"Jesus christ." Carl heard his father say from the other room. "They're here again. Again! It's the third time this week. We can't keep up with this. They took our guns. Leaving is almost impossible now."
"Rick." Michonne sighed. "We need to get out there and be ready for him. Maybe he's just here to ridicule us. He may be insane, but he isn't stupid. He can't expect is to fill this quota he has planned for us in only two days." She fell silent. "We just need to go out and listen. I hate this as much as you do, but we've seen what happens when we don't listen. People die. Our family... they die."
Rick was the one sighing now. "Yeah, you're right. I just... it's like it never ends. We thought we were safe in the prison, then we thought we were safe here, but... it feels like we'll never be safe. I don't want to think this way, to... to feel this way but I do. It feels impossible. No matter what I do, what we do, whether it be listen or fight, we still lose."
"Rick." Michonne repeated. "I know. I feel it too, I worry too, but now isn't the time to sit and feel sorry for ourselves. Now is the time to go out there and bite our tongues until they bleed and fall off because that's what Negan wants. And right now we will give him what he wants. Because that's what works. Listening works."
"But what happens when listening isn't enough?" Rick was louder now. "What happens when suddenly he changes his mind and wants double or triple what we can do. What if-"
"Then we change. We will be what he wants until we get the chance to not be. But that chance is not in the near future and as much as I want to step on his head until its unrecognizable, I know I can't. We both know fighting back will make this worse and we can't lose anyone else." Michonne paused. "Let's just go. Listen. Give him what he wants. Then come home and try to think of a way to fix this." Michonne walked towards Carls room, her boots dragging across the floor. She tapped on his door. "Carl?"
Carl opened the door, looking at her. "He's here." He looked out the window, watching Negans men drive their trucks into their home. "I won't leave and I'll take care of Judith. Like always."
Michonne smiled at him. It was sad. Kind of like an apology. She cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead. "Your dad's having a really hard time right now." She sounded like his mom, except kinder. Lori was always angry with Rick. Angry and tired. Michonne loved him. The real kind. "Be good and don't give him too many heart attacks." She looked down the hall. "We don't know how much more he can take."
Carl nodded. "Be careful. Don't let him do anything stupid, okay? I'm not out there to calm him down so you have to be." Carl loved Rick. But it wasn't like a father. It was like something else. Like a stranger who saved him. The Rick Carl grew up with was not the Rick he lived with now. The same way as the Carl Rick raised was not the Carl he lived with now.
Michonne nodded and smiled, waving goodbye to him then to Judith who laid on her stomach. She had been coloring before Rick began panicking, but she stopped when she heard the yelling. She dropped her crayons and sat silently, listening to the yelling, not understanding the words but understanding the panic in their voices. Michonne closed the door behind them as they left, leaving the house quiet.
"You can color again." Carl mumbled, sitting down next to her. "I always like when you color." He turned and looked out the window. Negan and his men stood in rows in front of the few people left in town. Carl prayed if he heard gunshots today that they were shooting zombies, not his family. "Maybe I can color, too."
Judith looked up at him and smiled. She picked up a paper and handed it to Carl, handing him a blue crayon. She didn't seem to like the color blue. All of her crayons were worn down, all but the blue ones. Carl liked to pretend that she didn't hate the color, but instead saved it for Carl. As if she knows it was his favorite color back when he had time to think about those things. The simple things.
