We Meet Again - filmmefatale (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Five Years Ago

A collective hush spread throughout the courtroom as the judge called for silence. Michonne Daniels gripped the trembling hand of her client, more to calm herself than the woman whose future rested on this decision. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face. The courtroom was stifling.

The jury foreman, a composed woman in her late forties, rose from her chair. She read from a small sheet of paper, a hint of despondency in her voice. "We, the jury, find the defendant, Sadie Matthews, guilty of the charge of first degree manslaughter."

Simultaneous cries of joy and outrage erupted from the audience. Michonne clenched her free hand into a fist, attempting to halt the tears that threatened to burst forth. She turned to Sadie, the woman's haggard face a mask of calm and despair.

Jail had not been kind to Sadie. A girl of only twenty-two, she looked as though she'd aged years in a matter of months. Tears streamed down the sharp edges of her cheekbones, plopping onto the faded table.

"You know," Sadie said, as she stared straight ahead, "I've read more in the last three months than I have in my entire life. That bastard never approved of books. He said they poisoned wives against their husbands. This one by the Dalai Lama-" Sadie choked on a sob.

Michonne squeezed the young woman's hand.

"'Through violence, you may solve one problem, but you sow the seeds for another'." She turned to face Michonne. "Sounds about right."

Michonne mustered what little confidence she had left. "We will fight this. I'll do everything in my power to get this appealed. You have to stay strong." The words rang hollow even to her own ears. She feared this woman's children would be grown before she stepped beyond prison walls.

Sadie responded with a somber smile. "Thank you, Michonne. You're the only person who's ever fought for me." Sadie's bones cracked as she rose from her chair. She wiped away the burgeoning tears. "I need to kiss my babies goodbye."

The bailiff moved to handcuff Sadie, but Michonne held up a hand to still him, her eyes darting to the weeping boy and girl pressed against the railing. He looked between her and the children and then nodded. Michonne nodded back in thanks.

Sadie crouched down to smother her kids with kisses. They held onto their mother for dear life. "What're these tears for?" Sadie asked in a playful tone. "Mama's just going away for a little while. Be sure to mind your Gran and do your homework every night. I'll be checking in on you real soon." She hugged them both tightly while they wept tears of loss.

"How much does Mama love you?" she asked in a clear voice.

The older of the two, a brunette with big brown eyes set in her round face, answered between sniffles. "More than birds love the sky…"

"…and fish love the sea," Sadie finished with her. Her younger brother only wept in response. Michonne swallowed what felt like sandpaper.

The bailiff cleared his throat. Sadie gave each of her children a final kiss on the cheek and turned to Michonne. She leaned in and whispered words Michonne would never forget, hugging the lawyer with urgency. The bailiff handcuffed Sadie and led her through the door to the county jail. Sadie looked back at Michonne and managed a small smile.

Michonne wished she'd never become a lawyer.

"Hit me, bartender." Michonne balanced precariously on a stool, her words on the verge of slurring. The modest drinking hole just a few blocks down from the courthouse was nothing like the posh bars she usually frequented in the suburbs of Atlanta. The antiquated establishment consisted of a few shabby booths, tables, and a wobbly pool table. Hank Williams crooned from a vintage jukebox in the corner. If it hadn't been the closest bar she could find, she would never have stepped foot inside the place.

"Hit you? Where do you think you are, sweetheart?" asked the graying bartender, not looking up from the glass he rubbed clean with a hand towel. "I think you've had quite enough already. You can barely hold onto that stool, let alone your liquor."

Michonne slammed a fifty-dollar bill on the bar. "You sure about that?"

The bartender hesitated before snatching up the bill. "This is the last one, then I'm cutting you off."

A bell chimed as someone walked through the front door, though Michonne was too busy crunching on an ice cube to notice. The bartender deftly replaced her empty glass with a fresh whiskey on the rocks.

He eyed her warily. "Who should I call to pick you up?"

Michonne was about to protest when a man spoke from behind her.

"Don't worry about it, Bill. I'll make sure she gets to where she needs to go," the man proclaimed in a heavy Georgian accent.

Michonne peered over her shoulder at the vaguely familiar voice and caught the twinkling eyes of Rick Grimes. The sheriff's deputy was still in uniform, black and tan slacks with a matching short-sleeved shirt, his holstered gun hanging from his hip. He slid onto the empty stool beside her.

Her eyes trained on his muscular thighs. Are all sheriff's deputies so fit? I thought they lived on fast food and donuts.

She ogled his firm chest, before settling on the clear blue eyes staring back at her with humor and interest. She turned away, embarrassed for having been caught checking out the man who was partially to blame for her defeat in court.

"Evening, Ma'am," he said, his tone as breezy as the waft of cologne that followed him.

Michonne's defense had been solid until the prosecution put the sheriff's deputy on the stand. There wasn't a jury in all of Georgia that could resist the blue-eyed, charming law enforcement officer, his presence commanding and genuine.

Apparently, neither could Michonne. She stared him down, but her heart only fluttered in response.

"That stool's reserved for non-assholes," Michonne said, taking a swig of her drink. Rick chuckled.

"Here you go, Rick, it's on the house," the bartender said, as he slid a sweaty beer bottle his way.

" 'Preciate it, Bill," Rick said, his pink lips caressing the brown glass as he took a sip.

Michonne spied his drink. "IPA? I pegged you as more of a Budweiser man."

"That stuff tastes like horse piss. I prefer a drink with some bite."

Michonne threw Rick a sideways glance. He looked to be a few years older than her, in his mid- to late-30s, a handful of grays sprinkled throughout his curly, brown hair. The beginnings of five o'clock shadow covered his chin. The gold band on his finger warned her to keep her distance, but she chose to ignore it.

"You know that woman - that mother - you helped put behind bars will miss the most important moments of her children's lives. Birthdays, graduations, prom nights. You're responsible for that."

Rick took a sip of his beer before responding. "You chose to defend a murderer and you're blaming me for her conviction?" Rick scoffed. "Typical lawyer."

"A murderer? She was defending herself from a man who beat her senseless on a regular basis, who threatened to kill his own children if she ever left him. And you have the nerve to label her the criminal?" Blood pulsed in Michonne's temples.

He turned in his seat to face her head on. "She should've relied on law enforcement instead of taking matters into her own hands. Every time we were called to her home, she chose not to press charges and to remain in the home."

"Did you miss the part about him threatening to murder her children? What would you do to the person who threatened to harm your kids?" Michonne yelled. The other two patrons in the bar stared at her and she glared back. They returned to nursing their drinks.

Rick considered her words. "I would do whatever it took to protect my son."

She caught a glimpse of something in his expression that both terrified and excited her. Lacking the boldness she'd initially felt, she was the first to look away. "You could've said as much on the stand."

"I testified to the truth, Michonne."

She was pleasantly surprised that he remembered her name.

"I testified to what I saw when we arrived at that woman's home. To the carnage, that mutilated man lying dead on the floor, the knife drenched in blood. Her two children cowering in the corner. You weren't there to witness the horror that I did." He nursed his beer, his hand trembling almost imperceptibly.

Fueled by the liquor coursing through her bloodstream, Michonne reached across the bar to cover his hand with her own. She had only just met the man; and yet, he seemed oddly familiar, as though they'd known each other for years. Her urge to comfort him outweighed the anger, which was unusual considering how much she hated losing. He caught her sympathetic gaze and her pulse quickened. She snatched her hand away in embarrassment.

Rick glanced at her half-empty glass. "You want a coffee or something? My treat, counselor." He smiled, raising his eyebrows.

Michonne knew she should say no and just head back to her hotel. "Sure," she said, not meeting his eyes.

Rick waved over the bartender. "Another IPA for me and a coffee for the lady, Bill."

"Sure thing," Bill said. He slid another beer to Rick and poured a coffee for Michonne, setting it in front of her. "You make sure to drink every last drop. We wouldn't want the deputy taking advantage of you."

"You haven't seen her in court," Rick said. "I'm the one who needs protection."

Michonne laughed. "In your dreams, deputy." She sipped her coffee, eyeing Rick over the rim of her cup.

#

"You're sh*tting me." Michonne bubbled with laughter. They sat in a booth near the back of the bar, lit only by two tea light candles.

"I sh*t you not," Rick said, the humor in his voice making Michonne laugh even harder. "The guy was so drunk, he'd forgotten to put on his pants before getting into the car. I hauled him into the station in his tighty whities. It was way more embarrassing for me than him." Rick smiled at the memory.

Michonne snorted, tears streaming down her cheeks. She hadn't laughed this hard in years.

"Snorting is punishable by law," Rick said. " Especially, if you're a lawyer."

"This is nothing." Michonne caught her breath. "I once made grape soda pour out of my nose from laughing so hard."

"That's hot," he said, with a mix of sarcasm and...something else. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes made him even sexier. Her body tingled in the most private places. Light bounced off the wedding band on his finger, sobering her more than the coffee.

"Thanks for the laugh, deputy." Michonne gathered her purse and coat from the booth. "I needed that."

"Me too." He had that look again, suddenly reaching out to cradle her hand. "Are you sure you're ready to go?"

Michonne paused. She knew what that look meant - and he knew that she knew. This was the point of no return. The coffee had sobered her, but these moments with him - laughing, flirting, joking - had opened up something inside of her she thought had died a long time ago. She loved Mike but, she craved Rick. He peered into her soul, not turning away from the rage and despair and frustration buried there. And she saw his pain behind the charming smile. Their hurt seemed to comingle - embrace even - and Michonne knew this man would ruin her.

She drew her hand away. Before she could stop herself, she whispered, "I'm ready for that ride."

Rick drained the last of his beer and bid farewell to the bartender, the bell chiming as the pair walked out of the bar together.

Michonne lay naked and panting, sprawled in bed alongside Rick. She kept her eyes on the rickety ceiling fan, spinning laboriously but doing little to cool her burning skin. A sudden sense of guilt washed over her.

You just had the best sex of your life with a married man. You're definitely going to Hell.

Rick threw his arm across her stomach, making her body glow with warmth and causing the encroaching guilt to dissipate. "You awake?" she asked, knowing this was the time men usually drifted off to sleep.

"Mmmm," Rick hummed quietly.

Michonne couldn't stop the words from leaving her lips. "How long have you been married?" she asked.

Rick's arm stiffened. She guessed he was wide awake now. There was a long pause before he finally answered. "Eleven years. But I only count the seven before she cheated on me."

"Is this your first time...cheating?" The woman in Michonne begged her to just bask in the afterglow of sex, but the lawyer in her needed the truth.

"Yes," Rick whispered. "I'd never been compelled to, even after her affair. You're the first woman to ever make me even consider it." Rick paused before continuing. "I guess I never really could forgive her. Now…I don't know…"

"I've never cheated before either. My boyfriend, Mike, asked me to marry him and I haven't given him an answer yet. It has never been like this with him." Michonne trailed her hand along his hairy arm. Why was she telling him all of this? Considering everything he'd done to her in bed, maybe he'd driven her mad with passion.

Rick pulled her closer, his hand gripping the side of her waist. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across her sensitive skin. "I knew I was good, but not that good." He chuckled, satisfied with himself.

"I'm...I'm going to say yes. To Mike." Michonne waited for his response. Indifference or jealousy, she didn't know which would be worse. Either would force her to feel emotions she was trying to ignore.

Rick propped himself on an elbow to face her. Michonne continued. "I've avoided this for so long, this sense of not being in control. Mike makes me feel in control. You make me question everything."

The hum of the fan sliced through the tense silence. Rick moved his hand up her stomach and across her chest, finally resting his palm on her cheek. He turned her face toward his, wiping away the falling tears. He kissed her - long, deep and final.

"Let's make the best of the time we have left," he whispered, rolling on top of her.

#

Michonne teetered on the edge of the toilet, the pregnancy test dangling from her fingertips. In less than a minute, her life could be forever altered. This had to be her punishment for enjoying the most intense love-making of her life.

That night, Rick had plucked her body like a mandolin, his fingers awakening the melody of her soul. Weeks later, her heart still ached for his smile and her body for this touch. She had fallen for him hard and her feelings would not ease, even in the face of the accompanying shame and guilt.

Michonne peeked at her smartphone. 25 seconds. If she was pregnant, her freedom would be a thing of the past; her plan to open a private practice, only a deferred dream; her recent engagement to Mike, broken. The only man she had ever truly loved - albeit for the briefest of moments - would become the father of a child he could never know. She refused to be a homewrecker on top of everything else.

Michonne stared at the diamond ring Mike had offered her when he proposed for the second time. She had been giving him hints for weeks, wanting to move past her feelings for Rick and begin anew. He surprised her by inviting their families and close friends to their favorite Jamaican restaurant. On the patio, in front of the people they loved, he bent down on one knee and proposed, Bob Marley and the Wailers playing in the background. The memory brought tears to her eyes. She didn't deserve him.

The timer on Michonne's smartphone sounded, startling her back to reality. She held her breath and flipped over the white stick. Two pink lines had just destroyed everything.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Present Day

Michonne and Andrea watched from the bushes as a burly man stabbed a dead soldier in the brain.

She squeezed Andrea's shoulder. "We need to go now."

Andrea nodded without hesitation. On their way to nowhere in particular, they'd spotted a smoking helicopter crash to the ground a few miles west of them. It had been Andrea's idea to check out the wreckage, arguing that the military might still be intact. Anyone who survived the crash might lead them to a safe haven.

Michonne wasn't a fan of wishful thinking. Initially, she'd had a hard time letting Andrea take the lead. But she proved to be a strategic thinker, saving their lives a number of times in the past eight months. This time around, however, Andrea was suffering from a serious flu virus.

As they moved to leave, Michonne halted. A man with a knife for a hand stood over the beheaded corpses of her "pet" zombies. She darted for her katana, gripping the handle just as the man whipped out a pistol, aiming it between her eyes.

"Easy, gal. You just lower that nice and slow," the man commanded in a raspy voice. Michonne reluctantly obeyed, already calculating her next move.

"Merle?" Andrea coughed. The man looked her way, but kept his gun trained on Michonne.

"Blondie?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "The Governor's gonna get a real kick outta you two."

His laugh did little to reassure Michonne.

#

The woman in the blue scrubs remained silent as she treated Andrea, easing an IV needle into a bulging vein on her arm. She assured Michonne that with a lot of fluids and rest, Andrea would recover soon from the virus she'd contracted. Luckily, Andrea had received treatment just in the nick of time, as she was severely dehydrated with a dangerously high fever. Michonne smoothed stray blonde hairs from Andrea's forehead, a smile forming at the sight of her friend drooling in her sleep.

Michonne had been on the verge of giving up when the two of them first crossed paths. The wide-eyed woman was exhausted and surrounded by hungry walkers. After Michonne disposed of the walkers, she offered the harried woman some food and water, intending to continue on alone.

And then Michonne realized how capable Andrea was with a pistol. They struck a deal to stick together until they found Andrea's group, becoming close friends - and sisters - in the process.

A tall, lanky man stepped through the door of the exam room, the woman excusing herself. He wore a leather hunting vest, a blue button-down shirt, and brown cargo pants. A holstered gun hung from the belt secured around his slim waist. Michonne focused on his eyes – cold, blue and dead.

"I see your friend is getting some needed rest. I hear we found you two just in time," the man said.

"We weren't lost," Michonne replied brusquely. "We want our weapons."

"Seems like luck either way," he said, ignoring her request. "I'm Phillip."

Michonne sneered at his extended hand.

"You two just rest up here for tonight." He gestured to a weathered love seat. "The couch is comfortable enough. We'll set you up in a private room tomorrow, after a tour of the town. Sleep well and welcome to Woodbury." He forced a smile as he left, securing the lock on the other side of the door.

The icy stare belied his easy manner and it all unsettled Michonne. Her fingers itched for her katana. Without her weapon, she was dead in the water.

"Sleep well, my ass," she muttered above Andrea's peaceful snores.

#

The Governor, as the townspeople referred to Phillip, ended their tour of Woodbury at their new room. Despite her initial reservations, Michonne was impressed by the town. Running water, a school, gardens, even a gym, were all within the confines of the walker-free area. And the people were kind and welcoming, though clearly oblivious to the dangers lurking on the other side of their gates.

"I hope you join us for the BBQ tonight," the Governor said, looking between the two women.

"Of course we will," Andrea said with a smile. She'd been glued to his side all afternoon, asking him question after question and offering up information about their own travels a little too generously.

"There's a place for you here, if you want it," the Governor said, focused on Michonne.

Michonne only cleared her throat in response. Finally, the Governor departed, leaving them to settle in.

Andrea moaned. "That man is gorgeous, Mich."

"If you like the Jim Jones type," Michonne said. She sat akimbo on the bed, watching Andrea unpack her belongings. Michonne's pack remained intact, she had no plans to stay longer than a day or two.

"Would you please give him a chance? This place is a dream and we could use a home base. We need this, Mich."

Michonne had always been quick to question and slow to trust. Andrea was the exact opposite. This balance between vigilance and impulsiveness had proven beneficial so far. And in all their time together, Michonne had never seen her friend so desperate to hold onto something.

Michonne sighed. "We may as well enjoy ourselves tonight. I haven't had a drink in almost a year."

#

Michonne crunched down on her corn-on-the-cob, licking the sweet juice from her lips. She sipped from her third glass of wine, allowing a lightheaded haziness to lift her spirits. She preferred whiskey sours, but in a world overrun with walkers, wine did the trick.

Fires blazed in metal barrels lining the block. Grilled hot dogs and potato chips were doled out generously, along with wine and cold beer. The celebration reminded Michonne of happier times, before the world had turned to death and blood and rot. Mike had loved throwing BBQs, a master in the art of grilling.

Andrea chatted with the Governor, his eyes occasionally straying to Michonne. He is handsome, she thought, admiring his longs legs and athletic physique. The wine was definitely loosening her up. Best to ignore him, especially if Andrea is interested. Michonne recalled the iciness of his eyes to cool the heat rising to her cheeks. She stood, her bladder on the verge of exploding. She darted across the street to a dimly lit storefront, barely making it to the bathroom in time.

As she washed her hands, Michonne gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, cheeks flushed and eyes puffy. It felt good to let her guard down for once, to not have to constantly look over her shoulder. She smiled, drunk on the normalcy of it all. Michonne stepped out of the bathroom and straight into the Governor's solid chest. She stumbled back as he reached out to balance her.

"Steady there. Had enough wine for tonight?" He smiled.

Michonne snorted, surprising them both. She cleared her throat and said in as serious a tone as she could manage, "I think I've earned a night off, Governor."

His smile reached his eyes, replacing the coldness and the death with something softer, more human. "Call me Phillip." Sudden memories of Rick invaded her thoughts. She looked away, embarrassed by her oncoming desire. It'd been way too long since she'd been attracted to someone and she needed to put some distance between herself and the man who reminded her of Rick.

"We should get back to the party," Michonne whispered, afraid of what she might regret.

The Governor gripped her shoulders. "You are a beautiful woman, Michonne," he said, his warm breath caressing her forehead. Before she could stop him, he leaned down to capture her lips with his own. Michonne pushed against his chest as his mouth moved against hers. Heat crawled up her neck, enflaming her cheeks and weakening her will to resist.

Damn wine. She relaxed the tension in her arms, giving in to his rough kisses, so unlike the gentle ones Rick had planted all over her body that glorious night.

He isn't Rick. The thought shocked Michonne sober and she untangled herself from the Governor's arms.

"Michonne," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

"I'm sorry, I can't," she whispered, pushing past him and whipping open the front door. She rushed past Andrea, her blue eyes brimming with accusation and hurt. It was clear her friend had seen them.

No more alcohol for a year, she declared as she escaped into the crowd.

#

Three days later, the Governor summoned Michonne to his apartment. She had tried to let him down easy that night, calling the kiss a drunken mistake. He insisted she just needed time to think it over. Apparently, the Governor was as stubborn as she was.

Michonne's locs danced in the morning breeze as she strode through town to his apartment. She had responded to his request with the sole intention of securing her katana and Andrea's pistol, the first step in her escape plan. She would need to talk with Andrea next. Her friend had been avoiding her since the BBQ, occupying herself with odd jobs around town, returning to their room only after Michonne was asleep.

Weapons first, sisterhood second. She ascended the stairs leading to the Governor's apartment. Michonne knocked on his front door.

"Come in," the Governor called from inside.

The sweet aroma of bacon enticed Michonne as she walked into his apartment. She noticed the dining table was set for two. The Governor kept busy at the stove.

"Have a seat, Michonne," he said without glancing her way. Michonne took the seat closest to the display cabinet which held her katana.

He shut off the stove and brought over a plate topped with scrambled eggs and strips of bacon. He took the seat across from her.

"I thought we should take the time to have a meal together, get to know each other better," he said as he loaded the food onto her plate. "Breakfast was my specialty before…all this. My daughter, Penny, always went crazy for my Mickey Mouse pancakes."

Michonne watched his movements like a hawk. Unable to ignore her hunger, she stabbed at her eggs with a fork and scooped them into her mouth.

Much better than what I used to make, her eyes still on him. Memories of Andre squishing scrambled eggs between his chubby fingers flitted through her mind.

"You belong here," the Governor said, cutting her reverie short. "You're a fighter who understands the brutality of the world outside of these walls; a woman with the skill to survive on her own, but risks her life to keep a friend alive. I need someone like you. I truly believe that together, we could win this war against the dead and rebuild civilization."

Michonne pushed her plate away. "I'm my own woman. I don't belong anywhere or to anyone."

The Governor sighed. "Why must you always play hard to get? I'm not the only one who enjoyed that kiss. You gave a part of yourself to me that night and I'm not giving it back."

Michonne rose from her chair, taking a step backward. "Thank you for your hospitality-"

The Governor slammed his palm onto the table. "Hospitality? I offer you the chance to be my partner, my lover, and you spit it back in my face?" He slowly stood, inching around the table.

Michonne took another step toward the cabinet. A few more steps and the katana would be hers again.

"It's time to finish what we started." The Governor lunged, gripping her arms before she could make it to the cabinet. He pulled her close and ravaged her lips with his own. Michonne gasped for breath, pushing futilely against his solid chest. Michonne bit down hard on his bottom lip, the taste of his blood bursting into her mouth. He pulled away in shock, giving Michonne the chance to snatch her katana from the display.

The Governor moved for her again, this time meeting the tip of her blade. She reached into the display, grabbing Andrea's pistol and tucking it into her pants. Michonne backed away in the direction of the door, brandishing her katana to discourage any further attacks. "I think it's time Andrea and I were on our way."

He laughed. "Andrea? Where do you think she's been these last few nights?" He answered for her. "In my bed."

Michonne halted. "You're lying, she would never..."

"It was easier than I thought it would be. I guess you two aren't that close after all. Andrea isn't leaving Woodbury and neither are you."

Michonne backed into the front door. "Our bond is beyond your reach. There's no way she would choose scum like you over me."

"Andrea will stay, I've made sure of it." He flashed a smile laced with malice. "Are you so determined to escape me that you would leave her behind? You're mine, sweetheart. The quicker you come to terms with it, the easier it will be for all of us."

Michonne rushed through the door, fixed on proving him wrong.

#

"I'm not leaving," Andrea said, her arms crossed over her chest.

"This place is not what you think it is. The Governor's manipulative and corrupt and will stop at nothing to keep us here."

"Phillip doesn't have to keep me anywhere. I want to stay." Andrea sighed. "I'm tired, Mich. I don't have the strength to face the horrors out there, not if I don't have to. We've got it good here – food, shelter, good people. Why do you want to give all that up?"

Michonne played the only card she had left. "He doesn't love you. He's just using you to get to me."

Andrea's expression wavered and Michonne knew her friend had suspected as much. But it wasn't enough to crack the illusion of the good life the Governor had promised her.

"You just can't stand that he wants me instead of you." Andrea shook her head. "I'm done following in your footsteps. If you want to leave, you're on your own." Andrea turned her back on Michonne.

Michonne's heart plummeted. She suddenly realized the woman she would have given her life for, had never felt the same about her.

"Fine," Michonne snapped, grabbing her pack and katana. "Don't try to find me when you see him for the monster he is. We're done."

