So all I can say is WOW to that episode. This is definitely set right after that, although if you know what happened in the last five minutes, there aren't really any spoilers. Trying out a different tone from my usual light-hearted stuff. Hopefully you guys like it!

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She wanted to kick him out? Why not this bastard? They didn't know anything, none of them. They needed him, they couldn't stand on their own. There was only one way this could end.

"I'm not gonna stand by-"

He felt the hot concrete sear his bloodstained face, but before his mind could process what had happened, all went black. What seemed like seconds later he was awake. He remembered the rage, he remembered the frustration. He woke with these, his eyes flying open, fully expecting to see Pete, bloody and unconscious beside him.

But he wasn't there. A darkness he hadn't been expecting greeted him. Hadn't it just been mid afternoon? Another second told him he was inside, he must have passed out. When did that happen? His head ached, and he felt disoriented and confused as he tried to process his situation. He tried to sit up. His limbs felt like lead, aching with every movement.

"Don't try to get up yet." Michonnes familiar voice stated. He was too sore to look around for her. He wondered how long she had been here.

"Pete? Deanna?" The details were fuzzy.

"Probably the same as us. Cleaning up after the mess." Her voice held an edge, but he was too distracted to notice. His eyes tracked her as her figure came into view, holding a glass of water.

"How did I end up here?" He wheezed. She sat beside him on the bed and wrapped a gentle hand around the back of his head to help him to lift his head enough to drink. He felt bandages pulling at his skin as he took a grateful sip.

"Glenn and Abraham. I fixed you up." Michonne replied. He watched in silence as she set the water on the bedside table. Then she stood and disappeared from view once more.

"I can't remember…"

"Probably because I knocked you out." She informed him, as if it was a common occurrence for her to do so. He turned his head slightly despite the pain at her words. She clicked on the soft yellow light of the desk lamp, and then came back to the bed. This time she remained standing.

"You did what?" He asked quietly.

"Someone had to stop you." Michonne said, her voice a cool contrast to her rigid posture. "It might be too late." She added. It took him a moment to understand.

"She wants to kick me out?" He hissed, feeling the frustration bubble back up. "What about him? What abo-"

"What about him? He's a drunk and a loser. Maggie is still trying to make this right. Deanna wanted to put you out right then. What happened, Rick?" Michonne cut in, her tone changing to reflect her body language.

Michonne was blaming him? Couldn't she see what this place really was? These people were liars. They were ignorant. They were wrong.

"He's beating her. Deanna knew. They all knew!" Michonne said nothing after he spoke, her eyes unwavering on him. It made him uncomfortable. She had to understand. Why didn't she understand?

"I couldn't just let him." Rick defended. "You wouldn't just let him!" His voice was rising beyond the hushed tones of a late night discussion, but he didn't care. He needed her to agree with him. He needed her to.

Michonne said nothing for awhile. Then she sat on the bed once more. Her calm set him on edge. He moved so she wasn't touching him anymore, but it only served to further agitate him. She unhooked something from her belt. It landed next to him with a soft thud.

Handcuffs.

What she would have done.

He took in her expression. She was expecting an answer. What was it?

"The world doesn't have room for that. Not anymore. Having law enforcement? That's a joke. Death is justice now." Rick said firmly. He thought Michonne of all people would understand.

"Out there, Rick." Michonne answered, looking towards window where he knew the dark shape of the wall was. When she turned back to him her eyes had softened. "We're not out there anymore. We get to come back. We get to make a choice. We have to."

Didn't she understand? There was no choice. If you didn't fight, you died.

"No." He tried again, shaking his head as best he could. She said nothing else, and the silence ate at him. How could she be so calm? How could she not see it? He refused to look at the metal bracelets, at the woman sitting beside him. He could feel her eyes on him. Maybe she was right. No. She was wrong.

She was wrong, wasn't she?

"I'm going crazy." He whispered, the beginning of a panic tightening his chest. He flinched slightly when he felt the warmth of her hand against the cloth bandages on his hand. She was silent for a minute, her hand a steady weight atop his, and he felt himself begin to calm. When she spoke again, her voice was smooth and comforting to him. Rick closed his eyes.

"This," She ran her fingers over the bandage on his wrist, "It isn't you."

"This place. I never thought I would see this again. I just..." He halted, thinking of an earlier conversation between them. Just before they had come to Alexandria, when she had talked about the fight that it took to live out there.

"I want to believe that. But...I can't let go." He spoke, more to himself than her. He was surprised to feel her fingers slide down his hand to lace through his, and when he opened his eyes she was still looking at him.

"Let me help you."

So he did.

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Okay, so I hope that's how these two would talk it out based on their characters and stuff. For my writing I was really trying to get at how disordered, confused, and frustrated Rick's thought process must be. I hope it didn't take away from the story making sense or being enjoyable. Let me know whatcha thought!

Hopefully we get a scene along these lines next episode lol.

Also, I'll happily accept any prompt ideas you guys have. I can't guarantee I'll be able to do them all, but I can try!