Just Keep Walking

One hundred and twenty two

When Mary finally left Siddiq and wondered back to the house, she got hit with the news that her father had gone; yet again.
"Where?" Mary asked, her voice slightly louder and angrier than Michonne wanted.
"He said he was going to see where the Saviours we kept here went."
"Why?"
"I..." Michonne began slowly, but to be truthful, she didn't know. She didn't know why Rick had gone to find them. They were gone, and maybe armed. If they escaped once, they would again, and probably would eventually kill them if they got brought back forcefully. She didn't know why he'd gone; in her opinion it'd just cause more trouble.
"He's gone to kill them." Mary nodded slowly, sighing.
"I don't know..."
"He's gone to kill them, and he shouldn't. Because if I was them, if I was captured by Negan, and had the chance to run away, I would. Anyone would. They did what anyone would do. And now he's gonna kill them. Just incase they come back."
"Mary..."
"No. It's mean. And Carl wouldn't like it." She said simply, and walked away from Michonne, and over to Judith. "Now," she sighed softly, exhaling all of her frustration over her father, "are we giving Teddy a picnic?"
"A Nic-nic." Judith nodded solemnly, passing Mary a teacup filled with leaves; she had four in total, and a teapot, a perfect, beautiful set, taken from an old woman's house. She didn't need them now.
"Wow, some tea! How posh Miss J." Mary smiled, forcing herself to sound as posh and English as she possibly could, making Judith's face erupt with laughter.
"You put the- put the... 'ittle one ou'!" She giggled, and Mary realised what she meant- once when they played tea parties with Carol, back in Alexandria, she'd made them apple juice in teacups, and cucumber sandwiches, and she told them to stick their little finger out, if they wanted to be really posh.
"Yeah, you do! Put the little one out. The little finger, like this." Mary smiled, and one of Judith's chubby fingers swung out to the side, sending the green leaves flying across the floor.
"Good job, Jude." Mary smiled, as the toddler refilled the cups and teapot with leaves.
"You good playing with your sister?" Michonne asked Mary softly, smoothing over her hair, smiling at the two girls, but inside broken. Over Mary knowing Rick had gone to kill those men. Over Carl. Over the brother-less sisters playing with a dead woman's China tea set. Over Mary's skinny arms and Judith's lifeless hair. Over the uncertain future her daughters faced.
"I'm good." Mary nodded, interrupting Michonnes thoughts, and Michonne nodded back at her, then left them in the company of everyone else in the courtyard, and went to help bury some more bodies from the night before.