She slammed the door behind her, never looking back once.

#

Michonne pressed the blue bandana against the wound in her thigh. It was almost completely soaked with her blood. The makeshift tourniquet strapped around her thigh staunched the blood flow only so much. She gripped the shopping basket of baby formula in her other hand.

Under the cover of night, Michonne had managed to ditch the guards the Governor had trailing her, escaping under a gap in one of the fences. As expected, he sent Merle to capture her. Michonne managed to kill two of his men before Merle put a bullet through her leg, forcing her to retreat. Desperate for shelter, she stumbled across a young couple in a small town shopping center, scavenging for baby necessities. They mentioned their home base, a prison not far from there. Michonne had been on the verge of revealing herself and begging for assistance, when Merle showed up and took them hostage. She had grabbed the baby formula they dropped, intending to trade it for shelter and first aid at the prison.

An hour later, Michonne limped toward the prison fences, expending the last of her energy. The decomposing guts coating her vest masked her scent from the walker mob headed in the same direction. An inexplicable force drew her to this place, moving her forward when she thought she might lose consciousness from the loss of blood. Darkness permeated her vision as she walked the last few yards to the outermost fence. She could just barely make out the silhouette of a man slowly walking in her direction.

Michonne caught his piercing blue stare and her eyes widened in shock. They were Andre's eyes – the eyes of his father.

"Rick?" Michonne gasped, drawing attention from the zombie nearest her. She dropped the basket of baby formula.

It's the blood loss, it can't be him.

Taking advantage of the shock of adrenaline running through her veins, Michonne grabbed her katana and sliced through the three walkers closing in on her. Exhausted, she fell to the ground, temples throbbing and stars distorting her vision.

"Dad, should we help her?" yelled a young boy, before her world went dark.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Michonne jolted awake to find her hands bound with rope. She struggled to rise from the bunk bed, a dull headache throbbing in sync with her heartbeat.

"Easy now," said a calm voice to her right. "You're gonna be alright."

Michonne turned to find Rick sitting beside her, an opened water bottle in his hand. For the first time since burying Andre, Michonne felt on the verge of tears.

It's really him, she thought, desperate to throw herself into his arms.

"Who are you?" he asked. "What's your name?" His blank stare stopped her cold.

Michonne had apparently survived one delusional man to fall in with another. The man questioning her wore Rick's face, but his eyes held no sign of recognition. She struggled to sit upright and Rick assisted her, placing a hand on the small of her back. She winced at the sharp pain in her bandaged thigh.

"Water," she croaked. Rick tipped the water bottle to her lips and Michonne drank in his appearance, along with the water. His sparkling blue eyes were the only thing that hadn't changed. His tanned skin had more wrinkles than she remembered and a brown beard, sprinkled with gray, covered his square jaw and chin.

Why is he pretending not to know me? Her locs were past her shoulders now and malnutrition had left her thinner, but she wasn't that unrecognizable.

Her heart clenched at a terrifying thought. Maybe he'd forgotten her; maybe she'd been no more than a one-night stand from five years ago. The thought that this man – the father of her precious son – had abandoned the memory of their night together, was almost too much to handle in her weakened state.

Rick misinterpreted the terror etched on her face. "We're not going to hurt you. We just want to know who you are and why you had that baby formula."

Michonne focused on the pain in her thigh to distract herself from the anguish settling in her gut. She needed to remember there were more important things at stake than her wounded ego.

"A young guy and girl. I came across them a few miles west of here. They were shopping for baby supplies. Glenn – I think his name was Glenn."

"Glenn. Maggie is the girl," Rick said, leaning forward and invading her personal bubble. "Where are they now?"

"The scum who put a bullet in my leg took them. A dumb sh*t who goes by the name Merle."

"Merle?" a voice asked from just outside of the cell. A grungy man in a black leather vest, a crossbow at his side, stood in the cell entryway; his permanent scowl almost a perfect replica of Merle's.

"You must be the brother, Daryl," Michonne said. "Glenn wouldn't tell him where you all were. I think that's why he took them."

Rick grabbed her thigh, pain shooting through her leg. Michonne winced.

"Sorry," Rick said, his expression apologetic. "Where'd he take them?"

"A town called Woodbury. It's run by a sociopath called the Governor." Michonne addressed Daryl. "And Merle's his loyal lapdog."

"My brother ain't loyal to nobody, 'cept himself and me," Daryl said.

Michonne addressed Rick. "Look, I have a friend there, Andrea-"

A flicker in Rick's eyes halted her. Rick, Daryl, Merle, Glenn. Suddenly, the stories Andrea had told her about her lost people came flooding back. The sheriff's deputy who woke from a coma alone, seeking out his wife and son, finding them by what could only be described as an act of God. Was the wife outside the cell, listening to their conversation? Is that why Rick wouldn't acknowledge her?

Focus Michonne. "I think you know Andrea. Blonde, smart, good with a pistol," she said, watching him closely.

"Sounds like her." Rick looked to Daryl and then back at her. "How do you know Andrea?"

"I found her wandering in the woods, being trailed by walkers. I saved her life and we've been together ever since. I managed to leave Woodbury, but we were...separated in the process. I need to get her out of there." Michonne's voice betrayed her regret for not convincing Andrea to come with her.

However poorly Andrea had treated her, Michonne couldn't just leave her in the hands of the Governor. She wasn't the type to hold a grudge.

"Get some rest," Rick said. He placed the water bottle on the floor beside the bed, gently untying the rope binding her wrists. He exited the cell, Daryl following close behind.

Rick locked the cell bars shut. He paused, as though he had more to say. Michonne held her breath, but Rick just trailed her body with his eyes before walking away, abandoning her to a whirlwind of thoughts.

Michonne spread out on the bed, exhaustion overtaking her. Feelings of relief, self-pity, and loneliness swirled within her as she tried to make sense of it all.

Rick is alive.

Tears poured from her eyes and Michonne wept quietly, for having found the father of her son, only for the two to never meet; for being safe and surrounded by people, yet feeling like an abandoned child. She cried herself to sleep, dreaming of a world where Andre and Mike were alive again.

#

Michonne woke to low voices outside of her cell. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her big toe peeked through the hole in her sock. Someone had come in while she slept and removed her boots. She also noticed a small tray filled with crackers, green beans, a stew of some sort, pain pills and another bottled water.

His wife. Her heart wrenched with jealousy.

Michonne dug into the food, finishing everything in under a minute. This was the first meal she'd had in two days. She downed the pills with some water and burped, satisfied for the time being. She slipped her feet into her weathered boots, lacing them tightly. Being somewhere her shoes could be taken off made her feel safe. If the cement floor weren't so cold, she'd happily go barefoot. Her thoughts came easier with her feet unrestrained.

Michonne trudged to the cell bars, putting most of her weight on her uninjured leg. She wished for a mirror, to see beyond the space directly in front of her. Luckily, the voices traveled down the corridor.

"I don't trust her." Michonne recognized Merle's brother, Daryl. "She's probably the reason Glenn and Maggie are missin', not Merle."

"No offense, but kidnapping sounds a lot like your brother." This was Rick. "Anyway, if she were the culprit, why would she come here wounded and leave herself at our mercy? She was running on fumes."

"Maggie and Glenn are MIA and she's our only chance of finding them. Why are we even debating this?" A woman's voice.

Definitely the wife.

Michonne needed to see the woman that even an apocalypse couldn't separate from Rick. Why had she foolishly thought one night would mean anything to a man who'd been married for more than 10 years? Maybe because Rick had the uncanny ability to send her desire into overload and turn her rational thoughts to mush.

"We need more information before we make any kind of decision. We need to find out exactly what we're up-"

A baby's shrill cry interrupted Rick's declaration; a glorious sound she never thought she'd hear again.

"Looks like someone needs a diaper change," the woman said. The child wailed at the top of its lungs. "Hand her over, Rick."

"Thanks Carol. I couldn't change a diaper to save my life. Lori was always better at that kinda stuff…" Rick's voice trailed off.

Was? Shame mingled with the hope she felt at the revelation. And then she scoffed at the fact that Rick had not only managed to knock Michonne up after one night, but to father a child during the apocalypse. The man's track record was almost comical.

"You just focus on getting Maggie and Glenn back," Carol said. "Judith's in good hands."

"The sooner we find out what this lady knows, the sooner I get my brother back," Daryl said. "Let's do this."

Michonne backed away from the bars as two sets of footsteps approached. If this Daryl guy was anything like his brother, then she was in for a fight. Without her katana, she was at a serious disadvantage.

Rick and Daryl came into view. Michonne felt like a caged zoo animal, ready to bare her teeth at the smallest sign of attack.

"Nice to see you're up," Rick said flippantly. "We need to know more about this...Governor, and the town he runs. How well defended are they?"

"Armed guards on every wall. Military grade guns and ammo, including a truck and mounted machine gun. Obviously, you don't want to roll up and ring the doorbell." Michonne's warning was genuine, though she suspected Rick was not the type to back down from a fight.

"And you're sure this Woodbury is where Maggie and Glenn are being held?"

"Merle isn't exactly a master strategist. He depends on the Governor for calculating the next move." Michonne ignored Daryl's glare.

"How do you plan to get us in there?" Rick asked.

"The same way I got out - through a gap in one of the fences."

"You said all the walls were guarded."

"This one, not so much. I found it during my surveillance of the area. As long as we go in at night, and you do as I say, we should be able to slip in unseen." She noted Rick's skeptical expression. "I'm the only chance you've got of getting your people back alive. You need me."

The shared look between Rick and Daryl told Michonne they were in.

"Fine, we'll do this your way," Rick said. "But if you even think about betraying us, I won't hesitate to kill you. Are we clear?"

Michonne smirked to hide the hurt she felt at his threat. The man who'd once whispered sweet nothings into her ear, was now quick to threaten her life. She reminded herself that this man was not her Rick; and maybe that Rick had never been hers to begin with.

"Let's focus on getting out of there alive and leave the intimidation for later." She would do as she promised, and help them rescue their people. As to her future with Rick, that was yet to be determined.

#

Michonne led Rick and Daryl through the woods as the sky darkened. She approved of Rick's choice to bring Daryl along. Although it was hard to completely trust the man who looked so much like Merle, he proved to be capable and willing to do what was necessary to survive.

They had narrowly escaped death thanks to Daryl's quick thinking. Their decision to take refuge in a small cabin led to a deadly altercation with a shotgun-wielding lunatic. Michonne had stabbed him through the spine to prevent him from opening the door to a horde of walkers. While Rick stood gaping at Michonne, like she was the insane one, Daryl tossed the man's body to the walkers, distracting the horde long enough for them to escape through the back door.

Michonne felt Rick's eyes on her as she guided them to the outskirts of Woodbury, the town's walls becoming visible in the distance.

"How many people have you killed?" Rick asked. Michonne assumed the question was directed at her, since Daryl hadn't just stabbed a disarmed man in the back.

"Not enough," Michonne responded. The Governor's face singed her mind's eye.

"Why should I trust someone like you around my people?"

Michonne glared at Rick, having reached her limit for his impudence. "Someone like me? You mean the someone who just saved your sorry life?"

Rick faced her head on. "Someone who kills without hesitation."

"I'm a survivor, Rick. I didn't make it on my own by being a saint. I do what I must to survive. Always have, always will."

"He was unarmed. You could've just knocked him out."

"I could've, but I didn't." Michonne sighed. "Look, after we get your people back, I don't plan on sticking around. Especially with a man who's unable to see who I truly am." Her voice broke.

The suspicion in Rick's eyes melted away. "There's no need for rash decisions. We've got a job to do, so let's just concentrate on that."

Michonne wavered at the vulnerability in his voice. He almost sounds like he wants me to stay. Afraid to hope, she continued on the path to Woodbury, mentally preparing herself for the battle ahead.

#

Michonne kicked in the Governor's front door. The fires blazing in oil barrels on the street cast the apartment in a muted glow, allowing her to stealthily navigate the small space.

After locating Maggie and Glenn, Michonne left the group in search of Andrea. The room they'd shared was empty and there was no sign of Andrea on the street. The Governor's apartment was the only other place she could think to search.

"Andrea!" Michonne shouted, desperate to locate her friend and afraid of what the Governor might have done to her. Silence was the only response.

She searched the bedroom, finding it empty. Michonne ran through the kitchen, stopping at the door of a second room. She turned the knob only to find the door locked. She slammed her shoulder into it. The door refused to budge.

"Andrea!" she yelled, banging on the door.

"Michonne," the Governor said from over her shoulder, the surprise in his voice genuine.

She whipped around, but he tackled her to the floor, knocking her senseless and sending a vase crashing to the ground. She barely made out his words as he straddled her hips. "I knew you'd be back. There's no way we don't end up together."

Michonne's ears rang and her vision blurred. She was vaguely aware of the Governor ripping open her vest and the buttons clattering to the floor. She felt the air on her stomach as he shoved her t-shirt up, exposing her bra. His disgusting grunts were the only sound in the room. As he popped open the button of her fly, Michonne reacted, a shot of adrenaline rushing through her bloodstream. Abruptly coherent, Michonne shoved her knee up hard, connecting with his balls.

The Governor cried out and grabbed the area between his legs, rolling off of her and onto his back. Freed from his weight, Michonne reached out and wrapped her palm around the closest weapon she could find - a large shard of glass from the broken vase. He recovered and lunged for her. Michonne jabbed the shard into this eye, the Governor erupting into high-pitched screams. Blood and other viscous fluids oozed from the wound. He screeched in pain.

Michonne rose shakily. She steadied herself and silently slid the katana from its sheath. She raised it high, intending to send the Governor to his grave.

"Do it and I'll put a bullet in your back," Andrea said from behind her. Michonne swung around to find Andrea aiming a pistol at her heart. The pure fear and hate in the eyes of her former comrade stopped her cold. She lowered her weapon, hands trembling.

Michonne asked in a low voice, "You would shoot me to save him?"

Andrea noticed Michonne's state of disarray and turned to look at the Governor. He cried out as his fingers slipped on the shard of glass, too slick with blood to dislodge it. Andrea cringed and raised the gun to Michonne's head, aiming it between her eyes. "I love him."

A part of Michonne wished for Andrea to pull the trigger. The loneliness and heartache from the last two days came rushing back, as she faced a heartwrenching fact - the only two people she cared about wanted nothing to do with her. It was almost too much for her to handle.

Gunshots erupted outside and Michonne's thoughts immediately went to Rick. He needed her. And she needed to fight for him, regardless of what he might think of her. Andrea had made her choice.

"Go! Get the hell out of here before I change my mind!" Andrea shouted.

Michonne's heart filled with pity as she noticed Andrea's hands shaking. She knew, without a doubt, that the woman's love for the Governor would get her killed in the end. And in that moment, Michonne forgave Andrea for not being the woman she had expected her to be. Everyone had the right to pursue their own bit of happiness in this hopeless world; for Andrea, it came in the slithering form of the Governor. And for Michonne, it was an amnesiac Rick.

"However much you hate me right now, I still care about you. You've made your decision, but know this - you can never go back," Michonne said, repeating the words her client had whispered to her five years ago, before being hauled off to serve life in prison.

Michonne realized the truth in those words for the first time in her life. She left Andrea and the Governor behind, in search of Rick.

#

Michonne lifted her t-shirt, examining the oblong, purple bruise over her right rib cage. She touched it lightly, grimacing from the pain.

"Hershel can treat that," Glenn said. He sat on side of the road while she leaned against the car Rick had driven from the prison. Merle had done a number on Glenn, his shirt stained with blood, and his right eye swollen shut. His nose was broken and would need to be reset.

The two had been waiting since dawn for Rick and Maggie to return with Daryl, who'd been captured in their attempt to escape Woodbury. Rick had sent her with Glenn, apparently not trusting her to have his back after she abandoned them in search of Andrea.

Michonne tugged down the hem of her shirt. "I've had worse."

"I never had a chance to thank you for what you did. Risking your life to save people you don't even know."

Even battered and bruised, Glenn possessed an endearing quality that put Michonne at ease. He was the first of their group to thank her for anything. "Well, I didn't save everyone," she said, her thoughts on Andrea. "And Rick has a funny way of showing his appreciation."

"Rick isn't really himself right now. He lost his wife, Lori, a few weeks ago. She died giving birth and their son had to put her down."

Michonne sucked in a breath. She could only imagine the fractured state Rick was in, especially with a baby to raise in a world of walkers and sociopaths. Grief over Mike and Andre had sent Michonne into a delusional state of her own. For months, she spoke to hallucinations of her dead boyfriend, cursing him for Andre's death one minute and begging him to come back the next.

I doubt he knows right from left; no wonder he doesn't recognize me.

"He may not be able to see it right now," Glenn said, echoing her thoughts, "but we need someone like you. Please consider staying."

Michonne focused on the horizon. "That's really up to him," she said, knowing she would stay in a heartbeat if he asked.

Glenn and Michonne turned at the approach of several dark silhouettes from the woods. Rick, Maggie and Daryl were headed their way.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Glenn yelled. He scrambled off in their direction, brandishing a pistol.

Michonne looked past Daryl to see Merle trailing behind him. She grabbed her katana and followed, itching to get her hands on the man responsible for her limp.

Rick raised his hand, halting Glenn. "Take it easy. He's with Daryl."

"He tried to kill us," Glenn said in a low voice. "And you're letting him live?"

"He's my brother," Daryl said. "I'll make sure he don't hurt nobody."

"Easier to just take him out now and be done with it," Michonne said. Her hands tightened around the handle of the katana.

"No one's taking anybody out," Rick said, glaring at Michonne. "Daryl won't come back without him and we can't afford to lose him. You know that, Glenn."

"You hear that, gal?" Merle asked. "We gonna get nice and cozy, like you and your girl Andrea."

Rick turned his glare on Merle. "The only company you're gonna have is your brother." He spoke to the group. "And I still haven't decided if she's sticking around."

"You would bring this animal back to the prison, but kick Michonne out?" Glenn asked incredulously.

Rick found her eyes. "Your name is Michonne?"

"Yes," Michonne said, scrutinizing his stare for any signs of recognition.

Rick looked past her shoulder, suddenly distracted by something in the distance. Michonne turned to find nothing on the empty road. Rick shook his head and whispered something under his breath. She worried his mind was as unfocused as his gaze.

"Merle can stay on one condition," Glenn said in a steady voice. "Michonne stays."

Michonne gauged the group. Glenn and Maggie held hands, a united front. Daryl scowled but did not object. Merle ogled her breasts. Rick and Michonne connected once more.

"Majority rules, I guess. What do you say, Michonne?" Rick asked with a hint of a smile on his lips.

Michonne released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "You couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Lori stood in the shadows of Rick's cell, watching him as he dressed. Adorned in the long white gown she'd worn at their wedding, her bare feet floated inches above the floor.

Lori's ghost had made her first appearance the day Maggie and Glenn went missing; the day Michonne arrived. After Rick and Carl rescued Michonne, Hershel disinfected and stitched up her thigh wound. She remained unconscious throughout the entire process.

After locking her in an empty cell, Rick had stayed behind. He listened to her snore softly in her sleep, drool trickling from the corner of her mouth. She felt oddly familiar to him.

At that moment, Lori's apparition appeared in the cell, blocking his view of Michonne. Rick backed away from her stare, full of disapproval and resentment. Rick turned and hurried away, knowing very well that he couldn't outrun a ghost.

That had been almost three weeks ago and Lori's ghost made regular appearances since then, usually when Michonne lingered in the vicinity. Rick had kept his distance from Michonne for that reason; though, he sometimes found himself watching her from afar.

Rick wrapped his duty belt around his waist, his holstered gun resting at his hip. He exited the cell, ignoring Lori, and headed for the prison yard to meet Daryl. They planned to search the sheriff's station in Rick's former hometown for weapons. If they were going to make a stand against the Governor, they needed more weapons and the station was their best bet.

Rick had also invited Merle to tag along, only because he didn't trust him enough to leave him behind without a chaperone. Or alone with Michonne.

Michonne fell into step alongside Rick. "I want to come on the run. I need some fresh air and exercise." Michonne eyed Merle as they walked into the prison yard. "Plus you could use the extra backup." Daryl loaded the last few backpacks of ammo into the minivan, while Merle cleaned the knife covering his stub.

Rick stopped and turned to face her. "I'm sure we can handle this on our own." He had to be focused for this trip and Michonne's presence could prove problematic, with Lori's ghost showing up usually when the woman was near.

Michonne widened her stance. "I'm good at getting in and out of places unseen. I also have a nose for trouble and with Daryl by your side, you'll need someone to keep an eye on his brother."

"And what makes you think I trust you more than Merle?" Rick asked, half-joking.

Michonne lifted her chin. "I guess you'll just have to take a chance on me, Rick."

Rick moved to close the distance between them, those dusky brown eyes luring him in.

Lori appeared on the walkway above them. Her hard, dead eyes watched their every movement.

Rick halted and cleared his throat. "It's too dangerous," he said, avoiding Michonne's gaze.

"We could use her," Daryl said from behind him. Rick pivoted to face his friend. "She knows how to handle herself when things go to sh*t."

Rick was not surprised by Daryl's allegiance to Michonne. The two had been on several runs together in the last couple of weeks and Daryl never let anyone tag along with him unless they had the skills to back him up. Michonne had definitely proven herself to be fighter - smart and quick and lethal. He also suspected Daryl thought of her as more than just a run buddy.

Rick agreed with Daryl, but was still reluctant to bring her along. However, he could not ignore Daryl's request; it was his ass on the line out there as well. He had no right but to find the best people for the job and Michonne had proven to be one of those people, at least to Daryl. "I trust you Daryl. If you're vouching for her, then I can give her a chance." Rick caught Michonne roll her eyes.

"And she ain't too bad on the eyes neither." Merle joined in on the conversation.

"Nobody asked you." The bite in Rick's voice surprised even him. Merle chuckled knowingly to himself.

"No need to bark at me, Officer Friendly. A guy can look, can't he?" Rick picked up on the amusem*nt in Merle's voice. "Plus, it's not me you have to worry about. She's more Daryl's type than mine."

Rick looked between Daryl and Michonne. Daryl glared at Merle and a smile crept across Michonne's lips. The two were similar in a lot of ways – capable, confident, collected – and Rick sensed a burgeoning friendship between them. But romance? Nah, I don't see it.

"You can come, but don't even think about ditching us again," Rick said to Michonne.

Michonne nodded curtly, her brown eyes twinkling. "I'll grab my things," she said, walking toward the cell block.

"This is gonna be good," Merle said, rubbing his hands together.

Rick looked up to the walkway to find Lori gone. "Yeah," he muttered under his breath.

#

Rick and Michonne sat up front while Daryl and Merle occupied the back seats of the minivan. Merle snored loudly and Daryl gazed out of the window, lost in his thoughts as usual.

Rick's hometown was less than an hour away. The sheriff's station in town was obscure enough to go unnoticed by any survivors passing through the town in search of supplies. There was a good chance the weapons in the modest arsenal remained untouched.

Rick threw Michonne a side glance. She bit away at her fingernails; what was left of them. She remained silent, not having spoken a word the entire trip. And yet, Rick could tell there was something on her mind. For him, she was easier to read than a picture book.

"You don't agree with the plan, do you?" Rick asked, his eyes glued to the road. She shifted in his peripheral vision and he felt her thoughtful brown eyes on him.

"You're just more optimistic than I am," Michonne said. "It's a sound plan."

"The sheriff's station is far enough from the main road to avoid attention from newcomers. It's high unlikely anyone not familiar with the town would think to search it. And the last time I was there, the residents were either long gone, or walkers."

Rick's thoughts shifted to Morgan and his son Duane. He would've died without their intervention. He hoped they were both still alive; his walkie talkie had died before he ever heard from Morgan. Rick bit his lower lip at the thought of Morgan sitting on a rooftop at dawn listening to nothing but static.

"Andrea mentioned you were in a coma when this all started. What put you there?" Michonne asked. Rick suspected she wanted to distract him from his gloomy thoughts.

"A lunatic with a shotgun came rolling through town and I tried to play hero. Got my ass handed to me instead and spent 6 months or so in a coma, as far as Lori could tell."

