"You think Andrea initiated the plan?" (Y/n) asked, looking over at Rick through the rearview.
Rick's calm eyes met hers through the reflection, reclining his back on the seat with his legs spread out, barely giving Carl any room to comfortably sit.
"How am I supposed to know," Rick grumbled, clearly in a sour mood. Why? (Y/n) didn't allow him to drive, rather she let Michonne drive. Which eventually led him to act like a fussy child.
(Y/n) hoped this would be an opportunity for Rick and Carl to bond, but how wrong she is. She tore her gaze from the rearview, still sensing a penetrating stare lingering on her, burning her skull.
As the car progressed, a figure emerged into view. A stranger who was wandering with a massive bag strapped on his back.
"Help! Please!" The man spotted the car approaching, so he flailed his arms around frantically, signaling for aid.
"Michonne stop." (Y/n) sat straight, focusing on the man.
"Don't, this might be a trap. (Y/n), we know you're wiser than this. We discussed yesterday that the Governor will have his men spread all over. What if this man is undercover?" Rick's voice fell deep, as his eyes connected with (Y/n)'s again through the little mirror.
The usual blend of authority yet humbleness in Rick's tone was replaced by pure demand and strict demeanor. Rick was tormented by the traumatic encounter (Y/n) had faced. He failed to protect her in the past, and now he's unwilling to take any chances.
Rick fixed his position, his gaze still glued to hers. There was no point in arguing, the sheriff was right. It's better safe than sorry.
(Y/n) slowly moved her body to face the window, watching them pass the man. His screams of despair only kept replaying in her mind.
Rick's hand rested on her shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Don't feel sympathy towards strangers... I'd do this a thousand times if it meant your safety, or Carl's, or anyone from the group."
"I'm with Rick on this one." Michonne chimed in, understanding the sheriff's perspective. It's common sense, don't act like a hero if there is no guarantee of being safe.
"Then are we allowing the innocent to die too? What if it was us in this position? Won't it make us the bad guys in their eyes?" (Y/n) turned around to confront Rick, tension escalating.
Michonne focused on driving, steering clear of their argument. The road was cut off by two deserted cars parked in the middle, encouraging her to maneuver onto the soil around the gravel.
The car came to a halt, the tires were trapped in the damp mud. A brief silence hung in the air before Rick exited the vehicle, his gaze fixed on (Y/n).
(Y/n) joined him, analyzing the stuck tires. Taking off her sweater, she signaled for Carl to come out of the car.
The little boy curiously hopped out of the car, approaching his father and (Y/n). Rick was just as intrigued as Carl, eager to discover what his dear friend had in mind.
"This will come in handy one day, I learned it from your father, who is too occupied to pass on the knowledge." (Y/n) threw a bit of shade on Rick, who folded his arms and stood back, watching her position the cloth in front of the tire.
"When Michonne hits the gas, the tire should ride over the piece of clothing." (Y/n)'s voice was softer with Carl unintentionally. It's her nurturing instincts surfacing whenever this child is around.
(Y/n) tapped on the back of the car, signaling for Michonne to proceed. The trick worked, successfully freeing the car from the mud.
Slow applause broke the silence, as Rick approached her with a smirk. His arms caging (Y/n) between him and the car, "If you think I'll let you be in the man's position, then consider me dead. As long as you're alive, I'm never allowing you to be alone and desperate." That was Rick's way of saying sorry, even though it wasn't an apology.
