Say Something.

Part One.

It's been weeks since she's felt his skin on her skin. It's gotten to the point where she's felt guilty about being so caught up in wanting him so bad. He's struggling, he's hurting, he's literally disappearing in front of them. She's done everything she can think to do to try and keep him afloat since that night. When he grabbed her hand in the bath, she thought maybe, just maybe he'd pull through, slowly, with her help. But that wasn't the case. He's had good days, where the light in his eyes would return, he'd be cognizant of his surroundings, he'd talk to her. But his bad days were… bad. He wouldn't get out of bed, he wouldn't say a word and he would just stare. Lost in a fear the only he can navigate. She can't reach him this time and it scares her.

Michonne shifts in her seat as she watches him move around the kitchen. He's having a good day today. He's up, he's showered and he doing the dishes to give her a break. He looks so good. His hair is slicked back, flipping out slightly at the ends. His white t shirt hugs his chest and arms in the most distracting of ways, his jeans riding low on his hips. He turns slightly, his head down as he scrubs Judith's favorite sippy cup, giving her a beautiful view of his side profile. Her dark eyes travel down the ridge of his strong nose and land on those perfect, plump, pink lips of his. She wants those lips all over her frenzied body. She shifts at the thought, her bottom half flooding as memories of their late night love making resurface.

She sighs. It's been so long. She knows she has better things to be concerned about. Rick's mental health for one, Maggie and the baby for two, Daryl being taken for three, but yet here she is, sitting in her kitchen consumed with thoughts of Rick fucking her. On the table, over the couch, from behind, her on top, his hands roaming all over her tight, tense body. She shakes her head, trying to will the thoughts away. This isn't her. This isn't Michonne. Michonne is pragmatic, Michonne is constantly thinking of ways to keep her family safe. She doesn't sit around like a love struck, horny teenager in times of chaos but she feels so disconnected from him. Their once unbreakable bond is gone and she wants it, no, needs it back. She wants the most primal of connections between man and woman. It's been so long.

Michonne stands and treads towards him before her mind can really comprehend that she's moving. She steps up behind him, his back flexing and relaxing as he continues scrubbing and washing. She shoves her hands up into his shirt, her fingers skimming along his warm skin. Rick tenses at first from the sudden contact but leans back into her as she flattens her palms on his chest. She rests her head against his back, closing her eyes as comfort washes over her. God, it's been so long. Rick takes a deep breath, feeling a sense of his own comfort as her fingers rub against him. He turns slowly in her arms, his eyes roaming her face as she keeps her eyes closed. He palms her cheek and she nuzzles into him immediately, craving his touch.

She needs him. He knows that. He feels that in this moment. He wants to be better for her, he wants to be strong for her because she has always been strong for him. But the visions, the bad dreams, the thoughts keep him away from her. He doesn't want to hurt her. He doesn't want her to get hurt because of him but deep down he knows he's the only protection she needs. The dreams of her, sprawled out on the ground, covered in blood, her skull bashed open… her eyes wide, staring at him, right at him, as the light leaves them for good haunts him. He closes his eyes, swallowing quickly to keep the bile down. Stay here, stay with her Rick, he screams at himself. Give her something goddamn it. It's been so long.

He crashes his lips to hers suddenly, cupping her face in his hands as she moans deeply into him. Finally. She pulls him into her instinctively, her hands falling from his chest to his hips and waist as he devours her. The kiss gets heated within moments of the initial contact, their lips craving one another's like the body craves food or water. Their moans co-mingle, filling the silent house as he backs her into the kitchen table. It scrapes against the floor from their weight as he pushes his hips into hers before lifting her onto the surface. He leaves her lips to nip frantically at her neck and shoulder as she throws her head back. She wraps her legs around his waist as her fingers dig into his soft curls.

His hips begin rolling into her hers, grinding slowly against her most sensitive of parts through her thin leggings. He rips at her tank top, his fingers itching to feel her full, round, naked breasts, to feel her nipples harden beneath his touch. He discards to fabric to the floor, her bra following soon after. He lays her down softly, a large hand guiding her head back. He then runs his hand down the side of her face, along her long neck and down in between the valley of her beautiful, dark breasts. He leans down, placing soft kisses along her areola, relishing in the sound of her soft grunts and moans. He's ready. His body is ready, his mind, his heart is ready.