"And Lori was your wife, right?" Rick noticed a slight tremor in Michonne's voice. "She must have been pretty amazing to get your son out of there alive."

"She had help. My partner - former partner - helped get them out of there before everything went to hell. I'll always be grateful to him for that, regardless of how things eventually ended with us." Rick's stomach twisted into a solid knot and he sighed. This conversation was definitely not improving his mood.

"You were reunited in the end. You must have loved each other very much," Michonne said, barely above a whisper.

Rick turned his head in her direction. She gazed out of the window, biting her very full lower lip.

"We tried hard to put things back together, but a lot had changed by that time," Rick said.

Michonne threw him a questioning gaze, her eyebrows raised. He turned his eyes back to the road, his heart beating rapidly.

Rick yanked the wheel to the right, swerving to avoid Lori's apparition, which had abruptly appeared in the road. He gritted his teeth as he whipped the wheel back to the left, straightening out. His armpits tingled and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

"What the hell, Officer Friendly?" Merle yelled from the backseat. Rick detested that nickname.

"A walker in the road," Michonne responded in a nonchalant tone, though her hand clutched the handle on the side of the car door.

Rick watched Merle through the rearview mirror as he turned in his seat to check the road behind them.

"I don't see no damn walkers," Merle said.

"Give it a rest, Merle," Daryl said. Rick's watched Daryl's eyes flit to Michonne; then he returned to gazing out of the window

"Just watch where you're goin', I'm tryna get some some sleep back here," Merle said.

Rick straightened in his seat, his thoughts on Michonne. Had she really seen something in the road or was she just humoring him?

For the remainder of the drive, Rick kept his eyes on the road and off of the mysterious woman whose random acts of kindness unsettled him.

#

Rick parked a few blocks from the sheriff's station. The group unloaded from the vehicle, checking out the surroundings.

Rick addressed his small entourage. "Keep your eyes open and your heads down. If we get separated, meet back here after sunset. Got it?"

Daryl and Michonne nodded. Merle hurled a wad of spit onto the ground, just barely missing his own shoe.

Rick led the group across the deserted street and through an alleyway leading to the back door of the station. Fortunately, security at the station had been mediocre at best. The sheriff never felt the need to spend money on an alarm system when there were at least two sheriff's deputies present at all times.

Together the group lifted and aimed a heavy metal battering ram Rick had found in the prison.

"1...2...3!" Rick shouted and they rushed the back door, smashing through on the first try.

Michonne let out a whoop of joy and the guys paused to stare at her. "What? It's not every day I get to smash a door to smithereens." Daryl snorted and Rick curled his upper lip.

Rick led the way through the back of the station, aiming his gun ahead and listening for any signs of the living or otherwise. He heard only the footsteps of his crew.

"Looks clear to me," Merle said. He was already in the process of looting personal desks.

"Michonne, keep an eye on him," Rick said, nodding in Merle's direction. "Daryl, you're with me."

Rick continued toward the arsenal, not waiting for Michonne's response. He wanted to get in, out and back to the prison before dark. He said a silent prayer for his plan to come to fruition as they stopped at the arsenal door.

Rick and Daryl opened the door to the arsenal. Daryl let out a low whistle. Everything from AK-47s to tear gas canisters covered the walls. One thing the sheriff had not skimped on was military-grade weapons.

"Let's get to work," Rick said.

#

The group had the minivan loaded within an hour. There were so many weapons that Daryl needed to hotwire a sheriff's car to transport the overload. He and Merle would take the car back, while Rick and Michonne would be responsible for the minivan.

Rick grabbed a spare uniform for himself and a few sheriff's hats for Carl. The one the boy wore now would soon disintegrate, as he insisted on wearing it every day. Rick headed for the minivan, to join the others.

"Looks like we'll make it back long before the sun sets," Daryl said. He ripped a chunk out of a piece of mystery jerky and chewed it leisurely. He offered some to Michonne but she shook her head in refusal.

"These weapons should make a difference if the Governor ever decides to come our way," Rick said to Daryl, smiling.

"Killing him before he could make a move," Merle said. "That would end this thing altogether."

"Kill him how?" Rick's good mood bid him adieu. "We wouldn't get within 5 yards of Woodbury before someone spotted us."

Merle nodded to Michonne. "She could. The Governor would welcome her with open arms."

"Shut up, Merle," Michonne said, clenching her jaw.

Rick held up his hand. "Wait. What are you saying exactly?"

"I'm sayin' the Governor got it bad for our Nubian queen over there. He's been tryin' to get some of that since day one-"

Rick sucker punched Merle in the jaw, sending the man's head whipping to the side like taffy. The ground broke Merle's fall. Both Daryl and Michonne averted their eyes.

Merle gripped his jaw, opening and closing his mouth. "Not bad, Officer Friendly. Didn't think you had it in you."

"Shut up, Merle!" Daryl yelled. Merle went back to nursing his jaw and his pride.

"You need to explain this – now," Rick said to Michonne. Her gaze stayed glued to the floor.

"I told you the Governor was delusional. Unfortunately, his delusion...extended to me," Michonne said, still refusing to met his eyes.

"He's…in love with you?" Rick asked. He ran his palm roughly across his face.

"Like a lovesick puppy," Merle said, chuckling. Daryl kicked him in the thigh. Merle grunted.

Rick threw up his hands. "I can't believe you didn't tell me! How could you keep something like this a secret and not think it was important?" He paced back and forth. He felt seized with conflicting emotions – anger, mistrust…jealousy.

Lori's ghost appeared behind Michonne's, hovering at her right shoulder, watching all of this unfold.

"Leave! I can't look at your face right now!" Rick bellowed, looking directly into the cold, lifeless eyes of Lori's ghost.

Michonne took off running in the opposite direction. Rick resisted the urge to go after her.

"It's not her fault that psychopath is in love with her," Daryl said, before following after Michonne.

Merle rose to his feet. Rick glared at him.

Merle held up his hands in surrender. "Don't kill the messenger, man," he said with a snort.

Rick stormed off. He needed to put as much distance between himself and her as possible.

He kept his hand on the handle of the gun as he strode through the dry brush, the fallen plants crunching underneath his boots. Why am I so pissed off? It's not like knowing this sooner would have changed anything. And she clearly has no feelings for the Governor, or else she would not have stayed with them at the prison.

Rick slowed to a stop. He recalled Michonne's bruises from the night they rescued Maggie and Glenn. He had wondered, but never asked, about the source of her injuries. Michonne had disappeared into her cell for a week after that, emerging only after Carl's relentless visits and Rick's gentle prodding.

"Mother f*cker!" Rick yelled. Horrific thoughts of what the Governor had done to her sent him into a blinding rage. No wonder she didn't want to tell him about the Governor!

He made the decision then and there – he would kill the Governor with his own bare hands; regardless of the fact that had had no idea what the guy even looked like. Rick strode off in search of Michonne, determined to apologize.

Rick heard low voices ahead. "Come here," Daryl whispered.

Rick stopped short as he watched a weeping Michonne fall into Daryl's arms. He rubbed his palm in small circles on Michonne's back, comforting her as she cried. Rick had never seen him be this gentle with anyone, except Carol and Judith.

"Shh," Daryl said, patting her back. Michonne wept harder.

Rick walked away to keep himself from charging up to them and ripping Michonne from Daryl's embrace. His breathing came in short, quick breaths and he clenched his fists tightly.

What has this woman done to me? I barely know her, yet I have this primal urge to claim her as my own. The walls of his reality were quickly crumbling and he wanted to scream in frustration.

Lori's ghost hovered before him, radiant in a halo of sunlight. She spoke for the first time since her initial appearance, "It's not your fault, Rick."

Rick dropped to his knees, his face in his hands. And he wept for what seemed like hours. He wept for not keeping Carl's mother alive; for not fighting harder to love her.

"I'm sorry," Rick said through his tears. "I'm sorry I couldn't put us back together."

"I couldn't put us back together either, as hard as I tried. We loved each other long enough to make two beautiful children. I think that's more than anyone could ever ask for," Lori said in words only he could hear. She knelt down to face him. "Do me one last thing. Promise..."

"I promise." Rick's tears ebbed to trickles.

"Find my children a mother who can teach them to survive in this world. Promise me, Rick."

"I promise. I love you, Lori."

"I love you too, Rick." And with that, Lori disappeared for good.

#

The Governor made his first appearance four days later. Rick and the other council members were meeting in the library when shots rang out and a truck blasted through the outer set of fences.

Rick and Daryl geared into action. Rick unholstered his Colt Python and Daryl grabbed his crossbow. They exited the library, Rick in search of his family.

Rick found Beth, Judith and Carol hiding out in Rick's cell.

"Axel's dead," Beth said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "They just shot him for no reason." She cried quietly, cradling Judith a little tighter.

Rick closed his eyes and lowered his head, cursing under his breath.

"What's happening, Dad?" Carl asked, gripping his gun.

"I don't know son, but I'm going to find out. You gather with the others in Cell Block A. If things get bad, you stick with Carol and her group until I find you," Rick said.

"But I want to come with you," Carl said, not breaking his father's gaze.

"You're Judith's older brother. You need to stay here and protect her." Rick kissed Carl on the temple. "I need you to do this, Carl, I can't trust anyone else with the responsibility. Got it?"

Carl nodded and hugged Rick tightly. "Be careful."

"I will, promise." Rick nodded to Beth and headed for the courtyard, where the shots had been fired. A beige pickup truck had barreled through the outermost fence.

Just beyond the courtyard, in the grassy area outside of the innermost fence, he found Michonne taking cover behind an overturned bus. He ducked behind the bus to join her.

Michonne nodded to Rick, gripping an AK-47 against her chest, her katana strapped across her back. Rick and Michonne peeked around the corner of the bus. The tickle of her breath on the side of his neck sent more adrenaline coursing through his veins.

A lanky man wearing an eye patch emerged from the driver's side of the pickup. "That's him," Michonne said, "that's the Governor." She gripped the automatic rifle tighter.

Rick examined the man he planned to kill. He had at least 6 inches on Rick, but as a sheriff's deputy, he had been trained to debilitate guys twice his size. I could definitely take him.

"Rick! It's rude to not come out and greet your neighbors!" the Governor yelled.

Rick rushed to reveal himself and Michonne grabbed his arm.

"Don't," she said, pleading with her warm brown eyes.

"It'll be alright. I promise, Michonne," he said as he patted her hand.

Rick walked out from behind the bus and out into the open, his Colt Python lowered at his side.

"I finally get to meet the infamous sheriff's deputy," the Governor said in a booming voice. "Let me get a good look at you."

The Governor moved away from the pickup and strode in Rick's direction. The two met at the middle set of fences, facing each other from opposite sides.

The Governor looked Rick up and down. "So you're the man Michonne chose over me. I thought you'd be bigger."

Rick straightened his back. "Hell of a way to ring the doorbell, Governor. It's too bad you're on the other side of this fence; otherwise, I would give you a proper greeting." He bared his teeth in a wide grin.

"I'll make this easy for you, Rick," the Governor said with disdain. "Give me Michonne and no more of your people have to die."

"Michonne is my people."

"Your people?" The Governor laughed. "Michonne belongs to me and I will take out anyone who stands in my way. That includes women…and children."

Rick seethed with anger. "Michonne decides where she does or does not go. No one is going to force her to do anything. I thought losing that eye would have taught you as much."

The Governor slammed his palm against the metal fence, shaking it furiously. "Understand this. I always get what I want in the end. The only thing you need to decide is how many of your people - your family members - will die in the process."

The Governor backed away from the fence. He yelled loud enough for the folks in the prison yard to hear. "You have two days. Give me Michonne or we kill every last one of you. Two days!"

The Governor hopped into the pickup truck and sped away, spewing a dust of rocks and dirt behind him.

Rick's head throbbed. He had a decision to make; maybe the toughest decision he'd ever made in his life. Either way he lost.

Rick met Michonne's terrified gaze and saw something he never thought he'd see on her face again – resignation.

Again?

The thought struck Rick like lightning. Michonne. All soft words, soft eyes, soft curves - soft lips. The woman he fell in love with five years ago; after one night of the most intense, earth-shattering lovemaking of his life.

Michonne. His heart exploded into a starburst of elation and anxiety, as he stared into the eyes of the woman he was only now recognizing.

In a matter of seconds, Rick's decision had just become twice as unbearable. What was he willing to sacrifice to keep this woman safe; the only woman he had ever loved?

Everything. The answer made his blood run cold.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

The council members called on Rick hours into their debate. Glenn, Daryl, Hershel and Carol sat around a rectangular table by the light of a few candles. The serious mood heightened the tension in Rick's shoulders. He joined them, taking a seat at the head of the table.

Hershel spoke first. "We've voted on whether Michonne should stay or if we should turn her over to the Governor. Carol and I…want her to go. Glenn and Daryl want her to stay. We need you to break the tie, Rick."

Rick looked around the table. He met Carol's blue eyes and she looked down. He was not completely surprised about her vote to hand Michonne over. She was as fiercely protective of the group as he was and would do anything to keep them alive.

Lifting her eyes, Carol met Rick's stare head-on. "We have children here, Rick. I don't have anything against Michonne, but I'm not willing to put the children's lives at risk to save her. You have to think about your family."

Glenn chimed in. "Michonne is family now too. Without her, Maggie and I would be dead. She has done nothing but contribute to our survival since she's gotten here."

Daryl nodded in agreement. "If I'm goin' into a fight, I'd trust Michonne to have my back any day."

Rick recognized the meaning behind Daryl's bold yet concise declaration. Daryl was not quick to trust anyone with anything, let alone his life. Rick heard Carol sigh, but she remained silent.

"This isn't about whether we trust Michonne or not. I think she has been a very valuable member of this group." Hershel spoke with gentle firmness. "This is about the lives of everyone here, about the people who trust us to make decisions to keep them alive. And choosing to let her stay is choosing to let others die."

"You don't know that," Glenn said. "The Governor could be bluffing."

"He doesn't seem like the type of man to bluff," Carol said.

Rick could no longer stay silent. "If we turn her over, there's no telling what he'll do to her. He's already hurt her once…" Rick's heart sped up at the thought of the Governor's hands on Michonne's body. "He's dangerous. We all witnessed that yesterday."

"All the more reason to do as he says and get him out of our lives for good," Hershel said. "I'm trying to protect my family here, Rick. They are what matters most to me. He's already terrorized Maggie and I refuse to let Beth fall into his clutches as well."

"But Maggie wants Michonne to stay," Glenn said. "She knows firsthand what a monster he is. She refuses to condemn Michonne to an even worse fate."

Rick felt obliged to provide full disclosure to the group. "You should know…the Governor is in love with Michonne." His stomach twisted and turned as the words left his lips.

"So there's less chance that he would harm her," Hershel said, considering his words.

"Just because someone loves you doesn't mean they won't hurt you to get what they want," Daryl said. He leaned forward, placing both palms on the table. "Michonne is obviously not in love with him and will fight to protect herself. But she won't be able to fight him forever. You know that."

Daryl looked directly at Carol. She squirmed in her seat.

Rick nodded in agreement. He had already made his decision, but he owed it to the council members to debate the issue.

"It's time for you to vote, Rick," Hershel said. "None of us are going to budge. You need to make the final decision on this."

Rick leaned back and crossed his arms. He released a heavy sigh. "Michonne is as much a member of our group as any one of you. She's proven herself to be capable, intelligent, kindhearted, loyal. If we just handed her over to the Governor, to save our own lives…I don't think we could survive that. The trust between us would fracture."

Rick stood to emphasize his point. "Michonne stays. And that's my final decision."

The council members remained silent. Carol avoided eye contact. Hershel lowered his chin and sighed. Glenn smiled and Daryl nodded.

Hershel rose onto his crutches. "You're risking your family for a woman you barely know."

Rick stared at the man he respected more than he had his own father. He carefully chose his next words. "Michonne is as much a part of my family – our family – as each member of this group is. I'm only offering her the same protection I would offer any of you."

Hershel frowned and then nodded once. He headed for the exit. With his departure, the meeting officially adjourned.

Daryl patted Rick on the back as they headed for the doors. "I knew you would make the right decision."

"Thanks, man," Rick said, hoping he'd made his choice for the right reasons. Anything that kept Michonne near him seemed right.

Rick nearly collided with Michonne in the hallway. "Can we talk?" she asked.

"Sure," Rick said. The strain in her voice worried him.

A lawyer to the bone, Michonne got straight to the point. "I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" Rick asked, grabbing her arm. He pulled his hand away just as quickly, composing himself.

"I can't force this decision on you. I won't put you – any of you – in harm's way to save my own ass." Michonne crossed her arms and looked away, but not before Rick noticed the tears in her eyes.

Should he bite the bullet and tell her the truth he was too afraid to admit? Should he tell her he remembered her?

"Look at me, Michonne." Rick cradled her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her to face him. Michonne kept her eyes glued to the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks.

If he told her, she might never forgive him, no matter how overcome with grief he had been at the time. Not ready to face her contempt and outrage, he opted to play it safe instead.

"The Governor already knows who we are, what we have here at the prison. He probably even knows about the weapons we salvaged from the sheriff's station. Whether you surrender to him or not, he's coming after us. And we'd have a fighting chance if you stuck with us."

Michonne finally met his gaze, her eyes red and puffy, but still resolute, underneath her long lashes. The lawyer in her proved to be as stubborn as he expected. "If I go to him, maybe I can convince him to let you all live in peace."

The gentle approach was obviously failing, so Rick let the authoritarian steer the wheel. "If you leave, it'll mean you're choosing him over us."

Over me, Rick thought. Confess, you idiot. Tell her how much you loved her – maybe even still love her.

Michonne sighed. "Okay, I'll stay."

The twitch at the corner of her lips led Rick to suspect otherwise.

#

Rick spied on Michonne through binoculars as she cleared the prison yard of walkers. The commotion of the Governor's attack had lured a handful of walkers to their location. With the outer fences done, they managed to make their way into the grassy area outside of the courtyard.

Michonne deftly twisted her wrist, twirling the katana in a circle and using the momentum to slice a walker's skull in half. Rick still couldn't believe this was the high-strung lawyer he met five years ago. She was as capable with a katana as she was in the courtroom.

Rick had been impressed with her defense that day – and with the way her suit hugged her ample bottom – that he followed her into the bar after the court session ended. He had only intended to strike up conversation, maybe buy her a drink.

Little did he know that conversation would lead to a night of intense passion, comfort – and love. She understood him in ways Lori could never comprehend, despite having been married to her for eleven years. And he had fallen madly in love with her.

But that was five years ago, before death lurked around every corner, waiting to rip the living apart limb by limb.

Rick's vision blurred and he lowered the binoculars, rubbing his aching eyes. Since his conversation with Michonne, he spent every moment watching her, forgoing sleep for the past 24 hours. In that time, he had also thought about why Michonne had pretended to not know him. Had she been trying to save face or had she given him a break?

Michonne decapitated the last of the walkers, the grassy area clear for the time being. Rick followed her movements as she made her way back to the courtyard. Her clothes remained clean, despite having just slaughtered a multitude of walkers in various states of decomposition.

Daryl met her at the fence, offering her a full water bottle. Michonne accepted the water and they walked together. She laughed at something Daryl said.

When did Daryl develop a sense of humor? Rick wondered, although he knew Michonne had a way of putting people at ease and forming quick friendships. Carl had adored her ever since she brought back a stack of comic books for him from one of her runs with Daryl.

Rick wished he could let his guard down around her. But he was afraid he would feel the need to confess all, to admit he had been just as delusional as the Governor. How could he hope to keep her respect after spilling the truth?

Barely able to keep his eyes open, Rick headed to the cell block. He needed to rest up for whatever attack the Governor planned to make tomorrow. Michonne had yet to make a move to leave and Rick had enlisted Daryl to keep an eye on her in the meantime.

Rick entered his cell, removing his duty belt and plopping down onto his bed.

Just a couple of hours should do it. Within seconds, Rick fell into a deep sleep.

#

"What do you mean she's gone?" Rick asked Daryl, struggling to keep his voice even. Rick rubbed his temples to ease the rhythmic throbbing.

"No one has seen her in the last hour," Daryl said. "I'm sorry, Rick. Merle found some drugs in one of the mattresses and had a bad trip. Glenn and I managed to lock him in one of the cells, but by the time we were done, Michonne was gone." Daryl looked almost as distressed as Rick felt.

Rick sighed. "We'll just have to go after her then. She's not getting away that easily. You think you can track her?"

"Already have an idea of which direction she's heading. With such a short head start, we could easily catch up to her, since I know these woods a lot better than she does."

"Alright, we set off at dawn then." Rick sought out the council members to update them on their plan. The last member he approached was Hershel.

"And what if the Governor attacks before you make it back? We'll be down two of our best men," Hershel said.

"That's not going to happen. Michonne knows better than to travel alone at night. She will only have a lead of a couple of hours by the time she settles in for the night. We'll catch up to her tomorrow morning and be back before the Governor even sets out, if he's planning to attack at all," Rick said.

"I don't like this. The council should be making this decision, not you."

"I already spoke to the other members and they all agree, even Carol. She realizes that if Michonne is willing to risk her life to keep all of us safe, then she's the kind of person we need to hold onto, regardless of the consequences."

"Just don't let us down, Rick. I put my family's lives in your hands – please don't make me regret it."

Hershel's final words stung more than Rick expected. "Trust me, I haven't forgotten. And I promise not to let you down."

Rick held out his hand. Hershel hesitated before shaking it. The two men nodded in understanding and the tension in Rick's shoulders eased.

Later, Rick sat in his cell waiting for morning to come. His thoughts went to that night five years ago. After they had left the bar, he dared not speak, afraid that she would change her mind or he would lose his nerve. His breath came in quick pants and his hands trembled the entirety of the short walk to her hotel.

Once safely inside, he froze. He wondered if Lori had felt the same way the first time she cheated on him. Fortunately, all thoughts flew from his mind as Michonne attacked him with her plump lips, her delicate hands roaming his body.

He remembered her face twisted in ecstasy, the feel of her round behind filling his hands, her teeth tugging at his taut nipples. How calling her "Ms. Daniels" made her purr with lust. Just the thought of her completely at his mercy still quickened his pulse.

Was it love he had felt for Michonne or just an overwhelming lust? Was he really willing to risk the lives of his children for mind-blowing sex?

He dismissed the thoughts almost immediately. Deep in his bones he felt that what they had shared went beyond sex. They had connected, understood each other's pain; communicated with their bodies as much as they did their words.

At the end of the world, fate brought them together once again. He would be damned if he was going to let her walk out of his life again.

#

Rick and Daryl departed with the approach of dawn. They travelled light, each with a small pack of food, water and ammo, enough to last the day and no more.

Rick hoped he knew Michonne as well as he thought and that she had chosen not to travel during the night. If not, the chances of catching up to her before she reached the Governor were slim.

Daryl knelt before a set of light footprints. "Her trail is still fresh."

"Are you sure those belong to her?" Rick asked.

"I know Michonne's tracks, we've been on enough runs together."

Rick frowned at Daryl's familiarity with Michonne. What had they done spending all those days, and sometimes nights, alone?

"Look, I just want to be sure," Rick said, struggling with the surge of jealousy. He had always trusted Daryl's skills, this was not the time to question his abilities. And yet, he couldn't control his emotions.

"We both want to find her, man," Daryl said, his voice low. "Just trust me like you have countless times before."

Rick nodded, letting reason outweigh irrationality. Daryl was his brother and obviously cared about Michonne as much as he did.

"Up for a run?" Daryl asked.

"Lead the way," Rick said.

Daryl stood and tightened the straps of his backpack. Then he took off, jogging alongside Michonne's tracks. Rick followed close behind, praying they reached her in time.

Rick and Daryl slowed to a stop, both panting heavily. Above the sound of his heavy breathing, Rick heard to distinct moans of walkers. They both moved quietly in the direction of the noise.

Just beyond a group of trees, in a small clearing, they found Michonne surrounded by a mob of walkers. She worked swiftly and efficiently, her movements graceful and deadly. Spinning in a circle, so decapitated a walker to the front and another to the back of her.

A third walker moved to attack and she kicked it in the chest, knocking it into three other walkers, bringing them all to the ground like bowling pins.

