Chapter Six
"Revelations"
MONTHS AGO
"At ease, soldiers." Major General Beale's balmy voice echoed throughout the Civic Republic's football field-sized hangar.
Standing in neat rows in the empty center and surrounded by the Air Force Fleet, Lucas and his squad settled into a relaxed position in unison—legs parted, hands behind their backs, and eyes ahead.
Lucas' body, hard pressed, was clenched so tight he'd have teetered if poked; being in the Civic Republic's highest-ranked soldier's presence wound him tight. Well, tighter than usual. It was his curiosity, too, at his commander showing up out of the blue for a visit to a squad of underlings that had Lucas shaking in his combat boots.
Beale's stoic eyes, squinted in a stare, scanned over each member. He took his time appraising one, before he dragged his eyes over, to search the next.
Lucas didn't know the man enough to guess what Beale hoped to find when he looked at them. He'd seen the man from afar just a handful of times, but watching him effortlessly command had marveled Lucas each time.
"I hear great things about these men." Beal glanced to his left, at the squad's Staff Sergeant, Van Monts.
The Samoan with an impressive head of jet black and tied-back hair, towered over everyone in the room. In his last life, He'd been a linebacker before a blown knee sidelined him into a flight career.
"The work your guys do with the planes is instrumental in what my men do out there," said Beale.
"I appreciate that, sir." With his ever-wide smile, Van, who looked proud of himself, gave Beale a nod. "I'm lucky to have some of the best in our force."
Beale's gaze wandered again and paused on Lucas; he stared with a tilted head and slow-growing intrigue.
Lucas subtly straightened; he pushed his shoulders back further than what was comfortable. He held his commander's stare, held his breath.
This is it, I can feel it.
Week after week, he'd watched members of his squad be called away for a top-secret meeting with Beale, and each had returned freshly fitted with the coveted red stripes on their uniforms and a new title in front of their names.
Lucas was the most seasoned of his comrades—capable enough survivors who'd mostly joined the military to get out of six years of servitude for entry into the city. He'd never judged them for their skewed motives—consignee duty was shit. But for Lucas, being a soldier was not some easy way out, it had and always would define him.
It showed in the way he carried himself on the daily; first one in and last one out, taking the teaching position at the training facility on top of his mechanical duties, and never complaining about the grunt work involved in looking after the planes. So, he couldn't understand why he'd been passed over for a promotion into Beale's force, time and time again, for the lesser of his team.
In an instant, Beale's expression shifted and by the look of indifference on his face, Lucas might as well have been a piece of scum on his boot. His eyes skated away to settle on the guy beside Lucas.
And just like that the warmth of the anticipation coursing through Lucas' veins iced over to fury.
"Cornelius, I need to speak with you privately," Beale said, to the guy who'd only joined their squad weeks before. "Let's take a ride."
Cornelius peeled away from the group to follow after Beale.
Seething beneath the surface, it took everything for Lucas not to tear his eyes away from the front.
"Van!" Lucas jogged to catch up with Monts, after duty. It was early evening and the ordinarily bustling main lot of the military complex was thin, most of the soldiers had gone home for the day.
Van slowed to allow Lucas to walk alongside him. "Hey, man," said the perpetually smiley Samoan.
When they'd first met, days after Lucas and his brother had found the Civic Republic, Lucas had been leery of the burly guy, figuring something had to be wrong with him. The only way he could rationalize someone being able to keep a smile on their face in the midst of all this was that they had to have a few screws loose. But coming to know him, Lucas realized it was just who Van was—a glass-half-full type of guy.
"You calling it in early?" Van asked.
"What the hell was that about today," Lucas said, skipping the small talk. He'd stewed all day but had enough sense not to confront his superior in the presence of others, and had waited for a time when he could address Van, not as his C.O., but as the friend he thought had his back.
"I'm not following," Van said. "Something happen?"
"Yeah. Cornelius getting promoted over me."
Van opened his mouth and sighed an inaudible 'oh'. "Man, what can I say, Beale promotes who he wants to. I don't control that."
"He only promotes who you recommend, right?"
Van hesitated. "Yeah. So?"
"So, then, what the hell man?" Lucas grabbed Van's arm, stopping him. "I've been busting my ass to prove my worth here. Hell, I'm all but leading this damn squad when you're out there flying the Frontliners." He stepped closer to Van. "So tell me how you recommend Cornelius—who can barely fly straight—over me?"
Van sighed and glanced around. "Look, man. You're aces. Smart as a whip and the best soldier I know by far. But what Beale looks for is based on more than that."
"You're trying to tell me I don't have what it takes?"
"No. That's not—"
"That Austin—fucking Austin—is more qualified than me?" Lucas' brother had been promoted to the Frontliners months ago and he'd been proud and supportive, but also envious as hell. It'd also baffled him, that his screw-up of an older brother had somehow managed to stumble into a higher ranking than him.
"I'm saying that there's a certain type of grit you gotta have, to be one of us. To do the things that need to be done out there and... it's just not you, man." Van stepped toward him and patted his shoulder. "But it's alright. What you're doing now, leading here, teaching, is not nothing. It's where you're needed."
"How can you say that?" He stared at his friend, smelling a rank load of crap. "You, better than anyone, know what I had to do to keep Austin and me alive out there. And you're telling me I don't have grit. That's bullshit." Lucas knew his friend well enough to be able to tell by the way he hadn't stopped clenching and unclenching his fists since they had begun talking, that he wasn't being straight with him. "Level with me here, man. What's really going on?"
Van blew out a breath and crossed his arms, rocking back and forth on his heels with his eyes on the sky. "Look." He dropped his gaze to Lucas. "All I can tell you is to talk to your brother. This is between you and him. I don't wanna be in it anymore."
Lucas paused, the comment so out of left field that he had to ensure they were still in the same conversation. "Austin?" he asked, taking a step back.
"Yeah."
"What's he got to do with it?"
Van held his hands up, backing away. "Just—just you talk to him. Okay?" He held a finger up. "But for the record, I agree with him." And with that, he walked away.
Dammit, Lucas thought, what the hell has my brother done now?
NOW
Michonne woke to the helicopter hovering back to earth and lifted her head off the window to glance at the darkness she floated in. Her eyes adjusted and below she scoped out the parking lot of a middle-of-nowhere, abandoned repair shop with the debris of a forgotten town scattered all around and a straggle of emaciated walkers ambling in the lowering plane's direction. "Refuel?" she asked, through a groggy voice, and turned her head to look at Rick, beside her in the pilot's seat.
