Darkness. Everything was so still. Quiet hammering echoed from the distance, quiet footsteps muffled as they passed, but inside, nothing stirred, just the sound of my breathing. I did the right thing, I know I did. Patrick had to go, Harlow had to go; I did everything I was asked, I did what I was born to do, what others lacked the nerve to do...and yet, they look at me as if I'm the monster.
The door slowly opened, the wood creaked under their weight, the footsteps stopped. They were right in front of me, but I dare not look up. I refused to look at them, refused to meet their contemptuous stare. "Michaela?" It was Rick; his voice was soft, full of sorrow. I remained silent. "Michaela, please talk to me, talk to someone; ya haven't talked to anyone in days, not even Siddiq." Rick was only met by silence. "We're worried about ya." I heard the sound of a food tray being set on the ground. "I brought you lunch...ya need to eat." I glanced up at the tray and sighed. It was a bowl of homemade sticky noodles, my favorite.
"Afraid to give me a knife now?" I grumbled.
"Michaela—"
"I did what needed to be fuckin' done, I did my fuckin' job, and y'all chastised me for it! I did what I had to do to keep our people fuckin' safe, and ya locked me up for it!" I grabbed the empty bed pan from beside me and threw it at the iron bars, causing Rick to step back. "I did everythin' for ya, Rick. I got my hands dirty so ya wouldn't have to worry about it, I did the dirty work, AND FOR WHAT? For y'all to turn around and treat me as if I'm the bad guy? Like ya did Merle?"
"This is different, Michaela. Ya turned Patrick into a chandelier."
"A chandelier?" I slowly rose to my feet and walked over to the bars. "Ya honestly think he was worth that much? No, I turned 'em into party streamers because his death was worth celebratin'."
"Ya took it too far! Kill 'em and be done with it; ya didn't have to torture 'em." I didn't respond. Rick slid me the food tray under the bars and let out a sigh. "We're gonna move ya to Alexandria soon and begin a trial."
"Oh, a trial?" I chuckled. "My, I didn't realize that I was gonna be treated fairly."
"It's because we are tryin' to set a better example for the future that we're even allowin' a trial; if the others had their way, you'd be locked up for the rest of your life for what ya did, possibly even exiled, but I wouldn't allow it."
"Well, a round of applause for Sheriff Dumbass." I sarcastically clapped my hands; Rick furrowed his eyebrows with frustration.
"We're gonna hear your side of the story and anyone else's if they've got anythin' to say pertainin' to the matter, and we'll discuss the information and make a decision. If I were you, I'd think long and hard about what happened and what ya gotta say." Rick began to storm off towards the stairs.
"Hey, Rick." Rick stopped and looked back at me. "I didn't hear ya complainin' when I tortured Randall." Rick didn't respond and exited the cellar, shutting the door behind him. My stomach growled with hunger, so I ate the noodles in silence. A few minutes later, Siddiq entered the cellar.
"Hello, Michaela." Siddiq nervously smiled.
"Sup, doc?"
"Rick told me to check on you and the babies, so I have to have to enter your cell, is that okay?"
"Ya gotta ask?"
"I just don't know your mental state."
"Read my records, Siddiq, I'm a fuckin' nutjob. But, as of right now, I'm okay."
"You sure?" I gently nodded and sipped on my lemonade. Siddiq slowly entered the cell and motioned for me to sit. Once sitting, he placed a fetal doppler to my stomach and listened to the babies. "They sound good, as far as I'm concerned. Now, what about you?"
"What about me?"
"Well, word spread quickly when everyone saw you coming to Hilltop in handcuffs."
"My business is my business."
"We're worried about you."
"Well don't!" I snapped. "I am fine and don't need y'all patronizin' me!"
"We're not—"
"Just fuckin' leave, okay? I don't need ya anymore. Ya did your job, now go." Siddiq let out a sigh and exited my cell, locking it behind him before disappearing up the stairs.
"Ya gotta see this was for your own good." I frantically looked around until my eyes landed on a dark figure in the corner of the room.
"My own good?" I scoffed. "So, I was supposed to let the man who molested your fuckin' nephew die peaceful?" Daryl stepped away from the wall and slowly approached my cell.
"No, but ya didn't have to turn 'em into a decoration."
"I personally thought it brought character to the room."
"Enough with the fuckin' jokes, Michaela, this shit's serious!"
"Who's jokin'?" I smirked.