Daryl and Rick stood unnoticed and mesmerized by Michonne's display of prowess and skill. Rick realized he was already half in love with her again.

Michonne's yelp spurred them both into action. Rick used his axe to crush the skull of a walker, while Daryl shot two with his crossbow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Michonne shouted, noticing them for the first time.

"Saving you," Rick said as he plunged his axe into the skull of the last remaining walker.

The eminent threat eliminated, Michonne swung around to face Rick and Daryl. "You're going to ruin everything," she said, sheathing her katana.

"You don't have to do this Michonne," Rick said.

"This is the only way to end this. I refuse to have anyone's blood on my hands."

"Even if those people want to fight to protect what's theirs?" Daryl asked.

Rick picked up on the possessiveness in Daryl's voice. Was he referring to the prison or Michonne?

"As much I hate myself for agreeing with Merle, he's right. I'm the only one who can get close enough to the Governor to kill him," Michonne said.

"How do you know he won't see this coming? That he won't just lock you away in some dark room, never to see the light of day again?" Rick asked. "This is too dangerous."

"That's for me to decide, not you." Michonne's steely expression reminded Rick of that day in court, as she held her client's hand, awaiting the verdict. Even then he could sense the fear behind her eyes.

"The lives of your children are worth more to me than my freedom. They still have a chance to survive – to live. I've been living on borrowed time anyway. My family –" Michonne choked on those last words. She shook her head as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Rick walked over to Michonne, knowing what he had to do. He took her into his arms and held her tight. He whispered, "I'm not losing you again, Ms. Daniels."

Michonne stiffened in his embrace. She pulled away, her glassy eyes full of shock. "You…you remember?"

Rick smiled. "I do. And I'm sorry for not recognizing you sooner. I was kind of preoccupied with hallucinations of my dead wife." Rick thought his sorry attempt at a joke failed.

Surprisingly, Michonne chuckled in response. She dried her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"I used to talk to my dead boyfriend. It happens," she said, giving him a smile that made his heart flutter.

Confessing was a lot easier than he'd thought it would be. "Come back with us. You don't have to take on the world alone anymore," Rick said. He looked at Daryl who watched the two of them closely. He had probably overheard the entire conversation, but did not comment.

Michonne sighed. "Okay, but only under one condition."

"Name it," Rick said.

"The Governor is mine," Michonne said with venom.

"Deal," Rick said, although he was disappointed that he would not get to kill the man himself. "Now that all is settled, it's time to head back. We only have a few hours before the Governor's deadline expires."

Daryl hugged Michonne, patting her back. "Good to have you back, samurai."

Michonne smiled. Rick watched the two of them embrace, thinking that after this was over, he and Daryl would need to have a talk about Michonne.

#

"No!" Rick shouted as they ran toward the smoke billowing from the prison complex. The sound of gunfire and explosions sent Rick into automatic panic mode.

"Rick, wait!" Michonne called from behind him. But he could only focus on getting to his children as quickly as possible.

The prison came into view through the trees. He was unable to see any of his people outside and prayed they were safely holed up deep in the prison. The watch tower was in shambles and smoke swirled from a crater in the cell block.

Rick fell face-down in the dirt, tackled by Daryl from behind.

"Get off me!" Rick yelled, struggling to break Daryl's steel hold.

"I was a star linebacker in high school, you're not going anywhere," Daryl said, not relenting as Rick struggled to break free.

"Rick, calm down!" Michonne yelled, catching up to them.

"Carl! Judith! I need to find them!" Rick cried out.

"We will, but you're of no use to them dead. You see that tank? The second the Governor sees you, he will aim that thing right in your direction," Michonne said. "Listen to me. I have a plan to help you find your family that doesn't involve you being blown to bits."

Rick stilled and Daryl slowly released him, rising from the ground.

"Sorry, man. I couldn't let you get yourself killed," Daryl said, offering him a hand.

Rick accepted, allowing Daryl to help him up from the ground.

"Just hear me out before you object," Michonne said with authority, the sound of gunfire nearly drowning her out. "Our only option is to kill the Governor. I'll surrender with the intention of getting close to him. And once he's distracted, I'll stab him in the heart." Michonne held up Daryl's hunting knife.

"How do you plan on distracting him?" Rick asked.

Michonne tucked the knife into the back of her pants and covered it with her shirt. "I have my ways." She chose not to elaborate. "Once he's dead, the others will have no reason to stay in the fight and will retreat."

"No, Michonne. It's too risky," Rick said, although his protest lacked heart. Thoughts of Judith and Carl lying dead in the cell block distracted him.

Michonne gripped Rick's hands, commanding all of his attention. "If I don't do this, our deaths are guaranteed, unless we run. And neither one of us is the type to back down from a fight."

She closed the distance between them. "I respect and care about you, but I'm doing this with or without your approval. This is the only way your family makes it out of here alive. Trust me."

"If they're not already dead…" Rick said. He felt the blood drain from his face.

Michonne leaned in and kissed Rick, her lips rough and salty. Despite his state of despair, Rick kissed her back with ferocity, warmth coursing through his body. He moved to take her face in his hands, but she slipped away, running in the direction of the Governor.

Rick moved to chase her when Daryl grabbed his arm. "You'll just get the both of you killed. Let her go."

Rick wrenched his arm from Daryl's grip, but stayed put. His heart lodged in his throat as he watched Michonne run up to the tank with her hands held above her head. The Governor spotted her immediately.

"Governor!" Michonne yelled. "You win…I surrender!"

The Governor jumped down from the tank. He held up his hand and the gunfire ceased almost immediately.

Rick could barely make out Michonne's next words from their hiding place in the woods. "I'm yours. Please stop this."

The Governor swiftly reached behind her, removing her katana from its case and dropping it to the ground. He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her from the ground, her face aligned with his. He kissed her roughly and Michonne kissed him back – with tongue.

Rick growled, outraged by the sight. This woman had just kissed him not two minutes ago.

Michonne moved her free hand behind her back, reaching for the hunting knife. The Governor clasped her wrist before she could get a hold of it, wrenching her arm back and up. Michonne cried out in pain.

"Damnit," Rick said under his breath. The plan had failed and he felt helpless to save her.

The Governor slowly lowered her to the ground, still clasping her wrist. "I would expect nothing less of you." He grabbed the hunting knife and threw it behind her, releasing her wrist. He smiled. "Welcome back, Michonne."

The Governor raised his voice. "We're done here! Let's get these vehicles turned around and head home!" He grabbed Michonne's hand and dragged her to a nearby pickup truck.

Please come back to me, Rick thought as he watched the Governor drive away with Michonne in the passenger seat.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

The Governor drove up to the gates of Woodbury as Michonne contemplated her next move. She would need to get her hands on another weapon before he locked her away, leaving her helpless and without defense.

The gates slid open and the Governor drove into town. As they passed, Michonne locked eyes with the man standing on guard.

Tyrese? The two had met briefly before Rick booted Tyrese and his group from the prison in an unprovoked fit of rage; she suspected visions of his dead wife were most likely to blame for Rick's episode. Michonne had immediately connected with Tyrese and his sister, Sasha, and imagined they could have been good friends even before the apocalypse.

Why is he here with the Governor? Is Sasha here too? Michonne and Tyrese nodded to each other as the truck passed by. She found it hard to believe that he and Sasha would remain at Woodbury, knowing the Governor had just attacked the prison. Maybe they held a grudge against Rick for giving them the boot, but they really hadn't seemed like the vindictive type.

"Home sweet home," the Governor said, parking the truck. He turned in his seat, glancing at the rope tied around her ankles. "Shall we take that off now or will you try to make a run for it?" The Governor had been quick to bind her wrists and ankles with rope before driving away from the prison.

"Not something you have to worry about," Michonne said. "But I can't promise not to kill you the first chance I get."

The Governor chuckled. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't. I'm looking forward to taming that beast inside of you, Michonne. There can only be one alpha in this pack."

"You're right about that," Michonne said, flashing her teeth in a menacing smile.

"If this is your idea of foreplay, you're pushing all the right buttons," the Governor said, bending down to undo the rope around her ankles.

Michonne had the urge to bring her fists down hard on the top of his head. Who are you, Rambo? While her biceps were strong, her triceps had never been very impressive. She doubted she had the strength to render him unconscious with one blow.

"You're a free woman," the Governor said, straightening up. The rope lay on the floor of the cab near her feet. He stopped inches in front of her face. "How about a thank you kiss?"

The feel of his warm breath against her mouth turned Michonne's stomach. "Sure, if you don't mind losing your tongue."

"We'll save that little bit of action for later. Get out of the truck." The Governor opened the driver's side door and hopped out. A group of people from his small army immediately approached. Michonne opened the door and slid out carefully, her wrists still bound.

Michonne joined him on the other side of the truck to better hear the conversation, which was quickly escalating into an argument.

"You told us the people at the prison were a threat, not that your girlfriend was hiding out there! We lost five good men for no reason!" said a balding man holding a semi-automatic pistol.

"Holster your weapon, Mitch. Then we can talk," the Governor said, his voice as smooth as a cyanide-laced milkshake.

"You think you can make us fight your little personal wars? You better think-" The Governor put a bullet in Mitch's forehead before he could finish his threat. A woman in the crowd screamed.

"Anyone else have anything to add?" the Governor asked, looking around the small crowd. He held his pistol at his side.

A harried woman pushed her way to the front of the group. "You son of a bitch!" she yelled, making her way for the Governor. He lifted his pistol, aiming it at her head.

Having recovered from the initial shock of the Governor brutally killing an innocent man, Michonne jetted into protection mode. She jumped on the Governor from behind, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and locking her ankles. She wrapped her right arm clear around his head, obscuring his view.

"Run!" she shouted at the crowd. They scattered like bees, including the woman whose life she had just saved, all heading in various directions.

"Michonne," the Governor said with a growl. He grabbed her ankles, attempting to dislodge them.

Michonne locked both arms around his neck and squeezed. "This ends today," she said. She squeezed as hard as she could, causing the Governor to struggle for air.

"You got that right, bitch," Andrea said from behind, seconds before a heavy object connected with the back of Michonne's skull, knocking her unconscious.

#

Michonne awoke, squinting at the bright light illuminating the room. She slowly raised her hand to shield her eyes. The light magnified the throbbing pain in the back of her head, but she kept her eyes open, needing to get her bearings.

Gritting through the shooting pain in her skull, Michonne sat up in the twin bed. She shrieked in horror at the sight in front of her - less than 3 feet in front of her were nine 20-gallon fish tanks stacked one on top of the other, in the shape of a triangle, every last one filled with decomposing heads.

The lone head in the fish tank at the top sent a wave of nausea coursing through her stomach. The vacant eyes of a little girl stared back, her brunette hair floating in a halo around her head.

A child? Michonne slammed her eyes shut. They're only walker heads, she told herself; as though this truth would make the situation any less terrifying. She willed herself to rise from the bed for a closer look. Michonne felt the urge to familiarize herself with the true nature of the monster masquerading as the Governor. She needed to decipher the message he was obviously sending her.

Inching her way closer to the macabre display, Michonne inhaled and exhaled several times, in an attempt to keep the rising fear at bay. The vacant stares of the heads brought her to an abrupt stop, less than a foot away from the tanks. While the heads were in various stages of decomposition, Michonne was sure of one thing – they had all been human at the time of decapitation.

Dizziness overtook her and she squeezed her eyes shut again, breathing through the disorienting sensation. Michonne suspected it was more than the head injury that made her lightheaded. Nothing she had seen after the world ended came close to this sick display of horror.

I had no idea what he was capable of, how far he was willing to go. It's a miracle that I'm even still breathing. Michonne looked up at the little girl's head floating in the gentle bubbles. How far is he willing to go to make me his…permanently? For the first time since the apocalypse started, she felt in over her head.

The doorknob of the bedroom door turned and Michonne froze. In her weakened state, she doubted she was ready for a face-off with the Governor. She looked around for any sort of weapon, finding none.

Michonne widened her stance and braced herself. If the Governor wanted a fight, she would give him one. She gasped when Andrea came into view on the other side of the door.

"Don't look so surprised," Andrea said, half-joking. "Sorry it took me so long, I had to convince the forming mob not to riot and get themselves killed. I'm not the only one outraged that Phillip killed one of his own."

Michonne just stared in disbelief as Andrea rattled on; an annoying habit of hers when she was nervous. "What are you doing here, Andrea? Is this some trick? Is the Governor trying to wear me down? It's not going to work, so just back off...now."

"I must have knocked you harder on the head than I thought," Andrea said. "You're speaking nonsense."

"I'm not afraid to fight dirty. You don't want to mess with this 'cause you'll lose."

"No one's trying to mess with anything. I'm helping your ass escape!"

Michonne shook her head, unwilling to believe her words. "But you said you loved him. And you were the one who knocked me out to save his life, yet again. If you had just butted out, the Governor would be dead right now."

"You obviously didn't see the gun Martinez had aimed for your head. You'd be lying on the ground with half of your head blown off if it wasn't for me. Knocking you unconscious was the only way I could think to not get you killed or worse – conscious and at Phillip's mercy. I figured this was our only chance for escape."

"Wait. How did you even know I would be here... in this room?"

"Phillip is a deep sleeper and I did some investigating of my own one night. It always bothered me that this room was locked and off-limits. And when I found it..." Andrea shivered. "Why do you think I want to get out of here already? The man is sick." Andrea's eyes watered as she met Michonne's stare. "And I'm sorry for not believing you for trying to warn me about him beforehand."

Michonne closed the distance between them. "Andrea. You always have been and always will be my sister. No man is going to change that."

"You need to know," Andrea said. "While you were out he returned to the prison...to kill Rick for good."

The blood drained from Michonne's face. She stumbled to the side, reaching out to steady herself on the bed.

"Take a deep breath, Mich," Andrea said. "From what I overheard, it sounds like the majority of your group might have escaped after setting off some sort of bomb. I wasn't there, so I can't confirm it, but I think they made it out of there alive."

"And the prison?" Michonne asked.

"No one will be living there anytime soon. Apparently, half of the cell block was blown to pieces by the Governor's tank and the bomb."

"He has me now, why would he go back to attack them?"

"Because he knows how much you care about them and apparently sees Rick as his biggest competition. He wanted to eliminate any potential threat to his rein over Woodbury and over you." Andrea scoffed. "Plus the man just really enjoys killing."

At the thought of Rick dead, Michonne choked on a sob, refusing to let her despair show.

Andrea took Michonne into her arms, hugging her tightly. They both cried, holding onto the other for dear life.

"I missed you, Mich," Andrea said, pulling out of Michonne's arms.

"I missed you too, girl," Michonne said, wiping her friend's tears away with her thumbs. "Now let's get the hell out of here, I've had enough of this House of Horrors."

Andrea laughed and headed through the door. "It'll be just like old times-"

Andrea sucked in a sharp breath, coming to a sudden stop just outside of the doorway. Her hands shot to her stomach and she bent her head down.

"Andrea, what's wrong?" Michonne asked, reaching out to turn Andrea to face her.

"No!" Michonne screamed, her hands going to her mouth. The wooden handle of a huge hunting knife jutted from Andrea's stomach. A circle of blood emanated from the wound, soaking the front of Andrea's t-shirt.

The Governor stood before them, laughing. "You two are so freaking predictable; it tickles me." He must have walked into the room while Michonne was still reeling from shock.

Andrea collapsed onto her butt, falling against the fish tanks. One of the heads snapped at her from behind the glass of its tank.

A trickle of blood oozed from the side of Andrea's mouth, tears streaming steadily from her blue eyes.

"What? No!" Michonne cried, her vision blurred with heavy tears. "You can't leave me, girl. Sisters don't' abandon each other." Michonne reached for the knife in Andrea's stomach; the co*ck of a gun stopped her.

"Uh uh. That stays," the Governor said. "Now get up nice and slow and have a seat on the bed."

Michonne hesitated. She looked at Andrea, who was quickly losing strength, grimacing in pain whenever she inhaled. If Michonne could just get her to the resident nurse, there might still be a chance to save her.

The barrel of the Governor's gun pressed against the back of her head. "I won't tell you again. The bed."

Andrea nodded to Michonne; the latter rose with her hands in the air. She walked to the bed and sat down, facing the Governor. He removed two silk ties from his pocket and threw them onto the bed next to her.

"Tie your wrist to the bed post. Now!" The Governor pointed the gun at her chest.

Michonne obeyed, tying her right wrist snuggly to the wrought-iron bed post. The Governor walked to the other side of the bed, securing her other wrist to the opposite post.

The Governor sat on the bed, leaning in close. He ran the barrel of his gun up her bound arm, across her shoulder, slowly up her neck, and to her mouth, pausing to caress her lips with the metal. He moaned.

"If these idiots weren't planning a coup, I would take you right now," he whispered, sucking on her earlobe. Michonne turned her head away, freeing her lobe from his mouth.

The Governor laughed. "Playing hard to get, even till the end." Michonne looked at him then. "That's right, baby. It's time for you and Andrea to say your goodbyes, because in a few minutes you'll both be walkers."

Michonne shot daggers from her eyes. "You wouldn't." Her biggest fear was living as one of those things – lacking mind, heart and humanity.

"If I can't have you in life, I'll hold onto you in death. You're going to be my own little pet, always by my side." His eyes glazed with delirium.

"You sick bastard," Andrea groaned from her spot on the floor, cradling the handle of the knife.

"But I thought that was what you liked about me," he said. "You always knew I had a certain…edge. Didn't seem to bother you before."

Andrea spat a wad of blood and saliva to the ground. "I was faking it."'

"Either way, the games are over. How nice it'll be to not have to pretend that I actually like you anymore," he said.

Martinez burst into the room, panting heavily. "Governor!" He halted, taking in the scene. His eyes flitted to Andrea bleeding on the floor; to the fish tanks full of floating heads; and finally to Michonne tied to the twin bed.

Martinez cleared his throat and started again. "They're trying to take over the armory and have already killed three of our guys. We won't be able to hold them back much longer."

The Governor sighed heavily. "Time to remind them who's really in charge." He looked back at Michonne. "I'll see you in a bit. We'll have plenty of time to catch up once you've turned." He stared at Andrea. "And go easy on her. No biting that beautiful face."

The Governor laughed as he exited the room, slamming and locking the door behind him.

"Andrea!" Michonne said, tilting to the side as far as she could to get a view of Andrea.

"Still here," Andrea said weakly.

"Just hold on, I'll figure out a way to get us out of here and you to the nurse. The chaos with the mob should give us a chance to slip out of here unnoticed."

"Only one of us is getting out of here alive," Andrea said. She cried out in pain as she wrenched the knife from her gut.

"Andrea, no! That was the only thing keeping you from bleeding out. You'll lose a pint of blood in a matter of seconds."

"Seconds are all I need," she said, slowly leaning forward and beginning to crawl toward the bed. Reaching the side of the bed, she managed to pull herself up after slipping a few times. Her hands bloody and shaky, Andrea held the knife to the silk tie securing Michonne's left wrist and began to saw.

Michonne sobbed. "Why, Andrea? I could have found a way for both of us to live."

"Just let me save you for once, Mich." Andrea stopped sawing to cough up blood. She resumed trying to cut the tie. "Almost there…"

Michonne's wrist dropped to the bed, free from the post, just as Andrea collapsed onto the floor, the knife falling from her hands and onto the bed. Michonne stared into the vacant blue eyes of her friend and sister, all signs of life absent.

Michonne reached for the knife, her hands shaking terribly. "Come on, Michonne!" she yelled at herself, unable to remove her gaze from the corpse. "You can do this!"

Michonne wrapped her fingers around the knife and unglued her eyes from Andrea's body. She leaned across and began cutting the other tie. Michonne took short breaths, occasionally glancing to make sure Andrea was still dead - and not undead.

"Come on, come on," she said, finding it difficult to see clearly through the waterfall of tears. The last threads of the tie snapped under the blade of the knife. "Yes!" Michonne pulled her other wrist free.

Michonne felt Andrea attack before she saw her. The bed depressed as the walker who had been her best friend, tried to sink her teeth into her thigh. On reflex, Michonne swung the knife across and stabbed Andrea through the temple.

Michonne screamed and sobbed, staring into the milky blue eyes of the person she had respected the most in this sh*tty world, even after her she ditched her for the Governor. Andrea had understood Michonne in ways no one ever had, having survived together on their own for more than eight months. She even knew about what happened with Andre.

Michonne cried harder, cradling the lifeless corpse. This is too hard. To lose another person. Why am I always the one left behind? She lightly placed Andrea's body on the floor, covering her face and body with the comforter from the twin bed.

"Michonne!" Tyrese shouted her name from just outside of the bedroom.

Michonne's lips moved, but the words did not come. She cleared her throat. "In here!"

Tyrese and Sasha appeared in the doorway. "Thank God," Tyrese said, coming over to the bed. "We didn't think we would make it in time." He noticed Andrea for the first time. "sh*t. What did he do to you?"

"Nothing compared to what I'm going to do to him," Michonne said, her voice low.

"Well, that's gonna have to wait because we have to go…now." Tyrese grabbed her by the arm.

Michonne wrenched her arm from his grip. "Not until I kill the Governor! He's gonna die for what he's done!"

"The Governor is gone," he said. "The town members took control of the armory and drove him out, along with Martinez and a couple of other guys."

Sasha spoke for the first time. "The mob is deciding on whether to pursue him, but we're not sticking around to find out what choice they make. We want to put as much distance between us and this town before sunset."

Michonne just stood there in a daze. Gone? But how would she get her revenge for Andrea?

"We don't have much time," Tyrese said. "Are you coming with us or not?"

Michonne nodded. "I'm with you. But I'm heading for the prison."

"The prison is as good as anywhere," said Sasha.

After grabbing her katana and a backpack full of supplies, the three headed out of Woodbury and onto the road, in the direction of the prison.

#

The trip to the prison took less than a day. Along the way, Michonne learned more about Tyrese and Sasha. Tyrese used to play as a linebacker for Mike's favorite team - the Arizona Cardinals. Sasha had been a kindergarten teacher at a private school. They were both extraordinary people and Michonne enjoyed their company immensely, even though she was still grieving over Andrea. She owed them her life, not sure what she would have done if they hadn't shown up when they did.

Coming upon the fences, the prison appeared to be completely deserted. The watch tower was in shambles and the cell block was barely recognizable. Heading inside of the cell block, Michonne called out to absolutely no response. A good stash of food and medical supplies were missing; rubble littered the floor.

The group checked the cells, finding all but one unoccupied. Michonne walked into Hershel's cell to find him lying on the bed, his arms crossed over his chest. The front of his shirt was soaked with blood from a gunshot wound to the chest. The head wound in his temple, most likely from a knife, confirmed her worse fears.

"Hershel," Michonne said, unable to speak any longer. She sat on the bed next to him, smoothing the small hairs away from his forehead.

"He was a good guy," Tyrese said.

"He fought for us to stay, without even knowing us," Sasha said. "He was a good man."

"He was," Michonne said, tears falling down her cheeks. "Sorry, Hershel, that I couldn't be here to protect you."

Michonne rose from the bed, turning to Sasha and Tyrese. She sighed.

"It's a good sign that the majority of supplies are missing and the cells are mostly empty of belongings. It means they had time to pack before leaving. They may not have even been here when the Governor returned for the second time," Michonne said.

"It's going to be nearly impossible to find them. It rained last night, so any tracks will probably not be very clear. They could have gone in any direction," Tyrese said.

Michonne sighed and nodded, agreeing with him. She turned to look at Hershel, willing him to give her some sort of sign as to where they could be. She noticed a bit of yellow paper sticking out from under his right shoulder.

Michonne reached out and grabbed the edge of the paper, sliding it from underneath Hershel's corpse. It was a small sheet of folded notebook paper.

Hands trembling, Michonne unfolded the piece of paper. In barely legible scribbles, the note read, Follow the yellow brick road. Come back to me. Rick.

Michonne laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the empty cell block.

"What is it?" Sasha asked.

"Rick. This is his trail of bread crumbs. I know which direction they headed in. We have a real chance of finding them now." Michonne smiled, her pulse quickening.