"No..." He kept his eyes forward, not even looking where he pressed buttons on the control panel. "You must have been tired." He sounded spent himself. "Slept through 'em all." Rick wiped a hand over his face and yawned.
Michonne glanced back through the window at the desolation. "So... we're here?" She managed to keep the disappointment out of her voice; he'd given her exactly zero details about their honeymoon, but she'd had high hopes for what he had planned.
Rick chuckled. "Don't worry, this is just where we're landing."
"Okay, good. Because I was about to say..." Michonne's words trailed off as she watched the helicopter pitch to settle on the pavement. She eyed the walkers moving in her direction, gripped the sword handle in her lap, and set her other hand on the doorknob.
Rick, squeezing Michonne's thigh, stopped her. "I got 'em."
She tilted her head. "Baby, I'm pregnant, not helpless."
"Yeah... I know." He slid his hand against the slippery fabric of her dress, to squeeze her knee. "But it'd be a shame if you got blood on this pretty dress," he said, playfully.
"Ha!" She'd been hustled by Rick, eager to get in the air, straight from the reception to the airspace. Had she known it wasn't a quick flight, she'd have taken a moment to change. But it was kind of hot, she had to admit, being whisked away in a helicopter to an unknown destination by a sexy man. Not to mention, based on the observations of her mother, Michonne needed to make more of a concerted effort to let herself be taken care of. After so many years of having to do it all herself, codependency didn't come back easy.
She slumped back into her seat. "Fine, but are you sure you can handle them on your own?" she asked, flippantly.
Rick scoffed. "Can I handle 'em," he muttered, hopping out of the helicopter. "I got this." He threw his arm out to the side, his steel fist knife popped free and he shut the door, made quick work of plowing through the walkers, then hustled to the repairs shop garage and pushed up the door of one of the bays where a sleek, red convertible sat.
Rick slid into the driver's seat and revved it up.
Okay, I like where this is going, Michonne thought, watching him roll the car over to the plane.
He stepped out and opened her door, his hand extending to her with a finger now fit with a thick silver band. "Let's go."
The vacant town's crackling mainland road gave way to a stretch of better-preserved winding shoreline highway. Michonne rested her head against her arms, set on the convertible window seal. She closed her eyes and let the sprinkles of ocean water, which the chilly air carried, dust her face and the sulfur scent of the sea waft beneath her nose.
Rick slowed the convertible and steered it right, at a turnoff. They were bracketed by a mile of oversized trees until they reached high black gates. "Sit tight," he said, stepping out of the car.
Michonne's eyes followed him, but momentarily shifted away to read the sign at the side of the gate, 'Welcome to the Sinola Beachfront Residences'. Her gaze settled back on Rick, who pulled the gate's doors apart.
What is this? A line of modern mansions, relatively undisturbed, save some peeling paint and missing shingles sat on the other side.
"We're here," Rick said, hopping back into the car he jerked it forward and steered it through the gates opening. "Our home away from home. At least for the next week." He parked the convertible in the driveway of the middle mansion and shut it off. "What do you think?"
She pointed at the house. "This is what you've been up to?"
Rick took her hand and kissed the back of it. "Had a lot more to work with." He stepped out of the car, hustled to her side to help her out, and ushered her with his hand at the small of her back up the sidewalk leading to the front door.
Michonne reached for the knob.
"Wait," he said.
"What?" Michonne's hand fell away and flew up to grip the sword handle around her shoulder. It'd been months since she'd been this deep into the wilderness, life behind walls had made her forget the constant state of alertness her body had been trained to stay in while out here. "What is it?" Her head whipped around, scoping out the quiet neighborhood.
"Gotta carry you in."
Michonne let the sword go; it dropped back into the case with a clang. Her head cranked back slowly to face Rick. "That's sweet." She tilted her head at him and smiled. "But, no."
"Come on..." he coaxed.
"I'm six months pregnant." Michonne maintained a regular workout routine—calisthenics in the backyard every morning after walking the kids to school—and was still in fine shape. But there was no way around it, she'd gained weight.
"See now there you go, doubting me," Rick said, in a tone that would have had her believing he was truly offended if his face hadn't betrayed him: a slight smile played at the corner of his lips. "This because of my hand?"
"Oh my God. You're going there?"
"Because I'll have you know." He stepped toward her, dangerously close, with narrowed eyes, and lowered his voice to a sexy whisper. "I can do more with my one hand than most men can do with two."
"I know," she replied without thought. Her breath caught and her body heat rose.
Rick's eyes dropped to her lips. "So you gonna let me carry you in?"
Why does he have to be so goddamn sexy? "Okay, fine. But..." She took a step back and held up a finger. "I better not hear a single sound of struggle from you."
"I wouldn't dare."
Michonne slid her arms around his neck, buried her face in it, and let herself be lifted.
Rick kicked the door open with his foot and eased into the house.
Michonne was relieved at how effortless he made carrying her seem, and when she pulled back from Rick's neck, her mouth hung open. Her eyes darted over the expansive space, taking it all in. The living room was spotless and impeccably decorated in light blues and beige coastal accents. It flowed into the expensive-looking kitchen that was all marble. But nothing was as impressive as the wall of floor-length mirrors displaying a view of the dark ocean, glistening with the moon's reflection.
Rick set Michonne down in front of it. Sliding his hand to the front of her belly, he rubbed a small circle over it before settling it on the underside and dropping his chin on her shoulder.
Michonne leaned back into his embrace, letting it sink in how much effort Rick had put into this. She was sure she didn't know half of what it'd taken to make the beach house happen. She felt her eyes well at the thought of him going to this extent just for time alone with her. "I can not believe you did all this. Thank you."
"I already told you—"
"Oh, just let me thank you."
"It was nothing. Really. I can never repay you for everything you've done for me. If I could give you the world... I would. But until I figure out how to make that happen, this'll have to do."
She sighed, sinking back deeper into his embrace. "Oh, this? This will do." Michonne peeled her eyes away from the water, to turn around in Rick's arms, and she faced him with a smile. "It'll do just fine."
Rick nodded, staring into her eyes. "You want a tour?"
"I just wanna see our bedroom."
"Funny, that was gonna be my first stop."
"What are Rick and Michonne gonna say about us doing it in their bed." Lucas slid back the sheets and hopped under the covers.
"Doing it? What are you, fifteen?" Elodie said from the bathroom, where she'd been for the last thirty minutes. "And that's pretty presumptuous of you."
