Honestly it took too long for this chapter, that's just work ethic error in my part (LOL).
Anyway, enjoy :) !
Madame Gertie stared at her ceiling in a room she'd made deeply her own with its flowery decor and filigree and deep reds and blues and all the knickknacks she'd collected within the years mounted on ledges carved into the walls. Her bed was queen sized and plush with many soft pillows placed like paintings at the head. She loved to rest in the cocoon as she let the day ease from her body but what brought her the most comfort was staring opposite at the far wall.
The long and wide frame was just a foot or so off the ground and encased a portrait of her most prized possession. Her big brown eyes were brilliantly depicted, there was sadness in them and yet something fiery lay beneath. Madame Gertie sighed and sat up; that fire licked at her ankles too often these days and it seemed to be growing into an inferno threatening to consume her. Her eyes scanned over the silk blue dress that flowed along the girl's body as she sat quite regally in the chair and held her head high and meaningfully as she stared head on.
She made her, molded her into who she was and now that flower was too high to reach but Gertie Doran Naismith will be damned if she didn't keep a good grip on the thin shackle she tied years ago. Michonne needed her and she fed off that, lived off of it, got off on it; that helplessness made her shiver down to her toes, those tears tingled her belly, those lips and eyes and that molasses like voice made her combust with displeasure and orgasmic relief. She's hers.
Madame Gertie climbed off her bed and rounded so she stood directly in front of the painting. A few years younger but all the same captivating and worthy of being the most coveted flower. She reached out and touched the smooth surface of the canvas, wistfully those burning eyes wavered and reformed into dark night and a storm, the rain whipped past the door frame of a humbler 'Wisteria' and chilled a younger Gertie.
The tall silhouette stood cloaked in shadow before her as wind howled but her keen and curious eyes had latched on to the frail, despondent little girl staring at her. Gertie tilted her head slightly and the little girl did the same moments later; her hair was a wild mess, matted and uncared for and a worn dress hanging from her thin shoulders unfit for the weather—it brought attention to her shivering. A slender hand came to rest on the girl's shoulder whose demeanor quickly became more slumped but her eyes never left Gertie. It was a while before she finally looked upward and away from admiring how the rain made the little girl's dark flesh glisten. The lengthy woman behind the child threatened to dwarf her who was of average height.
"Can I help you?" Gertie asked.
In a sudden rush the child was stumbling past her threshold and into her torso. Gertie caught her and looked at the child's surprised and distraught gaze who turned around quickly to look back at the tall woman.
"Take her" a russet voice said and still Gertie could barely perceive her beyond the hall lights as she stayed within the darkness of the night and storm.
"What?" Gertie was confused and upset but the little girl immediately rushed away towards the silhouetted woman who only pushed her back, causing her to fall on her backside. Lightning cracked loudly and for a split second dark, gleaming eyes were revealed.
"This is no place for a young child!" Gertie exclaimed as the girl got up again.
"Mama!" She called.
"Stay!" The woman growled authoritatively and the girl froze in place before she began to cry, it sounded oddly sweet over the offkey winds and too melodious to be something brought on by sadness and hurt.
"She can't be here" Gertie said to the woman that just stood there.
"Mama!" The girl called again and made to go forward.
"Michonne!" Came that woman's firm reprimand. The girl stopped in place once again, crying all the while.
"She has to be here, she won't survive with me" the woman's voice took on a strained note.
"I can't," Gertie shook her head. "I won't!" None of this made sense. She was a woman who ran a business that had just started to thrive and for someone like her, who had to fight tooth and nail for this chance, why would she jeopardize that?
"Please" those words alone held so much desperation, so much meaning that Gertie just stared.
"If nothing else, she is my daughter, she'll be useful. Use her if you must but give her a life, that's all I ask'' Gertie turned and eyed the crying child and could never get it out of her head, what twisted emotion began simmering as those fat tears spilled from beneath long eyelashes, over soft cheeks and fell like gems and the hall lights illuminated a beauty that was hidden under cherub youth. There was something there, something she needed within the pain written all over the child's face, the fear and confusion; all of it settled in Gertie like a high and she felt buzzed. When Gertie turned back to address the woman, she was gone. Just an empty doorway and howling winds and wet rain.