Tyrese took the note from her hand and read the words carefully. "What's the yellow brick road? Is it some sort of code?"

"More like an inside joke. There is a path through the woods lined with flowering trees. When the yellow petals fall onto the path, it looks like it's paved with gold. Rick named it the yellow brick road," Michonne said, smiling at the memory.

Tyrese exchanged a look with Sasha before responding. "So, on the off chance we follow this path and find your group, then what? Rick wasn't too keen on letting us stay the last time. And he seemed a little…unstable."

Michonne laughed. "To say the least. He's better now. When you'd met him, he had just lost his wife. I have no doubts he'll let you join us, especially if you're with me."

Sasha nodded. "Ok, we're in." She looked to Tyrese for confirmation and he hesitated before nodding in agreement.

"It's not like we have very many options," Tyrese said.

"Trust me, you won't regret it," Michonne said.

The three of them worked quickly, grabbing as much canned food from the prison kitchen as they could carry. Michonne returned to her cell to collect the few belongings she owned – two pairs of skinny jeans, a light jacket, a leather vest, a small backpack and a picture of Andre and Mike at a football game together.

Michonne thought about that day, Andre's second birthday. Rather than throw him a party, they had decided to take him to his first football game. Mike had always cared deeply for Andre, even though he was not his biological father, and wanted to share his favorite pastime with his son.

After Michonne had confessed all to him about her affair with Rick and the pregnancy – omitting the part about having fallen in love with him – Mike broke off their engagement and moved out of the home they shared together. Michonne realized then how much she loved and needed him in her life, even though her conflicting feelings for Rick never faltered. In the end, Mike returned, committed to being there for both Michonne, whom he loved, and her unborn baby; even if only as her boyfriend and not her husband.

Michonne smiled at the memory of the football game. That day was full of firsts for Andre – first hot dog, first football jersey and the first game with the only man he would ever know as his father. Michonne sniffled with the oncoming tears.

"Is that your son?" Sasha asked from behind Michonne. She had been so engrossed in the memory that she hadn't heard the woman approach.

Michonne quickly stuffed the picture into her pocket. "Was," she said, turning to face Sasha. "I would appreciate it if…you didn't say anything about this to anyone. It's not something I share with most people." Especially Rick.

"Sorry to pry." The sincere apology put Michonne at ease. "Don't worry, I've never had a taste for gossip. Plus, we all deserve the chance to start anew."

"Thanks." Michonne crammed the rest of her belongings into the small backpack. "It's probably best to move on, even though night will fall soon. I doubt the Governor will return to this place, but I don't want to take any chances."

"No complaints here," Sasha said.

Michonne, Tyrese and Sasha left the prison on the heels of sunset. Traveling at night was not the safest option, but it was their only one.

Michonne led them to the path Rick had referred to in his note, the yellow brick road. It was littered with flower petals just as before and give her the hope she needed to embark on this trip.

"I'm coming, Rick," Michonne whispered.

The three set off in search of the people who had become Michonne's new family; the ones she was determined to never be separated from again.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Three days of endless walking and little rest were beginning to take a toll on Michonne. She, Tyrese and Sasha had followed the "yellow brick road" only to find that the trail ended a few miles from the prison. Any visual footprints had been washed away by the storm the night before.

Luckily, Sasha had picked up some tracking skills during her two-year tour in Iraq with the U.S. Army. Michonne decided to rely on Sasha's skills, and her own instinct, to lead her to Rick. She did not – could not – doubt that fate would reunite the two of them for a second time. Michonne was finally ready to start living again; and she planned to begin her new life with Rick by her side.

"The sun will set in the next few hours. We should probably camp for the night pretty soon," Sasha said, leading the group through the silent and damp woods. "Preferably not in the open."

The rasp in Sasha's voice attuned Michonne to the fatigue quickly encroaching upon her. The canned food they had scavenged from the prison was quickly running low and would last only another day; two if they rationed it well.

"Is that a church?" Tyrese asked from behind Michonne, his shuffling feet coming to a stop. Of the three, he had to be the most exhausted. Despite his ample body weight, Tyrese had chosen to eat only as much as Michonne and Sasha, who likely weighed less than him combined.

Michonne turned east, the direction Tyrese currently faced. Sasha joined them. Squinting her eyes, Michonne said, "I think I can make out a steeple, although I can't be certain from this distance. What do you think, Sasha?"

"I think east is as good of a direction to follow as any," Sasha said. "The trail has gone completely cold and I'm leading us on instinct at this point."

"Okay, let's set up camp in the cluster of trees up ahead. We head east at dawn," Michonne said.

Tyrese and Sasha had accepted her natural role as leader, and Michonne hoped she would make the right decisions to keep them alive. She did not shy from the responsibility of their lives, nor did she take the role lightly.

Tyrese managed to build a meager fire from the scarcity of dry wood he scavenged from the damp woods. The fire crackled as the flames fed on their dwindling fuel source.

Michonne took inventory of the remaining food stores – one can of peaches, two cans of beans and one can of green beans. Feeling optimistic about the possibility of finding shelter, and the place where Rick was most likely holed up, she decided to give them all a treat. "Let's go crazy tonight and have beans and peaches for dinner."

"I don't know, that's half of our food," Sasha said, frowning in the flickering light. "If we don't make it to the church –"

"We will make it," Michonne said, meeting Sasha's questioning eyes, dilated in the dimness. "Trust me." Though, I question my words more than you do, Michonne thought.

"What I could really go for right now, is a steak," Tyrese said. "But beans and peaches sound like a much deserved feast to me."

Sasha sighed and smiled. "If we're attacked by a mob of walkers and don't make it through the middle of the night, it's not much of a last meal, but my empty stomach won't let me object. Let's do it."

Michonne sliced open the top of the can of beans with her hunting knife, dumping the contents into a small metal pot she had grabbed from the prison kitchen. She stirred the beans with the blade of the knife, the juices in her belly churning violently.

The snap of a branch in the dark, surrounding woods stilled Michonne's movements. Tyrese and Sasha halted their quiet conversation at the sound. The unmistakable sound of dragging footsteps approached from the south and sent them into action. Michonne threw her hunting knife to the ground and withdrew her katana. Tyrese and Sasha grabbed their respective weapons.

"My guess is there's only one," Sasha whispered. "Should we extinguish the fire?"

"No," Michonne whispered. "The light is our only advantage right now."

A female zombie with long braids and brown skin walked into the light of their small fire, a leather backpack strapped to her back. She headed directly for Michonne.

Michonne froze. Staring into the milky eyes of death, which looked so much like her own, a terrifying realization became stark clear - when she found Rick, she had to tell him the truth about Andre. Keeping the secret of Andre's existence from him for so long, was the thing she regretted most in her life; and she had committed some questionable acts since the beginning of the apocalypse.

The walker's moan from a few feet away broke Michonne's trance and she sliced her katana through the air. The head of the walker tumbled to the ground, rolling away from her.

"That was close, Michonne," Tyrese said, lowering his axe.

"Are you okay?" Sasha asked when Michonne gave no response.

Michonne stood staring at the disembodied head, the jaws snapping at thin air. Most walkers lost complete function after being decapitated; but some, like this one, remained alert for hours afterwards. Michonne walked up to the head and raised her katana, aiming it for the frontal lobe. She thrust her arms down in one clean motion, driving the blade deep into the skull. The jaws went motionless.

Michonne withdrew her katana and kicked the head into the darkness. "We should keep a lookout, but I think she was the only one." She returned to her seat by the fire, feeling Tyrese's eyes on her back.

"You're not going to believe what I found," Sasha said. She knelt near the decapitated body of the decomposing walker, her hand stuffed into the leather backpack. She yanked out a bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid swishing and filling only about a third of the bottle.

"I could definitely use some of that," Tyrese said, walking over to Sasha.

"Finders keepers," Sasha said, running in the opposite direction.

"Girl, don't make me wrestle you for that bottle. You know I'm undefeated."

"Only when you had fifty pounds on me. Now it's more like thirty." Sasha unscrewed the top and took a swig, coughing as she pulled the bottle away from her lips. "Woo! I think that's the best drink I've ever had in my life." She chuckled and took another long sip.

Michonne rolled her eyes. Drinking out in the open with potential threats lurking in the shadows was an unnecessary risk. She did not, however, have the heart to deny either of them the opportunity to let off some steam. The last week had been trying for all of them.

Tyrese caught Sasha from behind, tickling her sides. He snatched the bottle from her as she laughed and squirmed out of his hold. He took a large gulp, almost finishing the bottle.

"No fair," Sasha pouted.

"There's just enough for you, Michonne," Tyrese said, offering her the bottle.

"No thanks," Michonne said, not taking her eyes away from the fire.

"Come on Michonne, it may help to lift your spirits a bit. It can't have been easy losing not only your group, but Andrea too. We have to learn to move on from the death and enjoy life whenever we get the chance. I'm sure that's what you would have wanted for your son-"

"Shut up!" Michonne yelled, lunging at Sasha. Tyrese stepped between the two of them, blocking Michonne's access to his sister.

"Chill," Sasha said, holding up her hands. "Tyrese already knows about him…"

Michonne glared at Sasha, clenching her fists. "You told me you could keep your mouth shut, but you're obviously just full of sh*t. If you even think about telling anyone else, you'll regret it."

"Take it easy, Michonne," Tyrese said. "Sasha didn't mean any harm. We have learned to survive in this world by working as a team and that means telling each other everything, even at the risk of losing an ally's confidence. I am not one to gossip and neither is she, though it may not seem like it right now. Your secret is safe with us, I promise."

Michonne sighed. Promises meant close to nothing in this world. Mike had promised to keep Andre alive and failed in the end. "Just remember I'm the only one who can vouch for you with Rick, so you really don't want to get on my bad side."

"Are you threatening us?" Sasha asked, squinting her eyes.

"Just stating the facts," Michonne said. "We should get some rest, we've got a long walk ahead of us." She laid down near the fire and shut her eyes, terrified that Sasha would spill her secret before she worked up the courage to tell Rick the truth; assuming she actually found him again.

#

The church proved to be farther than anticipated and they were still miles away as the sun began to set. Luckily, they found shelter just as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.

The two-story house, painted white with green shutters, stood as though untouched by the chaos of the post-apocalyptic world. Birds chirped in the distance and the darkening sun lit the expansive porch.

Michonne had always fantasized about a home like this, one with a large porch where she could mount a swing for lazy southern afternoons. The tension melted from her neck and shoulders, a sense of ease flowing through her body. She briefly wondered if she had met Rick before Mike, if this was the kind of home they might have lived in together; where Andre could have roamed free, safe from the dangers of the city.

Tyrese gently placed his large hand on Michonne's shoulder. "We should check it out. We're losing light quick and shouldn't be out in the open any longer than we need to be."

Michonne nodded. She led the way, walking up the stairs and onto the porch. The steps creaked underneath her boots, Tyrese and Sasha following close behind. Michonne peeked through the front window, the curtain pulled back slightly. At the dining room table sat Rick, Daryl and Carl. Rick bounced Judith on his knee, laughing at something Daryl said.

A river of tears streamed down Michonne's cheeks and she smiled, shaking her head in disbelief. Her faith had paid off – destiny had brought her and Rick together again. She slammed her palm against the window, trying to steady herself. The sound drew Rick's eyes and they stared at one another; his face frozen in surprise and hers a runny mess of tears and snot.

Rick handed Judith to Daryl and rushed to the front door. Michonne's legs suddenly felt weighed down, like she had sandbags for feet. Somehow she managed to make it to the door just as Rick threw it open.

Michonne and Rick stood frozen, captured in the other's eyes. Rick threw his arms around Michonne's waist and lifted her into the air, squeezing the breath out of her. He spun her around, laughing hysterically. She only cried harder.

Rick lowered her to the ground, hugging her closely, his warm breath caressing her neck. "I knew you would come back to me," he whispered into her ear.

"You're not getting rid of me that easy," she finally managed to say, recovering from the shock of finding him again, the tears gradually ceasing.

"Michonne!" Carl yelled from behind Rick. The chill of the night air enveloped Michonne as Rick withdrew from her arms.

He moved to the side and Carl rushed up to Michonne, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing the side of his head against her chest. Michonne embraced him in return, caressing his hair.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Carl said, his voice cracking. Michonne's shirt soaked up his emerging tears. She swore he had grown taller in the few days since she'd seen him last.

"Anything and everything is possible if you just have faith," Michonne said. "I never lost hope that I would find you all again." Her eyes briefly met Rick's.

"Little Asskicker missed you," Daryl said, standing by Rick's side and smiling. He balanced Judith on his hip.

"You should smile more often, it looks good on you," she said. Daryl averted his eyes, uncomfortable with the compliment. Michonne chuckled.

"I see you brought guests with you," Rick said, eyeing Tyrese and Sasha. His hand rested lightly on the Colt Python strapped to his hip.

Carl unwrapped his arms from around Michonne as she addressed Rick. "They helped me to escape from Woodbury. Without them I wouldn't be alive." She turned to the siblings and nodded. The two walked forward.

Tyrese held out his hand to Rick. "Nice to see you again, Rick. I hope you'll let us join you this time around. We'd like to contribute in whatever way possible." Sasha looked on, still and alert, most likely preparing to defend her brother if Rick lost it again.

"Michonne's word means more to me than gold," Rick said, sending Michonne's heart into a frenzy. He accepted Tyrese's handshake. "If she says you can be trusted, then there's no question. Welcome." He motioned for them to go inside.

"Come on, I'll give you a tour," Carl said. "There are plenty of rooms for everyone."

Daryl nodded to Michonne and followed them back inside, leaving her and Rick alone on the porch. He moved toward her, his blue eyes glowing under the light of the porch.

"You scared the hell out of me," Rick said, hugging her again. His aroma was an odd mixture of sweat and chocolate. Michonne rested her head on his chest, breathing him in, wanting to stay in the moment forever.

"Did he hurt you?" Rick asked, pulling away and inspecting her body with his eyes.

"No," Michonne said quietly. "But Andrea –" Michonne lacked the strength to continue. The tears threatened to make another visit.

"Come on, you'll feel better after you get some food in you." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leading her into the house. "We've got chocolate pudding," he said, singing the words.

Michonne laughed. She was finally home.

#

Michonne tied the ends of the large, white button down in a knot at her back. Without water for bathing, clean clothes would have to do for the time being. Luckily, there were plenty of clean shirts in the closet of her bedroom.

The four-bedroom home allowed their small group plenty of room. Sasha and Tyrese bunked together, while the Grimes shared the master bedroom; leaving her and Daryl with rooms of their own. Michonne pulled her locs into a bun on the top of her head, securing it with her patterned purple headband.

A soft knock on her door drew her attention. "Michonne, are you still awake?" Rick asked from the other side of the door. Michonne smiled and opened the bedroom door to Rick.

"Too wired to sleep, too?" she asked, motioning him to come in. She closed the door behind him, not wanting the sound of their voices to wake the rest anyone.

Rick sat in an armchair near the window, while Michonne took a seat at the foot of the bed. She felt suddenly nervous to be alone with Rick, in the privacy of a bedroom. After the kiss at the prison, she felt like a wall between them had come crumbling down. Emotions from five years ago tumbled around in her belly.

Rick leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped. "Tell me, honestly, did he hurt you?" Rick asked with a slight edge to his voice, hostility bubbling just below the surface.

"No…" She trailed off, not sure if she could get out her next words. "But Andrea is dead. He stabbed her in the stomach and locked us in a room together, expecting her to kill me once she became a walker." Michonne took deep breaths to stave off the tears.

"That deranged asshole!" Rick's hushed voice could not conceal his unbridled anger. He left the armchair to join Michonne on the bed. Rick threw his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to lean against his side. Instinctively, she rested her head against his chest. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I should have never let you near him."

"It's not like you could have stopped me. I had to try and put an end to this somehow. I only regret that he is still out there, breathing the same air as us; especially after what he did to Andrea."

"As soon as we find the others, we should talk about a plan to handle the Governor. Whether that means tracking him down or waiting for him to make his next move, I don't know. One thing's for sure though – he does not get to live."

Wanting to think of something other than despair and death and the bastard known as the Governor, Michonne readily changed the subject. "The others…how did you all get separated?"

"After the Governor drove off with you, Daryl and I found almost everyone alive – everyone except Hershel." Rick paused and sighed deeply. "He had been talking with Carol in the prison yard when a sniper shot him, straight through the heart. We planned to bury him, but the Governor returned before we had the chance. Half of our group managed to escape in the school bus, while the rest of us headed out on foot, setting off a bomb to distract them."

"Where the hell did you get a bomb?"

"Something Daryl cooked up beforehand with some supplies from the arsenal and kitchen."

Michonne laughed. "That guy never fails to surprise me."

Rick's body tensed and he dropped his arm from her shoulders, putting some distance between the two of them. She lifted her head from his chest.

Facing Michonne, his lips inches from hers, he asked in a serious tone, "Is there something going on between the two of you?"

She laughed. "Me and Daryl? Of course not. We're just friends. He helped me adjust to being part of a group again. He brought me into the fold while you were…preoccupied."

Rick frowned. "Michonne, I can never forgive myself for that. You must have believed that I'd forgotten you, which could not be further from the truth."

Michonne's heart fluttered. "It was really hard for me, to have found you again, only for you to not know me. After my boyfriend died, I went through a similar experience and would never have believed some stranger who said they knew me, but of whom I had no recollection. I did not want to jar you even further and chose to step back and hopefully let you work it out on your own. And you did. "

Rick dropped his chin. "Not being in my right mind is still no excuse. I should have recognized you, even in the fog of my despair. And I should have been there for you instead of Daryl. I get the impression that he thinks of you as more than just a friend."

Michonne smiled, moved by this discovery of his jealousy. "Rick, we've found each other again and that's all that matters. And I'm sure Daryl understands how I feel about you now, especially after our kiss." She whispered the last few words, capturing his red-rimmed eyes. Her breath became shallow. She wanted him to take her into his arms and kiss her the way he did five years ago.

Rick cleared his throat and rose from the bed, returning to the armchair. His tone was all business. "Our next priority is to find the others. It's possible they've sought shelter in the church a few miles from here. Someone has been ringing the church bell for the past two days, but I didn't want to leave here until you found us. Daryl had planned to check it out on his own tomorrow, but now we can all go together."

Michonne rose from the bed, hurt that he would avoid what she knew they were both feeling. We've already kissed, why is he holding back? Does he not trust me? She considered telling him about Andre, but quickly decided against it. She would wait for the right moment, when she was certain he cared for her again. "I should get some rest, it's been a long day."

Rick stood as well, heading for the door. "I'll let you get some sleep then." With his hand on the knob and his back turned to her, he continued, "I really am happy to have you back, Michonne." He opened and closed the door gently behind him.

His departure left Michonne feeling empty and alone. Her eyes stung and her chest felt like it would implode. Survival had been her only priority for so long; but facing certain death had changed that, and helped her acknowledge the truth of what she wanted most in this world – Rick. Her love for him had reached new heights and if he didn't love her back, she wasn't sure what she would do.

#

Traveling by foot, the group reached the church in under two hours. A yellow school bus sat parked along the church. Inside they found three of their own – Maggie, Glenn and Bob. In a tangle of tears, hugs and soft words, the group reunited. Unfortunately, as Maggie grievously explained, Beth and Carol had been kidnapped their first night there, by someone driving an old Buick. Their recent attempts to find them had proven fruitless.

Daryl immediately volunteered to go out the next day, sure he could track them down. He had barely spoken to Michonne since she returned and she suspected this was his way of putting some distance between the two of them. Had Rick said something to him? She meant to have a conversation with him before he set out on the road.

Glenn introduced the people they had met on the way to the church. A broad-shouldered redhead introduced himself as Abraham; and his companions, a petite brunette and overweight guy with a mullet, were Rosita and Eugene. Father Gabriel, dressed in the black suit and white collar of a priest, had offered them shelter after they saved him from a horde of walkers.

Of the newcomers, Michonne found Abraham the most disconcerting. His commanding stature, muscular build and tendency to give his unbidden opinion, put her on alert. He appeared to be a likely candidate to challenge Rick for leadership of the group, urging her to keep an eye on him at all times. Anyone who threatened Rick would have to get through her first.

That evening, over a feast of canned food and communion wine, the new and old members of the group bonded over stories of close calls and small successes. Michonne sat on the floor near Rick and Judith, who giggled each time her father bounced her on his knee. Michonne's mood grew somber. Rick had missed out on having these moments with Andre and would probably never forgive her once she confessed the truth.

Abraham suddenly stood to propose a toast, drawing Michonne's attention. "Every last one of us is a survivor," he said. "But is that all we want to be? We have a chance to live – and that chance is in Washington."

Eugene proceeded to declare, in vaguely intelligible terms, the existence of a top secret safe haven in D.C., equipped with ample resources, protection and a cure for the infection. Michonne listened patiently along with the others, waiting for the chance to rip apart Eugene's completely fabricated proclamation. Rick beat her to the punch.

"Top secret doesn't exist anymore," Rick said, bouncing Judith on his knee. "If you want us to even consider this course of action, we're going to need full disclosure."

Michonne's hormones leapt into overdrive at the authority in his voice, contrasted by his gentleness with Judith. She had the urge to snatch him away from the group and sneak off into a dark corner to have her way with him.

"Full disclosure is not an option," Eugene said, squirming in his seat on the church pew. "I swore an oath to uphold –"

"Bullsh*t," Rick said. "Your only allegiance is to the people who have kept you alive, and will continue to do so only if you're able to prove your value to this group."

"No disrespect, but we haven't sworn allegiance to anyone," Abraham said. "We have done fine surviving on our own and will continue to do so without your help. What we're offering you is a chance to start over and to end the walkers once and for all."

Michonne could no longer keep silent. "What you're offering us is the chance to die for a man who is most certainly a liar. If there was anything in existence even close to what he describes, the CDC would not have blown itself to sh*t, as several people here can attest to. But," Michonne said directly to Rick, "heading for Washington is not a bad idea. If any semblance of the government still exists, it will be there."

Rick met her eyes and she could almost hear the gears clicking in his mind. The room fell silent as she and Rick communicated silently. Did he trust her enough to follow her advice, to be swayed by her in the presence of the people who counted on him for their survival?

Rick's smiling blue eyes sent desire tingling from her cheeks to her toes. He turned to the group and said in a clear voice, "It's decided then. We head for Washington."

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

"Rock, paper, scissors – shoot!" Carl and Michonne chanted together, flinging their hands out in sync. Carl wrapped Michonne's fist with his hand; or, at least as much as his child hand could cover.

"Paper beats rock! I win!" he yelled, unable to restrain the excitement in his voice. "Fork it over!" Carl thrust out his palm.

Michonne smiled and removed the backpack from her shoulders. She reached in and pulled out a chocolate bar with "Big Kat" displayed in yellow capital letters across the crinkled wrapper.

She placed the bar in his hand, her fingers still wrapped around the precious loot. "It's my last one," she whined.

"Losers, weepers," Carl said with a smug grin.

Michonne released the bar, pouting her full lips. Carl immediately peeled away the wrapper and brought the crumbling bar to his lips. He paused, examining her expression. Sighing, he proceeded to break the bar in half.

"Here," he said, handing her half of the chocolate. "This is payment for katana lessons - whenever I want."

"Deal," Michonne said, beaming. Her heart skipped a beat. Andre had done something similar when Michonne had begged for his last sweet potato fry. Her eyes stung with unshed tears at the memory.

She crammed the slightly stale candy into her mouth, hoping to dampen the oncoming misery. Chocolate never failed to satiate.

"We should catch up to the others," Michonne said, licking her lips. Rick and the group were more than a few yards away.

Rick had decided to take a small group to raid a nearby food bank Father Gabriel mentioned. Fortunately, the food shelter had remained untouched, allowing them to salvage three shopping carts of food.

A moan to Michonne's right grabbed her attention. Tumbling out of the alley, a walker in a tattered business suit reached for Carl, baring his bloody teeth.

Carl yelped, reaching for his gun. Michonne moved swiftly, slicing through the walker's head like a watermelon. The corpse plopped to the ground, bits of brain and blood oozing from the gaping wound in its skull.