He'd become accustomed to her lengthy nightly routine over the past few months: she never went to bed without showering, going through her face routine, and wrapping her hair. Elodie liked to come off as easy-breezy—and had made fun of him on more than one occasion for the color-coordinated clothes in his closet—but he'd been pleasantly surprised to find out she could be just as anal as he was.
"You didn't invite me over here just to warm the other side of the bed... did you?" he asked, to ensure she wasn't serious. Sometimes Lucas couldn't make heads or tails of Elodie. But it's what he liked about being with her; their relationship was an adventure. He hadn't ever dated anyone with as colorful a personality as her.
Elodie had shocked him that afternoon at the wedding reception, with that messy speech that had been an obvious hail mary. And despite the logical side of his brain telling him to let her go, he hadn't been strong enough to ignore her finally saying what he'd wanted to hear since their first night together. Hell, since he'd first laid eyes on her.
But the excitement of kissing her on that dance floor had been short-lived, with his secret a monkey on his shoulder. Lucas knew he wouldn't be able to shake it until he came clean.
"Hey, earth to Lucas."
He hadn't noticed Elodie slide into bed beside him.
"You were on a different planet. You okay?" she asked.
"Uh..." Tell her now. Just do it. Rip that bandaid right off. She cares for you, she'll understand.
But would she, would she really?
Elodie had once told him about a three-month-long rift she and her sister had over a designer dress Michonne had borrowed for vacation and mistakenly left in another country. For three months she hadn't talked to her sister, over a damn dress.
No, this wasn't the type of woman he could just drop shit on. He needed time to figure out how to break it to her in a way that wouldn't spell the end of what they'd just begun. "Yeah. I'm fine," he said.
"You know I was just kidding, right? You're for sure getting some tonight, we just... have to be sure to change the sheets before they get back." Elodie cracked up.
And despite himself, Lucas laughed.
The next morning, Elodie strolled into the kitchen holding Lucas' hand and feeling not at all like herself. Or at least the self she'd come to know in this new and strange world.
Happy was an emotion she hadn't authentically worn in far too long for it to feel normal to smile randomly or just want to sit back and watch her man. There were little things she hadn't noticed about him when her heart had been half closed: like how he smiled in his sleep or how it took him a few minutes to detach from dreamland after waking. Learning her man was better than TV.
They'd dressed in silence, Elodie not wanting to ruin the good vibes that had carried over from the night before with unnecessary words and Lucas looking lost in seemingly serious thought that she noticed also carried over from the night before. She pushed down the part of her that jumped to catastrophizing and decided not to worry about what he might be worrying about.
We're good, she thought, as she strolled into the kitchen to her mother who was in front of the island transferring fresh sliced bread into Tupperware.
"Mama, I told you I'd take care of breakfast." Elodie let go of Lucas' hand to step in beside her mother to help pack the spread of breakfast meats and pastries she'd prepared.
"Felt good this morning," her mother said, rolling to the fridge to grab the butter and jelly. "Thought I'd make the most of it." She wheeled back to the counter and set the condiments down before flashing a smile at Lucas. "Didn't know we'd be having company this morning."
"Morning, ma'am." He tipped his head at her. "Hope I'm not intruding."
" 'Course not. But since you're here, you're gonna help."
"What can I do?"
She pointed behind, at the pantry. "In there's a picnic basket. Grab it will ya? Get all this stuff in there."
"Yes ma'am."
Her mother set her hand on Elodie's arm. "Your sister's not gonna like that you're fornicating in her bed," she whispered.
Elodie pressed her lips together. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her. Right?" Elodie whispered back.
"My lips are sealed, but I can't say the same for everyone in the house."
And right on cue, running feet sounded above and then on the stairs, and then her niece and nephew appeared.
"You're here!" RJ ran right past her to Lucas.
"Hey, dude," Lucas bent down to slap a five with her nephew.
"Did you come here just to have breakfast?" RJ, with his abundance of innocence asked.
Lucas looked up at Elodie, who nodded voraciously.
She didn't think RJ would care enough to snitch, but better safe than sorry.
"Yup," Lucas said to RJ.
"Cool," RJ said. "Aunt El said we could eat in the park. We could toss the football—Dad's been showing me how to throw it." He lit up. "I'm pretty good now."
"Dude, that sounds like so much fun. I'm in." Lucas turned his attention to Judith. "Morning Judes."
"Morning," Judith said, sweetly, before her eyebrows furrowed together. "Don't you live in ward five? You must have had to get up reeeeal early to get here for breakfast."
Elodie narrowed her eyes at Judith. She'd noticed little things about herself that had rubbed off on her niece in the months they'd spent together, but it was only cute when Judith wasn't being a smart-ass on Elodie's account.
"Yeah—uh..." Lucas scratched at his neck and shot Elodie a pleading look.
Elodie pointed a finger at Judith, fighting her laughter. "Stop it…" She leaned closer to her niece and whispered, "And five bucks to keep your mouth shut to your mom about the sleepover."
Judith held her hand out. "Make it ten and we have a deal."
The ocean waves crashing into the shore woke Michonne the next morning.
Eyes closed, she reached over, and her hand found Rick's side of the bed empty. She shot up, her gaze settling on the picturesque view through the sliding glass window.
The horizon had been shifting to orange when she and Rick had decided to peel off each other and finally call it a night. The last she remembered, the sky had been waking up, her head on Rick's bare chest as she listened to his steady heartbeat while he rubbed soothing circles against her belly.
There was no watch or clock in sight, but judging by how harsh the sun shone now, it had to have been afternoon. Had she slept straight through the morning?
God, it'd been so long since she'd lost time this completely. Even on the road to Philadelphia and in the year she had been holed up with Nat, and at the Civic Republic, her life had been ruled by the almighty hand. Then she and Rick had jumped back into a life that required a schedule—parenting and citizenship had them moving to the rhythm of all their responsibilities in the Commonwealth.
But here, on their little island after losing so much time, Rick had managed to pause it for them.
Michonne moaned and braced her hand against her throbbing head, then dropped it to her aching lower back, the wedding day and night catching up with her. Her muscles clenched when she pushed herself out of the bed and slid into her robe and slippers.
The sounds of sizzles and mouth-watering smells drew Michonne out of the bedroom. She took her time strolling through the house, giving herself the tour they hadn't gotten to the night before. She couldn't help but imagine the whole family here. There were enough rooms for her mom, the kids, Elodie and Lucas. There was even enough space for Judith to bring Gracie if she wanted. Summer vacation was right around the corner.
Michonne hit the bottom of the stairs and paused at the sight.
