We Meet Again

Chapter 3

Michonne jolted awake to find her hands bound. She struggled to rise from the bunk bed, a dull headache throbbing in sync with her heartbeat.

"Easy now," said a calm voice to her right. "You're gonna be alright."

Michonne turned to find Rick sitting beside her, an opened water bottle in his hand. For the first time since burying Andre, Michonne felt on the verge of tears.

It's really him, she thought, desperate to throw herself into his arms. His blank stare stopped her cold.

"Who are you?" he asked. "What's your name?"

Michonne had apparently survived one delusional man to fall into the hold of another. The man questioning her wore Rick's face, but his eyes held no sign of recognition. Michonne attempted to rise again and he placed a hand on the small of her back, lifting her. She winced at the pain in her bandaged thigh.

"Water," she whispered. Rick brought the water bottle to her lips and Michonne drank in his appearance, along with the water. Her spine tingled with pleasure at the sight of Rick's sparkling blue eyes. His tanned skin had more wrinkles than she remembered and a brown beard, sprinkled with gray, covered his square jaw and chin. His eyes roamed her face.

Why is he pretending not to know me? Her locs were past her shoulders now and malnutrition had left her thinner, but she wasn't altered enough for him to not recognize her.

Her heart clenched at a terrifying thought. Maybe he had forgotten her; maybe she was no more than some one-night stand from five years ago; whose face wasn't worth remembering. The thought that this man – the father of her beautiful son – had abandoned the memory of their night together, was almost too much to handle in her state.

Rick misinterpreted the terror etched on her face. "We're not going to hurt you. We just want to know who you are and why you had that baby formula."

Michonne took a deep breath to stifle the whimper threatening to escape. She focused on the pain in her thigh to distract her from the anguish creeping into her heart. There were more important things at stake than her feelings about Rick.

"A young guy and girl. I came across them a few miles west of here. They were shopping for baby supplies. Glenn – I think his name was Glenn."

"Glenn. Maggie is the girl," Rick said, leaning forward and invading her personal space. "Where are they now?"

"The scum who put a bullet in my leg took them. A dumb shit who goes by the name Merle."

"Merle?" a voice asked from just outside of the cell. Michonne turned to see a grungy man in a black leather vest, a crossbow at his side, standing in the cell entryway. He walked deeper into the cell, his permanent scowl an exact replicate of Merle's.

"You must be the brother, Daryl," Michonne said as he stopped to face her. "Glenn wouldn't tell him where you all were. I think that's why he took them."

Rick grabbed her thigh, sending pain shooting through her leg. Michonne winced.

"Sorry," Rick said, retracting his hand. "Where did he take them?"

"A town called Woodbury. It's run by this sociopath who calls himself the Governor." Michonne looked to Daryl. "And Merle is his loyal lapdog."

"My brother ain't loyal to nobody, 'cept himself and me," Daryl said.

Michonne turned back to Rick. "Look, I have a friend there, Andrea-"

A flicker in Rick's eyes halted her. Rick, Daryl, Merle, Glenn. Suddenly the stories Andrea had told her about the group of people she was with came flooding back. The sheriff's deputy who woke from a coma alone, seeking out his wife and son, finding them by what could only be described as an act of God.