"Whoa! That was close," Carl said with a mix of fear and excitement. "And so freaking cool! I definitely need to learn how to use that thing. Wait till I tell the others!" Carl hurried in the direction of the group, leaving Michonne to process all that had happened.

Michonne turned her back on his retreating form, her breathing shallow. The mounting tightness in her chest signaled an oncoming panic attack. She'd had one only once before – the day Andre died. Michonne's vision blurred and she felt lightheaded.

A strong hand gripped her shoulder from behind. "It's okay. Just breathe," Rick said in a hushed tone, lightly massaging her shoulder. "It'll pass."

Michonne, more embarrassed than anxious, took a few deep breaths, Rick's soothing words and touch surprisingly calming her nerves. Soon her breathing and vision returned to normal.

"Thank you," Michonne said. She composed herself before turning to face him.

His hand dropped from her shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked with concern in his probing eyes.

"Yes," Michonne said, struggling not to avoid the eyes that stirred her emotions.

This was the first time they had been alone together since their awkward bedroom discussion. It had been clear that Rick was hesitant to pursue his feelings for her. Since that night, she made sure any conversations between the two of them centered around plans on the upcoming trip to Washington and involved at least one other person. Michonne feared if they were alone together again, he would feel need to clear the air and reject her once and for all.

"I recognize a panic attack when I see one," Rick said. "Lori used to get them every once in while. Scared the sh*t out of her the first time."

"This is so embarrassing. It's happened only one other time..." When your son died, she should have confessed.

Rick smiled, feathery wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. "Well, I'm just glad I could help. Had to pay you back somehow, for saving Carl's life."

"If it weren't for me, he would have never been in danger in the first place."

"I doubt that. I'm just grateful you were the one by his side when it happened. I can always count on you to keep him alive. Judith too. You're on the short list of people I trust with their lives."

Michonne's cheeks flamed at the longing blazing in the blue fire of his eyes. A stifled gasp escaped her lips and her heart pounded. Only Rick could give her a look that made her lose all sense of right and wrong; and she was suddenly not sure if she wanted to feel that way again.

"We should really…" Michonne said, before stepping around him and walking in the direction of Carl and the group. They stood waiting for her and Rick to rejoin them. Michonne refused to look back, though she felt Rick's eyes on her. They both would need to sort out their feelings before pursuing any semblance of a romantic relationship, before the uncertainty drove her mad.

#

Daryl returned with Carol just as dinner was underway. Michonne placed her plate of food on the pew, before joining the others to greet them. It had been two days since Daryl had gone in search of Beth and Carol, and she had been considering going after him if he hadn't returned that night.

"Welcome back," Michonne said to Daryl.

"Thanks," Daryl mumbled, barely making eye contact with her. He had been distant ever since their arrival at the church and Michonne missed his friendship dearly. During their runs together, they had become quite close and she considered him a close friend and confidant. When Andrea had abandoned her, she needed someone to talk to and Daryl was always there to listen or make her laugh.

She wrapped her arms around Carol, hugging the frail woman tightly. She appeared to have lost weight since the last time Michonne had seen her. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Glad to be back," Carol responded softly. Michonne released her as Maggie and Glenn joined them.

"Where's Beth?" Maggie asked, her voice breaking.

"I'm so sorry, Maggie," Carol said, hugging Maggie. She continued in a hush, "She's dead. They killed her. I'm so sorry."

"No!" Maggie yelled. She pulled away from Carol's embrace. "No, she can't be dead!" Maggie's sobs wrenched at Michonne's heart. Losing family was the hardest thing about this new world, and she was no stranger to the pain the loss evoked.

Glenn pulled Maggie into his arms and she sobbed against his chest, her tears soaking the front of his shirt. "Shhh," he said softly, rubbing her back in small circles. He led her over to the pews, away from the group.

"What happened?" Rick asked Daryl.

"Some cop and her lackeys were holding Beth and Carol hostage at a hospital a few miles north of here," Daryl said. "I captured one of their guys and traded him for Beth and Carol. But Beth…" He paused, clearing his throat. "She stabbed the cop in the chest with a pair of scissors and the pig shot her in the head. Beth died instantly." He lowered his head.

Rick reached out to comfort him, but Daryl maneuvered away from his touch. Rick lowered his hand to his side. "There was nothing you could do, man," he said in a steady voice.

"Tell that to Maggie," Daryl said. He paused. "We owe it to Beth to make the best out of this horrible situation. The reality is that the hospital is now up for grabs. The people left there would be more than willin' to let us take over, seeing as they were as much hostages as Beth and Carol. And the stock of medical supplies and equipment wouldn't hurt."

Michonne would have agreed with Daryl, if her gut hadn't already decided on Washington. She watched Rick as he mulled over Daryl's words. Maggie spoke.

"If all that medical equipment was worth anything, Beth would be here with us right now," Maggie said, raising her shaky voice. She moved toward Daryl. "You were supposed to bring her back. You promised me!"

"Maggie, calm down," Glenn said, grabbing her arm. "Daryl did everything he could for Beth."

Maggie flung Glenn's hand away and continued toward Daryl. "Obviously he didn't, because he's here and Beth is dead."

Daryl recoiled at Maggie's words, his face etched in pain. "Maggie, I'm-"

The smack of Maggie's palm against his cheek echoed throughout the church. Michonne felt as though she had been slapped, shocked at seeing someone as stoic as Daryl now on the verge of tears.

"Enough," Rick said finally. "Glenn, take her into Father Gabriel's study. She is not in the right state of mind for this conversation."

Glenn nodded and wrapped his arm around Maggie's shoulders, guiding her toward the study as she wailed in sorrow. Rick continued as soon as Glenn shut the door behind him.

"We're all going to miss Beth. She was a beautiful soul and courageous fighter. She cared for Judith like she was her own and I will always be grateful to her for that. But now we have a tough decision to make." Rick glanced at Daryl, who sat in a pew a few feet away from the group, his head lowered. "I trust Daryl with my life, and if he says we should consider the hospital, then I think we should do just that."

Michonne glanced around the group, noticing several people nodding their heads in agreement. Abraham surprisingly remained silent as Rick continued.

"So we vote - the hospital or Washington. And everyone votes, no one gets to opt out of this one," Rick said, just as Glenn gently shut the door of the study and headed for the group.

Michonne partly wished that Rick would just play the veto card and make the decision on his own. For her, the choice was between more than just the hospital and Washington – it was between security and the hope of something more.

"Maggie's resting," Glenn said, rejoining them. "So I'll vote for the both of us."

"Fine," Rick said. "All those for the hospital, raise your hands."

Michonne held her breath as Daryl, Tyrese, Sasha, Bob, Carol and Father Gabriel all raised their hands.

"Six for the hospital. Now for Washington, raise your hands." Michonne stood frozen as Rick, Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, and Glenn raised their hands. Carl sat in the front pew with Judith on his lap, happy to let his dad make the choice for his family.

"With Glenn voting for Maggie, that means we have a tie." Rick turned his steely gaze on her. "Michonne, you haven't voted either way. You need to decide – the hospital or Washington." She detected a hint of desperation in his voice.

Michonne looked from Rick to Daryl, both masters of the poker face. Whichever way she voted, one of them would have their pride wounded. She had no choice but to go with her gut and ignore the predicaments of her heart.

"Washington," Michonne said. She looked to Daryl, but his face remained unreadable.

"It's settled then," Rick said. "We head for Washington tomorrow. Everyone eat well and rest up, we have a long trek ahead of us."

Quiet conversations ensued as dinner continued. Daryl slipped out of the back door without a word to anyone. Michonne silently vowed to fix this sudden break between the two of them; she could not take the chance of using yet another good friend.

Rick cradled a sleeping Judith in his arms, smiling and chatting with Carl. If anything else, Rick had his family. Michonne remained unsure of whether or not he wanted her to be a part of it. She and Daryl, however, had bonded and become important to each other in the time she'd spent with him. He had saved her life countless times and had been there to comfort her when things were at their worst – and this was the time to return the favor.

#

Michonne juggled a flimsy paper plate of food in one hand as she opened the door with the other. As expected, she found Daryl sitting on the back porch of the church, smoking a cigarette and basking in the bright glow of the moon.

"I don't want any company," Daryl said, staring into the dappled darkness of the surrounding woods.

Michonne nudged the door close with her elbow. "You should eat something." She joined him on the top step and placed the plate of baked beans, corn and pears on his lap. She held a plastic fork out to him. "Eat."

Daryl sighed loudly, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "If I eat, will you promise to leave me in peace?"

"You empty that plate, and we'll see." Daryl remained still, so she added, "I can wait all night."

Daryl jabbed his cigarette out on the bottom of his boot and tucked the stub behind his ear. He snatched the fork from Michonne and dug in, rapidly shoveling beans into his mouth.

"Slow down, you'll upset your stomach. No one needs you stinking up the church with your lip-curdling flatulence."

Daryl only huffed in response. He finished the beans and began working on the corn.

"Maggie wanted me to tell you she's sorry, for hitting you. She knows you did everything you could for Beth."

Daryl finished the corn and speared the two juicy, pear slices onto his fork. He crammed them into his mouth, smacking his lips as he chewed. He tossed the empty plate and plastic fork to his side. "All done. You can go now," he said, turning to glare at her.

"You're gonna have to do better than that to scare me away."

"Fine," he said, moving to stand, the steps creaking beneath his boots.

Michonne placed her hand on his sinewy forearm, halting his movement. "Please, Daryl. Don't run away from me. I just want to help you."

"Help me?" Daryl asked, roughly plopping down beside her. "How, Michonne? Can you magically flick your wrist and turn back time?"

Michonne pulled Daryl into her arms and, to her surprise, he did not pull away. "It's not your fault she died."

Daryl shifted into her embrace. "Why did it have to be Beth? She never hurt nobody."

"You should know by now that death has no conscience. He takes the innocent and the guilty alike."

Daryl slowly wrapped his arms around Michonne, pulling her closer. "It should have been me. I've got no brother – no family – to fret over me when I'm gone. Maggie shouldn't have to go through this again."

Michonne pulled away from his embrace, looking into his glistening eyes. "If you don't realize how much you mean to everyone here, then you're a fool. Carol, Judith, Rick – what would they do without you?" She paused. "What would I do?"

Daryl's eyes darted to Michonne's lips. He leaned in to kiss her, but she stopped him, placing a hand on his chest.

"We can't," she whispered.

"Why? Because of Rick?" Daryl asked angrily, putting some distance between the two of them. "Does he own the key to your heart because you knew each other before this all started?"

Michonne hesitated, not sure how to respond. "We have…unfinished business."

"And if you had met me before him? Would we have a chance then?"

"I learned a long time ago not to wallow in the 'What ifs' of life. Let's just focus on the present. I am here for you…but only as a friend. That's all I can be for you right now."

Daryl turned to stare into the dark woods. "Ouch. I've officially been banished to the friend zone." He smiled. "You're too much of a city girl for me anyway."

Michonne laughed. "Watch it, country boy. You forget this city girl rides a horse better than any of you." She paused before continuing. "Promise you won't let me come between the two of you. I would hate myself for that."

"Rick and I are brothers, nothing's going to change that, even if we fight every now and then. Plus, I'm not a sore loser."

"I don't know about that," Michonne joked.

Daryl reached out and grabbed her hand. Michonne smiled and wrapped her hand tightly around his in return. They sat in silence, staring into the quiet woods, oblivious to the danger lurking in the darkness.

#

The first day on the road to Washington was full of optimism and cheer. Spirits were generally high amongst the group. Abraham told hilarious stories about first meeting Eugene – how he had wanted to put the guy out of his misery and chop off his mullet – causing even Maggie to crack a smile. Carl pondered what kind of food they would have in Washington, everything from cotton candy to pizza. Michonne enjoyed the break from the misery and despair, giving her the room to hope again.

Just as the afternoon sun began its descent, Rick spotted a group of abandoned cars in the distance. He decided the group would camp there for the night and head out again at sunrise. The cars loomed about 100 feet ahead of them and Michonne looked forward to resting her sore feet.

"Tyrese!" Sasha called from the tail-end of the group. Michonne turned around at the sound of desperation in her voice. "Tyrese!"

Rick walked over to Michonne. "What's going on?" he asked.

"I don't know," Michonne said. She glanced around the surrounding area, not catching sight of Tyrese anywhere.

Rick and Michonne glanced at each other before walking over to join Sasha, who rubbed her palm across her forehead in exasperation.

"What happened? Why is Tyrese missing?" Rick asked.

"He went to relieve himself and told me not to wait for him," Sasha rattled on. "His stomach was upset, so I wanted to give him some privacy – he's been gone for more than fifteen minutes now."

"We'll find him," Rick said calmly. "I'm sure he's close by."

"Don't worry," Michonne said, though a lump formed in the pit of her stomach, something about this whole situation seeming very wrong.

Rick turned back to address the group. "Everyone!" He waited until he had their attention. "Head to the cars as planned. Michonne and Daryl, I need you with us, to search for Tyrese."

Daryl nodded with his crossbow in hand.

"You sure we don't need more people?" Michonne asked Rick, fear rearing its ugly head.

"No. I'm guessing Tyrese was spotted by a group of walkers and didn't want to lead them back to the group. Once we catch up to him, the four of us should be able to handle any trouble." Rick's confidence helped to calm her – somewhat.

"Be careful, dad!" Carl shouted, as the others continued toward the cars.

"Take care of your sister!" Rick responded.

Sasha had already left her spot on the road, headed for the woods. Michonne, Daryl and Rick soon caught up to her, each of them surveying the landscape for any signs of Tyrese.

A few minutes passed before Daryl caught his scent. "Look, here." He knelt down near a trampled area of wild grass. "That's blood."

Sasha whimpered. Rick knelt down next to Daryl. "It is. And that looks like more than one set of tracks," Rick said, pointing a few feet away, deeper into the woods. Michonne shuddered.

"Most likely," Daryl said. "We got no choice but to follow it, but keep your eyes open. I got a bad feeling 'bout this."

We all do, Michonne thought, her pulse quickening.

"Tyrese," Sasha said barely above a whisper. Michonne watched her closely, ready to stop her from doing something that might get the four of them killed.

"Daryl, fall back and follow us under cover. Not knowing what we're walking into, we need to any advantage we can get," Rick said.

"Be careful," Daryl said, looking directly at Michonne.

Michonne smiled and unsheathed her katana. "Just watch my back, country boy." Daryl chuckled.

"Let's go," Rick said brusquely, not missing the exchange between the two of them.

Daryl disappeared into the darkness of the woods, while Rick, Michonne and Sasha followed Tyrese's trail. Nightfall was quickly approaching and Michonne hoped against hope that Tyrese had just gotten lost and was not in dire harm.

Rick stopped, twisting his head to listen to something Michonne had yet to hear. "Is that…a harmonica?"

Michonne stilled and listened. The melody of a slow, lazy harmonica tune drifted toward them. The music disturbed her much more than Tyrese's screams would have.

"This won't go the way you want it to." Michonne could just make out Tyrese's voice above the music.

"Tyrese!" Sasha darted in Tyrese's direction before either Michonne or Rick could stop here.

"sh*t!" Rick cursed, running after her. Michonne followed close behind.

Sasha came to the small clearing first, stopping dead in her tracks. Rick and Michonne stopped alongside her; Rick with his Colt pointed ahead of them.

"No," Michonne said on impulse. Tyrese knelt on his knees facing them, hands tied behind his back, a gaping wound on the side of his head. The Governor stood beside him, holding a harmonica in one hand and a semi-automatic pistol in the other, pressed against the back of Tyrese's head.

"Welcome, my love," the Governor said, his face twisted in a smile. "I see you brought your boyfriend with you. Rick."

"Please, don't," Sasha cried out. "I'll give you whatever you want, just let Tyrese go."

The Governor's deep laugh chilled Michonne's blood. "I don't want anything from you, sweetheart. Michonne is the only thing I want. And you're going to help me get her."

"You're outnumbered here. Either you give us Tyrese or you die. There is no other option." Rick kept his pistol aimed at the Governor's chest.

"You're not that quick of a shot, Rick. If I die, Tyrese dies. The only way he lives is if Sasha does what I tell her."

Michonne stepped forward. "What do you want?"

"I've only ever wanted your heart, Michonne. And I want to eliminate the one thing standing in the way of me having it." The Governor turned to Sasha. "Kill Rick."

Michonne whipped her head to Sasha. Tears streamed down the frantic woman's face. She turned back to address the Governor. "No one has to die. Just take me with you. I promise I'll come peacefully this time," Michonne pleaded.

"There is no room for negotiation. Sasha, are you really going to let your brother die in order to save Michonne's boyfriend?"

"I can't…" Sasha said, aiming her gun at Rick.

"Sasha don't!" Michonne was too far away to stop her.

"Shoot him, Rick!" Tyrese yelled.

The Governor pressed his pistol harder into the back of Tyrese's skull, causing him to bow his head forward. "You're really not in the position to piss me of. Clock's ticking, Sasha."

"The only person dying here today is you," Rick said.

An arrow careened from out of the darkness, striking the Governor in the hand. He roared in pain, dropping to his knees, his gun falling to the ground.

"Tyrese!" Sasha cried out, running to her brother.

"I'm okay," he said, smiling. Sasha worked on untying the bind around his wrists.

Rick walked over to the Governor, kicking his gun away. "It's over," Rick said. "You lose."

The Governor looked at Michonne, his sadness surprising her. "I should have chopped your head off when I had the chance."

Rick raised his gun and pulled the trigger, putting a bullet between the Governor's eyes. Michonne jumped at the gunshot, blinking rapidly. She watched as the Governor's limp body crumpled to the ground. Her nightmare was finally over.

Sasha helped Tyrese to his feet, his hands free. "About time," she said. "And just so we're clear, I wasn't going to shoot you, Rick. I was just buying us time."

"I know," Rick said. "I'm just glad your brother is safe."

Daryl emerged from the woods. "Sorry that took so long. It was tough to get a clean shot in this light."

"You were right on time, man," Rick said, patting him on the back. "Thank you."

Michonne walked over to the Governor, doing her best to stay upright on her trembling legs. Somehow in her mind, he was not really dead, and would wake any second. She hovered over his corpse, his dead blue-green eyes staring back at her. "This is a better death than you deserve." She spat in anger and turned away, closing this chapter of her life forever.

#

Four days traveling on foot was enough to vanquish group morale. Food and water stocks were plentiful, but spirits were low. Their initial plan had been to find a running vehicle a day or two into the trip, but the only vehicles they came across were either empty of gas or wrecked beyond working condition, forcing them to remain on foot. The stifling southern heat and humidity only added to their exhaustion.

"Dad, how much farther is Washington? It feels like we've been walking forever," Carl whined.

Michonne smiled as she continued alongside Rick and Carl. She had spent most of her time with the two guys, offering to carry Judith whenever either of them needed a break.

"We've got a ways to go, son," Rick said. Sweat stains soaked through his t-shirt and his unkempt beard made him look more like a homeless guy than a former sheriff's deputy. Michonne counted the days until he could finally shave it off.

"I'm bored," Carl said. "I'm gonna get Abraham to show me his knife collection." And with that, Carl fell behind to walk alongside Abraham and Rosita, leaving Rick and Michonne alone.

"He's got quite the obsession with blades," Michonne said, a hint of laughter in her voice.

"More like he's got an obsession with you and your katana," Rick said. "He just wants to get to Washington so he can begin lessons with you."

"It's not like I'm a pro or anything, but I can teach him a few things. Proficiency in as many weapons as possible is always an advantage, especially if he learns early." Michonne imagined Andre as a teen - throwing knives, shooting a crossbow, pumping a shotgun – knowing he would have been twice the warrior she was.

"How'd you get so good with a sword anyway? You never struck me as the type who would be into that kind of thing."

"Not to be crass, but we didn't do much talking that night."

Rick chuckled. "We didn't, did we? I still can't believe that was five years ago, it seems like just yesterday…"

Michonne's heart wrenched with happiness and desire. That night did seem like only yesterday; she had thought of it for countless days since then. The memories their time together blanketed her in warmth during her coldest and darkest times.

"I bought the katana a few years ago, for a costume party given by one of the partners at my firm. I was determined to impress, so I bought the best, directly from Japan. Rather than let it collect dust in my garage, I watched a few videos and practiced with it on a regular basis. Turned out to be a great stress reliever and an even better workout. And having those skills now has kept me alive for this long."

"And I'm very grateful for that," Rick said, holding her eyes with his own.

Michonne smiled in return. "Me too…Rick–" she started, but was interrupted by a commotion at the head of the group. Rick hurried ahead to investigate and she followed.

"Show me your hands, buddy," Daryl said, pointing his crossbow at a man standing in the middle of the road. "Nice and slow."

The man was of average build and appeared to be in his late 30s, with curly brown hair and large blue eyes set in a kind face. He reminded Michonne of a high school math teacher. But what really struck her was his clean appearance – not a speck of sweat or dust on his clothes, hands or face.

"Who are you?" Rick asked, hand on the revolver of his Colt, scanning the surrounding area for any signs of danger.

The man smiled cautiously. "Hi, I'm Aaron. And I have a proposition for you."

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

"Audition?" Rick asked. The man who called himself Aaron sat in the middle of the road, legs crossed, hands tied behind his back. The group encircled the two of them, looking on as Rick questioned him. Sweat soaked through Rick's faded brown t-shirt, adding to his annoyance.

"More like an introduction," Aaron said with a cautious smile. Rick wanted to wipe that smile from his face, not trusting the man who knew more about them than he liked. "Our settlement is secure. We have food, water and shelter. Our walls are made of reinforced steel. We need people like you. But we need to make sure you are the right people and I am not the one who decides that."

"And how do we know this isn't some kind of trap?"

"In my pack, you'll find pictures of our community. I'm offering you my trust by sharing these with you. All I ask is that you offer yours in return."

Sasha handed Aaron's pack to Rick. It was as clean and unmarred as Aaron. Rick rummaged through the pack, his fingers grazing a glossy surface. He removed two 3x5, black-and-white photos.

"The first photo is of the walls surrounding our community. And the second is the most recent picture taken of the members of our community, of the families living inside of those walls. All of the people in that photo are still alive, and that was taken over three months ago."

Rick examined the photo of the walls – they had to be at least ten feet wide and looked well-kept and secure. The second photo showed those same walls, looming behind a group of around forty people. Men, women – and children – stood smiling for the camera. Aaron stood in the middle, his arm around a blonde man with eyes as calm as his own. Rick wanted to believe in this place, in what this man was offering them, but the photos did little to alleviate his skepticism.

Rick heard someone approach from behind. He recognized the pattern of footsteps - Michonne. She peeked over his shoulder examining the photos. Her natural feminine scent, heightened by the humidity of the day, temporarily distracted him. Since that night – when he almost gave in to kissing her – her nearness never failed to send his pulse racing. He feared giving in to his feelings for her would distract him from his greatest priority - to find a new home for the group. He was not ready to take that chance, no matter how much he wanted to be with her.

"These photos seem to support what he's told us, Rick. I have a knack for detecting bullsh*tters and he seems like an okay guy to me," Michonne said at a volume only loud enough for Rick's ears. "I think we should at least check it out before dismissing him altogether."

"But our plan is for Washington, not Fantasyland."

"The photos prove this is more than just a fantasy. This could be the home we've been searching for. Somewhere we can settle down."

Rick's stomach fluttered at the thought of him and Michonne in a home – together – with Judith and Carl. The feeling, however, was fleeting. The weight of the lives of these people, who trusted him to keep them alive, returned to his shoulders.

Rick moved away from Michonne, crouching down in front of Aaron. He stuck his hand in the pack and pulled out the plastic gun he had felt before. The orange flare gun flashed in the sunlight.

"How many people are with you?" Rick asked. "And what will happen if I point this into the sky and pull the trigger?"

Aaron kept silent. His upper lip twitched. It appeared that Aaron trusted Rick about as much as Rick trusted him.

Rick stood and pointed the gun to the sky. A loud pop sounded as he pulled the trigger and a red flare streaked through the sky, trailing white smoke. "I guess we'll find out."