Gertie had slowly closed the door and stood over the bawling child. Her big brown eyes were dewy as they stared at Gertie. "Your mother is gone," she said.
"Mama!" The girl began to cry again.
"Hush, it's not useful to cry so much" she ran her hand over rough hair. "It'll be fine, you're mine now" Gertie smiled shakily. "You'll live a good life like she wanted, I'll make sure of it"
Now, Madame Gertie turned her back from the portrait as the memory fell away. She went to her bedside table and rummaged through the top drawer until she unearthed a letter that had been laying idle for months, one Madame Gertie didn't know if she wanted to throw away or keep hidden. The jagged opening revealed her curiosity but the conflicted feelings revealed her unwillingness.
"Why now?" She mumbled. She turned the envelope over that had a stamp with the emblem of Woodberry and a name.
Madéleine Hawthorne.
"Lori!?" He yelled. "Carl!?" His tone was frantic as he ran through the house, room to room searching for any clue of his family; they weren't here.
He came to a halt in the humble kitchen, chest heaving and a sense of dread and panic creeping up. Where were they!? His head swiveled around as if they would materialize the more he looked but there was nothing, the house was as silent as the day they bought it. Rick backtracked all the way upstairs until he stood in the threshold of his son's bedroom. It was still made from that morning, everything was as it was as he'd left them and that just sent a wave of anger through him. They'd waited until he was gone; he'd waited until Rick was gone.
As if on cue his phone rang and it took Rick a moment to still his frantic mind and zero in on the name showing up on the screen. Anger boiled low and deep as he picked up.
"Shane" he growled. "Where did you take them!?"
Silence. Then, "The Governor needed leverage…"
Rick's stomach plummeted. "So you take my family!? Shane, where is Carl?"
Dial tone.
"Fuck!" Rick roared and threw his phone across his son's room. His breathing became fast and shallow, he couldn't get enough oxygen. Everything felt like it was moving at a snail's pace and yet quicker than he could keep up with.
Rick goes into him and Lori's room, making haste towards their closet and pushing into the back. On the overhead shelf above his rack of suits was where he kept a non issued gun, one he's used on many occasions. He took it out of its casing, the gleam of the silver caught the closet light and Rick tucked it discreetly in the waistband of his jeans.
On his way out of the eerily quiet house, he noticed the family picture they took a couple years ago at the Grand Canyon. His chest tightened. "I'm going to kill them," he mumbled.
Soft knocking caused him to open his eyes and he caught a look at himself in the mirror; the dark circles had let up some, his hair was messy and some of his curls were sticking out in places and his perpetual frown had smoothened out into something more or less neutral, yet he couldn't really recognize himself.
"Rick?" A voice drifted through the door, her voice. The one that's been able to break through his constant frantic thoughts, the one that has made him feel less like compressed air since he'd woken up in this brothel. He knew what it was, no amount of sugar coating on her part would dispel what he's put together.
The door to the bathroom cracked open a little and Rick met those disarming brown eyes. They held uncertainty as she looked at him and yet he knew there was more to it than that. His eyes wandered to her cheek, quite swollen amidst the aftermath of what he'd witnessed and it brought rage curling back up in waves. Having to watch that, itching to intervene and pull her away was a feeling he's been hard pressed to temper, which got him to where he was at; shot and despondent without a family to show for it—the feeling to protect. From what he gathered, this Madame Gertie was a sick son-of-a-bitch; he'd seen her eyes, the mirth and satisfaction as Michonne took what she gave. The rolling darkness that washed over her features as she talked back. All of it made Rick restless.
Michonne had gone straight for the bathroom when the older woman had left and he couldn't think of anything to console the sobs that permeated through the wood. He'd felt useless; an age old companion.
"Are you okay?" She stepped into the bathroom, leaving the door just cracked.
Rick glanced at her. Something about her made him hesitate, made him uncertain; like if he moved any closer, talked any more he'd get tripped up and trapped. But there was something so compelling about her that made him force himself into limited interaction. He didn't know if it was her deep gaze, curious glances, pretty smile or what, he just felt the need to keep his distance or fall flat on his face.
"Yeah" he mumbled. He reached for the now washed and dried shirt he'd been wearing when he'd arrived. There was a faded stain but it was otherwise clean and he pulled it on carefully.
