell of a trip. They'd spent the early hours of the day clearing the dead-heads and finishing the wall. It felt good to help the people of Littleton. And the past few months of teaching at the flight school had been a saving grace. She once again had a purpose, a reason to look forward to the future again. She could see what the flight school could become. What the world could be, and now she had a part to play in it.
The front passenger side door popped open and Elodie rolled her head to the side.
"Hey." Lucas grinned.
"Hi."
"Rick canceled class for tomorrow. Said to get some rest. I was gonna go grab a bite to eat. Come with me."
"Like a date?"
"Yeah."
The night before had been good—no it'd been fucking amazing. It'd been interesting to discover Lucas wasn't just talented at flying. Their time together had been fun, but that's all it'd been for her, all it could be. Elodie lifted her head off the headrest and squared her body in Lucas' direction. "I lost two husbands," she said, frankly. "I was ripped out of love twice and both times, it nearly killed me."
Lucas' face was soft with empathy.
"I won't do that again. But I like you. I like being with you and we could have a lot of fun. I'm in desperate need of some fun. But I want to be upfront about what this is. It won't ever be anything else. And I understand if that doesn't work for you. No hard feelings."
Lucas dropped his head and stared at the cushion of the passenger seat. He looked back up, with a sad smile that morphed into a tender one. "You're place or mine?" he asked.
"Dad!"
Rick burst in through the front door of his house, to the sound of his kids' running feet as they raced down the stairs and straight for him. He knelt and held his arms out, welcoming RJ and Judith into them. "Oh, it's so good to be home."
"Are they okay?" Judith asked, pulling away. "The people you went to help."
"They're okay. We got there just in time."
"What was their community like?" asked RJ "Is it like here? Can we go see it?"
"Not quite. And maybe one day..." Rick looked up at the sound of footsteps.
Michonne stood a few feet away from them hugging herself. And despite her put-on smile, she looked about five seconds from breaking down.
Rick kissed his kids' foreheads and stood. He ambled toward his wife and when he got closer, her eyes fell away from him and she hugged herself tighter. His instincts had his arms going around her.
Michonne's hands slid around to his back and she squeezed him, resting the side of her face against his chest, as tremors and silent tears wracked her body.
Rick and Michonne sat beside each other—as close as possible, without her sitting in his lap—at the kitchen table later. Dinner had been had and the kids were in bed. Dorothy was across from them and she'd just finished telling him everything.
Rick let go of Michonne's hand, slid it across the table toward his mother-in-law, and she set her hand in his. "We're in this together now," he said, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. "You've got us. Alright?"
She tightened her grip on his hand and nodded.
Michonne raised her hand to knock on her sister's apartment door and froze. She fanned her face when a fresh wave of tears threatened to spring forth. By now she should have been all cried out, seeing as it was all she'd done the better part of the day.
The conversation with Rick and her mother had lasted hours. They'd talked through everything her mother's doctors had told her up until recently and Michonne was thankful she hadn't heard the worst of it until Rick was beside her.
It should have surprised her how affected Rick had been by the news. But she'd long since known that this was the way Rick loved; once he called you family, there was no distinguishing between blood relation and otherwise. They'd agreed that they would make an appointment with her physician to figure out how best they could help Dorothy, and so they could decide how to move forward, as a family. And Elodie was included in that.
This part, standing in front of Elodie's apartment despite how terrifying the idea of her sister opening the door, was the first step in Michonne being there for her mother.
Michonne blew out a breath and then another and another, until it came out smooth—no shakiness. She knocked and stepped back, waiting.
Elodie answered a few seconds later.
"Michonne," she said, looking surprised.
She held up a bottle of wine. "Figured you wouldn't send me away if I came bearing gifts."
"You can't drink." Elodies eyes fell to her belly.
"That's why you're going to pour me a tall glass of water, in a wine glass, of course. So I at least feel like I'm doing something."
"Look, I would invite you in, but tonight's just not—"
"Oh, come on, El. Are you really going to make me beg?"
"I really can't tonight," she said, seeming disappointed. "I'm sorry."
"Don't send her away on my account," a familiar voice said. "We can hang out another time."
Michonne took a good look at her sister. A thin robe. Short hair, mussed. Her lips were raw like she'd been kissing, and probably doing other stuff. Oh, shit.
Elodie grimaced. She swung the door open and went with it, clearing the way for Michonne to see...
Lucas?! In a debauched state very similar to her sisters.
He smiled at Michonne as he finished the buttons of his flannel. "Hey."
"Hey," she said, weakly.
Lucas grabbed his coat off the rack by the door and turned to Elodie, kissing her tenderly. "Later."
"Mm-hm," Elodie replied.
"Goodnight, Michonne," he said, on his way out.
"Night." She watched him walk off until he turned the corner and was out of sight, then turned back to her sister.
"Don't even."
Michonne stepped into the apartment. "I have so many questions."
Elodie slammed the door shut and walked to the kitchen cupboard, grabbing two glasses. "Save 'em." She took a pitcher of water from the fridge and poured some into one of the glasses before handing it to Michonne in exchange for the wine bottle.
"I thought you didn't do white guys."
Elodie corked the bottle and tilted her head at Michonne. "Well, if it isn't the pot calling the kettle black."
"Wha—Oh..." Michonne pointed her finger at her sister. "I've never said I wouldn't."
"I don't recall you having any melanin-challenged exes."
"I wasn't judging you, El. I was quoting what you told me."
"Well, you see any fine eligible brotha's around here for me to date?" she said, pouring her glass.
"So you're dating him?"
"Nah. Just sex."
Michonne raised her eyebrows. "Is it good?"
Elodie set the bottle down and paused like she was contemplating whether or not to divulge that detail. She bit her lip. "Yes, girl," she practically moaned. "It's so effing good." Elodie walked around to the couch and Michonne followed.
They sat facing each other, their elbows resting on the back of the sofa.
"He's so... gentle," Elodie said. "Which normally I don't care for. But, I think it's what I need. Someone to take their time with me, you know?"
"Oh, I know." From the first time they'd gotten together, Rick had always been commanding in bed, quick to take the lead, and always took care of her first. She'd loved that. Because outside the bedroom, she'd always been the one taking care of things, making decisions, and looking after everyone else. It was nice to surrender control and let him lead her. And he was always so gentle with her, even more so after she'd gotten pregnant. Michonne was grateful her sister had someone to take care of her. "For what it's worth, I approve. Lucas is a good man."
"He is. But, again, it's just sex... And don't you go telling your man about this either?"
Damn it. She'd been looking forward to running home and spilling the news to her husband. "I won't say a word."
"Uh-huh." Elodie gave her a suspicious look above her glass, before taking a sip. "Congratulations, by the way."
"Thanks..."
"Rick said you're four months, which means." She looked up at the ceiling, and bobbed her head from side to side, like she was doing the math. "You two were doing it all the way home."
"It was a long journey," she said, through a laugh. "And we missed each other."
Elodie nodded, suddenly sobering. "I've missed you."
"Me too." Michonne reached out for her sister's hand, knowing they'd both need the support for what she was about to say. "We need to talk about mom."