#

That night the group took refuge in a dilapidated barn smelling of horse manure and moldy hay. A small fire filled the barn with soft light. After setting off the flare, they had waited for Aaron's allies to arrive, prepared to fight, but no one showed. Rick noticed Aaron's look of relief when he finally decided to head out in search of shelter for the night.

Michonne cradled Judith in her arms as she slept soundly. Judith had gone into a crying fit earlier and Michonne had been the only one able to calm her down. She had a way with Judith that made him suspect she had experience with babies. It had been five years since he'd seen her last and it was definitely possible that she could have had a child in that time. But Michonne hardly offered any information about her past and he would rather have her tell him when she was ready than inquire about a past that might be painful for her to relive.

"She's beautiful," Aaron said, cutting into his thoughts. He sat against a wooden column with his legs crossed. He had been in that position for hours and Rick doubted he was anywhere near comfortable. "We have four children in our community, but no babies. Your daughter would be the first. Rick, inside of our walls, she could cry and no one would hear her. Not walkers. Not humans. She would be safe – you all would."

Rick looked around the barn, taking in the harried expressions of his friends and family. They were all in need of a home; somewhere they could be safe, clean and well-fed. If what Aaron offered them was real, how could he turn his back on it?

"Why hasn't anyone shown up yet? Where are your people?" Rick asked. He stroked his bushy beard.

"There are no people. There is only…my husband," Aaron said, lowering his voice. He watched Rick, waiting for his reaction.

Despite being from a small town in Georgia, Rick had known several gay men in his life and had no issues with Aaron's marriage to another man. He was only concerned with whether Aaron was trustworthy or not. "Your husband is out here with you?"

"It's our job to find people to join our community. It's just the two of us. So, there are no people. Just him."

"How long have you two been married?"

"Our first anniversary is in two months." Aaron paused. "How long have you and Michonne been together?"

Me and Michonne? "We're not – together." Rick shifted the conversation, determined to focus on finding the truth rather than his complicated feelings for Michonne. "If this guy really is your husband, your partner, why hasn't he shown up yet?"

"He's probably out there watching us right now. If he doesn't want to be seen, he won't be. That's his specialty and why we work so well together. I'm sure he saw me tied up and decided to hold back until he knows it's safe."

"He's telling the truth, Rick," Michonne said, joining them. Judith slept soundly in her arms and Rick's heart warmed at the sight. "This is an opportunity for us – to have a home. If we pass this up, I know we'll regret it."

Rick trusted Michonne's instincts. Those instincts had led her back to him and kept his family alive. But am I willing to risk the lives of everyone here based on her gut?

"If you're still unsure, let's talk to Aaron's husband. If he can corroborate everything Aaron has told us thus far, will you agree to give this a chance?" Judith stirred in her arms and Michonne whispered comforting words while rocking her back to sleep.

"Ok," Rick said to Aaron. He untied the rope binding his wrists. "You tell whoever is out there that it's safe to come out. Nothing more."

Aaron rubbed his wrists. "I'll do as you say, only if you promise not to hurt him."

"I won't hurt him, unless he gives me a reason to," Rick said.

Aaron stood. "He won't. If you harm him, I promise you'll never get anywhere near our community." He walked to the barn doors, Rick following close behind him. He respected Aaron for protecting his family. Rick nodded to Daryl and Glenn, who joined them, armed and ready.

Aaron pushed the creaky barn doors open, walking into the darkness. He stood for a few seconds before shouting, "Popcorn!"

Rick gripped Aaron's shoulder, pulling his Colt from the holster. "What are you playing at? What does that mean?"

"Calm down," Aaron said. "It's our safe word. This way he knows I'm not under duress."

A blonde man appeared seemingly from nowhere. "Are you okay?" he asked Aaron.

"Yes, I'm fine," Aaron responded. "Rick, this is my husband, Eric."

Rick looked over Aaron's shoulder to find the same man from the picture – the one Aaron had his arm around.

"Is there anyone else with you?" Rick asked Eric.

"No, it's just me," Eric responded.

"Good. Now, I'm only going to ask this once. If your answer isn't acceptable, you and Aaron will make me very angry," Rick said. "And you won't like me when I'm angry."

"Seeing as you just threatened my husband, I kind of don't like you already," Eric said.

"How long have you two been married?"

"Ten months, five days and seven hours," Eric said without hesitation.

The tension eased from Rick's shoulders. He suddenly felt exhausted, like he could lay down on a bushel of hay and sleep three days straight. He slid the Colt back into its holster.

"I want to know everything about your community," Rick said. "Our people are not going anywhere until we know all of the facts."

Eric walked over to embrace Aaron. The latter turned to face Rick, smiling as though he knew what Rick's decision would be all along. "First off, it's called Alexandria. And second, you still have to audition."

#

Rick and Michonne sat in the well-lit, air-conditioned study, waiting to meet the person in charge of Alexandria. The natural light streaming through the large bay window gave Rick a sense of calm and he wondered if that wasn't the intention, to make them a little more malleable.

After discussing Alexandria with Aaron and Eric, the group had left the barn that morning, hiking to the RV and minivan the two had prepared for transport. Upon reaching the gates of the community, Aaron had only asked for them to surrender their weapons, not offering any details about who would conduct the audition. Rick had not been comfortable with giving up their only means of protection, but he knew if he was in charge, he would have demanded the same. But he did request that Daryl and Sasha stick as close to the weapons as possible and Aaron acquiesced without protest.

Michonne squirmed in her seat across from him on the sofa. He guessed she felt more naked without her katana than he did without his Colt.

"Did you see the kids when we came in?" Rick asked. "Playing a game of tag on the lawn? That is something I never thought I'd see again."

Michonne drummed her fingertips against her thigh. "I bet some of them have never even seen a walker before. That's dangerous."

Rick understood Michonne's caution, as he shared some of the same concerns. "Sometimes I think, ff I had the choice, Carl wouldn't know things like walkers even existed."

"He'll be a better survivor than any of these kids because of it. He'll be the one people look to for leadership rather than having to depend on someone to keep him alive." Michonne stood and walked over to the bay window, which provided a view of the majority of Alexandria.

This woman never lets her guard down, he thought with a smile. And Carl will have the best chance of surviving with someone like her in his life. We both will.

The door to the study opened and a petite brunette woman walked in, carrying a pitcher of lemondae. She appeared to be in her early 50s, reminding Rick of his high school math teacher. Math had always been his favorite subject in school.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting," the woman said, her smile cordial and precise. "I'm Deanna. And let me officially welcome you all to Alexandria - the home away from the apocalypse." She smirked. "Can I offer you any refreshments? Jessie makes the best lemonade I've ever tasted."

Michonne returned to the sofa to join Rick. He looked at her and she shook her head.

"No, thank you," Rick replied for the both of them. "We would just like to know what is happening here. What is this audition? And what happens if we don't make the cut?"

Deanna laughed, taking a seat in the upholstered armchair across from them. She placed the lemonade on the coffee table between them, next to four glasses. "Is that what Aaron calls it?" She leaned forward, her right forearm draped across her thigh. "This is more like an interview than an audition. If you're not a good fit, then we'll part ways, none the worse for wear."

"Let's hope this interview goes well then," Rick said. Seeing firsthand what lay behind those gates, he did not plan on giving it up so easily.

"Why are we here?" Michonne asked, distracting Rick from his darker thoughts. "Why not just speak to Rick?"

"Because Aaron said if I had any chance of making this happen, I would need to convince the both of you. Was he wrong?" Deanna asked, looking curiously between Rick and Michonne.

"No, he wasn't," Rick said. However complex their relationship was at the moment, they were a team first and foremost. He valued her ability to read people and situations, something that hadn't changed since he first met her five years ago. Her presence helped him remain level-headed and resist the darkness and fear that he'd been feeling lately.

"Good," Deanna said. She launched into the story of how she and her family had been directed to Alexandria by the army, who promised to follow them, but never made it. Their first task had been to construct walls around the self-sustaining community – her husband had been an architect before the end of the civilized world.

"And you were in politics," Michonne said confidently, interrupting Deanna's explanation of the solar-powered grid and water supply system.

Deanna smiled knowingly. "Yes. Lawyer, right?" she asked.

"Takes one to know one," Michonne said.

Deanna laughed, appearing genuinely amused. "You got me there. Though I haven't practiced law in over a decade."

"Neat parlor trick," Rick said. "What about me? What was I before this all started?"

Deanna looked Rick up and down; only for show, he suspected. "Law enforcement. Which is exactly why we need you – the both of you."

"You've decided to take us in, that quickly?" Rick asked. This all seemed a little too easy. He needed to know she had more than cheap tricks up her sleeve.

"I decided the second I walked into this room. I was just giving you two the chance to figure out what you wanted first. If that's Alexandria, then you can move into your new homes today." Deanna leaned forward, grabbing the pitcher of lemonade and pouring herself a glass. She sipped on the drink, waiting for their response.

Rick and Michonne looked at each other. Michonne's nod was so slight, he almost missed it. She wanted Alexandria; he recognized the need in her dusky brown eyes. We could start over here, he thought. We could be a family here.

He and Lori had always dreamed of living in a community like this. She would have wanted her children to grow up here; not out on the road, having to face a new threat every day. And Michonne wanted it too.

"We're in," Rick said to Deanna.

"Great," Deanna said, not surprised. "There is only one condition."

I knew this was coming. "And what is that?" Rick asked.

"I want you and Michonne to be our constables. To protect us from threats, both outside and inside of these walls. Can you agree to that?"

"Yes," Michonne responded abruptly.

Rick laughed. "Yeah, I think we can manage that."

#

Rick wiped the fog from the bathroom mirror, with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He stared at his reflection, his appearance rugged and unkempt despite the long shower. Beads of water spotted his hair and beard. He stroked his beard. He had always wanted to grow one, but Lori refused, not liking the feel of his scratchy hair against her delicate skin.

What would Michonne think? Does she prefer me with or without the beard? Either way, Rick wanted to shave it off. Life on the road, was over and he was ready for a fresh start; and shaving his beard would be the first step.

Rick used the small metal scissors he'd found to cut away most of his beard, the salt-and-pepper hair dropping in clumps into the sink. He was glad Michonne had used the bathroom before him, allowing him to take his time. She had spent over an hour in the shower, then another twenty minutes supposedly brushing her teeth. He had never seen her happier than when she found the toothbrushes and toothpaste in their "Welcome Home" packages.

Rick dispensed a large dollop of shaving cream into his palm and applied it liberally to his face. The soothing cream felt cool against his skin. Rick flipped up the blade of the straight razor, his hand shaking slightly. I've done this a thousand times, why does it feel like the first? Maybe because the last time he used a straight razor was before he'd gone into a coma.

Rick lifted his chin and took a deep breath before running the blade down his neck, grazing over his Adam's apple. I guess shaving is like riding a bicycle, he thought, proceeding to shave the rest of his neck before moving on to his face. In no time, his face was smooth and hair-free. He cleaned up the hair in the sink and finished dressing, pulling on a clean black t-shirt and fitted jeans. He remained barefoot.

Steam poured out of the bathroom as he swung open the door. The house was surprisingly quiet, considering there were three people and a baby living there. Deanna had offered three homes to share between his group. Sasha, Tyrese, Carol and Daryl were in one house. Abraham, Rosita, Glenn, Maggie and Bob lived in another. Father Gabriel chose to sleep on a cot in the chapel. Rick had asked Michonne to join him and Carl long before the others made their choices and she readily accepted; though he suspected that had been her intention all along.

The door to Carl's room was closed, so Rick ventured downstairs to join Michonne, whom he heard opening and closing cabinet doors. He suspected she was organizing, being the typical A-type. Living with her would definitely be a new experience for the both of them and he looked forward to discovering as much about her as he could.

Rick walked into the kitchen to find Michonne bent over, searching through one of the lower cabinets. The baggy gray sweatpants did nothing to conceal her incredibly firm behind. Keeping his hands to himself would be a true testament to his self-control.

"What are you looking for?" Rick asked, taking a seat on a stool at the kitchen island.

Michonne jumped at his statement. She stood and turned to face him, a large kitchen knife in her hand. "You should know better than to sneak up on a woman with a knife. I was looking for a cutting board, but apparently we don't have one."

"The lady in inventory, Jessie, said they can provide whatever we might need. You should pay her a visit tomorrow."

Michonne placed the knife on the kitchen counter and joined Rick at the island, taking the stool across from him. "Sounds like you and Jessie are good friends," she said, eyeing him with a hint of suspicion and humor in her inquisitive eyes.

"She's been helpful, I guess. She has a son around Carl's age and wants to introduce them."

"Sounds like a good idea."

"I'm not sure how thrilled Carl will be about it. It's been a while since he's been around anyone his own age. It may take a little time for him to adjust."

"Well," Michonne said, examining her cuticles. "She sounds…nice."

"Nice but naïve. They all are."

"Better reason for us to be here. We can teach them to better survive. Life won't be full of hot showers and sweet lemonade forever."

Rick chuckled. "Glad you're up for the challenge," he teased. "I give you two weeks before you're ready to pull your hair out."

"I'm not one to back down from a challenge." Her eyes flitted briefly to his lips. She cleared her throat. "It's been five years since I've seen your face like that. Looks good."

Rick stroked his chin with his hand to avoid blushing. "Thanks. Wish I could say the same for my hair."

"I can take care of that." Michonne opened a drawer in the island, removing a pair of scissors. "I paid my way through law school cutting hair. I think I can manage those unruly curls."

Rick threw her a skeptical look. "Many have tried…and failed. Even let Lori wasn't allowed to cut my hair."

Michonne smirked. "Well, it's a good thing I'm not your wife then."

Rick smiled. After their memorable night together, he had often imagined what his life would have been like if he'd met Michonne before Lori. "Alright, Vidal Sassoon. Let's see what you got."

#

Michonne stood behind Rick, snipping away at his curls, a small towel wrapped around his neck and shoulders. Soft rock played from the docking station on the counter. Rick closed his eyes and inhaled her scent. She smelled of vanilla and peaches, causing his mouth to water. Rick squirmed in his seat.

"How's it going up there?" Rick asked, doing his best to ignore his mounting desire.

"You weren't kidding about these curls. They've got a mind of their own."

"If you're not up to the challenge, I can always ask Jessie. Supposedly, she's got experience cutting hair too." Michonne tugged on a clump of his hair. "Ouch," he said, smiling.

"Sorry," she said, not the least bit remorseful.

Rick enjoyed getting a rise out of her. Serves her right for being so delectable, he thought. His hands itched with the thought of running them along her lithe body. Behave.

"Alright, done," Michonne said triumphantly. She held a small mirror in front of his face.

Rick ran his fingers through his curls, impressed with her work. "Not bad, for your first time," he joked. His eyes moved to Michonne, whose reflection he could see in the mirror as well. Her eyes were watery, as though she was on the verge of tears. Rick stood and turned to face her, afraid he had wounded her pride. "I was just kidding. It looks great," he said quickly to reassure her.

Michonne smiled, though traces of sadness remained on her face. "I know it looks good. It's just...you reminded me of someone. Someone I've lost –" Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, one cascading down her cheek.

Rick took her in his arms. "I'm sorry, Michonne," he said, tightening his embrace. Michonne shook with quiet sobs, his heart almost breaking. The fact that this woman – who was always so stoic and strong in front of everyone else – felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with him, spoke volumes. She craved the same closeness with him that he did with her; he knew that now.

Michonne's sobs died down and Rick slowly pulled away. He reached to cradle her face in his hands, swiping away her tears with his thumbs. "Only cry in front of me from now on. I don't know think I can handle someone else being there to comfort you who isn't me. Promise me," he said more seriously than he had intended.

"I promise," she said between sniffles.

Rick moved in to capture her lips with his own. Michonne tasted of salted caramel, mixed in with a flavor that was all Michonne. He deepened the kiss, coaxing her mouth open with his moist tongue.

Michonne moaned, wrapping her arms around his waist and gripping handfuls of his t-shirt. His hands trailed from her face, down her neck, and around to her back. He caressed the muscles in her back and continued downward, resting on her firm behind. He squeezed, desire shooting through his body.

"I missed you," he growled into her mouth.

"I missed you too," she said, nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth.

"I can't lose you again." A surge of fear slightly dampened his growing desire.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said. "I promise."

Rick sighed and lifted her onto the kitchen island, settling himself between her legs. "You better not." He devoured her mouth, effectively ending all verbal communication for the rest of the night.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Rick jolted awake, panting, the top sheet clinging to his sweaty body. A light breeze from the open window caressed his chest, inducing him to shiver.

Michonne's soft hand touched his toned thigh under the sheet. He flinched, having temporarily forgotten that she'd spent the night in his bed.

She yawned. "Are you okay?"

He covered her hand with his own. "Yeah. Just a nightmare."

"What about?" she asked, gently massaging his muscle.

"Carl," Rick said. He paused, not sure if he was ready to divulge his most deep-seated anxieties. He feared speaking the words would manifest them into reality. His desire for comfort, however, propelled him forward.

"It's this recurring nightmare I have, from time to time. Carl and I are being attacked by a horde. I'm fighting them off with one hand and holding Carl's with the other. I suddenly hear him scream from behind me and turn to find him overrun by zombies." Rick took a deep breath, his heart palpitating at the terrifying image still imprinted in his mind.

"You can tell me," Michonne said, squeezing his thigh.

Rick silenced the fear and continued. "My grip on his hand is the only thing connecting us. And then I'm suddenly too weak to hold onto him and he screams as he gets pulled into the horde. I hear a gunshot before the dream ends, usually with me waking up in a cold sweat."

Michonne listened, her body still. When he finished she said, "You will always be strong enough to save Carl. No matter what you have to do. Right?"

"Right," Rick said, nodding. He smiled at the thought of waking up next to this woman, his partner and confidant, every day, for the rest of his life.

"What?" she asked.

"You know you're moving into this bedroom with me, right?"

Michonne laughed. "What about Carl?"

"Carl is a teen going on thirty. He'll understand. I bet he's been rooting for us to get together this entire time, considering how close you two already are."

"Being a friend and being a stepmother are two completely different things. I would hate for this to affect our friendship and hope he doesn't think I'm trying to replace his mother."

Rick leaned down to kiss Michonne, more interested in her lips than her words. She moaned, energizing every inch of his body.

He ended the kiss with a soft nibble to her lip. "We'll talk to him together and explain that's not what is happening here. We're a family now and need to discuss these kinds of things as such."

"Oh yeah? When did I officially become a member of the Grimes clan?"

"When you did that thing with your hips last night."

Michonne socked Rick in the arm and he laughed. He rolled over on her, maneuvering her to rest on top of him.

Michonne's earthy brown skin glowed in the moonlight. Freed from the guilt he'd felt with Lori, before and after her death, he said the words he longed to say their first night together, over five years ago.

"I love you," Rick said, without hesitation.

"I love you too," Michonne said, finding his eyes in the darkness.

He grabbed her hips, moving his hands slowly around to grip her behind. Michonne teased him with a swivel of her hips and he grunted like a wild boar.

"Time for round three, love," Michonne said as she leaned down to kiss him, reanimating his petrified heart.

#

Rick ran his palm along a thin crack in the east wall of Alexandria. "This, and any other weaknesses in the walls, will need to be repaired ASAP."

"I agree. Now that you all are here, we have the resources to finish this in no time," Deanna said, standing beside him. Though she barely reached Rick's shoulders, Deanna's presence loomed over him.

Deanna embodied a Congresswoman in both manner and spirit. He had never met a real politician in person, not counting his town's mayor, and she made him question his leadership for the first time in a while.

Were they supposed to lead Alexandria as a team? Or with her as the Queen and him as her First Knight? Michonne had a gift for reading people and he made a mental note to get her take on Deanna later; after another round of lovemaking.

"Is that why we're here, for manual labor?" Rick asked seriously.

Deanna smiled with the calm of a seasoned poker player. "No, but that is a plus." She clasped her hands behind her back, resuming her walk along the wall, with Rick following at her side. "I was never a religious person. My family and I attended church mostly on holidays or when the pastor guilted us into going. But in this world, you have to believe in something; otherwise you become another form of the walking dead." Deanna stopped to face him. "I believe in my gut and my gut tells me that we need you to survive. Not just to help us reinforce these walls but to give us hope again. And I want you and Michonne to help teach us how to stay alive outside of these walls. Our community needs to take back the power the dead stole from us."

"Why me and Michonne?" Rick asked. He knew how capable she was, but had been unaware that Deanna knew the same.

"You are a couple now, right?" she asked with a glimmer of a smile.

Rick's initial instinct was to tell her to mind her own business. However, he found himself wanting to reveal all, to share with someone – anyone – that he'd been reunited with his soul mate. "How…?"

Deanna chuckled. "My husband owes me a carton of Milk Duds."

Rick frowned in confusion.

"We made a wager on how long it would take the two of you to get together," Deanna said. "I guessed under a week. Reg guessed a month. I had a lot more confidence in your abilities to woo her."

Rick snorted. "Were we really that obvious?"

"Well, when you two moved in together, the single women here gave up all hope at having any chance with you."

Rick laughed, releasing the tension from his belly. "Well, Michonne and I do have quite the history."

"I'd love to hear about it."

"It's a long story."

"You and Michonne could never bore me. I mean, look at you two. You're the King and Queen of the apocalypse."

"I wouldn't go that far," he said, though the thought excited him. Michonne as his wife and partner made sense; more sense than anything had in a while.

"I do have one request."

"What?"

"Let me officiate the wedding."

"What are your qualifications?" Rick could not resist teasing the woman whose confidence made him believe civilization could be restored; maybe even in his lifetime.

"I've married three couples since we formed Alexandria, including Aaron and Eric. I'm pretty sure they'll vouch for me. I'm also a damn good MC."

"I don't doubt you are," Rick said, smiling. He paused. "Michonne and I met long before all of this – while I was married. Long story short, she kind of branded her name on my heart and finding her again is more than a coincidence – it's fate. It's a miracle, really."

"Coincidence is the manifestation of fate. If you're open to it, the right coincidence can change your life forever. I'm happy that you and Michonne have finally accepted your fate."

"Me too." Rick twirled the wedding ring on his finger. He planned to make the most of every day they spent together and no longer questioned his next move.

#

Rick returned home to find a note lying next to a warm plate wrapped in tinfoil. The words scribbled in Michonne's handwriting read: "Carl is having dinner at Ron's house. Don't let your spaghetti get cold." A large, sloppy heart ended the note.

Rick smiled and uncovered the plate to find warm aromatic spaghetti. He wrapped the noodles around his fork, shoveling them into his mouth, the tanginess of the sauce popping on his tongue. The noodles were cooked al dente, just the way he liked them; though he had never shared that information with Michonne.

Rick heard a door open and the creak of the floor boards above him as someone stomped towards the staircase.

"Rick, is that you?" Michonne called from the top of the stairs, hidden from his view.

"Yeah, just finishing up dinner," he said loud enough for his voice to carry. "Thanks for the noodles."

"They're al dente, but that's the way I like them. I'm going to take a shower."

"Ok," he said, scooping up the remnants of spaghetti sauce with the last remaining noodles. He strolled over to the kitchen sink as Michonne stomped her way to the bathroom. That woman walked like she had two bricks strapped to her feet.

Rick shook his head and smiled. He was learning more and more about her every day and loved every tidbit of information that brought him closer to knowing Michonne as a girlfried and not just as a warrior on the battlefield.

Rick finished rinsing his plate as Michonne turned on the shower. He wiped down the kitchen island counter and switched off the light, heading upstairs to Judith's room.

Rick found her asleep in her crib. She lay on her belly, having kicked the blanket away. Rick pulled the blanket up to her shoulders and rubbed his hand in gentle circles across her back. She gurgled in her sleep and Rick felt grateful these small, safe moments that living in Alexandria allowed. He kissed her tiny hand before leaving her to sleep in peace.

Rick found himself standing in front of the closed bathroom door. Over the spray of the water, Michonne hummed a song he had never heard before. It had the soothing rhythm of a lullaby and he again wondered about her past; if she'd had a child before walkers roamed the earth.

Rick slowly turned the doorknob, trying to make as little noise as possible. He managed to open the door enough to slip in and avoid detection, shutting it lightly.