The kitchen was a mess of pots and pans piled high in the sink, and ingredients strewn on the counter. Rick, wearing only his boxers, darted from there to the stove and slid a covered pan into the oven. He wiped at his damp forehead, punching numbers into the overhead microwave timer.
Michonne leaned her forearms on the counter. "What's cooking good-looking?"
Rick turned, snorting. "You're awake." He removed his oven mitts and tossed them on the counter before he grabbed a mug from beside the stove.
"And you're cooking."
"I am." He walked around the counter, set the mug in front of her, then leaned down for a quick kiss. "Why do you sound so surprised?"
She lowered her gaze, to peer at him through her lashes. "You don't cook."
"I... make food," he stuttered.
"Baby, putting the components of a sandwich together does not a chef make. By the way, what are you making?" She picked up the warm mug and got a good whiff before she saw the steaming chocolate and gasped. "No..." Her eyes flicked up to Rick. "How?"
He smiled. "Jonestown. They've been growing Cocoa beans."
"Are you telling me I get chocolate again?"
"That's what I'm telling you."
She took a sip from her mug and her eyes slipped closed when the sweetness singed her tongue. "That's good as hell."
"And it's almond milk since you can't have unpasteurized."
Michonne raised her eyebrows as she took another sip. "Someone's been reading the pregnancy book?"
"Every day on my lunch break." He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "Hell, I could probably deliver our baby at this point."
"Let's hope it never comes to that." A waft of something savory passed beneath her nose. "What are you making, by the way?"
"You'll see." He slid his hand across her belly and around to rest on her lower back, pulling her closer. "Why don't you go for a walk on the beach? I'll let you know when it's ready."
"I can help."
"You can rest," he said firmly. "You're not doing any work while we're here." He looked up at the ceiling and thought for a moment. "Well, maybe just a bit of it." He smiled.
She laughed. "Yeah, because I recall putting in some work last night."
He pulled her even closer. "Greatwork."
"You gave as good as you got."
Rick leaned down to kiss her, then pulled back, and reached over to grab her katana from the counter. "I'll holler when it's ready," he said, sliding the strap around her shoulders.
Michonne walked to the sliding glass door. "Don't be too long." She stopped and glanced over her shoulder at him. "We're hungry."
MONTHS AGO
Lucas burst into his apartment and stormed past the living room littered with empty beer bottles and stale corn chips. He was too pissed to care about the mess.
He threw the dirty sock off the handle of his brother's door and flung it open, sending it smashing against the wall. "Get up!" He postured at the foot of the bed.
Austin popped up from under the covers, dirty blonde hair mussed and with one eye cracked. "Hey, man," he said, sounding put out. "Uh—it's kinda early."
"It's three in the afternoon."
"And my day off, so I don't need your judgment. Wasn't there a sock on the door?"
A body, next to Austin, wiggled beneath the covers, and bashful eyes—drowsy hazel ones Lucas was familiar with—peeked over the edge. Sarah from engineering.
Sure as shit thought she had higher standards.
"Heeeey, Lucas." She slid up like a caught cat, her cheeks rosy. "We had a late night."
"Didn't know you liked to share with your friends, Sarah," Lucas said, inquisitively. His petty meter buzzed off the charts.
"What?" All the sleep in her eyes was gone, her alert gaze bounced between Lucas and Austin, who threw his head back against his pillow and sighed.
"Oh, Jennifer didn't tell you where she was the other night? I mean I might have been mistaken, but if I recall correctly, she's the one I saw tiptoeing out of here at five a.m. Could have been one of the other ones though."
"You slept with my best friend?!" she yelled at Austin, who didn't look the least bit ashamed.
He set a hand on her thigh above the covers. "Babe, I told you I wasn't ready to settle down yet."
She pushed him away. "My best friend, though?"
"I mean..." he shrugged. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't do anything below a nine."
"You're an ass." She threw the covers back.
Lucas turned away as she plucked her clothes from the floor and slid them onto her underwear-clad body before she huffed out the door.
"Not cool, bro." Austin sat up against the headboard and ran his hand through his hair. "Not cool at all. I was having fun with them."
Lucas waved him off and crossed his arms, tilting his head. "Why haven't I been promoted?"
"Excuse me?"
"I already know you have something to do with it, so don't play dumb."
"No idea what you're talking about right now."
"So then Van is lying?"
Austin flinched and looked away.
Right. "Why am I surprised? All our lives I've covered for you, protected you, and taken the fall for you."
Austin chuckled. "Wish I woulda known we were keeping score."
"And you've always resented me for having my shit together when you never did. And now you're hot shit and you don't—"
"You're so off base it's not even funny."
"You can't stand that I might surpass you again. That you'd be in my shadow again."
Austin's nostrils flared. "I don't give a fuck about that!" He pushed out of his bed and threw on the nearest rumpled—probably dirty—shirt he could find among the many on the ground and stood in front of Lucas. "And you know what, you're right. I'll admit, I never managed to figure life out. And you were the only one who believed I wasn't a waste of space." He blew out a frustrated breath and propped his hands on his hips. "I'm your older brother and you've always had to look after me. For once, I wanted to do that for you."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
His eyes were fixed on the ground and it took him a moment to finally speak. "There's a reason we can't talk about what we do out there. Same reason I can't go to sleep anymore without popping a shitton of pills."
Lucas' tense shoulders relaxed. "I didn't know."
"It doesn't matter." He shook his head. "Doing what we do, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself."
"That's not for you to decide."
"Dude, I wish someone would have done it for me."
"And what exactly is it that you're doing for me?"
Austin swallowed. "I… um… I've been giving Van half my rations every month in exchange for him not recommending you."
Lucas froze, as his brother's words sank in. He wouldn't put anything past Austin, but this... "Get out."
"bro—"
"Get the hell out!"
"You're in my room."
"In my apartment, remember?"
Austin's face went slack. "You can't be serious."
"I want you out."
"Okay. Fine." Austin slid the duffle out from under the bed and began throwing clothes in. "I'll find somewhere to stay for a few days, while you cool the fuck down."
"No. I want you out for good."
Austin paused. "Lucas. Come on."
"I'm done with your bullshit. I want you gone by the time I get back." He walked out of his brother's room.
NOW
From where she and her mother sat on the picnic blanket, surrounded by a spread of scraps from their forgotten breakfast, Elodie had a perfect view of Lucas cradling a football in his arms like it was a newborn baby, running around an open spot of Memorial Park's packed field with Judith and RJ chasing him.
With nothing more to do in The Commonwealth for recreation, most families spent good-weather days relaxing in front of the river, and that day they'd been lucky to get there early enough to snag a prime spot.
