Michonne likes talking to Maggie. She understands why Deanna chose to take the young woman under her wing- she's smart and practical and full of ideas. She reminds Michonne of herself at that age and, as the agricultural expansion continues to make progress, Maggie's input has been incredibly useful.
"-and I know Eugene keeps going on about the sorghum, but he's right. Even if we don't have the infrastructure to make ethanol yet, it's a great cover crop."
Michonne shakes her head ruefully. "Eugene and his sorghum."
"He's a nut," Maggie laughs. "That map might be a gamechanger, though."
They're on their way to the Alexandria gates to meet the run-crew before they head out- Maggie to say goodbye to Glenn, and Michonne to deliver the map of agricultural supply places that Eugene gave her.
"I can't imagine what he was doing before all this."
"Y'know he told us he was a scientist? Said he knew how to make a cure."
Michonne's brows furrow and she huffs derisively. "And people believed that?"
Maggie shrugs. "People will believe a lot when they've got nothing else. I mean, when it comes to who we were before, we're all just taking each other at our word."
Michonne nods thoughtfully. Up until a few weeks ago, there hadn't been anyone left who knew who Michonne had been. It hadn't mattered, not to anyone out there- and certainly not to her. Deanna was the first one to ask who she'd been before the world ended, and Michonne had scoffed in her face. But then Rick and Carl showed up, dusting her off and reminding her of what it felt like to be a whole person.
"Who we were before, you think that matters?"
"Don't you?" Michonne doesn't answer, avoids the searching glance that Maggie shoots her way. Maggie sighs, gathering her thoughts before saying, "Eugene might not have been a scientist before, but he was smart, and now he's here teaching us the difference between wet-milling and dry-milling and showing us how to make our own bullets. I think that's something Deanna's right about. We're still ourselves, and that still matters."
Michonne hasn't been herself in a long time. Not since Andre. She's only just started feeling human again, only just started remembering the person she used to be. And at times, it's more painful than the nothingness. Having it out with Rick the other night, it was like scraping herself out and presenting it to him on a platter. Michonne has felt hollow and spent ever since, but it made her feel closer to herself than she has in the past eighteen months.
She wants to believe that there's still a chance for her in this new world, maybe that's why she's putting so much into the future of Alexandria. Michonne wants to believe that there's a place for her here, despite the horror of her past and the ways she's been irrevocably rewired.
We're still ourselves, and that still matters. Michonne isn't sure how much of herself is left, but she's trying desperately to hold onto it.
Before Michonne can muster a response, they reach the gates, a chaotic scene already unfolding.
"This was my brother's job! If anyone's earned a place here, it's me," Spencer loudly proclaims, as he squares up to Glenn.
Glenn's looking up at him icily. "The crew is full, Spencer," he replies evenly. "You're not in charge here, Rick put me-"
"Oh fuck Rick!" Spencer yells, swinging around to look at the rest of the crew, watching at a distance. "Rick's the reason Aiden's dead. You know, I bet he wanted this- both of you, wanted to get control of Alexandria." In that moment, Spencer notices Michonne approaching and faces her instead. "That was the plan, wasn't it? Push us out so you savages can take over?"
"Your brother died protecting this place," Michonne tells him calmly, gauging the situation. They've been on this precipice with Spencer for a few days now, and Michonne knows that things could boil over quickly. "And any control you think we have over Alexandria? Your mother gave it to us."
Spencer moves closer to Michonne and she sees Glenn and Maggie both take a cautionary step towards her out of the corner of her eye. Spencer notices as well, scoffs at the sight. "You're one of them now, aren't you?" He's smiling at her devilishly. "They don't even know you, Michonne. Have you told them? How we found you?"
Michonne's stomach sinks painfully, eyes widening as she fixes Spencer with a dangerous look. "You're not gonna win this, Spencer."
He looks at her with narrowed eyes, grinning, before turning away to look at his crowd. More people have come now, beckoned by Spencer's yelling. "Our constable here, when we found her, she had these two pet walkers. No arms, no jaws. Just keeping them around like her own personal bug repellent. How fucked is that?"
