Michonne likes driving. There are very few times when the world feels like before- not even now, after living in Alexandria for over four months, among the spaghetti nights and the community barbeques and the wishful thinking. No, Michonne's been rewired, chewed up and spit out. For her, the world will likely never be right-side up again.
But driving almost scratches the itch. It's nothing driving was in Atlanta, all four-lane highways and missed exits and shiny hybrids. The winding backroads of Virginia echo achingly of a time before Atlanta- King County, a billion lifetimes ago. It's a heavy thought, and Michonne doesn't often let herself wade in it for long. But just the essence of it- a truck on a dirt road, windows down- is enough to ease that permanent ache in her chest for a brief moment.
The moment ends, as it often does, at the gates of Alexandria as she returns from yet another run. She leans her head lazily out the window and whistles, waiting to be let in. It took a lot to convince Deanna to let her do runs alone- honestly, Michonne wasn't sure she ever really did convince the woman. But staying put wasn't an option for Michonne, it hadn't been for a long time. Nothing about the secure opulence of Alexandria could change that.
She drives in, parks, and begins the tedious task of unloading. It's mostly food, which is great news since that's mostly what they need. A couple crates of canned goods, seasonings and condiments, and as many snack cakes as Michonne could salvage from a Hostess delivery truck she came across. The impracticality of the find is not lost on her, but is rendered irrelevant as she hops onto the bed of the truck and tears into a Snowball.
"You actually came back," a voice interrupts. She looks up to find Spencer in front of her. Deanna's son, whom Michonne hates deeply.
"Always do," she replies through a mouthful of cake.
He tsks and smirks. "Never know with you, I think everyone half-expects you to take off and never return."
"Would you like that, Spencer?"
"Of course not, Michonne," he matches her mocking tone. "Without you, who'd bring back all these…" Spencer reaches around her and grabs a snack cake of his own, before brandishing it for her to see. "Ding Dongs."
Michonne grins tightly, bored and annoyed by this conversation. She and Spencer have been at odds ever since Michonne brought up concerns about security to Deanna, deigning to mention the absurdity of the unmanned rifle in the bell tower. Which, of course, Spencer took as a personal attack. It's been a one-sided pissing contest ever since.
She finishes the last of her Snowball and hops off the truck, unintentionally squaring up to Spencer as she shoves her wrapper into her pocket. "Plenty of those here already," she tells him flatly before turning to resume unloading.
Spencer barks a loud laugh, continuing to stand there watching her work. "Yeah- just got a few more, actually. New arrivals. Y'know I bet you'll like them, they seem fucking touched."
She almost stops short. They haven't had any new arrivals since she got here, and Michonne is surprised by the flash of protectiveness she feels for this place at the prospect. People are threats, especially if they're from outside. They've been rewired just like her, and Michonne knows just how dangerous she is. "Is there a reason you're talking to me?"
"My mom wants to talk to you," he announces, voice dripping with contempt. "Input on the newcomers. I guess she thinks you savages will understand each other-"
She unceremoniously drops the crate she'd been holding, letting it land at Spencer's feet, before grabbing the Ding Dong package out of his hand. "I'll let you finish up here," she calls out as she leaves.
--
The house is the same as when she left it, empty and tomb-like. The kitchen is a mess, evidence of life, at least. But upon further inspection, Michonne finds that Enid is nowhere to be seen.
Enid is the exception to Michonne's blanket disinterest in the people of Alexandria. They have a begrudging sort of camaraderie, built on Michonne's unspoken concern for the young girl's well-being and Enid's unspoken respect for Michonne and her abilities. When Michonne arrived, Enid had been staying with Deanna- the arrangement very obviously uncomfortable for all parties- and Michonne had unthinkingly offered to take her in. Maybe as some desperate need to not be alone, maybe because she recognized that haunted look in Enid's eyes, maybe it was just because Michonne hadn't been sure Deanna would give her her own place if she lived alone. Whatever the reason, she is now locked into an awkward roommate/guardian role that Enid has no interest in reciprocating, despite how badass the katana is.
Michonne sighs deeply, drops her things on the large kitchen island before going to address the sink full of dishes. The work is methodic and slow-paced, reminding her of that bungalow in King County where he'd refused to get them a dishwasher. He liked the old-fashioned way, he claimed, and Michonne would tease that he liked everything the old-fashioned way. She couldn't admit she liked it too, liked that they would stand hip to hip after dinner every night, washing and drying in tandem.
The back door screen slams and Michonne jumps quickly in defense, only to find Enid standing in the kitchen doorway, her expression neutral and her hands clutching her backpack straps.
"Sorry," Enid mumbles.
"For the dishes or for scaring the shit out of me?"
Enid just shrugs, dropping her backpack and coming to Michonne's side. She stands a comfortable distance apart, refuses to look at Michonne as she begins drying.
"Sorry I was gone so long, I know I said two days," Michonne apologizes quietly, granting the younger girl's wish by avoiding eye contact.
"Didn't bother me."
