Tomorrow Will Come

Forty

"I'm worried about her." Michonne sighed to Daryl and Siddiq, the words echoing up to Mary as she laid in bed.
"It's normal. I mean, it's not, but it's not too abnormal. I don't think. It's grief." Siddiq explained unsurely.
"Grief is normal. But she's so angry. She wants to kill him. I've never seen her like this. This angry, this... She just wants him dead. That's not my little girl."
"She's not a little girl. She's practically an adult, 'Chonne. I've been angry like this. Wanted people dead." Daryl offered.
"No. I think she will. I think she'll try and kill Negan. And I think that if she does, she'll regret it forever."
"She won't kill him. We won't let her." Siddiq assured, but Michonne shook her head.
"She's her father's daughter. If she's got it in her head..."
"She's gonna try."
"Hell right I am." Mary mumbled under her breath, rolling her eyes, then getting out of bed and redressing, combing her hair with her fingers. She climbed out of her window, and slid down the roof, then jumped, her feet tingling in pain on impact, her joints making her regret the decision.
In a simple movement, she drew her sword and put one finger on her gun, stood by the steps to Negan's cell, but then slowly breathed in, and put the sword away. She spat on his doorstep with ease, glaring at the window, then walked away, getting to the wall quickly. Her feet found the pegs Enid had made space for once upon a time, all those years ago, and she climbed quickly, just as she'd done dozens of times before.
Then she stayed out, and slaughtered Walkers until she saw the sun begin to rise.

"Mary?" Michonne called in question as the girl walked through the door, and Mary rolled her eyes slightly. "Where've you been? RJ came to wake you up, he said you'd gone."
The teenager let out a tiny smirk before she came into her mothers view; Michonne hadn't even realised she'd been gone all night. "I woke up early. Went for a walk."
"Outside the walls?" Michonne asked disapprovingly, looking at Mary's attire. She'd been smart enough to not wear Glenn's jacket - she'd only worn a ragged old jumper, that she'd left in the woods when it became bloody, so she didn't have too much blood on herself, but the slingshot, gun, and sword gave it away.
"Yeah. You know I think better out there. I'm fine. I always am."
"Mary. You know you're not allowed!"
"Mom. If I'm allowed to be on the council, to be partially the leader, then I can go on a walk."
"Hey. Don't be so sassy! You might be in the council, but I'm still your mom! You've gotta listen to the rules I give you."
"Your rule is bullshit." Mary hissed, glaring at Michonne before storming into her room, slamming the door sharply then sitting on the roof, her face angry and red.
"Mary? Is that you?" Jennie called from the window, and Mary exhaled slowly.
"Y-yeah."
"You didn't come see me last night. When you got back." Jennie whispered, climbing up and out next to her.
"I'm sorry." Mary mumbled, and Jennie sighed softly, almost wanting to push it, to get a proper response, but she just put her arm around Mary instead.
"What can I do? To help?"
"I don't know."
"Do you, do you want me to stay?"
"I don't know." Mary breathed, and Jennie exhaled even harsher.
"Alright. Okay," Jennie sighed, "I'll give you some space then?" Mary nodded back gently, and Jennie sighed yet again, kissing the side of her head before leaving, letting Mary sit on the rooftop alone.

After a few hours sleep, Mary got ready for the day and went straight to the infirmary, skipping school completely.
"Mary. Your mom..." Siddiq began as soon as she walked in, but Mary shook her head.
"Nope. Not talking about it." Mary snapped, getting straight to work. She put in a solid several hours work, doing all the menial tasks Siddiq didn't want to do, and watching him to procedures. She watched ultrasounds, and a blood draw, and a diabetic blood sugar test, and the removal of a plaster cast.
When the cast was removed, Mary smashed it to a million dusty pieces, making it easier to dispose of. It was a tiny cast, from a child; most of the broken bones were often from children playing rough, as they often did. The girls arm was pale and skinnier when the cast was removed, looking weaker than before. Mary taught her some physio exercises, her heart panging as the girl struggled to complete them. It upset her, seeing that random girl in pain, so when she shattered her cast later on, she took out all her anger on it.
Anger that the girl was in pain. That the girl wouldn't ever get a normal life. That the girl had been robbed of a normal childhood, and probably been robbed from so many family members. That Mary herself was in pain. That she wouldn't ever have a normal life. That she had been robbed of a normal childhood. That she had been robbed of her family.
Robbed of her first family. The Carters. Her brothers and biological mother. Her biological grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins. She was angry she didn't have that. That she'd never have that. So angry. Robbed of her forever family. Rick, Carl, Lori. Glenn. Henry. Tara. Maggie was gone too. They were all gone.
"I don't have a family history." Mary said suddenly, snapping Siddiq from his thoughts as he wrote notes on the child's broken arm.
"What?"
"I don't have a family history."
"Don't worry. Not many people do, not many..."
"What if I have something wrong?!"
"Mary. Calm down. You know, most people didn't even know family medical histories before this."
"I'm adopted. I don't know about my past. My past before I was born." Mary insisted, and Siddiq nodded.
"And I know that must be hard. And I can't imagine."
"I wish I had more answers."
"I wish you had them too, kiddo."
"I'm so angry all the time at the moment. I feel like I can't control it." Mary whispered, and Siddiq pulled her close to his chest.
"It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay. We can help you. I'm gonna try and help, as best as I can." Siddiq soothed, but Mary just sighed, keeping her eyes closed so she could see her father and brother, and as she hugged Siddiq, she ran a finger over her scar that ran over her eye, feeling the bumps of the scar tissue as she cried.