"He's so good with them, huh?" Elodie heard her mother say, from beside her.
"Yeah," she said and didn't care that her voice sounded all dreamy-like.
"Makes you think—"
Elodie gave her mother the side eye. "Don't even go there."
"I'm just saying."
"Mama, we just got serious."
"Children are a blessing."
"I'm not even tryna think about that right now." Or ever.
She admired Rick and Michonne's ability to do it, but Elodie had already decided she'd never bring another baby into this world. The only child-rearing she'd be doing would be as an auntie. Her contribution toward building up the world was to help Rick and Michonne raise upstanding members of society.
"I just want you to have everything," her mother said.
"You know a woman can be fulfilled without having children, right?"
"Oh, no-no." Her mother smacked her lips and crossed her arms. "Don't try to school me, baby. I taught you that."
"Then why the pressure?"
Her mother stared ahead and was quiet for a long time. "I won't be around soon. So I gotta get my two cents in where I can."
Elodie sighed. Pushing off of her palms, she crossed her legs and rested her arms on her knees. "I don't like when you talk like that."
"It ain't going away because we ignore it." She looked at Elodie.
"I know that." Elodie's eyes went to her shoes; she fiddled with her laces. "Are you scared, at all, of what comes next?"
"I've made peace with it."
"I haven't," she said, quietly.
Her mother touched the side of her cheek and rubbed her thumb across her skin. "You will, baby. When it was just us. When we first found each other here, I was worried about leaving you. But I don't worry about that anymore."
At that, Elodie turned. "How come?"
"Because I'm not leaving you alone, anymore."
Elodie touched her mother's hand. "No one can replace you."
"But there are a few people who I think can give me a run for my money." She turned her gaze.
Elodie followed it to where Judith and RJ were tackling Lucas to the ground.
"You were an ass to me." Michonne leaned back in her chair, rubbing her belly. She smiled at Rick above the candles between them, casting a flickered glow around the table.
They'd been sitting on the backyard patio for hours, their plates long since eaten clean. Rick had somehow become proficient in the kitchen overnight, feeding them a breakfast casserole for brunch and the fried fish he'd caught earlier that day for dinner. Both dishes tasted suspiciously similar to how her mother used to make the meals. The list of people in on the planning of their honeymoon just kept growing.
Rick cringed. "I wasn't that bad was I?"
" 'We patch you up and you're gone.' I think those were your exact words."
"Shit." He groaned and wiped a hand over his face. "Yeah, I was an ass. I think I might have blocked that out." He dropped his hand and shook his head. "And the fact you remember—I'm sorry," he said sincerely.
"I'm just giving you a hard time." Michonne shrugged. "It's funny to me now. You know, considering you almost gave away your future."
"I know, but I hate that I ever made you feel like you didn't have a place with me."
"You've more than redeemed yourself."
He leaned his elbows on the table and stared at his plate, for a moment, before he chuckled. "I guess I default to being an asshole when I'm afraid." He glanced at her, his expression vulnerable. "Lori used to call me a turtle."
Michonne shifted to sit up straighter. The topic of Rick's ex-wife wasn't one he ever brought up but was one Michonne had been endlessly curious about. She'd only known this new world's version of her husband and wondered if he'd always been so strong, if he'd always been a fighter, and a part of her wondered how he'd loved back then. "A turtle?"
"Said it's cause I retreat into myself when things go wrong."
"Oh." They fell silent, but Michonne couldn't let the moment pass without asking, "What happened with her?"
He raised his brows, seemingly thrown by the question. "I guess it boils down to—we were young when we got together. Too young, I think."
"How old?"
"Eighteen. I didn't date much so when I met her, I jumped in head first and never came back up for air. We had to grow up together and then we grew apart. But at that point, we had Carl and were too afraid to admit it." He stared at the water. "I wasn't perfect. I can admit that."
"Hence, turtle."
He chuckled and glanced back at her, before looking at the water again. "Hence, turtle," he echoed.
"Do you have regrets?"
He nodded. "I shoulda done better by her. Even if it meant calling it quits sooner. She deserved better than what it was before the start. What it was at the end."
"I know you, so I know you fought for it because that's who you are. There's no shame in that. Sometimes it's hard to see the right way when you're in it."
"The way I treated her in the end, though." Tears pooled at the corner of his eyes before he squeezed them shut. "I wish I could take it back."
"You fought to keep her safe, I know you did… Hey," she said, coaxing his gaze.
Rick looked at her, just as a tear slid down his cheek.
"I know because you've done it for me," she said softly. "Even when your actions said differently. Even through all our bullshit I still felt it. You wouldn't have let anything happen to me back there. I have to believe she felt that too."
Rick watched her, then nodded and dragged a knuckle beneath his wet lid. "I, uh... I have a little something for you." He stood and took both of their plates from the table. Holding them out wide, he stepped toward her and leaned down to give her a quick peck. "Be right back."
"Okay."
Michonne occupied the seconds he was away watching the waves, feeling her baby's soft kicks in response to her gentle rubs. She smiled thinking about the box from Dr. Clayborne, in her overnight bag, that she hadn't found the right moment to bring out just yet.
The sliding glass door opened and when Michonne turned, she saw Rick stepping out with a paper-wrapped frame in his hand.
"What is this?"
He set it in front of her on the table and sat down. "It's my wedding gift to you—well, it's actually from us all. Your mom, Elodie, and me."
"You didn't tell me we were doing gifts."
"Open it." He fiddled nervously with his thumb.
Michonne ripped the paper at the corner and peeled the paper off of the front of the frame. Her hand stopped when she saw the painted eyes staring back at her. Her baby boy's eyes. They were a more immaculate depiction than her brain could recall.
"I got Elodie and your mom to work with one of the artists back home. It took 'em weeks to feel like it was right."
Michonne's hand trembled as she peeled the rest of the photo free; Andre's smiling face filled the frame. A tear dropped onto the canvas, blotching the paint. Michonne quickly wiped what was left on her face, not wanting to mar the art further. "This is... I don't even know what to say." She looked up at Rick, who was holding back his emotions.
"He was a handsome boy."
"He was." Michonne stared at the painting for a second longer. She stood and walked around to Rick, who opened his arms so she could drop onto his lap. Their eyes never breaking, wordlessly, Michonne placed her hands on the sides of his face and leaned down to kiss him. "It's perfect. Thank you," she whispered.
He nodded.
"I have something for you too." She stood and took his hand, pulling him up. "In our room."
He raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"
"No." She laughed, sniffing. "Not that."