"Knock it off, Spencer," Glenn warns.
"You have no fucking-"
Spencer cuts them off with a smile. "And you know what else? This is the really fucked part- she knew them. She had her dead boyfriend chained up following her around for months before she came here."
Michonne knows in a blazing instant that he must have watched her interview tape, and the thought makes her sick.
She'd been in such a bad state when she'd ended up a few miles south of Alexandria, when their run-crew had come across her, unconscious in the forest, recently attacked, and taken her in. Michonne simply woke up in Alexandria, her walkers gone, her past erased. When Deanna questioned her, Michonne had been combative, threatening. She'd used the story of her walkers in an attempt to scare these people off, to convince them to let her leave. Obviously she hadn't been successful.
The fact that Spencer has seen that tape is evidence of how deep his obsession goes. It's a disturbing, infuriating thought.
"And that's who you want protecting this place?" Spencer continues, a performative sort-of disbelief in his tone. "They all treat me like I'm the crazy one, but you, Michonne." He turns back to face her, staring down his nose at her. "You're a psychotic bit-"
She punches him squarely in the nose.
It sends him tumbling back, blood already pouring through his hands as he cradles his face. He stares at her wide-eyed for a long moment before his blood-covered hands drop to his sides and he charges towards her.
Out of the corner of Michonne's eye, she sees figures advancing- to aid or attack her, she can't be sure. She doesn't waste time trying to figure it out before side-stepping Spencer's lunge and landing another punch to his ribs.
"Spencer! That is enough!" The sound of Deanna's scolding voice draws Michonne's attention momentarily and she catches sight of Deanna and Rick coming towards them. Spencer takes advantage of her distraction, managing to clip Michonne's cheek with an overzealous punch.
She hears Rick call out angrily, feels Glenn and Maggie rushing to her defense. But Michonne doesn't need their help, doesn't want it. As Spencer advances on her again, Michonne trips him and side steps so she can shove him to the ground. In an instant, she's unsheathing her katana and pressing her foot to his chest, prodding his neck with her blade. He's heaving for breath, each inhale pushing the tip of her katana further into his skin. He smiles up at her in spite of it, blood still smeared across his face- the sight making Michonne's insides turn.
"You're sick," she spits down at him.
"So are you, sweetheart."
Michonne reels back at his words. She's distinctly aware of the crowd, their stares. She wants to kill Spencer for what he's told them, how he's violated her. She wants him dead.
"Stop this! Let him go," Deanna commands, but Michonne doesn't budge, doesn't let her eyes leave Spencer's. She's not going to do it, not like this, but she wants to hold this katana to his throat and make sure he knows she could. Not even Deanna can deny her that right now.
"Michonne." Rick's voice cuts her at the quick, much closer and softer than she would have anticipated. It makes her chest swell, a rush of bone-deep shame and hurt coursing through her. He's beside her, ducking into her eyeline, his voice low and hushed as he says, "C'mon."
"I'd listen to your boyfriend-"
She shoves the blade harder, finally garnering a wince from Spencer. The sight gives Michonne a sickening sense of pride.
"Michonne," Rick repeats, so much packed into the single word. She knows without a doubt, even now, that he's with her. But Michonne isn't looking for companionship in her anger, and she certainly isn't looking to be talked down.
No, Michonne waits until she sees it- the moment Spencer looks genuinely scared- before she finally lets up.
Spencer scrambles back instantly, heaving for breath. But Rick is quick to drag the kid to his feet, twisting his arms behind his back. "Fuckin' asshole," she hears Rick growl under his breath.
"Let him go," Deanna repeats. Her expression is hardened by grief and her tone is unwavering.
"He needs to be locked up," Glenn argues.
"I see no need-"
"He just assaulted your constable!" Rick interrupts angrily, looking over at Michonne with furrowed brows. He's searching her, scanning over her in a way that makes Michonne wonder if he heard Spencer's tirade. She doesn't give her dread away- looking on in simmering silence, her posture coiled, katana still clutched in her hand.
