Winter Part 10

Tender kisses made Michonne tense.

Rick could feel her stiffen a little more with each tender touch of his lips to her shoulder. He eased her onto her back and she opened her legs for him. Her eyes found a place on the wall where he knew they would stay.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said.

“Yes, we do.”

Rick shook his head and rolled off of her. Together they lay there and looked at the ceiling. They were naked. They were chilly despite the warmth of the room. When Rick looked to Michonne, he was surprised to see tears spill from the corners of her eyes to disappear into her hair.

“Why won’t you open up to me?”

“I don’t open up easily,” Michonne replied.

“I know, but…I don’t know how to deal with this situation, with you, if I don’t know why you cry when I touch you. Outside of us being forced into it, but you claim that isn’t it.”

“It isn’t. I mean, I don’t like what she’s doing but that isn’t it.”

“Then what is it?”

*****

Across town, Evelyn sat in her executive chair, behind her big mahogany desk, and gazed at the wall of flat screens across from her.   There were ten altogether but only two of them were on. She’d thrown on a pair of comfortable flannel pajamas and was now tucking her feet under her, digging in as though an exciting movie were about to start. She had a big bowl of buttery popcorn in her lap and watched, with rapt attention, as Rick and Michonne lay naked on the bed having a heart-to-heart. On the screen next to theirs she saw Maggie Greene allowing Ziga to put big pink curlers in her hair and wrap her head in a doo-rag to set overnight.

Most of her external cameras had been shot out thanks to that crossbow-wielding redneck and his Korean companion, who’d escaped after Maggie had been captured. Of course, Maggie didn’t need to know her lover was actually roaming free in the streets of Charlesville. That kind of information was best kept private, in Evelyn’s mind, so she could use it to manipulate the young woman.

It was because of those two men Evelyn could only watch the indoor feeds until the actual arena game, which was scheduled four days hence. Electricity was limited, so Evelyn only got to do her game once a year, and here these assholes had come and taken her street views away.

Watching Rick and Michonne was like watching a soap opera, which was the kind of programming Evelyn had been fond of prior to the Turn. Michonne was a complex woman. Evelyn sincerely tried to remain neutral until the game was over, and only one man or woman survived, to make it easier for her to truly welcome the victor with open arms into her fold, but her objectivity where Michonne was concern had been thoroughly compromised. The woman was a survivor. She was a skilled fighter and she was exotically beautiful. Evelyn wanted her to win and she believed that when the time came, Michonne would use that wonderful sword of hers to cut Rick Grimes down in the interest of self-preservation.

The audio on Maggie and Ziga’s feed was muted in favor of listening in on Michonne and Rick. Ziga, indeed most of her people, believed she heard everything that was said at all times, which was absurd. She was only human, after all, but if they believed she possessed god-like omnipotence she wasn’t going to do or say anything to dissuade them of the notion. If they believed for a second they could plot against her she was sure they would turn on her the first chance she got. She wasn’t always kind to them, and she didn’t trust that Stockholm syndrome would keep all ten remaining men and women under her command beaten down and loyal.

Sometimes it frightened Evelyn how tenuous her hold on authority was. She wasn’t a slouch in the fighting department, but she wasn’t invincible like her people often believed her to be. They didn’t remain out of loyalty or love. They remained, and obeyed, out of the fear she’d instilled in them when she first took them hostage. If even one of them decided to fight back Evelyn was sure the others would realize they outnumbered her, outgunned her, and could easily kill her in the worst possible ways. Still, she didn’t hesitate to feed them the notion that they would be killed if they ever turned on her, because she had each of them believing that every other man and woman was fiercely loyal to her and would mete out a painful death upon Evelyn’s command.

Studying people, watching how they behaved, had always fascinated Evelyn. She’d never felt the emotions people spoke of. Prior to the Turn she’d had to pretend to feel things like love, heartache, pity, or any form of empathy. She’d only ever been able to feel things like lust and rage. She could feel satisfaction from inflicting pain and that was all. After the Turn, she’d found herself in a world where she could stop pretending and truly come into her own. She could satisfy her lusts without fear of repercussion from law enforcement.

She listened to Michonne and Rick talk. She hoped Michonne would open up to Rick. She needed to understand the woman and what made her tick, since the more information she possessed about Michonne, the better she would be able to manipulate her later.

*****

“I loved a man before the Turn,” Michonne said softly. She was still staring at the ceiling. She was still waiting for the phone to ring and Evelyn to bark out a harsh command for her and Rick to put on a show. The phone call didn’t come, thankfully, and Rick waited patiently for her to continue.

“He was good, kind. He was gentle. He was so gentle that the new world killed him. He couldn’t deal. He didn’t have it in him to kill, not even the walkers. I lost so much because of that, including our son. When you touch me it makes me think of him. It makes me think of what I’ve lost because he was too gentle, too weak, to fight for our family. I swear, sometimes I feel your hands on me, and your lips, and I feel like it’s him come back to life. I feel so much rage, so much regret, I can’t…”

Rick absorbed that information. He thought he understood what she was saying, but the truth was he’d never fully understand from her perspective. He felt selfish, too, for the fact that he didn’t just want to give Evelyn her show so he stood a chance at getting home alive. He wanted Michonne. He wanted to be with her, whether someone was watching or not. He was tired of the bone-aching lonliness that consumed him, especially at night, since Lori’s death.