Rick and Michonne sat crisscrossed in front of each other on the bed, with a tiny gold box between them. The way his wife was watching him, with an eager smile, made him all the more curious to know what was inside. "Can I open it?"
"Yes." She set her hand on his knee. "But wait, first—before we left, I asked Dr. Clayborne if she could come up with a way to tell us if we're having a boy or girl." Michonne looked down out the box. "The answer's inside."
His mouth hung open a moment. "But you didn't wanna know."
"You do. And I thought it'd be fun."
Rick smiled and shook his head. He leaned forward, meeting her halfway for a kiss. He looked at the tiny box, now an overwhelming presence in the room. "Wasn't expecting this…" He said, taking a moment to prepare himself for what he was about to do. "Okay." He placed his hand on one side of the lid but paused just before lifting it. "How about we do it together?"
Michonne set her hand on the other side. "On three?"
"On three."
Together they counted, "One. Two. Three." They lifted the lid and absently set it aside. Their eyes were fixed on what was inside.
Rick heard Michonne take in a sharp breath and through his blurred vision, he saw pink-knitted baby booties.
"Ah!" Michonne threw her head back and laughed. "I knew it!"
He laughed in disbelief, unable to take his eyes off proof positive that he would be a father of two girls.
Michonne grabbed hold of his forearm. "You're about to be outnumbered, Daddy."
Rick laughed again and sighed on the comedown. "RJ's not gonna be happy."
Their son had sworn his mom was carrying a baby brother. He'd hyped himself up about teaching the kid everything he knew from hacky sack to football to Super Mario. All of which he could of course teach his sister, but her not being a boy was for sure a hurdle he'd need time to get over.
"Once he meets her, though, he'll be so in love he won't even care," Michonne said. "Oh. Have you thought of any names?"
"I have."
"Tell me," she said, eagerly.
He'd thought of a few for a boy, but only one felt right for their girl. "Well, if it happened to be a girl, I was thinking... Carly." He let the name float between them for a moment before saying, "Carly Andrea. After her big brothers."
Michonne placed her hands on either side of his face and stared into his eyes. "It's perfect."
It was late evening when Lucas trekked back to his apartment to pick up a change of clothes. He wanted to give Elodie time to get the kids to bed, so he could sneak back in unnoticed. Having spent the entire day and night with the family, Lucas couldn't keep the smile off his face on the walk home.
So many of his dreams had died with his brother, but today had sparked new ones: he and Elodie's kids playing in the park with their cousins, Family dinners, and holidays.
Woah, woah, woah! Getting ahead of yourself, now aren't you?
Right, he'd have to figure out how to get Elodie to marry him first, and considering how much it'd taken just to get her to say yes to being his girlfriend, that didn't seem like a simple task. But when had he ever settled for what was easy?
As he walked up the steps of his building, Lucas was already solidifying plans to go to the thrift store the next week to find a ring—just to have on hand, of course, for when the time was right. By the time he got to the door, Lucas' mind had already shifted to proposal ideas.
So lost in his thoughts he almost pushed the cracked door open, without realizing he hadn't left it that way.
Lucas stared at the knob. His hackles rose, he looked both ways down the empty, dimly lit hallway. Maybe he had just forgotten to close the door. No, he'd always been meticulous about things like that. The dead rising had only sharpened his attention to detail.
He flicked the pocket knife on his keychain, nudged the door open with his foot, and scanned his sparse living room and kitchen. No movement, not even a creak.
Oh, but the feeling...
He couldn't shake it.
Something's off here.
And he hadn't gotten this far in things without trusting his instincts.
Lucas swiftly turned his back to the living space and bent in front of the entry table beside the door. He swung open the mini door of it, where his safe lived, and his fingers flew over the numbers on the keypad. A second later it popped open and his heart clenched at its emptiness.
The code; only one other person alive could guess it right.
"You looking for this?" A raspy voice said from behind, confirming his fear.
Lucas bristled. Slowly, he stood and turned around. Came face to face with his gun and the man who pointed it at his head.
The man he'd once called friend's half-burnt smiling face was lit by the street lamp light spilling through the window. "I would say it's good to see you," Van said. "But... we both know the score."
MONTHS AGO
"That's it for today," Lucas said to The Republic soldiers sitting in his classroom. "Make sure you're caught up with your flight hours. We'll meet in the hangar tomorrow. You're dismissed."
Lucas turned and walked to the podium, to unplug his laptop, before he stuffed it into his bag. He shut off the projector machine and slid the screen up. When he turned around to grab his bag and head for the exit, the room was clear, and Austin stood in the aisle with his hands stuffed into his pockets.
It'd been weeks since he'd seen or talked to his brother.
After clearing his room, Austin respected Lucas' wishes to find somewhere else to live. He could only guess Austin was shacked up with one of the many women he'd entertained over the years. But with Austin's unknown whereabouts, his brother's well-being had been a nagging thought at the back of his mind, that Lucas hadn't let himself dwell on.
"Can we talk," Austin said.
Lucas grabbed his bag. "I've got duty at oh four hundred."
"Five minutes. It's all I'm asking for. All I have. I'm about to head out to Cascadia for the Summit and then we deploy for a mission right after." He sighed and rubbed at his elbow. "I don't want to leave things like this. Going out there... you never know."
As mad as he still was, he couldn't fathom their last meaningful exchange being him kicking Austin out of his life. Lucas set his briefcase on the desk.
Austin took a few steps toward him. "You remember what Dad made us promise him when each of us joined up?"
He didn't have to think about it. Their father, a decorated soldier at the time he'd retired, had only told Lucas one thing before he'd shoved him off to board the plane bound for his first deployment. "To give my life before I gave up the code."
"Honor. Courage. Respect."
It'd been their family's code. Even as a teenager, their father had drilled into them the importance of the code in every aspect of their lives.
"No matter how screwed up I was, before, I was always able to say I'd never broken the code. I started believing it was because I was that guy. Who'd help an old person across a busy street? Or take up for a lady who was being harassed." Austin hung his head. "And then I sat across from Beale, heard everything he had to say, and I realized I'm not that guy. It was easy to play the part when the stakes weren't high, but..." Austin looked up at Lucas, with wet eyes. "I'm not that guy. And I knew that if you sat in that same seat across from him, you'd be that guy. And then I'd lose you."
"Is it that bad?"
"Worse."
"You should have told me."
"I know… And I know it doesn't fix it, but I told Van to go ahead and recommend you if it's what you want."
"Why?"