"If I recall, she threw the first punch," Deanna coldly responds, stepping forward so she's between Michonne and Rick, who's still restraining Spencer. "This isn't up for debate. Keep him from going on the run, but you will not lock up my son. End of discussion."
Rick doesn't budge. "We need to talk about this-"
"We've talked enough, Rick," Deanna ends the conversation with a single harrowing look. She's a mother in this moment, more than a leader- and it makes her infinitely more threatening.
Rick releases his hold on Spencer, shoving him towards his mother roughly. "There's only one way this ends, Deanna. You know that."
Deanna considers that with narrowed eyes before turning her attention to Michonne. "Put the sword away, Michonne. We'll be discussing this later."
There's a promise in it, a threat. By holding that blade to Spencer's throat, Michonne has found herself staring down the barrel of Deanna's grief. It doesn't matter what he's done or how dangerous he is, if Michonne stands between Deanna and her child, there's nothing she can do to defend herself. No asking Deanna to see reason. With anger still pulsing in her veins, Michonne resigns herself to that fact- taking a deep breath and sheathing her sword.
They watch Deanna and Spencer go in stunned silence. Glenn is the first to break it, turning to Rick to say, "I knew this would be a problem."
Rick is standing with his hands on his hips, his steely gaze still following Deanna and Spencer. "I tried talking to Deanna this morning but she doesn't wanna deal with it."
Maggie steps forward, a weary sympathy in her eyes. "Well what are you asking her, Rick? To jail the only child she has left? Are we gonna hold a trial? Execute him?"
"I don't know," Rick exclaims, finally turning to face all of them. "But I won't let him continue to threaten my people. And you're not talking to Deanna," he turns to fix wide eyes on Michonne. "Not if I have anything to do with it."
"Well you don't, Rick," Michonne finally breaks her silence, coming back to herself under Rick's gaze. "And where do you get off telling me what to do?"
"I'm trying to protect you, Michonne-"
"Well stop," she silences him. "I can take care of myself."
"Maybe you shouldn't stay by yourself tonight," Maggie says. "Not with Spencer free."
"I might be gone by tonight," Michonne remarks stoically. Rick recoils as if he's been slapped.
"I'm not letting that happen," he promises, matching her conviction easily, staring her down as if they're the only people here.
Michonne thinks of how it felt to hear Spencer reveal the darkest parts of her to everyone here, how it felt to hold that blade to his throat. She can't regret it, not for a second. And she doesn't know what type of person that makes her, but it confirms something she's believed deep down from the moment she got to Alexandria: she does not belong here. There is potential in this place- for people like Maggie and Glenn, for Carl and Enid, for Rick. She believes in that. But she doesn't believe that it's something she can have anymore.
Maybe it's a blessing that she's the one this is all falling to, instead of Rick's people. Maybe they'll get to stay, maybe Carl and Enid and baby Judith will get to be safe. Maybe that's how Michonne deals with it, how she makes any of it matter.
She retrieves Eugene's map from her pocket, walks over to hand it to Glenn. "Agricultural supply places. Eugene mapped them out." He takes it gingerly, inspects it, nodding as he looks back up at Michonne. "Be careful out there," she tells him.
"You too," he solemnly replies. Michonne gives Maggie one last pensive look before walking away.
"Michonne," Rick calls out to her as he falls into stride beside her. "I'm not letting Deanna kick you out. And if you're thinkin' about leaving-"
"You don't get to do this, Rick."
"I can't let you."
"You have before-"
"And I've learned my lesson, Michonne," Rick says sharply, coming to a halt in front of her. She sucks in a breath and stares at the ground between them. "You asked me if I meant it. When I said you're one of my people. I did. I do. You're my family, Michonne, you always will be. I know I don't deserve it, I know that, but it's the truth. So I'm not letting you leave."
"I never said I was leaving, Rick."