His body went rigid as a soft touch skimmed his skin and examined the bandages over his wound. He looked at Michonne who had covered the few feet to him and was staring intently at his stomach with furrowed brows. "It still seems tender.." her breath brushed his skin and it took everything in him not to succumb to the thrilling shiver it gave him.
She looked up at him and once again he felt stuck. Now that he wasn't delirious or focused on the pain, those eyes demanded his attention and he felt obliged to listen. She was dangerous. Looking at her now, really reveling in her beauty he only fleetingly acknowledged until now, Rick could see why she was so coveted. Beyond all of that there was this snaking pull to know more, see more, be more and it was a wonder why she hadn't been 'claimed' as she put it. He swallowed, knowing his face was heating up the longer she gazed at him, scanning for discomfort. But if she found any it would only be because of her.
"I'm fine, really" he cleared his throat. "Much better than the other night"
She hummed and stepped back much to Rick's relief. There was silence as he dressed and he glanced at her. She had her arms folded over a long sleeved, black dress that flowed just below her knees. Her eyes found him again and this time instead of concern it was apprehension.
"I'm sorry you had to witness that" she said, both knowing what she meant. "I didn't know she would…" she trailed off and left it there.
Without thinking Rick raised a hand to brush softly against her swollen cheek and she winced, causing him to halt in realization. He dropped his hand. "Sorry"
Michonne shook her head. "It's okay" she touched her own cheek and sighed heavily. "It'll pass, it's nothing new…"
Silence fell again.
"Are you sure it's safe for you to follow me?" Rick asked after a moment as he buttoned up.
Michonne looked at him.
"And to bring the girl? Are you sure?" He held her gaze.
"Judith doesn't belong here any more than I do, I could tell that the day we met" Michonne said. "She reminded me of myself so yes, I'm sure"
Rick sighed. "Nothin' ever goes to plan"
"I don't suppose so, but it wouldn't hurt to try and make it, does it?"
Rick felt another spell of that curiosity bubble up. But he squashed it, knowing once he asked and she answered he'd kept wanting to know and know and know until he was too far gone not to care. He cared too much, that's what Lori always said.
"Is it safe for you to go back to where you're going?" Michonne dropped her eyes to his wound.
Their eyes met. Rick didn't know why he always felt unsteady when he gazed into her guarded brown eyes that were deceptively clear. "You won't be following me that far," he dismissed.
Michonne smirked. "I suppose not"
"Where will you go?"
Michonne shrugged and looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure but far from here…we will find somewhere"
Rick saw and felt her determination in the furrow of her eyebrows as she spun around ideas and the corner of her lip caught between her teeth as she tried to stifle her nervousness. She was truly beautiful in everything she did and it was wholeheartedly overwhelming and Rick had a fleeting thought on how any of the men she entertained survived the night? Or walked away without her on their arm to give her everything they can? She was a wildflower fenced in by someone's selfish need.
"I'm sure you will," he said.
Michonne sighed. "We should go before it's too late" she turned and they both exited the bathroom to see Judith passed out on the edge of Michonne's bed, a bag near her.
Rick watched as Michonne went over and briefly watched the girl sleep, pushin some hair away from her face. Rick slowly came up beside her and took in the girl that reminded him of Carl in some ways.
"She really loves you," Rick observed from their earlier conversation.
"And I love her, she's kept me sane in many ways" Michonne looked at him and then back at the girl.
"She should stay here, it's safer and she'll grow up whether she becomes a flower like me or not but I know once I leave Madame will use her to spite me"
Rick looked at Michonne feeling a twinge in his chest at that, knowing about the torment having someone so close be used to get to you can cause. Without thinking he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her skin was soft and warm and Michonne caught his eyes like they've strangely become used to and she searched them until a small smile formed and she clutched his hand and squeezed.
"Let's go" she moved to rouse Judith who squirmed a bit before her eyes opened.
"Time to go, Jude" Michonne smiled and the girl gave a sleepy one in return, having snuck back to her room and packed before coming back.
"Ok—"
A loud knock interrupted the trio and they all froze in place.
"Michonne" the voice of Madame Gertie was like iced cold water dumped overhead. Michonne's stomach sank and her heart rate spiked, she glanced at Judith who looked just as scared and Rick was frowning.
"Shit" Michonne cursed.