Written to the score of . . . 'Don't Let Go' (from the Gravity movie soundtrack), by Steven Price . . .
When Michonne comes to, she can barely see a thing.
She's upside-down.
Dust and smoke are all around the flyer, blocking out the lights of the sky beyond.
She hears the unmistakable sound of walkers nearby.
Their crash landing probably killed people inside this tower. There's no telling how long she was out cold. Cyborgs are probably on their way. She needs to get moving.
Rick!
Michonne jerks violently in her seat belt. Pain shoots through her, but she ignores it. Her eyes scan the dimness next to her frantically. Rick is there, next to her, stirring awake. Thank God . . .
Relief floods Michonne's body as she gets her seat belt off and falls in a painful heap onto the roof of the flyer. With effort, she struggles to get her sword off temporarily so she can get herself turned right side up. The sounds of stirring walkers and the hollow echo of flyers scanning the area nearby cause panic to well up inside her again.
"Rick! Wake up!" Michonne slaps Rick's face. He had hit his head when they landed. Hopefully, he doesn't have a concussion. Blood is pooling in his hairline. She slaps him again. "Michonne . . . ? You alright?" Finally, he jerks awake.
"Yeah, I'm okay. Help me get you out," she grunts, searching for a way to dislodge him.
Rick comes to full consciousness, twisting and turning in his seat belt to hurriedly assist her. Michonne carefully uses her sword to cut him loose and he falls onto the roof. They pant at each other for a moment, both appreciating that they are still alive – still together. And still in the middle of a perilous fight.
She snakes her body out of the wrecked flyer's passenger side window and Rick shimmies out of his side in kind. The peacekeeping partners stand up to regroup. They barely have a moment to catch their breath before they spot six walkers in the dust-filled gloom. A wrecked living room. Civilians must have been huddled in here waiting for the battle to end. The crash killed them all, unfortunately. Now they're stirring and getting to their feet.
Michonne pulls her sword and Rick his hatchet. They dispatch the walkers quickly.
Once done, they step back and get a read on the deep shit they're in. The flyer smashed in the wall-to-wall viewers and came to a crashing halt against the far wall. They did a lot of damage, maybe even threatening the integrity of this tower. But they're alive. Rick stalks up to Michonne and pulls her into a tight hug, his heart pounding with relief.
"You hurt . . . ?" comes his deep drawl.
Michonne shakes her head, leaning into his shoulder. "I'm fine. We gotta move, Rick."
Rick backs up and turns to kick out the back window of his wrecked flyer. Michonne watches, stepping over a walker carcass as he grabs a pair of old-fashioned walkie-talkies. "We're gonna need these. ODIN must've seen this comin'. He's the one who sent that flyer after us."
Suddenly, the room is flooded with bright golden light. Rick and Michonne shield their eyes from the blinding flyer lights, crouching instinctively to take cover and fight their way out if they need to.
It's Tyreese and Sasha.
The large armored flyer turns slowly to the side and Buck steps up to hang out of the opening doors. He shakes his head hard, his helmet swishing on top of his buzz cut.
"NO GO! We lost contact with Maggie and Shane, but we got Carrot Top and the doc! That crazy ODIN som'bitch caught onto the bug! Our goddamned Companions are down! We're fucked! Come on, let's get the fuck outta here!"
They hear the unmistakable sounds of Abraham screaming his head off as they run to jump into the flyer.
"ArrrgggaaaAAAHH! GODDAMN IT, DOC!"
"I know, Abe! We're almost there! Don't be a pussy, Buck, hold him still, please!"
"I'm tryin', Doc, I'm tryin' – he's strong as shit for a one-armed freak!"
"Your mama, you gap-toothed mother – FUCK ME! Arrrghhhhuhhh . . . !" Abe's blood spurts from his open wound and he jerks loose from Buck, thrashing around, knocking the MDP sergeant's helmet off.
Next to him, almost catatonic with concern, Sasha silently grabs hold of him, tears falling like waterfalls from her eyes. She's trying to be strong and hold it all in as she holds on tight to Abraham's big, bloody – and now only – hand. But it's hard to watch him suffer this way. She wants to scream with him.
"That is some gross shit, man . . . " Jax intones, pausing her defensive shooting from her sniper position in the back of the big flyer. All she's been able to smell the last hour is blood and high-velocity gunsmoke. Her stomach lurches. She tries not to think about T-Dog or the bloodfest behind her as she concentrates again on trying to eviscerate any remaining cyborg fuckers she spots in the mele below.