"I know you, Michonne. It's all over your face."
She looks at him for a long moment, holding tightly to her anger. Some long erased version of herself would have wanted to hear him say all of this, but it feels hopeless now. Knowing she needs to get out from under him before she starts to believe his words, Michonne goes to leave.
"You're the one who's been asking me to believe in this place." Rick's voice calls her back, his hand brushing her arm. She turns her head to face him, finds herself stuck again on those blue eyes. "We do this together, right? So now I'm asking you: stay, Michonne. Stay and we'll deal with Spencer, together, we'll make something real here."
We're still ourselves, and that still matters. The words are ringing in her head now, feeling more untrue the longer she turns them over. She isn't the Michonne Rick remembers. She's the Michonne that watched her child die, the Michonne that had to put him down. She's the Michonne that cut the arms off of Mike and Terry's corpses and chained them to herself as a sick reminder of her son's death. She's not herself, she's something entirely different- something entirely unknowable and unloveable. Today was just a reminder of that.
"You don't know me anymore, Rick," Michonne tells him coldly, slipping away from his touch as she walks away. "And I still want my gun back."
—
That night, Michonne is sitting in the living room waiting up for Enid. According to the sticky note Enid left, she's having dinner at Carl's. Not an uncommon occurrence these days, but an inconvenience as Michonne sits waiting to talk to the young girl.
She's made her mind up- she'll pack her things tomorrow morning and be gone before Deanna can come looking. It's easier this way. She hopes it will settle things here, that they'll be able to deal with Spencer with her gone.
Michonne thought about leaving Enid a note, but knew she'd hate herself if she did. Their relationship hasn't been easy, but Michonne cares deeply for the girl. Out there, after she lost Andre, she'd been mostly alone. The few good people she came across never lasted long, and Michonne never let herself grow attached. Enid was the first. The companionship was something they both desperately needed, as begrudging as it'd been at times.
Michonne doesn't want to face Enid and say she's leaving, she doesn't want to be another person to disappear from the young girl's life. But there's no getting around this.
I think everyone half-expects you to take off and never return, Spencer told her once. Michonne wonders if Enid felt the same.
The front door opens and Michonne stands. "Hey, you're back."
Enid is already beelining for the stairs. "Yep."
"Could we talk for a minute?"
"I'm really tired," Enid replies, facing away from Michonne on the bottom stair. Michonne notes the thickness of her voice and frowns.
"Are you alright?"
There's no reply, just the telltale duck of Enid's head as she tries to discreetly wipe her face. "Yeah, I'm just tired."
Michonne moves closer to the girl, who still refuses to face her. "Enid, did something happen? Talk to me."
Enid finally turns to Michonne, revealing her tear-smudged cheeks and quivering lip, and Michonne instantly forgets what she wanted to talk to Enid about. She can see how much the young girl is holding under the surface, and it's a heavy load for anyone. Much less a child. "It's nothing, it's stupid- don't worry about it."
"I'm sure I won't think it's stupid," Michonne tells her quietly, reaching out to lift Enid's chin, stroking a thumb against her cheek. The minute she does so, she watches Enid's face crumble as sobs overtake her. "Oh, sweetheart."
She wraps Enid in her arms, surprised by the ferocity with which the young girl hugs her back. They've never done this, both reserved and touch-averse after so much isolation. To see now, how deeply Enid needed this, is a gut punch for Michonne. She steadies herself with a pained breath and cradles the back of Enid's head, resting her cheek atop the girl's hair and shushing her softly. She can't be sure how long they stay like that before Enid's sobs fade and she raises her head from Michonne's shoulder with a stuttering sniffle.
"M'sorry," she mumbles, stepping away from Michonne.
Michonne uses her thumbs to clear the tears from Enid's cheeks, letting her hands drop briefly to the girl's shoulders before letting go. "You're okay, don't be sorry."
"It's stupid," Enid chuckles humorlessly, more tears springing to her eyes as she does. "I don't even know what I'm crying about."