"Because... somebody's gotta do something. I wanna be that guy, but I can't be him without you. And I—I'd like to have my brother back…" Austin waited for Lucas to reply.
He didn't know what to say; they'd never been this open with each other.
"Okay, that's... all I came here to say." Austin gave him a single nod and turned around to walk to the door.
"Hey, dumbass," Lucas called.
Austin paused.
"I love you."
"I love you too, smartass," he said, before walking out of the lecture hall.
NOW
"Alright, youngins, time for bed." Elodie clicked off the movie they were halfway through and was inevitably met with groans and pleas to stay up longer from her niece and nephew.
"I gotta know what happens to Dorothy!" RJ pleaded, from beside her on the couch.
"There's like thirty minutes left," Judith reasoned.
And the part of her that forever yearned to be the cool auntie almost gave in. "No... your parents left me in charge, so I gotta be a responsible adult. You both have school tomorrow. Up. Up–up." She nudged them with her elbows.
They begrudgingly stood and shuffled toward the stairs, as Elodie cleaned up the popcorn crumbs from in between the couch cushions.
"Aunt El?"
She looked up to find RJ standing in the doorway, playing with the door jams splintering wood. "What's up?"
"How many more days until Mom and Dad come home?" he asked.
"They'll be back on Friday."
He nodded but lingered. "And where they are, it's safe, right?"
"It's super safe. I saw it myself."
"But they're too far to reach by radio. What if something happens out there..."
Like all the times before? she thought, reading the unease on his face. Shit, how many people in her nephew's life had left only never to come back? Elodie walked to him with open arms; RJ hugged her tight.
"Well, first of all, we know where they are. So if they're not back Friday on the dot then you know my ass is going after them." She pulled back to look at his face. "But I won't have to, because your parents are coming home safe and sound. They wouldn't have left you unless they knew that. Okay?"
He nodded.
"Go up to your room? I'll come and tuck you in in a minute."
"Okay."
Twine singed Lucas' skin as he subtly nudged at the ropes around his wrists and ankles.
Van sat on the edge of the couch in the living room, across from the chair he had Lucas tied up in, with his gun laid on the coffee table between them. His knee jittered a mile a minute, and he'd check his watch every few seconds.
Something bigger than this moment was happening, but Lucas didn't know what, and that scared him more than the prospect of what Van had planned for him. "You got somewhere to be?" Lucas asked.
Van grinned. And what once was charming, was now sinister. "Sucks being the one on the outs. Now you know how I feel. Walking around the Republic with my face like this." He pointed at the burnt half. "I'm a leper." Van was one of ten soldiers who'd made it out of Cascadia alive, besides Rick and Michonne. He'd been getting the planes ready and though the fire from the blast had fucked his face up, he'd narrowly escaped the gas by hiding out in the plane.
The other soldiers who'd made it out of Cascadia alive had been tried and pardoned by the tribunal, considering their crimes had been committed outside of the walls and the choice of becoming a Frontliner was life or death. But it was punishment enough to be ostracized by an entire community. "So you're gonna kill me? Live up to what they think about you?"
"Nah. Some of us are still loyal. It's not part of the plan."
"What plan? Rick and Michonne aren't even here."
"Nah, that was your plan. I'm calling the shots now. See, you just wanted revenge. Killing them was so unimaginative. I figured out a way to make them hurt in the way we did."
Lucas' heart rate ticked up, as his brain caught up with Van's words. "What are you saying?"
"They took our friends. Our family. Your brother. An eye for an eye."
"What are—what did you do?" He swallowed.
"This is for Austin too."
"Don't you dare bring him into this?"
"What would he say, knowing you just let his death slide? That you're hanging out with his murderers."
"He'd be proud that I didn't let my anger get the best of me."
"Not the Austin I knew." Van's watch beeped; he popped up from the sofa. "I'm out."
Panic set in. "What did you do?!"
"You'll find out." Van grabbed the gun and slid it back behind his belt. "You know, they wanted to do it while you were in that house too. Just want you to know I saved your life." He walked to the door.
"Van!" Lucas thrashed against the restraints. "Goddammit! Van, don't do this. Their kids don't deserve to pay for what they did."
Van slowed and paused just before he reached the door and hope rose in Lucas that maybe his old friend had been able to hold onto a small piece of his humanity, that it all hadn't been burned away that fateful day.
"And—and it's not too late. Let me go and I'll fix it!" Lucas cried. "The woman I love. She's in there too. I didn't plan for it to happen," he desperately rambled. "After Austin, I didn't think my life could go on. I didn't. But she brought me back. That whole family did. They showed me what it meant to forgive. That I'm strong enough to do it. You are too, man. I know you are."
Van was quiet, still.
Lucas held his breath.
He opened his mouth, to give a final plea.
Van cut him off. "It's already done," he said, hurrying out the door.
The moment it slammed shut, Lucas pushed his foot off the ground until his chair tilted, tipped, and he slammed into the wood.
He scooted his body against the hardwood and when he made it to the kitchen, Lucas grabbed onto the handle of the sink and pulled himself onto his knees.
He swiveled and reached into the middle drawer for a knife and sawed at the rope.
He must have slashed at it twenty times before he managed to break the twine. Shaky hands free, Lucas reached down and fumbled to undo the knots around his ankles.
Lucas sprinted the entire five miles, through the dark of night, his eyes never leaving the line of smoke spiraling in the distant air coming from the direction of the Grimes' neighborhood. The adrenaline that flowed through his body pounded so hard against his veins that he was afraid they'd burst.
He slowed when he reached their street and pushed through the crowd gawking at Fire and Rescue hosing the blazing flames seeping out of every pore of the Grime's home.
Lucas ducked under the yellow tape blocking the crowd and bolted toward the house.
"Back up." A man in a firefighter uniform pushed Lucas' back and gripped his forearms when he fought him off. "No one goes near that house unless authorized."
Lucas thrashed against the man's hold. "My family is there!"
"Pal, there's no one in that building."
He stopped. "They got out?" He looked around, his heart unclenching momentarily.
"Two women and two children were taken to the Main hospital."
"Are they okay?"
"Not sure. I'm just crowd control."
Lucas took off, back into the crowd, and toward the hospital.
"I'm looking for the Grimes—Hawthornes," Lucas said to the nurse sitting at the hospital circulation desk, clutching his shaky hands at his sides. "There was a fire. I was told they were brought here."
"Let me check." She slid her finger down the clipboard in front of her, with a long list of names. "They're in the emergency unit. Down the hall and to—" She squinted at him, standing. "Wait. What's your name?"
"Thank you." Lucas rushed away and followed the signs for the emergency room.