"Sasha, could you please put something in his mouth?" MDP Dr. Denise Cloyd hastily pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she works with her laser scalpel, smearing her chin with Abraham's blood. She's trying to cauterize the torn flesh of what's left of his mangled right arm before he goes into hypovolemic shock. But the large, traumatized man is thrashing about too much under the white glare of the flyer's operating light as they zoom through the air around Skyscraper Tower Nine, evading fire from that monster of a tank down below.
Denise tries to hold it together herself. In their pursuit of ODIN, they lost their Companions in net space. JORDI, LIZZY, and others from other precincts. ODIN somehow took them offline in the blink of an eye as retaliation for the debugger. Of course, he discovered it. He 'sees all', he warned Rick and Michonne.
Sasha hastily unbuckles Abraham's thick leather belt, pulling it out of his pants loops and putting it into his mouth securely. He bites down on it, his face wet with tears, his eyes shimmering pools of misery.
Abe huffs and puffs and spits and grits his teeth around the belt as Dr. Cloyd burns off certain unsavable parts of what's left of his arm, sealing the wound as she goes. This would be a lot less barbaric if she had JORDI. She's only ever done two amputations in her career. They were both due to walker bites, and they were both with JORDI's help. Denise is tough, and a good doctor, but she has never had to operate on her own, let alone manually. Chopping off the remains of a mangled limb is not as easy as JORDI makes it look. But JORDI is gone now. She's on her own. They all are.
"Hurts like a son of a bitch, Doc!" Abe moans around the belt, tears falling down his cheeks and into his bushy ginger handlebars.
"Ain't that pain stuff kicked in yet?" Buck huffs, sweat clinging to his brow, dripping from his sandy blond buzz cut.
"He's too worked, up – you need to breathe, Abe. Bite and breathe, come on, almost there . . . in and out . . ."
"It's okay, baby," Sasha is finally able to whisper, mustering a tender smile for her struggling boyfriend. She can see that he's close to passing out. Her body is numb with fear. "I got you. You hear me, Abraham Ford? Stay with me. Please."
Denise finally finishes her work. As if on cue, whatever she shot him up with starts working. The pain that tortured virtually his entire body from his nonexistent elbow outward finally starts to recede. Abe's large, tense muscles begin to relax. His exhausted mouth drops the belt onto his chest as Denise starts to clean him up. This is temporary. There is a lot of damage and a lot of work still to be done. But he isn't going to die of blood loss and shock thanks to her quick work.
Before he goes lights out, Abe manages to reach up with his good arm. Sasha's trembling hand still in his, he gives her a pinch on the chin. "Cute as a button . . . " he murmurs, his eyes slipping closed and his consciousness rising to outer space.
"Dork," Buck scoffs, standing up straight from his hard work holding Abe down. He removes his army helmet to wipe his brow before dumping it back on his shorn head.
Sasha simply stares at Abe, kissing and holding his remaining hand. He's her dork. No longer in one piece, but he's alive.
Unlike Glenn. And so many others.
Sasha turns her head to the front of the flyer, where Rick and Michonne are arguing heatedly in hushed voices while Tyreese maneuvers around the fire coming at them from the remaining cyborgs crawling all over the tower.
Now that Abe is out and quiet, everyone's attention makes its way to the front. Tyreese tries to stem his emotions over his friends T-Dog and Glenn and just concentrates on flying his ass off. Rick stands next to the navigator's chair over Ty's shoulder. He's inching closer and closer to Michonne, glaring at her.
"No, Michonne," his voice is low and forbidding. "We stick together. Come up with a new plan."
Michonne ignores his tone. She knows he's heartbroken over Glenn and for Maggie. So is she. But she also knows that she's right. The countdown is still going. This could be their only chance. She takes a short breath, gathering her patience.
"There is no other plan, Rick. ODIN is making shish kabobs out of us. There won't be any of us left by the time that bomb goes off. I have to do this – alone."
"Maybe it's not even a bomb," Rick insists, shifting on his feet, getting in her personal space. "Daryl never got a clear visual. With all that bullshit ODIN spewed at us earlier, don't you think he's capable of bluffin'?"
He's more than heartbroken. He's scared, furious, and desperate to keep her here by his side. Abraham's screams and Glenn's absence are weighing him down. If they go in, they'll go in together, or not at all. He has to change her mind. There has to be another way.
