Made to Suffer

Written by: RickRhymes

STORY SUMMARY: Broken down by a string of tragedies, Rick's sanity is hanging on by threads. When a stealthy stranger emerges from the woods, she just might have the answers he's looking for.

A/N: So, I've never written Richonne circa-Season 3. Their frame of mind back then - the angst and the darkness - is not something I dabble in too much as a writer. This prompt was a challenge for me, which is why I picked it. Hope I did them justice.

EP3x8 Made to Suffer - New Canon Meet #5

Rick climbed the ladder of the watch tower just before dawn. The rungs were slick with the morning dew. He could see his breath in front of his face in the crisp, cool air.

Once at the top, he pulled his binoculars from his waistband. He looked toward the front gates, and waited for the lenses to focus.

No baby formula.

Good.

Six days ago - the day after his daughter was born, the day after his wife died giving birth to her - Glenn and Maggie went on a run in search of baby formula. They hadn't been back. Four days ago, four cans of baby formula were left at the front gate of the prison. Three days ago, another two cans. Two days ago, just one can. Yesterday, back to two.

Every day, he'd gotten up earlier than the day before, trying to figure out how they'd ended up there. Every day, they'd already been left at the gate.

But not today.

He sprawled out onto the floor of the tower's balcony, propped up on his elbows, and waited. Today, he would see who the mystery gifter was. Most importantly, he would find out what they knew about Glenn and Maggie.

It couldn't be a coincidence, and yet, all the theories he formed in his head didn't quite add up. If this person - or people - knew there was a newborn baby here, they had to have known because of Glenn and Maggie. And they had to have known how to get here because of Glenn and Maggie. So why weren't they back? He couldn't reconcile that the kind of person who would kill them would also be driven to provide for a stranger's infant child. But if this person didn't hurt them, why the cloak-and-dagger bullshit? He was missing something.

Their visitor arrived about ten minutes after Rick took position. It wasn't what he expected.

She wasn't what he expected.

She was tall, with dark skin and long dreadlocks that bounced off her shoulders as she jogged over to the front gate. Rick held perfectly still, determined not to let her know anyone was onto her. He didn't reach for his binoculars, but he thought he could make out three cans in her arms. When she turned around to leave, he saw a long Samurai sword strapped to her back.

And just as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone.

He descended from the tower when she was just out of sight. He told himself he should recruit one or two guys to help him track her down, but his feet were moving toward the front gate, not the cell blocks. His brain said he needed backup, but his gut told him his window of opportunity would be narrow when it came to this woman.

He took one last look at the prison, and disappeared into the trees.

She was going to find an island. That was the plan. She'd planned on being well out of Georgia by now, five days after escaping from Woodbury. Perhaps escape wasn't the right word - they did let her walk out the door. But she knew better.

Her suspicions were confirmed when The Governor's flunkies followed her. They even shot at her, but none of their bullets landed. The lieutenant knew how to track, that was for sure. It took her three attempts to be able to throw them off her trail. She figured she'd be long gone by the time they realized their mistake. And she would have been, had she not stopped at that discount store for supplies.

She'd already filled her own pack, and was climbing out the back window through which she broke in, when she heard a car pull up. She'd hunkered down outside, initially thinking that The Governor's people had already caught up to her, but she quickly made out a young couple she didn't recognize from Woodbury. A white woman and an Asian man.

They broke the chains on the front door with a pair of bolt cutters, and Michonne watched as they scoured the isles of the store. They filled their bags with the things she would have taken had she had any more room to carry them. The two of them carried on a casual conversation about the weather, their supply list, then about the drive back to their camp. Supposedly, it was a prison, just a few miles from the store. Having lived in Georgia all her life, Michonne bet they were talking about the West Georgia Correctional Facility.

She'd seen that prison over the winter, and it had been overrun with walkers. They had to have a large group back there to have been able to clear it out. That was an asset. People were an asset. But personally, she wasn't looking for a large group. She was looking for an island.

After both the man and woman had their backs turned, she began walking back toward the woods. They seemed capable enough, and she'd prefer they didn't see her to avoid any complications. She was almost out of earshot when she heard the young man's voice echoing across the hills.

We just hit the powdered formula jackpot.