That night they had a soup made from a few turnips, stock cubes, and rabbits, thinly stretched between everyone at Hilltop, and, to Mary's pride, an apple for dessert. After eating, and after the sunset, Michonne bathed Mary and Judith, then put Judith to bed, and let Mary come outside with her. They sat by the fire, Mary wearing a sweet pair of pyjamas covered in rainbows (something she rarely wore if they weren't at Alexandria, because they didn't know what the night would hold), and wrapped in a plaid blanket, as she sat in front of the fire, Michonne combing through her long, dark, wet hair.
"Want me to plait it? It'll dry wavy." Michonne asked with a gentle smile, and Mary nodded, a trace of a smile on her lips; she was jealous of Judith's curls, and loved having her own after wearing plaits. Michonne put the wet locks into two Dutch braids, with the type of ease only a parent could have.
"You complain much less than Judy, hey?" Michonne laughed softly after she finished, and Mary giggled, turning around.
"She gets when we do it. She's so silly! She goes "it hurts! No! No brush!" And that's so silly, because it doesn't hurt!" Mary rambled, her voice suddenly full of imaginative light, "She's silly. Gunshots hurt. Do you remember when I got shot?"
"How could I forget?" Michonne half laughed, then Mary's smile disappeared.
"Walker bites hurt." She whispered, slumping down beside Michonne, and staring into the flames. Michonne held her tightly from behind, hugging the child to her chest, but she knew it would help; what could help in these circumstances?
"When's daddy coming home?" Mary whispered, and Michonne held her even tighter. That day, not to Mary's knowledge until he'd returned, Henry had gone missing, yet Carol and Morgan has gone. Carol retrieved him. Morgan hadn't come back yet. Now, all Mary could think was, if Morgan could go missing, so could her dad. And even though her dad went missing to kill those men, he was still her daddy, and she loved him so deeply. Her body was filled with fear of the possibility that maybe one of the men killed him. She loved Michonne, and she loved spending time with just her, but she didn't ever want it to be just them.
"I don't know, baby. Soon, I hope. Soon. Maybe he's gonna be late. 'Cos it's dark. He might just stay somewhere tonight, and come back when it's safe and light."
"Yeah. That sounds safer," Mary nodded, allowing Michonne to rationalise her messy thought, "he will come home, though, won't be? He won't leave us?"
"As long as he has a say, your daddy won't ever leave us." Michonne said firmly.
"He's a tough guy." Alden pitched in, commenting on their conversation despite he hadn't received an invite, but Michonne didn't mind.
"See? Everyone knows it."
"Can I stay up until you go to bed? And sleep in your bed?"
"Yeah. Yeah, of course." Michonne nodded, kissing the top of her head.
"I'm scared." Mary admitted suddenly, "I'm so scared. All the time."
"Guess what? Me too. Me too." Michonne soothed, holding her even tighter, if possible.
Mary sighed, and nestled into Michonne's chest, a hand clinging to one of her dreadlocks like a lifeline.
"Gate." Michonne breathed shakily, seeing them open, and Mary jerked upright, her eyes slicing through the darkness. Rick and Morgan walked through the gates, covered in dried blood, and Mary looked at them, almost uneasily, then stood up and ran into Rick's arms.
"Okay?"
"Okay. Are you?" Rick nodded to the child, and Mary nodded back. "A'ight. Imma go clean up, and you need to go to bed. Come on."
They went into the house, Mary clinging to Rick, the man not even acknowledging Michonne as they walked past. Rick went to go shower, leaving Mary in his and Michonne's bed with a book. It was simple and easy, but sounding out the letters kept Mary occupied until Rick had showered, the simple story of a dancing elephant soothing her slightly.
"Your readings really coming on." Rick modded, coming back in, his hair wet, pulling on a clean shirt as he did. Mary said nothing, and carried on sounding out the words, her finger tracing over each one as she did. Rick's eyes fell on her, then on the chest of drawers in front of him, and his shaking hands found the letter Carl had written for him. Before he could open it, Michonne came into the room, her presence calm and still.
"Thank you," Rick sighed, seeing his partner in the doorway, "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be."
"I love you."
"I love you too." Michonne whispered tearfully, walking over and kissing Rick softly. She looked at the letter, and nodded slowly. "I'll take Moo. Get her asleep. Come back in in a min."
"Where we going?" Mary asked, her face screwed up, and Michonne smiled softly.
"Let's go look at the stars, yeah?"
"Yeah." Mary nodded, and she went downstairs with Michonne. They sat on a chair on the decking, Michonne holding Mary in her arms, and it reminded Mary of the day that Maggie held her like that, in the starry night, the day they met, when Carl had been shot. She fell asleep quickly, but not peacefully, her night plagued with terrors.