"You think it's bullshit, Rick, but maybe it's not," Michonne glares right back, holding onto the overhead utility hanger with one hand as they fly around in a never-ending loop of evasive maneuvering. "Look – this a chance. Maybe our only one. You can be my eyes and ears, and I could use a distraction.
"But there is no way we're getting past ODIN if we charge in there like this. He'll kill us all, and those hostages, and you know it. I don't think he was bluffing about that."
"Michonne, goin' in by yourself is suicide!" Rick growls heatedly, getting further into her personal space. "Besides, the fuckin' tower is gonna collapse before you make it there – and what are you gonna do about that tank?"
"No, charging in blind and angry is suicide! There are still hostages down there and they're gonna die, Rick! We gotta get to that mainframe. You can't move as fast as I can, and you going in guns blazing will give us away. I can do this."
"We'll back her up, boss," Ty offers with steely resolve, wishing he could check the twenty of their remaining team members and allies on the now inoperational holoscreen. "We still got what's left of our people, and the guys from Sky Patrol are supposed to be on their way. If they got their radios up, we can try to reach 'em."
He sure as shit doesn't wanna lose her, too, but he's on Michonne's side. This could be their only hope of stopping the damn thing.
"That's right, we'll cover Snow Cap for ya! Ride or die, fuck yeah!" Buck catches on to Ty's decision, drumming his helmet with his fist while Jax hollers from the back, shooting like a maniac.
"We got one shot, Rick," Ty adds, punching it to narrowly escape colliding with an enemy flyer manned by a cyborg. Jax takes the flyer down as he maneuvers around it. "We gotta do what we gotta do, and we gotta do it now."
"I'll get on a gun," Sasha replies determinedly, kissing Abe's hand before going to join Jax in the back to man a shooter. She's sick of this shit. It's time to rip ODIN's innards from that fuckin' mainframe. As far as she's concerned, Captain Snow is just the assassin to do it. "We got you, Michonne."
Rick holds out, jaw clenched, leg bouncing. He's out of words. He wants to strap her down and forbid her from moving.
Michonne can see his jaw flexing against his thin wisps of salt and pepper facial hair. He ignores Sasha and the others, continuing to stare her down, still incredibly torn. She's right, but this feels wrong. Words are piling up in his head that he has no idea how to express. Glenn's death has made Rick deathly afraid of losing Michonne right along with him. The fear has been creeping into his bloodstream since they started talking to ODIN in his now-wrecked flyer. Now it's running ice cold through his veins. They only managed one night together, but already their partnership has changed. Michonne isn't just his right hand. She isn't simply a formidable fighter who can take care of herself. Not anymore.
He is certain, looking into her fierce brown eyes as they run out of time, that she is the love of his life.
Deep down inside, he's known it since the day they met.
He knows her inside out. She isn't going to change her mind. She will disobey him if he tries to order her to stand down.
Gritting his teeth, Rick nods his reluctant agreement. "Fine . . . we'll do it your way."
He feels sick to his stomach for agreeing to this, but they don't have any more time. It's a quiet, almost defeated signoff that nonetheless fills Michonne with relief. He knows she's right. He loves her enough to let her try to save them all. She can only do this if she's free from worrying about the safety and well-being of the others. They can still do this together if they work from different ends. With Rick and the others backing her up, she can focus on a singular mission, execute it efficiently, and help them take ODIN down. Boldly, in front of everyone, Michonne leans against him, lifting her hands to his face to stroke his beard. She kisses him, her pillow-soft brown lips latching onto his hot pink ones.
"Thank you . . . "
Rick closes his eyes and wraps his arms around her, hooking her around the waist under her sword. He kisses her back fiercely. Desperately. Michonne feels his body trembling slightly, concern radiating through him as he grips her belt hard with his hands. She hugs him close, reveling in his strength, folding herself into him as close as she can.
"Be careful, Michonne . . . " Rick whispers against her lips. "Come back to me, you hear me?"
He wants badly to tell her he loves her again. To hear her say it. Instead, he just holds her close, staring into her soul.
"You know I will."
"We got company!" Sasha bellows from the back.
They are side-swiped by long-range, heavy artillery from that goddamned tank as two more cyborg-manned flyers appear to box them in. Ty's doing his best, but these are learning machines and they have cottoned onto his evasive tactics.