"Don't ya understand that they're gonna have a trial to decide whether ya get to walk free again? If ya get to walk free, it'll be a fuckin' miracle, that or it won't be in our walls. Do ya really wanna give birth in a fuckin' ditch? In this fuckin' cell?"
"That's up to you, Daryl. This was your decision in the first place."
"I had to do it, Michaela, ya took it way too far and, quite frankly, it worried me. You've never done anythin' like that before. I mean, ya cut Paula's face off and tried to keep it and ya castrated Randall, but ya never..." Daryl struggled to find the right words.
"Went Ed Gein?"
"Who?"
"Honestly, Daryl, ya disappoint me."
"Michaela, for once in your life, see what ya did was fuckin' wrong."
"I did nothin' wrong."
"Not even what ya did to Harlow?" The room fell silent.
"So, that's what this is about? Your way of gettin' back at me?"
"What? No, that has nothin' to do with it—"
"Oh, but it does. If not completely, just part of it. What I did bothered ya. Ya knew I had to do it to keep people alive, but on the inside, it was eatin' away at ya."
"Can ya blame me? Ya admitted ya cheated on me and didn't feel bad for it."
"Of course I didn't, I did it to save y'all's lives!"
"But ya didn't have to finish! Ya didn't have to wait until the end! That was on you!"
"So, you're mad that I like chicks, too?"
"Is that what it was? Ya thought about leavin' me for her?"
"Are ya that self-fuckin'-conscious?"
"After Negan, yeah." The room fell silent. "Ya chose Negan over me, slept with Simon, one of Negan's wives, and now Harlow, what the fuck am I supposed to think?" I didn't respond. "Did ya like it? What ya did to Harlow?"
"It was my first time givin'—"
"That's not what I asked."
"I...I guess? I mean, it wasn't bad."
"So, that's it then...ya waited until the end because ya wanted to." Daryl backed away from the cell. "I can't keep doin' this, Michaela. I love you, and it's obvious that I'm not doin' somethin' right. I'm sorry I'm not Negan, I'm sorry I'm not Simon or Harlow, but I can't be them. Ya gotta accept the fact that I'll never be them and decide whether or not that's good enough for ya."
"Daryl—"
"I mean it, Michaela. I'm tired of havin' to try and fight for ya."
"Ya don't got to, Daryl...I love you."
"Then win this trial. If ya love me, you'll win this trial, you'll agree to their terms. I'll do what I can, but you've gotta fight."
"Daryl." We both turned towards the stairs, not realizing that Rick had returned. "We're ready to move 'er."
"We can't keep 'er here?"
"Most of the council is in Alexandria, we can't leave Alexandria so unmanned." Daryl fell silent. "She won't be sharing a cell with 'em."
"Negan?" I asked.
"You'll be in the cell next to 'em, but the longest you'll be there is overnight. When we get there, we're gonna put ya in there while we get the council together and overnight if we can't come to an agreement afterwards. If we decide ya need to be locked up longer, we'll move ya back here. With ya bein' a few weeks away from your due date, ya need to be as close to Siddiq as possible."
"And after that?"
"That depends on how the trial goes."
NEGAN'S POV
"Hey!" I flinched from my sleep. "Wake up!" I looked over my shoulder to see Rosita staring at me with a tray of food in her hands. "You have to eat."
"The fuck I do." I grumbled and rolled back onto my side.
"No es una jodida opicón." (SPANISH: It is not a fucking option)
"Muérdeme." (Bite me) Rosita slammed the tray down on the floor and shoved it under the bars.
"Fine, don't eat, like I give a shit if you fucking live or die."
"Only one person ever fuckin' did."
"You're right, and it's that puta's (bitch's) fault that you're still alive. Rick should've killed you when he had the chance, and now it's her turn to come up to the plate." I sat up and glared at her.
"What did you say?"
"Are you gonna eat?" I rose to my feet and walked over to the bars and picked it up.
"What did you say about Michaela?"
"You were supposed to die, but you didn't. Now it's her turn, let's just hope she's as lucky as you."
"Where is she?" Rosita didn't respond. I couldn't control my anger and threw my tray at her, my sandwich, lemonade, and soup instantly splattering all over her as the tray, dishes, and utensils fell to the ground. "WHERE IS SHE?" Rosita suddenly reached through the bars, grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me towards her, causing me to bash my face against the bars.
"Jódete a ti, y a tu puta." (Fuck you, and your slut) Rosita shoved me back and stormed off up the stairs.
"Hey! HEY! ANSWER ME, GODDAMN IT!"
"Oh, do shut up!" A voice snarled. "I've got a fuckin' headache!" I instantly froze, that voice...