This is the usual rhythm of their interactions. It doesn't offend Michonne. She knows the cruelness of this new world, she knows the horror of facing it alone, what it does to you. Michonne's learned not to expect much from Enid- don't expect more than one-word responses, don't ask questions when she disappears for hours at a time. Michonne's learned that she's not in a position to care, but it hasn't stopped her yet.
"I got you something," Michonne says, motioning towards the island counter. Enid looks up at her suspiciously before peeking over at the snack cake. A tiny grin crosses her face and it spurs Michonne on immeasurably. "Lot more where that came from- found a whole truck full. I didn't even get them all."
Enid eyes the package for a long moment before finally going to retrieve it, gingerly opening it and taking a bite. She nods approvingly, frowns as she assesses the treat fully. "I always liked Zingers best."
Michonne almost laughs out loud, amused by the amount of triumph she feels. By all accounts, it's yet another loss, but it doesn't feel like it. She nods, looking over her shoulder to watch the young girl take another bite. "I'll remember that next time."
--
Michonne is on her way to Deanna's house when she runs into the woman in question.
"Michonne!" Deanna announces happily, approaching with that twinkly look in her eyes. "Happy to have you back."
Michonne nods politely and quickly falls into stride beside her. "I was told you wanted to speak with me."
Deanna smiles brightly at her. "Straight to business with you, as usual. Aiden took a group with some newcomers out earlier, I was just going to meet them. We can talk on the way."
"Good," Michonne replies shortly, walls high and impenetrable. "I heard about the new recruits."
"Recruits is a pretty informal term, isn't it?" Deanna says, looking over to try to catch Michonne's eye. Michonne resolutely looks straight ahead. "I'm hoping they'll be part of our community, our neighbors."
The implication is clear: Michonne is not part of the community. At least, not as much as Deanna would hope. Michonne isn't sure how to tell her that she has no intention of changing that.
"So?" Deanna prompts.
"What do you know about them?"
Deanna sighs and stops, prompting Michonne to stop and face the older woman. There's that smile again- twinkly and knowing, like she's always on the verge of telling you a secret. It's a calculated move towards intimacy, a tactic Michonne clocked early on. Deanna might have once been a skilled politician but Michonne was once a skilled lawyer- and Deanna's the one who thinks that those types of things still matter.
"It's a large group- fourteen, adults and children. We've had eyes on them for a few weeks now. They're resilient, and tight-knit, and more than capable. But they've had one hell of a journey. Their leader, he's… well, he's rough, untrusting. I was planning to show you the tapes if you're interested-"
Deanna is interrupted by a commotion at the gate, both women looking over to find what looks like the beginnings of a fight between Aiden and a guy Michonne assumes must be a new arrival. They advance towards them, Deanna calling out for her son, "Aiden! What is going on?"
Michonne keeps her distance, acutely feeling the absence of her katana and uninterested in jumping into a fight that doesn't concern her. The distance gives her a chance to take in the scene, Aiden puffing his chest up at the new guy, who stares at him stone-faced in return. There are a few other unfamiliar faces on the outskirts, all of them glaring at the unfolding scene.
"This guy's got a problem with the way we do things," Aiden announces, turning back to fix his mother with a disapproving scowl. "Why'd you let these people in?"
"Because we actually know what we're doing out there," the new guy answers, only to be met immediately with a right hook from Aiden. New Guy dodges easily and lands a clean hit, knocking down with ease.
"Aiden! No, that is enough!" Deanna calls out but the situation is quickly devolving past the point of peaceful intervention. The other run-crew guy, Nicholas, charges at another newcomer who quickly overcomes him and pins him to the ground. This is the exact type of thing this place is not prepared for, the type of danger people like this bring- people like her.
"I said that is enough!" Deanna continues to call out.
Michonne steps into the situation, placing herself between Aiden and New Guy. Aiden makes a move like he's going to advance on her to get back into the fight but Michonne fixes him with a deadly stare. "You wanna end up on your ass again?"
From behind her, Michonne can hear others approaching but she doesn't dare divert her attention from the asshole in front of her. Under her stare, Aiden finally steps down, allowing Michonne to turn her attention to the remaining scuffle. The fight has fizzled to nothing but labored breathing and battered egos. There's a man attempting to pull the newcomer off of Nicholas, finally succeeding with a grunt, both men projecting violently backward into Michonne's space. Michonne shuffles back, thrown for a moment, before her eyes rise to look at the man in question.
She stops. Looks away. Looks back again.
No.
This time, he's looking back at her too, chest heaving and fists clenching at his sides. His brow furrows, mouth bobbing.
No.
She realizes belatedly that she might've said that one out loud. She doesn't know because she can't think, or hear, or feel. Michonne can only see, her focus fixed on a single point. A face, one she knows, once knew better than her own. That permanent ache in her chest fizzles to nothing, rushing out of her like wind, like the open window in the truck on the dirt road. The past is collapsing in on itself with blinding clarity and the only thing Michonne can even fathom is: he's here.
Rick is here.