Code note: First and most importantly – Siancore thank you for encouraging me to keep going and thank you for looking at my words and making sense of them. Forever hugs and love girl!
Thank you ALL for reading and reviewing, thank you for staying with me as I take you on this Richonne AU trip.
Each chapter title has no bases to what I am trying to convey here but rather the first song that plays at random when I start a new chapter.
If you haven't known this about me, 80s music and steampunk are just a few of many aesthetic of mine. The title and premise of this story came to me all in one year. First as a flash fanfiction challenge and then later in a lucid dream I had when I was craving a ciggie so bad when I quit smoking.
I am going to get somewhat technical and will try to be as detailed as I can with specific scene settings because there is not that many Steampunkers out there, however, if you are a lover of steam, reach out and let me know : ).
Finally- To readers that has ZERO care for Negan appearance and for those who stopped reading because of it: I do apologize right here and right now for the fact that Negan shudder/cringe is in this story, he's a dick plain and simple and I get it and I'm sorry to see you go : (
"When Doves Cry"
The good, the bad, and the seedy patrons below knew the promises of a perfect day, with skies in hues of bright blue and puffy white clouds and the sun kissing on their faces were a dime a dozen. The sky is bleak and dark as the battle rages on; the sound of the cannons can easily be compared to a thunderstorm. The very same patrons and owners below, they know better and steer clear of the street, they hurriedly seek shelter in the nearby businesses and pray debris from the heavens would do little to no harm on them. Not an everyday thing to witness sky battles so close to their homes and businesses but they have gotten use to life of flying battalions ships. The hour felt like an eternity but when the clouds finally did clear up, the patrons went about their day, no concern or care to what they had bear witness to. The owners assess the damages, writing everything down so they could take it to their local accessory office for credit.
The Scream of Lucille had taken a hard hit and Negan is beyond irate, he grips the side of his ship as he gains even more distance and finally loses sight of The Bandit Hunter. The Saviors took this as a win but Negan knew better. This was not enough to break the Rick Grimes, the thorn in his side for as long as he could remember. Negan had to scrimp as much as could on his own to get to flight school, it was his crowning moment and although he was popular and charming with everyone, especially with the ladies, they always seem to flock to Rick every time he walks in any social function.
They weren't even friends, but they hung around the same social groups. In his observation Negan noticed that Rick was strategic and fair; he was also smart, scoring well in every single class, becoming the teacher's pet without even trying. But for Negan, it was better that way; it helped him. To know the man you must study the man; to keep your enemies closer. And Negan has always known that Rick Grimes was competition and the enemy.
That is why he was so incensed, Negan has the money and power and yet he always wanted to know what Rick Grimes was up to. Sure, what he has done to the man's precious child may have crushed him, but not for long. Negan knew he was the one that lost today. He lost because now he has to work harder in maneuvering his next course of action carefully.
"Would you stop all that fucking screaming, it's just a scratch," Negan yells to Carl who was now a bloody mess on his beautiful ship, the sight had infuriated him even more. Tempted to just toss the boy overboard and be done with it was what he really wanted to do. Yet, even though the temptation was very strong indeed, he knew he would not.
Negan didn't have to turn to know if Dwight was near, he shouts to him to take the boy below and have the doctor fix the kid up. Then Negan grabs one of his nameless men by the collar; he was a big guy too but it didn't slow his insatiable hatred to kill someone. No offense was aimed at the man really, Negan kind of like the guy, well, not really. Okay, the man was hard working, did what was told to do but he should not have been walking by when he did, it was a lazy jaunt really, his poor baby Lucille was burning and the dickhead was 'strolling' by. It was that kind of right place wrong time or right place right time moment and so with one hand Negan threw the man overboard. Negan closes his eyes as he listens to the scream of death, a slow smile creeps up his face and sighs deeply. He felt a little better when the scream silences itself out and fades into nothing. Negan is now smiling happily and slowly begins to whistles a familiar tune; he places his dependable girl, Lucille the bat, over his shoulder and turns around to a shocked crew.
