(no subject)

[thesamurai]

Who: Michonne + You
Where: The bar
When: Feb. 13th
Rating: Let's start at PG-13 for light cussing and we can move it up from there if we need to
Summary: Carl was here. Now he's gone. Quick as that. (prose or brackets is fine, will match!)
The Story:

[She goes to the bar at eleven in the morning after spending the beginning of the morning being as sure as she can that Carl really is gone. No trace of him, no sign that he was even here for a couple weeks.

Weeks.

Not months, not some good length of time.

Weeks. Just long enough for her to think it'd be nice to have some kind of get together at her place to introduce him to people, rather than drag him around the mansion. Just long enough for her to think others might show up, give her a little bit of hope. In all honesty, she should have known better. That shit was too good to be true, and she's learned in the past few years, good things never last. Not Andrea, not the prison, not Alexandria.

So, she's at the bar, and she realizes she has no one to tell about this disappearance because she didn't get to say anything to anyone about him when he was here. She was selfish with him so that she could enjoy it, something that was just hers for a while, her own happiness, and now there's no one else who knows what she's drinking herself into oblivion for. Except Regina; she realizes it around four shots in. During the last event, she pointed him out, proud that he was there, that she could finally say she had someone from home. Dragging out her messenger, she sends a quick text to Regina (Not too early for tequila.) She doesn't want to say outright that Carl is gone so she leaves it at that. Maybe it is too early for this, maybe she's with her kid, her family. All of her family.]

Goddammit.

[Her single utterance is muttered to no one in particular before she takes another shot, then just takes a bottle of whiskey, sitting hunched over the bar, her entire body rigid, jaw clenched. She knows she'll never go back to the 'fuck people' mentality and isolate herself, there are still too many in the mansion who do care - she can admit that. But Carl's gone, her family, and she's pissed as hell at Wonderland today.]

Comments

[circlejerked]

Rough morning?

<sub>[Some time after Michonne, Anders strolls into the bar humming the tune to a well-known Ferelden ditty under his breath. The bar, being one of the mansion's hidden wonders he'd stumbled on quite by accident, is a good place to go for company and gossip, and even just to sit in for a change of scenery.

He'd come to play around with his communication device a bit, idly thinking he could strike up a conversation with another patron if he needed some technology advice, but then he sees the woman at the bar looking like she's about to rip the bar top apart with her bare hands. His plans momentarily move to the back burner.]</sub>

[thesamurai]

[All that he gets for now is a scowl that only slightly indicates she’ll punch him in the throat before it changes a little. It’s not his fault Carl’s gone, so she actually responds, even if it’s terse.]

Somethin’ like that.

[Michonne doesn’t even use the glass in front of her, just drinks straight out of the bottle, so here’s hoping you didn’t expect her to share.]

[circlejerked]

Phew, with a look like that you won't be needing the alcohol to peel paint from the walls.

<sub>[But Anders isn't the type to scare easily, and he smiles on, undeterred. He doesn't take the lukewarm welcome personally. Sometimes in the past women glowering at him has been personal, but seeing as how he hasn't gotten this woman's name mixed up during a round of slap and tickle, he thinks he's in the clear on this one.

He stops to lean on the bar, giving her bottled breakfast a brief glance. He has to assume day-drinking qualifies as a national Ferelden pastime by now; he doesn't think too much of seeing it done here in Magical Topsy-Turvy Land. Self-medication is one of the few thins about this place that does make sense.]</sub>

Anything I can do to help? I find lending a hand where it's needed keeps me out of trouble. Since I seem to attract trouble like a flower attracts bees, I try to do it as much as possible.

[thesamurai]

[Rubbing a hand across her forehead, Michonne inhales sharply and lets it out slowly.]

Only if you can bring people back who leave here.

[That's it, that's all she wants. Someone here from home, whether it's Carl or Rick or...anyone.

Well, not just anyone. Anyone from her family. Her group.]

[circlejerked]

Did you say... back? Back here? To the mysterious beach side property warded up tighter than the Grand Cleric's knickers drawer?

_{[Anders' uncomprehending look says it all. She wants a way to stay, not a way out? Leaving is at the top of his to-do list; if there was a magical door that'd safely take him back to the real world, he'd step through it in a heartbeat.]}

Provided you meant literally leave and not metaphorically. You know someone who left this place? You think they're in some kind of trouble?

[assembles]

[ Steve hadn't been kidding when he'd said that he usually doesn't go to the bar. The only reason he's doing so today is because he's on the lookout for Cami. It's Valentine's Day tomorrow, after all, which makes it their one-year anniversary of having met each other. (And she might need the company. Maybe Steve does too.)