"Michaela?" I called out as I frantically looked around through the bars. "Where are you?"
"Over here." I rushed over to my empty bed pan and shoved it through the bars, using it as a mirror. A blurry, and yet visible figure appeared a few moments later. "Hi-de-ho, neighbor."
"Jesus fuckin' Christ." I sighed. "I've been worried fuckin' sick, you know that?"
"Don't know why, I've been here for hours."
"Did you go to New Haven?"
"Do pigs fly?"
"No."
"Wrong."
"No, Michaela, they don't."
"They must because I quite distinctively remember saying that the day the dead come back to life is the day pigs fly. I'm just fortunate I didn't say they'd fly out of my ass, I'd never be able to sit proper again."
"Damn it, Michaela, I told you it wasn't safe!"
"Will you stop shakin' that damn thing? You're gonna get pee on me and my food and then my pregnant ass is gonna have to kill ya."
"I told you not to go!"
"And I told ya if my people didn't come back, I was gonna go whether ya liked it or not."
"What happened?"
"I was preparin' to go when one of their people showed up, her name's Zorra."
"Their sniper?"
"Yeah. Anyways, I guess Rick or whoever told 'er to go to the Sanctuary and tell me what happened. She asked for my help and begged me to kill Harlow. So, I faked a business deal with 'er and, when the timin' was right, I killed 'er."
"Did you sleep with her?"
"Not exactly, but I didn't have much of a choice...and now Daryl's mad at me for it."
"Can't say I blame him, even I'm mad at you for it."
"What?"
"You cheated, baby. Fuck, we're not even together, and that shit bothers me."
"Yeah? Well, maybe now ya know how it felt when I walked in on ya goin' balls deep into that fuckin' cunt of a wife of yours. Don't get me wrong, we're cool now, but back then, I wanted to fuckin' skin 'er alive."
"Okay, you got me." let out a sigh. "What about Patrick?"
"You were right, he was a child molester...he molested Elijah."
"That fuckin' son of a bitch." I grumbled. "I knew something was off about him, but I never expected that." How could I have missed this? Was there any signs? Could I have prevented this? "How did you find out?"
"I investigated everythin'."
"And Patrick?"
"Dead."
"Good." The room fell silent for a moment as I came to the realization that she was locked in the cell. Not sitting in a chair outside of mine, but sitting on the floor in the cell next to mine. "Wait a minute, what the fuckin' fuck are you doing in a fuckin' cell?"
"Patrick."
"What are you—"
"I killed 'em, Negan...I killed Patrick. I interrogated 'em to get a confession; it took a few hours, and I cut 'em to bits, piece by piece, until he confessed everythin'." Michaela began to chuckle to herself, sending chills down my spine. "Oh, how he screamed...he begged for mercy, he cried; can't even tell ya how many times he pissed and shit himself."
"Michaela—"
"I couldn't stop...it was just too much fun. I haven't felt that good in a long time. He went crazy, ya know? He was a hard egg to break, so I drove him insane."
"H—" I cleared his throat, which for some reason felt like a fuckin' desert. "H-How?"
"It's ironic, isn't it? The Sanctuary." What the fuck was she talking about? "Sanctuary for all...community for all."
"You— Terminus." My eyes widened with horror. "You made him eat himself."
"When and if they decide to put Humpty Dumpty together again, they'll find he's missin' his nose, his appendix, half a kidney...and his nipples."
"P-P-Put him together?"
"I turned 'em into a display, a piece of art; now everyone knows what he did and what will happen if someone is found guilty of the same crimes. They will fear punishment!" Michaela burst into a fit of laughter. "PLEASE, STOP! IT HURTS! PLEASE, MICHAELA!" I sat down on the floor and rested my back against the stone wall. I couldn't believe it...Michaela had completely lost it. "They're gonna kill me." Michaela mumbled.
"What?"
"I'm here for a trail, and it's up to them if I get to live or not. If they let me live, then they've got to decide whether I get to roam freely, be locked in a cell for God knows how long, or if they're gonna exile me."
"T-That's—" I fell silent. For the first time in a long time, I was horrified beyond words.
"I wish everythin' would go back to the way things were before I became this...I miss Abraham...I miss Merle...why can't everythin' go back to the way things were...before I went crazy?"
"You're not crazy." I muttered.
"What?"
"You're not crazy. Crazy people don't know they're crazy."
"Then...what am I?" I rested my chin on my knees and sighed.
"I don't know, baby...I don't know."