"Why don't we go sit down and talk about it then? Maybe we'll figure it out." The light attempt at a joke cracks Enid and she gives a small nod, letting Michonne lead them both to the couch. Enid quickly tucks herself into the corner of the couch, feet pulled up beneath her. Michonne sits sideways on the other end of the couch, resting her elbow against the back of the couch and resting her head against her hand.
"So what's going on? Did something happen? Did someone do something-"
"No, it's not like that," Enid waves her off, sniffling. "It was uh, just something Carl said at dinner that made me start thinking. About my mom, I guess?" Michonne nods encouragingly, a deep frown on her face as she listens. "It was- it just… I started thinking and I realized- I forgot my mom's name. It was just a second before I remembered it, but I really forgot it. It's already hard to remember their faces all the time. And I was so little in all my good memories of them… and I just hate it, I hate thinking about them because then I realize how much I'm forgetting. And it's stupid because the world is so fucked up and it just… it doesn't even matter-"
"It matters," Michonne cuts her off sternly, earnestly. "I promise it always matters." She pauses, caught by a blinding wave of pain. She conjures an image of Andre, the one that's seared into her mind, and takes a moment to breathe through it, to feel it regardless. "My son- Andre, I lost him a while ago. And sometimes, it's hard to think about anything but the bad parts. Sometimes I think I've forgotten his laugh, what it sounded like? And I guess one day I won't be able to hear it at all, no matter how hard I try. And that will be hard, no matter how fucked up the world is." Her voice catches and she bites her quivering lip, steeling herself. She hasn't spoken his name out loud in months, hasn't been able to. The single utterance feels like a knife in her chest, but she needs Enid to hear this.
"But I'll always remember how I felt when I heard his voice. I'll always remember how much I loved his laugh. That's what we hold onto, even when all the rest goes away. And I know it's not a lot, it's not everything." She looks at Enid again, mustering a watery grin that Enid can't bear to return. "I know it feels like you're so far away from the person you were when you still had your parents- but that's still you, Enid. They still love you- who you are now. Trust me."
Enid shakes her head, holding back new tears. "I just feel so bad for forgetting."
Michonne stands, quickly grabs the pen and pad of sticky notes they keep in the kitchen and takes it back to the couch. "What was your mom's name?"
There's a confused frown on Enid's face as she answers. "Shannon."
Michonne jots it down. "What was your dad's name?"
"Scott."
She finishes writing, rips off the sticky note and hands it over to Enid. "It's not everything, but you've got their names. You've got their love, right?" Michonne ducks to meet Enid's gaze, and the young girl nods in confirmation. "You won't forget, Enid, not if you don't want to."
Enid holds the sticky note close and pulls her knees up to her chest, wiping her wet cheek against her jeans. She rests her chin on her knee and looks at Michonne thoughtfully. "I'm sorry about Andre."
Hearing his name said by someone else knocks the wind out of Michonne. She tries to swallow down the grief but it eeks through the cracks, in the quivering of her lip and the wetness of her eyes. "Thank you."
A long, furtive moment passes. Michonne thinks of Maggie's words from earlier today: We're still ourselves, and that still matters. She can't be sure why it feels true for others and not for herself.
"So what did you want to talk about?"
"Hmm?" Enid's voice breaks Michonne's grim reverie and she looks up at the young girl with a tight frown.
"When I came in, you said you wanted to talk about something," Enid reminds her. "Does it have to do with Spencer?"
It sinks like a stone in Michonne's gut, cold and heavy. "How do you…?"
"Me and Carl heard about what happened this morning. I figured you must be worried about it."
Michonne is caught. She's completely lost her nerve- the thought of looking Enid in the eye now and telling her she's leaving feels impossibly cruel. Her resolve to leave washed away the minute she held Enid in her arms. "I… I uh-"
She's interrupted by a knock at the front door, loud and cutting. Michonne lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding before going to answer it, wiping her tears away roughly and pulling open the door. And the second she does, her heart drops.
Of course it's him.