He reaches down to free himself from the constraints of his jeans. He pulls her black leggings away, taking a breath as he reveals her nakedness, "You are so beautiful." He murmurs more to himself than to her. She doesn't even quite hear him. Her head is swimming, foggy from desire and want and need.

He pulls back up, ready to take her but stops dead in his tracks, his body tightening in fear. His breath quickens as his blue eyes fill with tears as he stares down at her. She's bloody again. She stares up at him, her cold, dead eyes baring into him, baring into his soul, begging him. Why? Why Rick? Why couldn't you save me? Why didn't you protect me? His mouth drops open tears slide down his cheeks as he stares down at her lifeless, bloody, bashed body.

Michonne stares up at him as his eyes turn to glass. She's losing him. But… but, he was just here! He was just… "Rick," she says softly, grabbing his face with both hands, "What's wrong? What's happening?" She begs. She tries to hold him to her but he pushes her hands away, backing slowly away from her, "Rick," She cries, sitting up, watching him move away from her, "Rick!" She screams, her voice breaking as hot tears begin to flow, "Rick!" She screams again, panic creeping into her voice as she watches him disappear right in front of her again.

He backs into the sink, staring past her now, seeing him, Negan, right behind her. Michonne stares back at him, her face now stained with tears as she whimpers. He's gone. Her Rick is gone again. She can't bring him back. She isn't enough. He looks like he's going to throw up. He can barely touch her, barely look at her. She opened herself up to him. She never thought, especially after Mike and Andre that she could even think about opening up again. She sits completely naked, completely vulnerable in front of him and he can't even look at her. Embarrassment washes through her as she turns her head from him. She covers her bare breasts as best she can, not wanting him to see her. She slinks off the table, grabbing her clothes and runs from the kitchen, runs from him, runs from the shame and rejection to her old room. She slams the door in frustration and anger and pain. She doesn't even make it to the bed. She just collapses to the floor, lost in her own emotions. She cries for Glenn, she cries for herself, she cries for Maggie, she cries for Carl and Judith. She cries for the man she loves.

Michonne cries for hours, hugging herself on the floor in the room, wishing it was Rick holding her instead. But he never comes to her. He slid to the floor in the kitchen, his head in his hands as he sobbed. Carl came for her. He tried to console his father but soon abandoned him when he knew he wasn't getting through. He knocked loudly on the door, begging Michonne to let him in, "Michonne? What is going on? What happened?" She could hear the distress and worry in his voice but she didn't move. She didn't want him to see her all broken apart like he had his father so many times. That wasn't the Michonne he knew. That wasn't the Michonne that he needed to know.

"I'm fine," She croaked, "I'm fine Carl."

"You don't sound fine. Let me in."

"Just," She started, sitting up, wiping at her face, "Just help your dad."

She heard him sigh, "He's talking to himself again. He's not even hearing me."

Her eyes filled with tears again at his words but the need to console Rick had long slipped away. She was tired. She was just so tired. She shrugged back into her tank top and leggings and opened the door to the young man. He rushed her instantly, hugging her tightly, knowing full well that Rick had done something to hurt her. She hung on to him, closed her eyes as Carl did his best to console her. It was nice. Someone consoling her for a change.

That was hours ago. The two now lay on the bed, a sleeping Carl wrapped around her as she stares up at the ceiling. She glances down at him as she smooths his wild, long hair out of his face. That beautiful, almost scar free face. He reminds her so much of his father it scares her almost. Those big blue eyes, his stubbornness, his hard-nosed, gritty outlook on things. He's the spitting image of Rick Grimes. She doesn't want to move, but she glances at the clock on the wall. Gabriel still has Judy. She's probably fussy as all hell as it's almost an hour past her bedtime, but she too has the stubborn Grimes gene and has probably refused to fall asleep for the Father.

Michonne shuffles out from underneath Carl and slips on a hoodie before traipsing quietly through the house. She stops once she reaches the living room, glancing toward the stairs, straining her ears for him. She hears nothing. No pacing, no talking, nothing being thrown around or broken. Maybe he's asleep. Or he could be out walking maybe. A few nights ago, if she hadn't heard him she'd go looking for him. Not tonight. She continues through the house and out the front door into the dark of night, tucking her head into her chest as she moves through the quiet streets. She collects the fussy Judith, apologizing profusely for being late.

"No need to apologize, she is a delight even though she is not very fond of me right now." He chuckles, pinching her fat little foot and wiggling it gently, "I gave her bath, she's got a fresh diaper, and I fed her about twenty minutes ago. She should crash as soon as she hits the pillow."