Negan smiles, sinister in every way, and then glares at his men, "Listen up! I did what I had to, we failed in taking that fucking ship down so 'Negan' had to go. We are not going to fail again. Now clean up this mess, I want my baby looking spotless."
Without breaking stride Negan walks away swinging his bat as he confidently struts toward his quarters.
Putting all of the boy's weight on him, Dwight carries Carl below, he turn to see Negan pick up Alex by one hand and threw him overboard and quicken his pace. Dwight shirt was soaked with the boy's blood by the time he got to Phillip's quarter. The ship doctor, very much use to blood and gore, was shocked to see the boy has been marked horrifically. Phillip, in haste, got the area ready with everything he would need. He quickly cleans and sanitizes his arms, hands and fingers and inspects the four deep gashes that began at the forehead and stopping at the boy's chin.
'Negan really went in deep' Phillip thought as he quickly got working.
Dwight could only stare at the bloody sight; 'a piece of skin hanging from Carl's face, pieces of cartilage, fuck is that cartilage, or muscle, holy shit. Okay Dwight, keep it together' but Dwight could taste the bile in the back of his throat and swallows a few times.
The doctor barks orders for Dwight to snap out of it twice and help hold the screaming boy down so he could clean and numb the area. Phillip must have injected Carl five maybe six times before he finally quietened down, his breathing even as he slept. He then asked Dwight what happen for Negan to mark him. He listens to Dwight go on a series of rants on the air raid first before answering his question. The doc worked slowly and carefully, he figured three mill nanobytes can help repair some of the tissue damage, but he ended up using eight. This was going to cost him and set him back as he was going to use it in his next trade. But by the expensive clothing the boy wore he knew he did not have much to worry.
Phillip stops to add more sealing compound agent and curse a few times as he got near the eye, flushing as much of the blood out, he had managed to save the eye but only time would tell if the boy will have sight. Sealing the last stitch at the forehead, Phillip stood back to stretch and sigh; the nanos were still working on the chin area. Phillip ignores the bloody gloves and pours them both a drink, he silently hopes the scarring would be minimal, but knew better; it was not going to fade. Negan is trifling and arrogant and had purposely scarred the boy for life.
The Bandit Hunter is a smoking mess. Daryl hoists his crossbow across his shoulder to put out a small fire near him. His thoughts are all over the place, not knowing where Negan took off to since they had to land. Could they have risked it and continue to chase him or let the engines go and they plummet to their death? Shit, Daryl had no plans of dying anytime soon so he opted for the lesser. Jesus tries to make sense to what happened and takes over for Daryl. Jesus was able to get communications working; he calls for help from a few friends who owe him a favor. He fist pumps the air when The Family Williams of the Manors of Alexandria grant him permission to dock and make repairs on Bandit Hunter. Upon docking, he and the crew watch an emotionally broken Rick taken below by Michonne.
Thirty plus pairs of eyes follow the scene before them. They wait until they saw the back of Michonne's head disappear before turning to face Daryl and Jesus. Daryl, not use to Rick doing most of the talking for the both of them, was stuck in a delicate predicament of actually having to speak to the crew on their next course of action. Jesus wasn't much of a public speaker, either. They all watched and waited for Daryl to say something as he stood in silence.
"I need a drink," Daryl mumbles under his breath while rubbing his forehead with his fingers in frustration. He thinks for a moment before facing what was left of their crew.
"Look, I ain't gonna sugar coat nothing. We have until the next full moon, a complete cycle before Carl becomes a were', and he is gonna turn so what now? We don't know where that asshole Negan went. So I am opening the floor for any suggestions."
The crew mumbles among themselves.
"Well, we need to tend to the wounded and make sure the dead stay dead and have a right and proper burial for the sad lot,"one suggested.