"Sir," he heard her call. "Stop."
He kept going, until he reached the double doors of the unit, and pushed in. It was quiet, doctors treating minor injuries in curtained rooms. He poked his head into each stall until he found the one where Judith and RJ lay beside each other, being examined by a doctor, and surrounded by Dorothy, Mercer, Ezekiel, and Yumiko.
His eyes scanned the small space for Elodie but came up short. "Where's El?"
Shocked faces turned in his direction, but what unsettled him most were the Grimes kids, staring at him like he was the boogieman. "Are you two okay?" He moved toward them.
Mercer stepped in front of him, with a hand held up, blocking his path. "You need to come with me."
"I need to know where Elodie is."
"Some neighbors ID'd the guys who set the Grimes house on fire," Mercer said, his stern face unmoved. "We caught them just outside the walls. Seems they're from the Republic. They've been in interrogation for the past hour and have some interesting things to say, especially about your involvement in this whole thing."
Shit. "It's not like that. I didn't—"
"I'd advise you not to speak until you get to the station." Yumiko leaned around Mercer, her face just as unforgiving. "I don't care either way, but I wouldn't want you to incriminate yourself."
He contemplated bolting, running through the halls of the hospital until he either found Elodie or someone who could reassure him she was alive. He was seconds away from turning tail when his eyes shifted to the kids again; he couldn't make this any more traumatic for them. "Please at least just tell me that Elodie's alive," he said to Mercer.
Mercer glanced back at Dorothy, who nodded solemnly. "She suffered third-degree burns getting her mom and the kids out. They're tending to her in the surgical unit right now. That's all we know."
"I wouldn't mind doing this every year." Michonne stared through the helicopter's windshield as it approached their bustling city, situated among the ruins. "Taking a trip to our beach house."
"It's our beach house now?" Rick smirked.
Lazily, she rolled her head in his direction. "The mat said 'welcome'."
They burst out laughing.
"We're gonna have to bring the family at least once," Rick said, once he sobered. "I saw some surfboards in the shed, I think the kids would love that." He reached over to place a hand on her belly. "When Carly's old enough to travel, we can all come," he said, grinning.
Michonne set her hand over his. "Yeah... that sounds nice."
Rick settled the plane onto the tarmac.
He helped Michonne off the plane and they turned to find Ezekiel approaching with a scowl.
Michonne and Rick shared a look of dread and walked with hands clenched together in anticipation of what came next.
"RJ and Judith are okay?" Rick asked the moment they reached Ezekiel.
"They're alright."
"What happened?" Michonne asked.
Rick took a breath, trying to keep his anger in control. He'd left all his weapons at Carol's place—where his family now lived temporarily—not trusting himself enough to carry them. When he felt the blood vessels in his neck relax, Rick stepped from around the corner of the prison block and in front of Lucas' cell.
He stared at the man, who sat on a metal bench with his head in his hands.
Rick cleared his throat and Lucas' head shot up.
He stood and stayed rooted in his spot, which was a safe distance from the bars. "Rick... I—"
"Don't wanna hear it."
"Is Elodie okay?"
Rick clenched his jaw, keeping his mouth from spewing out the vile words on the tip of his tongue. "I just spoke with Chopra," he said calmly. "You're being transferred to the Republic tonight. You'll be tried there and whatever they decide to do with you, we'll let it stand."
"Is she alright?" Lucas asked, desperation creeping into his voice.
Rick stepped up to the bars. "You don't get to know that," he snarled.
He'd asked Mercer to let him come because Rick needed to look Lucas in the eye to understand how he'd missed it. A part of him hoped he saw a man he didn't know. At least then he could chalk it up to Lucas being a damn good actor. Looking at Lucas now, all he saw was another friend who'd betrayed him.
"I know. Rick—"
"I let you into my home. With my wife and my kids."
"It'll never be enough, but I'm sorry."
"Save it for the tribunal," Rick spat and turned to walk away.
"I lied," Lucas said. "My brother died at Cascadia that day... and when I lost him, I lost myself. I felt so alone in the world. And I wanted to make it right. I couldn't see anything else until I could. I didn't want to lose all over again, so I didn't say anything. I convinced myself that if I ended it it'd be done. It was foolish to think I had the power to suddenly erase their anger too. It wasn't right. Any of it. And whatever happens to me, I deserve it."
"Yeah. You do."
Rick stepped into Elodie's hospital room and stood just inside the door taking it all in. The kids slept head to head on the sofa against the far wall and his wife dozed beside the hospital bed with one hand on her belly and the other clenching Elodie's on the bed.
The family had all but been camped out in Elodie's room the past few days, keeping her company as she recovered. Dorothy would pop in every morning to check on her daughter and bring whoever had spent the night breakfast.
Rick dragged his eyes over to his sister-in-law. Elodie lay there sleeping, her upper body wrapped in bandages, with tubes coming out of her nose, she was hooked up to the beeping machines.
She's gonna live. Staring at her, he had to remind himself of what the doctor had told them: there'd be extensive recovery, but she would live.
Rick pushed off of the door and went to kiss his kid's foreheads before he made his way to Michonne. He dropped a light kiss on her lips.
Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting on him and then flashing to Elodie. "Hey. You just get back?"
"Just."
Michonne sat up, never letting go of her sister's hand. "It couldn't have been me."
"I barely held it together."
Michonne wiped her hand over her face. "How did we not see it—to think that no one would come after us after what we did." She shook her head. "You think that's it? It's over?"
"I don't know." He grunted and crossed his arms, thinking back to everything after the Saviors. After everything both sides had taken from each other, they'd managed to find a way forward. They could do it again. "Chopra's coming down, we'll figure it out together."
Michonne nodded.
Rick ran his hand over her shoulder and down her arm. "You and the kids should go home. I'll take the night shift."
"Okay. Just a few more minutes, though."
Rick spotted a chair in the corner of the room and dragged it beside hers. He took her hand and they sat in silence, watching Elodie.
Michonne sighed. "For a second there I thought we were gonna catch a break."
"Me too."
And just then, a knock sounded at the door.
They turned to find a nurse standing there.
"Sorry to intrude. The transmission center picked up a radio call for you two. From a Carol and Daryl."
They stared at the lady, dumbfounded.
A/N : Hey! Thank you to everyone who's been keeping up with this story since April, and much appreciation to all who've engaged with the story by leaving comments/reviews. Reading reactions to each chapter has been an absolute pleasure and a huge motivator. And I haven't gotten to reply to everyone so I wanted to say THANK YOU!