“Michonne,” he said, putting his hand flat on her belly. “I’m not that man. I’ll fight for what’s mine. I’ll fight until my dying breath.”

“I know you will.”

“Then see me, not him. Think of me, not him. It’s my hands, my mouth on your body, not his. It’s me who wants to share your body. Just me.”

“Wants to?” she said, frowning. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry and her heart racing.

“I want you,” Rick said. “I have for a while now. I just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same way.”

“I don’t know what to feel, Rick, but I can do this. I can do whatever it takes to get us out of here.”

“I don’t want this to be a job, Michonne. I want you to want me, too.”

They didn't have that luxury at the moment, but the truth was Michonne did want Rick. She was just afraid to tell him.

She looped a hand behind Rick’s head, pulling him into a deep, slow kiss. She pushed his hand further down, between her legs where his hand instinctively began to rub until she was wet to the touch. He urged him atop her, opening her legs. He settled between her thighs, his mouth fused to hers. She was going to do it no matter what. She was committed. Perhaps it was just a job to her, but Rick knew one thing: Unlike the first time, Michonne was wet and ready for him, and the moan he elicited from her lips as he slid into her was deep and genuine. This time when he moved inside her, she moved to meet his thrust, tangled her hands in his hair, and kissed him with the kind of fiery passion that soon made him forget about Evelyn, being watched on camera, and the strangers who sat in the living room awaiting dawn’s arrival so they could continue the game.

*****

When the Turn first happened and she’d lost family and friends to the disease, Maggie had tried to escape the pain and the terror through sleep. She’d sometimes sleep upward of sixteen hours a day by waking up, realizing she couldn’t deal, and then going back to bed. It wasn’t until her father had come into her room at six a.m. one morning, told her she was gonna get up and stay up, help around the house and wait for a cure to come along that she’d finally managed to start facing reality.

She would find no such luck tonight. She snuggled down deep under the blankets as the light from the hearth began to die down. Ziga had said that Evelyn would rape her. She lay in the mostly dark room, warm and comfortable in the soft bed, but her body tense, wondering just how a woman would accomplish that task.

A strap-on, dummy, she heard a voice in her head. That voice sounded like Daryl Dixon, strangely enough.

She was overcome with the urge to laugh and cry at the same time. Daryl Dixon would have faced any threat with a scowl and a couple of raised fists. She would at least attempt the same, but she didn’t know if Evelyn could fight, or if she’d bring help. The idea of men coming in to cuff her to the bed while that hateful old bitch strapped on a dildo, probably something ridiculously large just to frighten and hurt her, horrified Maggie. It could happen any minute.

The night wore on and the fear and adrenaline gave way to worry and weariness. When she’d sought escape through sleep Maggie had been mercifully able to go deep enough to avoid dreams, even nightmares. She wasn’t so lucky this time. She kept seeing herself kneeling over Glenn’s body while Evelyn raped her from behind, and Daryl, armless and legless, lay nearby yelling at her to stop being a crying pussy and fight back.

When a hand shook her awake, Maggie took an instinctive swing and felt her fist connect with a face.

“Ow, goddamn it!”

She opened her eyes and realized Ziga was beside her bed, holding his face and glaring at her.

“Sorry.”

He clucked. “Serves me right, I suppose, coming in on you like that. I forget how it is when you’re new. Come on. Breakfast is at 7:30 sharp.”

“What time is it?”

“5:30. Believe you me, we’ll need every second of the next two hours to get you ready.”

“What are you trying to say? I’m that much work?”

He laughed. “Honey, you haven’t moisturized in what looks like years. Your hair is like straw, your eyebrows are too thick, and don’t even get me started on those man-hole sized pores you’ve--”

“Okay, I get it!”

He seemed to take some satisfaction with insulting Maggie as payback for the punch to the eye. She followed him from the room where she was instructed to brush her teeth and bathe. The water ran hot and soon she found herself moaning in ecstasy as the steam, perfumed from some exotic bath oil, rose into the air and filled her head.

She figured she was being watched. There was a camera in the upper corner of the bathroom. An idea occurred to her. She could only be a help to Rick, Michonne, Daryl, and Glenn if she could find out more about Evelyn’s setup from the inside. While it was satisfying to throw drinks in her face and sass, Maggie knew that would get her nothing but killed. Cooperation is what would help her find out where the others were, especially Glenn.

To win trust, however, she would have to sell it. There was no way Evelyn would buy a change of heart from Maggie at the snap of a finger. She couldn’t afford to arouse suspicion. It was a fine line she’d have to walk but she was confident she could do it. Creature comforts such as a soft bed, a hot bath, and hopefully good food after years of living without those things could be a powerful motivation to turncoat on those she loved and had lived and fought with for years. Maggie was sure she could sell it considering Evelyn didn’t know her. The sex, however…that was something she would resist since she knew Evelyn expected her to. Also, being the sick bitch that she was, Maggie was sure Evelyn would find a willing partner less satisfying than an unwilling one. It wouldn’t be difficult to convince her that she didn’t want to be touched, but that she would, possibly, turn if she could be guaranteed safety and creature comforts.

Playing it up, Maggie smiled brightly in the bath and splashed about. “I could get used to this,” she said quietly, as though talking to herself and forgetting she was probably being watched. She hoped she hadn’t put on too much too soon.

When Ziga arrived twenty minutes later, Maggie didn’t protest getting out, toweling off, and going to get dolled up for her breakfast date with Evelyn.



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