"Yeah, then we find the nearest pub and wet our lips with something strong and maybe we can come up with something," another crew member added. The crew was all nodding their heads with vocal agreement to that idea too.
"Tend and bury is a good idea. Abe pick a few to help you. As much as I would love to get drunk right now that doesn't really help the cause," Daryl shouts back to the crew
"Hold on Daryl, that is not bad idea," Jesus move closer to him and whisper, "This place is crawling with seedy desperate types, we just need to find the right seedy type who'll talk to us."
"Where are we again?"Daryl whispers back.
Jesus gives him the coordinates and the location.
*Somewhere in Virginia and close to the sea*
"You know, with the right amount of money and liquor, things can move along quickly. Someone-"Daryl nod his head as he slowly strokes his beard.
"Someone will always talk," Jesus completes the sentence.
Daryl claps Jesus hard on the back and faces the crew again.
"This is what we are going to do. We are going to tend to the wounded, make sure the dead stay dead and send them home to their love ones. We will do that right and proper. We are also going to fix the damages to the Bandit and then I am going to buy all of you a drink."
The Bandit crew cheers in the anticipation in agreement and the ship was a buzz as they all got busy at the new task at hand.
Below in Rick's quarters, Michonne stares off into space; her cane was placed by the side of his bed, their guns are on the dining table where their meal sat, cold and long forgotten. This is bad she thought as she chews on the bottom of her lip. They were both on Rick's bed; the scene could be seen as scandalous considering his head is in her lap and she is running her fingers through his curls in a soft, gentle and comforting motion. It was all she could do really to help soothe as much of the pain away in silence. They have a full cycle of the moon before Carl turns and they all knew he would turn. There was a solution, but it was a stretch: if they can find something or someone that can reverse the effect, black magic maybe, then Carl would be spared.
She wondered a moment about how Negan was able to control the savage beast within, maybe it is controllable. Michonne adjusts Rick head on her lap so that she can get comfortable on his bed; she rests her back to the wall with a heavy sigh and continues to massage Rick's scalp.
Rick psyche was a whirlwind of emotions; he was sad and angry, and hellbent on revenge. He was already planning their next course of action on finding and killing that asshole but slowly his concentration was broken and he began to relax.
Everything that was happening has everything to do with Michonne and what her fingertips were doing. The soothing effects were the perfect company his thoughts needed. Rick is always aware of Michonne's presence, he has never shied away from the fact that he was watching her. He enjoys watching her and he has caught her watching him too. Michonne doesn't have to be near; he could just take a whiff of jasmine, lavender or lemons and she is there or nearby. Jasmine and lavender was her fragrance of choice because of their calming effect.
He would often ensure that the scents were in Jesus' room, where Michonne often sipped tea and read. He liked to watch her nestled by a window enjoying her book, beverage and the aromas he had procured for her.
He also loved to watch her chew on the bottom of her lip when heavily in her reading or when she is deep in thought. Rick is a man of few words, but he had plenty to say every time she was near to the point of wanting her to nibble on his lips instead.
Rick inhales and takes in her wondrous scent and slowly opens his eyes and he was glad he did. He looks up at her face and once again everything about her, her beauty and goodness her presence was the reassuring comfort he craved. He finds that he is hopeful, despite all that has happened. Michonne's mind was elsewhere; she sighs deeply and looks down to see Rick watching her intensely again. Rick wants to kiss her and wonders if she would let him return the favor, let him touch her in the same way she is touching him; possibly more. Feeling like she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar Michonne's fingers stops mid stroke and she slowly removes her fingers from within the soft curls.
"Michonne?"
"Yes, Rick," she whispers his name, it was not Grimes or sir, it was Rick and Rick closes his eyes and relishes in the moment.
"Say it, say my name again."
Michonne couldn't breathe as she felt this heat spreads throughout her body and stops between her legs, she could feel it pulsing as she calls out his name again and watches as Rick reaches out to her and caresses her face. He was about to say something when they are interrupted by a knock.