Michonne smiles at him as Judith grabs a few of her dreads and rests her blonde head on Michonne's chest, "Thank you Gabriel."

Before Michonne enters their home again, the little girl is out like a light. Instead of dropping her off in her crib, Michonne heads back to her bedroom, wanting both of the Grimes children near her. She kicks off her shoes and shuts the door with a soft click before heading back toward the bed. She lays the tiny human beside her protective brother long enough to shed her hoodie, then scoops her back up to her chest as she lays down. She lowers her nose to Judith's head, taking a long, deep whiff of her innocent smell, rubbing her back gently.

"What did he do to you?" Carl asks suddenly, scaring her slightly.

She scoffs a little, rubbing her forehead as she smiles gently, "You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were asleep."

"I was. What did he do?" He asks again, rolling over to his side, watching her as the moon spills into the otherwise dark room. She shouldn't be talking to him about this. It's too adult for him, "You can tell me. I'm not a kid anymore." He says, almost like he's reading her mind. Just like Rick does sometimes.

"He's having a tough time Carl. We've got to be patient with him."

"Patient with him?" He asks, leaning up on his elbow, "That's bullshit."

"Carl." She warns.

"It's bullshit, you know it is." He says more forcefully.

"He's hurting okay? Glenn saved him back in the city, brought him back to you and Lori when he thought you guys were gone. You don't get over losing the very person who saved you. You just don't." She reasons, defending the very man who pushes her away.

"So he gets a monopoly on grief? He gets to hurt people just because he's hurting? That's. Bullshit." Carl accentuates, staring at her intently, "We're all grieving. We all miss Glenn. We all made that deal and we were all there when it happened. You don't see the rest of us going around acting like assholes."

"Carl, that's enough." She warns him again.

"You're defending him?" He asks incredulously, "You are the last person on earth that he should be hurting and you're defending him. You've always been there for him."

"That's what you do when you love someone Carl. You try and scare away their demons when they don't have the strength to." She sighs, "I thought you were okay with this."

"Okay with what? Him being a jerk and not giving a shit about how anybody else feels?"

She sighs, "No. With him and I. You don't… you don't seem fine with it."

"That's not what this is about." He spits angrily, cutting his eye toward her.

"You're angry. You've been angry, even before all of this. You don't talk to me anymore." She stares back at him, "Are you mad at me or something? Do you think our relationship is going to change or-"

"No," Carl cuts her off, mirroring her sigh, "I'm cool with you and dad, I was. I am. I just… I don't want him to hurt you. I don't want him to push you away and make you leave." He drops his head as he wraps his arms around her legs, "I saw him and mom come completely apart. The shitty part is, I remember when they were happy. I remember him making her laugh. He used to make her laugh so much," He smiles sadly as he reminisces, "And then it was like one day, he just stopped trying."

"Maybe she just stopped laughing, Carl. Maybe he tried to make her laugh and she just wasn't." Michonne adds, biting the inside of the corner of her mouth, "She is just as much to blame as he is for what happened between them. It is never one sided and I am really sorry that she made you feel like it was all him. That was not your place, you were a child. You didn't deserve that." She cocks her head to the side, wondering if she's getting through to him, "She should not have put you in the middle, whether intentional or not."

He shrugs, "Yeah, maybe." He pauses for a while, gazing out the window at the moon, "They hated each other. They fought constantly about everything and all I can remember is her screaming at him, why won't you talk to me? Say something. Talk to me." He looks back over at Michonne, his eye glinting in the moonlight, "I never knew what that meant, like, he talked to her all the time. They spoke, they chatted. I didn't get what she wanted him to say."

Michonne swallows, "You get it now?" She asks sadly.

He nods, biting his lip, "I get it now. It pisses me off that he's doing the exact same thing to you. Maybe she deserved it, I don't know, I was too young to know. But what I do know, is that you don't. He's hurting, I get it. He can shut everyone else out if he wants, but you shouldn't do it to you. He needs to fucking say something."

She smiles sadly, dropping her watery eyes down to Judith. She grabs Carl's hand, squeezing it gently, not able to find the words to thank him. He lays back down, draping an arm over Michonne and Judith and gazing back at the moon until his eyes shut again. It takes her while, but Michonne too finds a peaceful sleep, under the glowing moon and with two of the three most important people in her life.