She didn't stop moving when she heard it. And she tried not to let the thought of their hungry newborn baby distract her from her mission. But as she laid in her own camp later that night, with nothing but the sound of the crackling fire to distract her, she thought about how fast a baby went through formula. She thought about a few hard-to-find stores she'd visited over the months that might have some.

And she decided, the next day, she'd find some more, and drop it off at the prison - unseen and unheard - on her way out of the area.

And she did. And they took it. She knew because she went back the day after that with more cans, and left them in the same spot.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

Today, the fifth day of delaying her journey to the coast, she realized that something was keeping her there, and it wasn't just to provide food for a baby she'd never even seen.

Though, she had dropped off three more cans at the prison gates before dawn.

It was about Andrea.

When she left Woodbury, convinced The Governor was not only suspicious but dangerous, Andrea had stayed. And while it cut her deeply, Andrea was an adult and had a right to make her own decisions.

But the reality of abandoning her friend in a place she knew was not safe was something she couldn't sit with. She couldn't move forward with it.

She had to try. One more time.

Beguiled by the promise of walls and a warm bed, Andrea couldn't listen to her own instincts, let alone trust Michonne's. But now, she had proof to back up her intuition. The Governor had sent people after her. To kill her, no doubt. And for what? He knew she didn't believe any of his bullshit about...anything. But what could she possibly do about it? Nothing. She was no threat to him. He wanted to take her out simply because he could. Or so he thought.

Her plan now was to slip her way past the guards and over the south wall by early evening, before the residents turned in for the bed. With any luck, she'd get a glimpse of Andrea on the streets, and she could figure out which house she was staying in.

It was a good plan.

About a mile from Woodbury, she heard the sound of a bubbling brook. It was a beautiful morning. Cool and crisp. The sun was coming up over the horizon, and it was going to be a bright day. She approached the brook to fill up her canteen with water, and as she knelt by the water, she saw something she hadn't seen in a while.

A bird.

She didn't know a damn thing about birds, but she knew she had seen less and less of them since everything happened. She noticed, particularly, because the noise of birds chirping early in the morning used to be one of her favorite sounds.

This little guy was silent today. Perched on a branch about halfway up a tree, pecking at the bark of the trunk. She didn't see any other birds around. It was just this one. All alone. Left behind.

She was making an active attempt not to identify psychologically with this bird's predicament, when her thoughts were interrupted by the cold, cool steel of a gun pressing against the back of her neck.

"Toss the sword. To your left," Rick gestured to their left, to a pile of rocks that was out of her reach.

The woman complied, gently tossing her sword onto a pile of rocks in that direction. He could sense the tension in her body, the anger - not fear - at being held at gunpoint.

"Turn around."

She slowly turned to face him. Her facial expression matched her body language. Her mouth was set in a firm line. Her brown eyes burned with a clear desire to knock his block off.

He stared at her for a long moment, not quite sure what to say. She stayed silent, too. She didn't try explain herself, didn't ask him to put his gun down. She just...waited.

"I saw you," he said, for lack of anything better.

She looked unaffected by his revelation.

"At the prison this morning, with the baby formula," he elaborated.

Recognition dawned in her eyes then, but her reaction was minimal. A small, slow nod. Then, more silence. He could tell she wasn't going to be offering up any information freely.

"What's your name?"

"Does it matter?" She didn't miss a beat.

"No," he agreed. "Where are you headed? Where's your camp?"

"I'm headed over that hill," she said, pointing at a hill to the east of them.

Like an amateur, Rick took his eyes off her to see the path she was on. The woman didn't waste any time. In just a few swift movements, she took hold of his gun and wrist, disarming him. Next, he felt her calf swing under his body, knocking him onto his ass.

She quickly stepped over him, training his own gun on his chest.

"Why did you follow me?"

"What makes you think we need baby formula?" Rick answered her question with one of his own, despite the sudden change in power dynamics.

"The fact that you take it every day."

It would have been a funny comment, under different circumstances.

"There was a woman," she added, eventually. "Young, pretty. And an Asian guy. They were at Southern Discount, a few days ago, looking for baby formula. They mentioned a prison."

"You talked to them?"

"I saw them. From a distance."

"What happened to them?"

She furrowed her brow. "They never got back to the prison?"