Rick and Michonne are thrust apart. They exchange looks. Later, his eyes say. When they get out of this, he's going to take her home. He's going to kiss every single inch of her. And he's going to keep her in bed with him for as many days as he can get away with. They lost too many tonight. It's devastating, but it only makes him more determined to make their time together on this scorched earth count.
Rick pulls his radio out of his back pocket and jumps into the seat next to Tyreese to co-pilot.
Having lost LIZZY and JORDI, they are flying "blind".
Their only link to their team members is the set of old-fashioned handheld radios Rick the Luddite insisted every unit keep in their flyers.
"Incomin'!" Ty bellows as he and Rick wheel the ass of the flyer around hard, doubling back to escape the hail of heavy HV torpedo bullets flying at them with rapid fire.
Michonne steadies herself on her feet, grabbing hold of Abe's surgical table. She turns on her walkie and starts reaching out, aware of the ticking clock. "Flyer One-Zebra checking in, anyone copy? This is Michonne, is anyone out there, over?"
"'CHONNE?!" Shane's elated voice sounds out as they rumble and tumble out of harm's way. "Copy the fuck outta that! Goddamn girl, I'm happy as hell to hear your voice, over!"
"Shane!" Michonne grins at Rick. Doc Cloyd straps herself in safely next to Abraham. Buck disappears up top to man the gun on the roof. "Is Andrea with you? Maggie, Daryl, you guys out there? I think I have a plan, over."
"Michonne, it's Maggie and Rosita," Maggie's voice sounds raw with fresh pain, but she holds it together by sheer strength of will. Everyone on the flyer rejoices silently. "We copy. We're headed north on skybridge sixteen – right back up top," her twangy drawl crackles across the radio, "Mike and Daryl are behind me, over."
"You have no idea how glad I am to hear that, over . . . " Michonne answers as she moves over to the side door of the flyer, preparing to open it. They still have their holoshields up, the only thing Sasha managed to get back online after ODIN took out their Companions.
Rick and Tyreese exchange looks of hard resolve. They're gonna make it. They still have their Family, even though they lost some. Rick pushes his worry down into his gut. Tyreese is right. They have to do what they have to do. God help them.
"Yeah 'Drea's right here next to me . . . !" Shane adds before Andrea interrupts.
"I'm here, 'Chonne. Ready to finish this fuckin' thing. What's the plan, over?"
More heavy fire comes from out of nowhere, taking out both the cyborg flyers that've been on their tail.
"You got Starbuck and Bishop on your six, Tyreese, over . . . "
Starbuck and her older sister Bishop are the source of the rescue fire. They are from Skyscraper Command Patrol. Brilliant pilots. And total rebels. They're supposed to be in the bunker with the rest of Monroe's hand-picked protective force. But of course, they disobeyed orders. Just in time, too.
"Sorry we're late. We had to wait 'til mom and dad went to sleep, over," Bishop drawls sarcastically.
"Just in time, assholes!" Jax retorts from the back at the sound of Bishop's confident voice.
And then:
"Hailing Captain Grimes? Oh, Captain Snow? Are you theeerrre?"
ODIN's cold voice interrupts their happy reunion, having hacked into their ALL CALL system to taunt them.
Rick feels his guts twisting and turning as he tries to concentrate on navigating. The sound of that maniac Companion's voice chills him to the bone. And infuriates him.
Michonne grits her teeth and braces herself. Everyone goes silent.
"Yeah," Rick utters, barely able to contain the ferocious anger in his low growl. "We're here."
"What is it, ODIN?" Michonne follows up, forcing confidence she's struggling to feel into her tone.
ODIN chuckles. He sounds like he's having a ball. Toying with this prey.
"I admit, I am pleasantly surprised. You know that continuing to attempt assaults on me guarantees your destruction, and yet you persist. Curious . . . "
"Come on, ODIN, don't you 'see all'?" Rick drawls antagonistically, a cold grin spreading across his lips. "I thought you studied up on me? I don't give up easy."
"No indeed, you do not. Shall we make this interesting?"
ODIN responds with equal amounts of patience and predatory confidence coating his artificial voice.
A cold rush goes straight through Michonne's body as she stares down at the tank trying to annihilate them from below.
Tyreese almost loses control when they get side-swiped again.
"Our shields ain't made for this shit, man!" Jax barks, trying to somehow take out the tank from her vantage point in the back. "What the fuck do you want, Jeeves?"
ODIN ignores the slight, growling imperially:
"You now have ten minutes, twenty-two seconds before the transcendence, Captain. And this time, there is no stopping it. It would behoove you and what is left of your crew to use this interval to escape the blast zone. Save yourselves."