"Rick? Rick?" A voice asked urgently the next morning, knocking on the door.
"Hmm? What's going on?" Rick asked groggily, the voice waking him and Mary up. Jesus came through the door, and looked at him, a look of exhaustion on his face.
"Gregory's back. He's here. Got something for you. Says Dwight gave it him." Jesus explained quickly, and already Rick had woken Michonne up, and swung his legs out of bed, pulling on his jeans, and swapping his shirt for a fresh one.
"You coming?" Rick asked Mary, and she nodded determinedly, receiving a nod in reply, "Get your clothes on."
Mary swapped her pyjamas for a pair of denim shorts and a shirt, and pulled on her boots. By the time she was ready, so was Michonne, and they followed Jesus downstairs, and out of the house.
"Hey," Michonne said softly to Claire as they passed, "we've gotta go sort something. You mind waking up Judith and Gracie? They're just sleeping in the crib in our room."
"Sure." Claire reassured, and the trio left, following Jesus to the tiny compound where the Saviours were kept prisoner a few days earlier. Maggie was locking Gregory in the pen, and Mary studied the man; he didn't look too great.
Maggie stepped towards Michonne and Rick, and passed Rick a map, that he opened up and read.
"What're we gonna do?" Maggie asked, and Rick nodded slowly.
"I wanna see." Mary breathed, and Rick passed her the map, and she slowly read out the message. "Tomorrow afternoon - Negan and ten men at the X. Other eleven person teams at each of the circles. END NEGAN, end the rest. END THIS." Mary read slowly, and Michonne put a hand on the top of her head, nodding slowly.
"What're we gonna do? We get ready for this fight. Might be it." Rick said suddenly, and Maggie nodded.
"It ends tomorrow."
"It ends tomorrow."

By lunchtime, a plan had been made, and by the afternoon, Mary was angrily packing her few belongings into her backpack; if they had to run, she needed to be ready.
"Mary, I know you're mad, but..." Rick began, and Mary stormed out of the room, ignoring her father. "Mary Grimes!"
"I'm going to mom! Maybe she won't be an idiot like you!" Mary shouted back, and went outside, looking for her mother.
"Hey. Hey, what's all that shouting about?" Rosita half laughed, apprehending Mary as soon as she got out of Rick's eyeliner.
"They won't let me fight tomorrow. I hate them. Carl would fight, and I wanna be like Carl."
"Mary..." Rosita sighed, and Mary began to walk away yet again.
"Where's my mom?"
"Over there." Rosita pointed, showing Mary her mother, who was speaking on a walkie-talkie to someone. Before Rosita could say anything else, Mary left, and went to Michonne.
"Who was you talkin' to?" Mary asked, and Michonne guiltily put the walkie away.
"I... Negan. Carl wrote him a letter. I... I thought he deserved to hear it. It's what Carl wanted." Michonne admitted, guilt plastered over her face.
Mary nodded slowly, and Michonne took her hand, putting the walkie in her jacket pocket.
"I'm gonna go help Sid." Mary said suddenly, and Michonne nodded.
"Want me to walk you there?"
"No, I'm good. Bye." Mary shrugged, and she jogged to the infirmary, Michonne watching her steps until she was safely inside. She didn't want to let Mary go, but knew the child was angry, and needed some space. Little did she realise, until later, that Mary had swiped the walkie from her pocket, and ran off with it. As soon as Mary got into the infirmary, she quickly chatted to Siddiq, then left, and slunk to the back of the building, and turned on the walkie, holding it to her ear.
"Yes? What now?" An irritated voice snapped, that Mary instantly recognised as Negans. She still had the walkie on the right frequency.
"It's Mary."
"Kid? Oh. I'm... I'm sorry about your brother. Truly."
"I don't know if I hate you or not. You said you're not the bad man. You looked after me. But you killed Glenny. And if we wasn't trying to find things to kill you, I bet Carl would be alive."
"Mary..." Negan's voice began, but Mary cut him off, yet again.
"In a way, you killed Carl. You definitely killed Glenn. I'm always sad now. Daddy is definitely always sad. Me too. He's never happy anymore. I think it's right to kill you. Then you can't hurt anyone else." Mary spat, and was greeted with silence. "I want to kill you. I want to kill you. The world would be a better place. Maggie would be happy, and maybe daddy. I hate you! And when I can, I'm gonna kill you. You deserve to die."