Rick shook his head.

"And their baby?" She asked before she could stop herself. Rick shook his head

"The baby isn't theirs. She's mine."

Her face softened at that, and her body relaxed ever so slightly. It was starting to come together for Rick now. This woman had heard from Glenn and Maggie that they needed baby formula at the prison, and she wanted to help feed her. It didn't mean she knew what happened to them.

Not necessarily, anyway.

"They were fine when I left," she said, as if reading his mind. "Had a basket full of supplies."

"I don't believe you," he lied, attempting to wring more details from her.

"I don't care." She gingerly stepped to the side of his body, but kept him at gunpoint. "Stand up," she instructed.

Rick stood slowly, keeping his eyes on her hands, on her finger that rested on the trigger.

"I'm sorry about your friends, but I don't know what happened to them. It's the end of the world. People don't make it home for all sorts of…"

She trailed off.

"What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"It's something," Rick insisted. He could see it in her eyes. A sudden flicker of an idea she wasn't saying out loud. "Please."

She lowered the gun to her side, and let out a sigh of resignation. "There were a group of men. I was trying to avoid crossing paths with them, when I got to that store."

"And you think they could have hurt my people?"

"I wouldn't put it past them. They were...on my trail."

"Why?"

"I don't know, exactly."

"Where can I find them?"

"Right over that hill."

Where she said she was headed...

"So, a group of men chase you down, and you're going back to where they live?" He wasn't so much incredulous as he was curious. If he were a betting man, he'd wager she could take on a dozen goons without breaking a sweat.

"I'm not going back for them. I have a friend there. Family."

"You've been to their camp before?"

"Yes, but it's not a camp. They call it Woodbury. The guy who runs the place goes by Governor. A real Jim Jones type. They've got food, water, walls. They're armed, but most of them can't fight."

Rick appreciated the succinct way she provided him all the answers to the questions he hadn't even asked yet. "How do we get in?"

"We?"

"Your family is in there. Mine might be, too."

"Guards are on the wall around the clock, but we can slip our way through. We'll find my friend, and see if she's seen your people."

"If they went to this Woodbury, they didn't go willingly. You really think they're going to be sitting out on the front stoop with everyone else?"

"You don't want to hear what I think." If this community was as dangerous as she was she was painting it out to be, then she was right. He didn't.

"We don't know until we know," she added.

This was risky, Rick reminded himself. He should go back. If he thought Glenn and Maggie could be at this Woodbury - and it was his best lead at the time - he should go home, and return with back-up and weapons.

"I have more people," he offered. "Back at the prison. We have men and firepower."

"No," she declined, firmly.

"Our chances-"

"Do what you want. I'm not waiting around while you get your shit together. My friend is in there, and I'm going now."

Rick threw his hands up in surrender. It was an easy decision. The advantage of her familiarity with this place far outweighed the disadvantages of them going in alone. "Alright. I'll go with you. Now."

Her silence seemed to serve as implicit agreement.

"Can I have that back?" He pointed to his gun still in her hand.

She looked down at the gun at her side. Then, as if remembering for the first time her own weapon was gone, she walked over to the pile of rocks where she had tossed her sword. She picked it up, slung it over her back.

Then, much to his surprise, she actually handed him his weapon. He repaid that show of trust by tucking it securely into the back of his jeans.

They walked mostly in silence. There wasn't much he wanted to say, and he sensed she felt the same way. They shared a common interest for a day. That was all.

If he were being honest, this mission was one of the few threads holding him together anymore. Focusing on these immediate needs helped him to avoid facing the horrors he and his people had endured over the last few days. Lori, T-Dogg, Carol… He could justify setting those tragedies aside for life and death matters. Right now, those included getting Judith food, and finding Glenn and Maggie. This stranger had already helped him with the first, now she was helping him with the second.

"Thank you for bringing that formula," he said after a good ten minutes without words between them. "We would have been in trouble without it."

"You're welcome."

"You know, I still don't know your name."

She didn't offer it up.

"I'm Rick."

Still nothing.

"Look, we don't need to be best friends, but if we're gonna have each others' back in there, we should at least have something to call each other."

"Michonne," she said after a beat, facing him without breaking stride. "My name is Michonne."