Rick's hands grip the navigator shaft between his legs and he glares at the multiple firefights happening around the towers. He has to fight with all his might not to follow that advice. The tank remains unharmed below, making it damned near impossible for anyone to get close.
ODIN continues maniacally:
"Even now, the clock steadfastly moves on, as the last breaths of a dying man, drawing closer and closer to the end. Do you hear it? Tick, tock . . . tick, tock . . . tick, tock Captain."
Rick knows they can't run. He won't lose those hostages. Michonne was right. The only way to do this is to throw their full support behind her; she's more than capable. They can get her into that mainframe room. Together.
"I'll tell you what, ODIN . . . " Rick drawls heatedly, ignoring the maniacal singing voice's threats, " . . . we'll think about it." He reaches over and manually switches off the ALL CALL.
ODIN could come back at any time, but Rick has a hunch he's done for now. Captain Grimes pulls the mic out from the radio transmitter in Ty's dashboard. Ahead, they can see Starbuck's flyer taking down more enemies.
"Family? Starbuck, Bishop? This is it. We're makin' one last stand. Michonne's going in to get those hostages. Then we'll let this son-of-a-bitch blow, over . . . "
Behind him, Michonne gazes at his profile with nothing but love in her eyes.
Starbuck speaks up first: "We're in. It's an ugly ass tower anyway."
One by one, the remaining members of The Family all agree. Trapping his fear into a steel cage, Rick relays Michonne's plan to the group while she prepares herself to go in.
Tyreese gets them headed toward the very top of the tower.
From there, Michonne will drop down into the tank's territory, hopefully taking it by surprise while they cover her, buying them all much-needed time until she can reach the hostages.
Michonne stands leaning in front of the open doors of Tyreese's flyer, a deep, powerful feeling gathering inside of her.
Rick is helping get them up as high as they can go, above the tower.
She sees the fires that broke out all over the building burning bright in the distance below her. Hears all of the commotion of her remaining teammates coordinating behind her. Feels the weight of what she's about to do hanging over her. And yet through all of that, her number one thought is that she's ready. Live or die, she's got to do this. It's her job. Her calling.
"Okay, we're droppin' Michonne in as soon as we get the all clear from Daryl below, over," Rick growls into the radio mic as he prepares to leave his seat and go to Michonne.
"Copy that, One-Zebra," Andrea acknowledges. "We're closing in right behind you. Good luck Michonne, over."
There is heavy tension in the air as Rick unbuckles himself from the navigator seat. Ty switches to hover mode. They're now directly over the top of the tower, which is mostly blown out by all the fighting. Michonne is going to breach through the atrium. Rick walks over to Michonne, reaching out for his walkie. She continues gazing down at the atrium as he unclips it from her belt.
"Heath," he calls softly over the channel. "You ready, over?"
"I'm here boss, over."
"Copy that. Stand by. Over." Rick lets go of the talk button and stares at Michonne. He doesn't want her to do this. Everything in him is fighting to stop her. But she is their only hope. They're out of time.
"I'm gonna get close, that's all, Rick," she reassures him softly. He glares at her beautiful face silently. Stuck in place. Frozen in time. Wanting to take her place. "Close enough to set off the EMP. You get me in, and you go to ground as fast as you can."
"I got it."
Below, Heath has managed to breach the firewall controlling the atrium doors. They start opening. Rick's heart jumps into his throat. He isn't ready yet. Michonne returns Rick's passionate gaze. Dear God, she's so in love with him.
"Atrium's open, Rick, over," the walkie chirps with Heath's confirmation.
"All clear down here, over," Daryl's raspy voice announces seconds after. "Now or never."
A surreal sense of calm – and dread – fills the air.
Rick and Michonne stare at each other.
She utters, so quietly he almost can't hear her over the background noise: "I love you, old man . . . "
She gifts him with a brilliant smile that nearly knocks the wind out of him. He feels her words so deeply he has to take a heavy step forward. He has to stop her. She has to stay with him. But it's too late, and he knows it. She's doing this.
"I know," he whispers to her now.
It's all he can say aloud. Inside, he pleads. He prays. Please, baby. . . stay with me, we can find another way . . .
Time's up. Michonne kisses him softly, her lips lightly brushing against his, still smiling.
Then she turns and jumps, slipping through his fingers like sand through an hourglass.
He watches her fall, stunned, frozen.