Cami doesn't appear to be on duty today, but Steve does spot someone else he knows seated at the bar. Michonne had come to drink with him back when he'd announced Bucky's disappearance, but this time around she's here solo.

It's a little early to be knocking back whiskey. Something happened.

Steve steps over, making sure he's loud about it so that she hears him coming, and then slides onto the stool next to her. He doesn't say anything at first, just looks from her weary face to the bottle in her hand. ]

[thesamurai]

[She doesn’t look over at Steve or even acknowledge him for a solid minute, trying to figure out what she’ll even say. They’ve talked a lot about this place and what it means to have people even if yours leave. And yet, here she is, getting drunk before noon because of someone leaving. Her surrogate kid who might as well be hers for all the shit they’ve gone through together.

Dragging a hand down her face, Michonne finally looks at Steve.]

My kid was here. Not...he’s mine, but he’s not mine. Just...mine. [Well, the tequila and whiskey combo is working wonders for her, here.]

But I woke up and he’s gone. Two...three weeks. That’s all it was. Now he’s just gone. Why bother? The hell was the point?

[assembles]

[ With no immediate response, Steve simply sits there, letting the silence stretch out between them for as long as it has to. Some people might have found it uncomfortable, but he's spoken to enough traumatized soldiers that he has it in him to be patient. It isn't always that easy, getting the words out.

He doesn't order a drink for himself, which leaves him with little to do with his hands. Eventually he ends up pulling out his phone, just so he has something to keep them occupied, even though he's not actually doing much with it.

Eventually the words come, and Steve glances over, quiet and respectful as Michonne explains. Her kid, but not her kid. Someone she had taken in, then? She'd opened herself up to feel that wound twice? ]

Something similar happened to a teammate of mine. Her twin brother, who's dead back home, he showed up here. But it was just a week or two and he was gone again.

[ Sometimes it's easier to focus on someone else's pain than your own; that's why he tells her the story.

A pause, and then: ] I'm sorry. Is he okay, back where you come from?

[thesamurai]

[She doesn’t know if it makes her feel better or worse to know that this happens to others. Better because she isn’t alone, worse because none of them probably came to the bar before noon and got drunk while feeling sorry for themselves. Today, she doesn’t care. Tomorrow, she might feel like an ass.

At his question, she closes her eyes and shrugs her shoulders a little.]

He’s from before me. He has what I came from to look forward to. A walk wearing literal blood and guts through a zombie parade. So. We’ll see.

[She uses ‘zombie’ here because more people use it than walker or biter, and everyone seems to know what ‘zombie’ means.]

[thecourier]

[Dan hasn't seen anyone he knows in months. Funny, really, that back home he could have done that and never even realised it but now he's starting to think that maybe it was really shitty of him to always be disappearing like that.

It's never too early for tequila. Or gin, or whiskey. The latter is what he's been drinking, mostly, for the past few weeks. Never trusted water and still hasn't broken the habit.]

The usual. [He says with a brief smile to the person manning the bar, toying with the glass once he gets it. His faithful dog takes up a spot between the stool and the bar.

There are people here who care. He's not used to that yet.]

[thesamurai]

[The voice doesn’t sound like anyone she knows, not really. There’s no slow Atlanta drawl happening. So, it’s only when she looks over that she thinks, for a half second, that Daryl is here. And in that half second, elation, happiness, and surprise cross her face before she seems to make an assessment and all of that is replaced by anger, hurt, and misplaced scorn.

He’s too clean.

And he would have said something to her.

Of fucking course. Thanks, Wonderland, for this. The salt in a gaping wound that she plans to have healed by morning, but right now is still raw and fresh. Shifting, she inhales sharply and just stares straight ahead now, all the lines of her body tense, her hand tight around the bottle in front of her. It’s not Daryl, and she wants to tell whoever this is to get away from her, but instead she’s just quite. Still as a statue and pissed all over again.]

[thecourier]

[He has a drawl of his own, but not that one. Normally he'd be grubbier - if he'd just walked in off the Wasteland he'd be covered in all sorts of unmentionable mess - but he'd be a fool not to take advantage of limitless hot water and being clean is still very much a novelty.

Dan catches the look she gives him like a pistol-whip to the head. Wow.]

Usually folks don't look at me like that 'til after I start speakin'.

[Somehow, he's real happy he's not within arms reach of her.]

Don't think I know ya, but it looks like I managed t' piss you off somehow.

[thesamurai]

[Jaw tightening again, Michonne closes her eyes tightly; she can’t look at him. It makes her chest burn and hope spark when there shouldn’t be any. But she can try to explain.]

You have….you have the same face. Of someone back home.

[voiceinthedark]

[He drags himself to the bar. It's definitely dragging right now, not walking or running or even slinking. Dragging.

Maxine is gone, and it brings all the hurt back with it. He misses her like he's lost a limb, a deep ache.

So he drags himself to the bar and he knows it isn't healthy, drinking when he's sad, but there's not many other options when he's stuck here and Maxine is gone.]

Oh. Hi.

[thesamurai]

[He looks about the same as she does, which is fucking terrible, so misery really doeslove company, apparently. Sliding him the entire bottle, she sits up a little, rubbing her face.]

Now who left?

[Because she can't think of other things to make people this upset, other than death. And from experience, you don't leave a person here when you're waiting for them to come back.]

[voiceinthedark]

[He takes the bottle and takes a long swig. It tastes fucking awful, but he's pretty sure that most things would right now.]

Maxine. Uh, Doctor Myers. You? [There's no mistaking the way that she looks.]

[thesamurai]

[Michonne closes her eyes for a second at that.] Maxine. She looked out for me when I got here. Watched my back so I could shower.

[When was the last time they’d even spoken? now, Michonne’s more angry, upset at herself for not reaching out more.]

Kid who might as well be my son. Carl. We were planning a party together and everything. Get you all over for dinner. He was here. maybe...two weeks. Then he was gone.

[whiskeyslinger]

[ Ellen is actually surprised to find someone in the bar before she is. Not that she has to be there, but with nothing to do until her shift starts at the diner she usually haunts the bar and doing the thing she's done best for so long. She lets herself behind the bar, silently putting away the glasses and giving Michonne some space.

It doesn't take a genius to see she's hurting though and after meeting her at Jo's wedding Ellen doesn't have the heart to let her suffer alone. She grabs a glass and sets it down beside her, leaning up against the bar. ]

You know the thing about this place is that you never have to drink alone. You going to share that bottle or do I need to get one of my own?

[thesamurai]

[This is Jo's mother, and Ellen was good company at the wedding, so even though it takes about thirty seconds to move, Michonne tips the bottle over, filling Ellen's glass mid-way.]

Most people don't wanna drink before noon. I figured if time doesn't move, it doesn't matter.

[madehervows]

[The second she gets the text, she's gone. It might be a bit too early for tequila for her, but that doesn't mean she's not happy to keep Michonne company. They really need to stop making a habit of turning to alcohol when everything goes to shit, but when it's the only thing that helps...

She slides onto the stool next to Michonne, not saying a word for a few moments. Instead, she orders a few glasses of water for both her and the other woman and then turns to Michonne.]

We can talk about it, or you can drink and I can make sure you get back to your room okay later.

[thesamurai]

[Michonne is, in all honestly, just glad she has someone like this. Reminds her of Andrea looking out for her.]

He left. The Kid. My kid. [There’s no time for pretending like she and Rick and Carl weren’t all looking out for each other, both on the road and in Alexandria. And here, she and Rick...Michonne lets out a heavy breath.]

I’m crazy. I’m crazy for wanting him back here. ‘Cept I know what he’s goin’ back to, so maybe not.

[madehervows]

[... Oh. Regina stays quiet for a moment or two, trying to figure out what to say. She knows just how much it hurts to lose people, and just how much agony it is to wake up one morning only to find out your son has gone home.

Instead of saying anything, she waves her hand at the bar in front of Michonne, conjuring several shot glasses, filled with the strong stuff.]

You're going to need those. [A faint smile.] And I'm sorry.

[She sighs, then.]

You're not crazy. Even if your world wasn't what it is, you wouldn't be crazy. Wonderland has its problems, yes, but you're not crazy for wanting the people who matter most to be here with you.

[thesamurai]

Good to know.

[It really is, since more than one person has looked at her like she’s insane for mentioning it. When the shots appear though, Michonne closes her eyes for a second, really grateful that somehow she has this friendship, and she takes one shot right away, clearing her throat when it goes down smooth.]

Magic has perks. [As in, that’s not the well stuff, it’s the good shit.]

I don’t get it. Why he’d be here for...a blink of an eye. Then just gone. Was it accidental? Maybe that’s it. Just...never supposed to be here.

[alionsheart]

[ He's not at the bar for any particular reason right now, other than to enjoy a drink with any friends who might happen to be patronizing the bar at the same time. Michonne is someone he's come to care about, so when he sees her looking rather...melancholy, to say the least, he approaches with a concerned look in his eyes. ]

What's happened?

[thesamurai]

[Rubbing at her forehead, Michonne takes a deep breath and lets it out through her nose, controlled, trying to keep some semblance of composure.]

Someone from home. Came, left. In just a matter of a couple weeks. He's not my kid, but he's...he is.

[She'd protect him with her life, and to make it a little more clear, she adds:]

He's my Henry. [Like Regina's son is to him, also implying she's just as close to Rick.]