Steam rose from the shower. Rick regarded the silhouette of Michonne's svelte body behind the frosty shower door. Her arms moved in small circles as she worked shampoo into her hair, the fragrance of peaches wafting in the steam.

He unfastened the buttons of his constable uniform, letting the shirt fall to the floor. He unzipped his fly and dropped his pants. His socks and boxers followed.

Michonne hummed the same lullaby, still unaware of his presence. Rick slid open the shower door. Water trailed down Michonne's body, enhancing the small muscles in her arms, thighs and buttocks. He bit his lip, fighting the urge to reach out and run his hands down her wet body. Her eyes were closed and he did not want to terrify her like some psycho.

"Want some company?" Rick asked, almost in a whisper.

Michonne whooped and lost her footing on the water-slick bathtub. Rick grabbed her waist to steady her.

"You should know better than to sneak up on a woman taking a shower," Michonne said, breathing hard, her eyes still closed and covered in shampoo suds.

"Sorry, but I had to get your attention somehow. You still haven't answered my question."

Michonne grinned. "Considering how bad you just scared me, I should send you away. Teach you a lesson."

He kissed her shoulder, running his tongue along the dripping beads of water. She arched her back.

"I guess I can let you off this one time," she said, giggling.

Rick stepped into the shower behind her, sliding the steamy door shut. "Can I ask you something?" He moved her soapy hands away from her head and replaced them with his own. He massaged her head.

Michonne moaned in response. "Sure."

"What was that song you were singing? It sounded like a lullaby, but I've never heard it before."

Michonne tensed, causing Rick to still his hands. She remained silent for some time before responding. "It's a song my mom used to sing to me and that I sang…to my son."

Rick had suspected she'd been a mom but had yet to work up the courage to ask her, not wanting to pick at a fresh scar. "You don't have to talk about him if you don't want to."

"No," she said in a whisper. "I do."

Rick grabbed a loofa from the shower hook and added a dollop of lavender shower gel. He massaged it with his hand until suds appeared. He lathered her lower back, waiting patiently for her to begin.

Michonne dipped her head into the stream of water, rinsing the remaining shampoo from her hair. She leaned back to rest against Rick's chest. "My son's name was Andre. And he died because of me; because I couldn't protect him."

Rick dropped the loofa and turned her to face him. He couldn't tell if it was tears or water streaming down her cheeks. The pain etched on her face tied his stomach into knots. "You were his mother. You would've given your life to protect him if you could have. You can't blame yourself for his death."

"Sometimes I wish…that he'd never been born."

Rick pulled Michonne into his arms. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. "Andre was lucky to have you as a mother. Just like my kids and I are lucky to have you in our lives."

Michonne stood back. "You wouldn't say that if you realized how much of a coward I am."

"We're all afraid. What matters is that we don't run from the things we fear the most."

Michonne opened her lips to speak and Rick kissed her mouth before her words could escape. She returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pressed her slick body against the tiled shower wall, intent on showing her just how grateful he was to have her in his life.

#

Daryl and Rick drove in silence. Things had been tense between them since he and Michonne moved into the same house together. He had asked Daryl on this run in order to clear the air between them; and to hopefully get his brother back.

"Has Deanna given you a job yet?" Rick asked, his first words in seventeen miles.

"Naw," Daryl said, keeping his eyes focused on the scenery rushing by at the speed of the car.

"I don't know why not. You really aren't that hard to figure out. I had you pegged the first day I met you."

Daryl remained silent.

"What's with you, man?" Rick asked. "You've barely spoken a word to me since we got to Alexandria. How's it going with your roommates?"

"How's it going with yours?" Daryl asked in an accusatory tone.

Rick shifted his eyes from the road to Daryl. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Michonne. What's going on with you two? Are you datin' now?"

Rick detected the hostility in his voice. So this was about Michonne. He'd suspected that Daryl had feelings for her, but he'd been keeping his distance lately.

Rick needed to be clear about his intentions toward Michonne, even at the risk of losing his closest friend and brother. "I plan to propose to her – tonight. And I want you to help me find her a ring."

Daryl whipped his head around to study Rick. "You're serious."

"I was serious about her five years ago but I was married then. Now, I want to make it official."

Daryl sniffed, turning away from Rick to continue his perusal of the scenery. A side of Rick feared he had gone too far, that he should have eased Daryl into the news. The other side of him wanted to stake his claim on the woman he loved.

Rick pulled up to the pawn shop Deanna had told him about. He cut the engine and exited the car, Daryl following him. He walked up to the shop, peering through the bars of a window, broken shards of glass crunching beneath his boots. "Hello? Anyone in there?"

Rick rocked back as a rotting hand thrust through the bars where his head had just been a few seconds before. "Looks like we have company. Cover me." He turned to Daryl, still trusting the man with his life, no matter how pissed off he was about Michonne.

Daryl nodded and aimed his crossbow at the front door of the pawn shop. Rick unsheathed his hunting knife.

Rick pushed on the front door, a bell ringing as it swung open. Footsteps shuffled in their direction. Based on the sound, he counted two walkers approaching.

The first walker staggered through the door, dressed in soiled skinny jeans and a trucker cap. Daryl shot an arrow through the center of its skull. The walker plopped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The second walker followed close behind, a female in a checkered sundress. She stumbled straight into the blade of Rick's knife, plunking down onto her partner in crime.

The two men listened for signs of additional walkers, finding none.

"All clear," Rick said, waving for Daryl to follow him.

Rays from the afternoon sun streamed through the windows, illuminating the floating dust. Rick remained vigilant, in case a walker decided to make a surprise appearance. He looked through the display case, in search of an engagement ring for Michonne, only to find the contents missing.

"Damnit," Rick said. He walked toward the back of the store. The door leading to the cage behind the display case stood ajar. Rick inspected the floor for any abandoned loot, only to discover a dead walker with blood caked around his mouth. He walked out of the cage, stopping short of Daryl's hand, held at the level of his face. In his fingers, he clutched a diamond ring.

"How did you…" Rick's shock thwarted his ability to finish. He reached out to take the ring, the diamond shining brilliantly in the dappled sunlight.

"I swiped it off the female walker. Looks like Michonne's size."

Rick ignored the jealousy that stirred at realizing Daryl could gauge his future wife's ring size. "Thanks, man."

"Just don't break her heart. 'Cause I'll be there to pick up the pieces."

Rick frowned at the borderline threat. "You don't have to worry about that."

"Good." Daryl stuck out his hand and Rick gripped it in return, accepting what felt oddly like a truce. "Congrats, man. I wish you two the best of luck."

"Thanks, that means a lot coming from you." Rick smiled in relief, ready to return home and prepare the night he hoped Michonne would never forget.

#

"But I don't want to sleep over at Ron's," Carl whined, crossing his arms. "I have a stack of X-men comics I want to get through."

"Do me this favor, just once," Rick said, plopping an overnight bag on top of Carl's folded arms. "I'm the one who found you those comics."

"That was actually Michonne. Where is she anyway?"

"She's manning the tower with Sasha and should be home any minute."

"Is that why you want me to leave? So you and Michonne can be alone?" Amusem*nt twinkled in Carl's clear blue eyes. "It's okay. I already know about you two."

"Know what exactly?"

"That you're together. Like a couple," Carl said as though he were stating the obvious.

Carl's calm gaze reassured Rick to continue. "We were planning on telling you sometime soon. How long have you known?"

"A week."

"A week?"

"Yeah. I got up in the middle of the night to pee and heard you guys in your room. You aren't exactly…quiet."

Embarrassment flooded Rick's cheeks, as though he'd been caught sneaking a girl into his room. "I'm sorry you had to find out that way, but I guess there's nothing to be done about it now. How do you feel about it? About Michonne and I being a couple?"

"I'm just surprised it took you guys so long. Michonne is my favorite person in the world, after you and Judith."

Rick exhaled. He loved Michonne, but he would always put Carl's happiness above his own. And he knew Michonne felt the same way. "I'm glad. I want us to be a family some day."

"Me too. Plus, I've always wanted a little brother."

Rick laughed and hugged his son. "I have a lot to do before Michonne gets home." He guided Carl by the shoulders to the front door. "Have fun tonight. And I love you, son."

"Love you too, Dad," Carl said as he headed out the door.

Rick watched Carl stroll toward Ron's house before closing the front door. The conversation about his relationship with Michonne had gone easier than expected, for which he was grateful. Everything was finally falling into place, with only one more hurdle left to jump.

Rick rushed to the kitchen to check the dish baking in the oven. He had cooked the only thing he knew how to make with the items available in Alexandria's inventory - tuna casserole.

The front door opened just as Rick finished fitting two candles into silver candlesticks, at the center of a round, cloth-covered table. He admired his work – the two white china plates set on opposite ends, each with a fork, spoon and knife set beside them.

"I'm home," Michonne announced from the foyer. "Where are you?"

"In the dining room," he called to her. He straightened, placing one hand on the back of a chair. He adjusted the knot in the bow tie around his neck, needing the space. The restrictive tuxedo he'd borrowed from Deanna's husband stretched tight across his broad shoulders. He wanted to make this night as magical as possible for Michonne, so he could endure a few more hours in a suit for her.

Michonne gasped, throwing a hand across her chest, as she entered the dining room. "What is this?"

"This is my way of saying thank you – for coming into my life again." He moved around the table to stand in front of her. Grabbing her shoulders, he said, "I don't know where, or who, I'd be if it weren't for you." He pecked her on the lips, not giving her the sloppy kiss he knew she was expecting. "Now, head upstairs and take a shower. I left a little present for you on your bed."

Rick turned her towards the stairs and tapped her on the bottom, propelling her to walk forward. Michonne turned and beamed at him. He could hardly wait to ask this woman to be his wife.

#

Michonne glided down the stairs in the black silk co*cktail dress and black heels he had found on the run with Daryl. He gaped at the way the material swished across her thighs and the black contrasted with the nutty brown hues of her skin. He swallowed, his eyes lingering on the outline of her nipples, the absence of a bra making them as clear as stars on a cloudless night.

Rick cleared his throat. "I knew that would look beautiful on you." He kissed her on the cheek at her approach, pulling out her chair. "Madam."

"Thank you." Michonne chuckled and took her seat. She sniffed the air. "Smells delicious."

Rick poured her a glass of wine the color of her plum lipstick. "Have some wine while I add the final touches to dinner." He leaned down to nip her exposed shoulder.

"Dinner first," Michonne said in a husky voice.

"Whatever you like," Rick said, heading for the kitchen. He pulled the casserole dish from the oven, sprinkling crushed potato chips on top. He carried the casserole dish on a wooden slab into the dining room.

Rick placed the dish on the table and took his seat across from Michonne. Her smile sparkled and he battled the impulse to propose to her before dinner. Rick poured himself a glass of wine and raised it high in the air. Michonne raised her glass in response.

"To us." Rick smiled.

"To us," Michonne said, her eyes glassy.

They took a sip of wine together, lowering their glasses. "Bon Appetit," Rick said.

During dinner, he and Michonne mostly discussed Alexandria – potential risks, likely threats, the need to grow food for the expanding population.

"Let's just hope no one gets pregnant anytime soon," Michonne said, taking a sip of her wine.

"Carl wants a younger brother."

Michonne choked on her wine. "What? Carl? Does he know about us?"

"Yes," Rick said. "And he couldn't be happier about it."

She smiled. "That's reassuring. I'll need to have my own talk with him tomorrow, just so he knows that things won't change between us."

"How do you feel about that? Having a baby…together."

Michonne paused mid-sip, squinting at him over her glass. She lowered her wine glass. "Why would you think I'd want another child after Andre?"

Rick bristled at the anger in her voice. "You're so good with Judith and Carl. I thought you might want to mother another child, now that we're relatively secure in Alexandria."

"Well you thought wrong," Michonne said, grabbing her wine glass and downing the remainder. She put her head in her hands. "I'm sorry. I don't know where this anger is coming from.

Rick stood and went to her. He bent down on one knee and took one of her hands in his own. She looked down at him, tears pooling in her eyes. "Rick, what are you doing?"

"I know this is sh*tty timing, but I couldn't wait any longer to ask you." Rick removed a black ring box from his suit jacket pocket. He flipped it open and raised it up toward Michonne. "Even if you don't want a baby, or even if you end up wanting five or ten or twenty babies, you're the only woman I want as the mother of my children. You're the only one I want as my partner, for life. Michonne, will you marry me?"

Michonne wept, tears streaming in rivets down her cheeks. Rick handed her his pocket handkerchief. Michonne used it to staunch her rushing tears and blew her nose. He waited for her response, the suspense holding him on the edge of a cliff.

She sniffled, streaks of salty tears drying on her cheeks. Michonne took a deep breath. "Rick, I…" she began.

He squeezed her hand lightly. "Yes?"

"Rick," Michonne said, finally meeting his gaze. "I have something to tell you. I can't lie to you any longer."

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

"I…I…don't want you to hate me," Michonne said.

Rick had never seen Michonne so afraid. He placed the ring on the dining room table. His knees ached in this kneeling position, but he remained by her side. He kissed her hand gently. "Michonne, after everything we've been through, a secret's not going to change anything between us."

Michonne closed her eyes and dropped her chin. She took in a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly. "That night, five years ago," she said, lifting her head to meet his gaze, "that amazing night…"

Rick smiled flirtatiously. "Yes..."

The doorbell chimed, pulling away Rick's attention. "Hold that thought," he said, standing. He moved toward the foyer. Michonne grabbed his arm, halting him.

"Rick, this can't wait. I need to tell you now." Michonne's wide eyes and parted lips gave him pause.

Rick looked between Michonne and the door. "But it could be an emergency."

"Whatever it is can wait. If I don't tell you now, I might lose my nerve."

Rick frowned, wondering if this had to do with Daryl. "Michonne-"

"Andre was your son," Michonne blurted out.

Rick went as still as a statue, the words bouncing around in his mind. Your son. "Andre…my what?"

Somewhere off in the distance, Rick heard the front door open and close. Carl rushed past the dining room and toward the staircase, a blur in Rick's peripheral vision. "Don't mind me," he called as he ran up the stairs, "I just forgot my comic books."

Rick stared at Michonne, her familiar face morphing into that of a stranger's.

Carl raced down the stairs. "Alright, I'm outta here…" he said, unaware of the tense scene in the dining room. "Enjoy your dinner," he teased, shutting the front door behind him, and leaving Rick and Michonne alone, to dig through the rubble of their imploding relationship.

Michonne dropped into her chair and took a large sip of wine. "Andre was your son, not Mike's." She cradled the wine glass in her slender hand.

Rick ran his hands through his curly hair to avoid grabbing Michonne by the arms and shaking her. "And you kept this from me, for five years? Who do you think you are…to make that kind of decision?"

"I wanted to tell you…so many times. When Andre was born. On his first birthday, and his second, and then his third. Every time I worked up the nerve to tell you, I thought about your family…your wife and son. And I couldn't do it. I couldn't destroy your family."

"You should have thought about that before inviting me into your bed." Rick wanted to hurt her, as much as he was hurting right now.

Michonne parted her full lips, but remained silent. Those beautiful lips he couldn't get enough of only minutes ago, were a part of a face that he could barely stand to look at.

"I thought you knew me," he said, his chest tightening. "Or at least I thought you knew I was the kind of man who would never leave his child behind."

He had wasted so much time with this fantasy of Michonne; the beautiful woman who had touched his life and his soul and changed them forever. If he'd spent that time focusing on his wife and his marriage, maybe Lori would still be alive. Maybe Carl would still have his mother.

"Rick, baby," Michonne said, standing. She reached out for him. "I'm so-"

"Get out," he said, taking a step back.

"What?" Michonne frowned, tears pooling in her eyes. "Rick, we need to talk about this. I know what I've done is unforgivable, but I love you. I can't leave you."

"If you don't leave now, I'm terrified at what I might do."

The fear in Michonne's eyes almost made him flinch. "Please…" she pleaded in a whisper.

"Get…out…now!" Rick yelled in a strained voice that sounded nothing like his own. He turned away from her, clenching his fists.

Through the seething anger and the sadness and the pain, he sensed her leave the dining room. Only when he heard the front door open and close did he unclench his fists. He moved to the dining room table and picked up the wine bottle, taking a long drag, the burning liquid fueling the fire of his burning heart.

Rick threw the bottle against the wall, green glass shattering into pieces, blood red liquid dripping to the floor. All he could see was red.

#

"Rick!" a woman called from somewhere behind him. Rick sighed and turned to find Jessie hurrying toward him. Her blonde hair floated in the wind, her kind smile easing the annoyance he felt at having to actually have a conversation with someone. He had to remind himself that Jessie was not the source of his frustration. He hadn't seen that woman in over two weeks.

"Hey, Jessie," he said, unable to muster a smile, but at least able to keep himself from frowning.

"Back from another run?" she asked. "That's got to be your third one this week."

Rick was not sure whether to be flattered or worried about Jessie's tendency to keep tabs on him. He decided to appreciate that someone other than his teenage son cared about his daily whereabouts.

"We're running low on supplies and Glenn's group needs all the help they can get." Lying came easy. So easy, that he almost believed the words himself. Going on runs had given him the space he needed from that woman. Killing walkers had given him some relief from the grief that was becoming a familiar friend.

"You're coming tonight, right? The party is to welcome your group after all." She crossed her arms over her ample cleavage.

Rick cleared his throat, surprised by the sudden twinge of desire he felt. He guessed it was a sign of loneliness more than anything else. Besides Aaron, Jessie had been the only member of Alexandria to show any interest in getting to know Rick since his group had arrived less than a month ago. The others seemed wary at the least and terrified at the most, the majority making a point to keep their distance from him. He spent most of his time nowadays either with his kids or in his room feeling sorry for himself.

"Yeah, Carl and I will be there," he said. Carl had badgered him into going, insisting that he needed to spend more of his free time interacting with people than staying holed up in the house.

"Great." Jessie held his eyes a little longer than necessary. "Good," she said nodding and finally looking away. "I'll see you later then." She waved as she headed back to her house.

Rick's eyes dropped to her swaying hips. When they had first arrived to Alexandria, he had hardly noticed Jessie. Now that his previous object of desire was fast becoming a distant memory, he noticed a lot of things. Namely, that Jessie was into him. Really into him.

Reel it in, he thought. She's married, to a doctor at that. And your kids are practically best friends. And you're just really lonely.

Although, Rick had noticed a disconnect between Jessie and her husband, as though Jessie would rather be anywhere else than in a room with the father of kids. You need to stay as far away from that as possible. He had no desire to complicate his life any further or to use a married woman as a distraction.

Rick continued on his way, passing Daryl's house. His friend had just returned from a trip with Aaron and Rick was interested in learning about any progress they had made finding potential members to join Alexandria, but there was no way he would step a foot inside of his place. The woman who had moved out his house had decided to settle in with his best friend. The thought of the two of them sitting in their pajamas, having intimate conversations into all hours of the night, made his pulse race.

What do you care, anyway? It's over between you two. How could he ever trust the woman who had kept his son from him? A son he would never meet? He would not – could not – forgive her. Ever.

The door of Daryl's house creaked open. Carl stepped out, laughing, that woman following close behind him.

Rick halted just as Michonne looked his way, the smile dropping from her face. She looked as though she might retreat, but she stood her ground. Even from this distance, he could detect the sadness in her eyes.

He did not want to concern himself with her emotions, whether she was drowning in regret or floating with contentment. He did not want to know anything about her.

"Dad," Carl said, guilt overtaking his expression. "Dad, I just came by to–"

"I don't care," Rick said. They had agreed when Michonne left that Carl wouldn't visit her. Apparently, he'd just been ingratiating his oblivious father. "You deliberately broke your promise to me. I thought you were old enough to not pull something this childish."

Carl puffed out his chest out at that last remark, straightening his shoulders. "Just because you've given up on Michonne, doesn't mean I have to stop being friends with her."

"Carl, don't make me come up there and drag you off that porch."

Michonne placed her hand on Carl's shoulder before he could protest. "Your father's right," she said. "Rick, I'm sorry. I didn't know he wasn't allowed to come here."

The barb wire around Rick's heart nearly uncoiled at the gentle expression on her face. And then he reminded himself of the fact that he still had no idea what Andre even looked like.

"But he just kicked you out for no reason," Carl said to Michonne. "Don't you at least deserve an explanation?"

"I'm the one at fault, not your Dad." Michonne gently nudged Carl down the stairs. "Now go, I've got to get dolled up for that party tonight."

Disappointment and excitement stirred within Rick at discovering that Michonne would be in attendance at the party. Rick's heart involuntarily skipped a beat at the memory of how the silk dress he'd gotten her had hugged her curves. And then he remembered how she'd broken his heart that same night.

"Carl, come on," he said, with a little more edge than he'd meant to. He walked away, knowing his son would follow.

#

Rick knocked on the front door of Deanna's house, tempted to flee for the comfort of a whiskey shot in his own room. Ever since he'd discovered Michonne would be attending, he searched for a plausible excuse to decline the invitation. Unfortunately, lying was not one of his talents. Not like some people he knew.

Deanna opened the door, greeting Rick with a warm smile. "I'm so glad you could make it," she said, as though he were her only guest. Deanna had planned this party to officially welcome all of the newcomers to Alexandria, not just him, but her kindness still eased his nerves. "You clean up well."

Rick tugged at the pale blue polo shirt he donned for the evening. It was casual enough for him to be comfortable, yet a notch above his usual t-shirt and jeans. This was as dressy as Rick could manage, considering his sour mood. "Thanks."

"But where's Carl?" Deanna asked.

"He's not feeling well." More like he refused to come out of his room after a lengthy argument about Michonne.

Rick scanned the room. He planned to avoid Michonne as best he could, but he had to find her first.

"She's over in the corner, talking to Daryl," Deanna said, jutting her chin to the left.

"Who?" Rick asked, though he looked in the direction she had indicated. Michonne stood with Daryl, who leaned back against the wall nursing a beer, his hand jammed into the pocket of his black jeans. Michonne faced Daryl, smiling as though she didn't have a care in the world, as though she had not completely destroyed the happiness he dared to grasp onto. She wore a bright yellow sundress that flattered her slender figure, hugging her behind. Daryl wore shiny black cowboy boots, ones Rick had never seen before. He bristled at the thought that Daryl had made the extra effort with his wardrobe to impress Michonne.

"Life is too short to gamble at love," Deanna said at his side, her remark only heightening his misery.

"I need a beer," Rick mumbled, leaving in search of libations.

He darted into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding a collision with Jessie, who carried a tray of pigs in the blanket. Rick gripped her shoulders reflexively. "Whoa," he said.

"Nice catch," Jessie said, smiling. "You scurried in here like a little mouse. Who's chasing you?"

"No one," he said brusquely, removing his hands from her shoulders. "Just in search of a beer."

"We ran out of those a long time ago, but…" Jessie placed the tray on the kitchen counter. She opened a cupboard and reached into the deep recesses of the top shelf, balancing on the tips of her toes. She retrieved a bottle of bourbon. "Bingo."

"How'd you know that was there?" Rick asked, genuinely intrigued.

"Deanna and I have gotten through some difficult conversations over this bottle. She won't mind if we take a shot. Or two," she said, winking.

Rick laughed for the first time in what felt like an eternity. "Well, considering we brought back a few boxes of top-shelf vodka today, a couple of shots probably won't be missed."

Jessie grabbed a pair of white mugs and poured two generous shots. She handed Rick a mug and he accepted without hesitation.

"Cheers," she said, clinking her cup against his.

"Cheers," Rick said. The first sip burned through his tension. "Now, that's a drink." He downed the remaining liquor, smacking his lips together.

Jessie laughed. "So bourbon is your choice of poison. I'll make a note of that." She smiled over the rim of her cup, her eyes flitting to his lips.

Rick suddenly saw the line, bright and clear, and still chose to cross over it. He wasn't the married one. And she was the one leading him on. Plus, he deserved to have a little fun tonight. Michonne obviously was.

Rick took a step toward Jessie, his face a few inches from hers. "Most people can't appreciate a good bourbon." He leaned in and Jessie pressed back against the kitchen counter. He reached around to grab the bottle of bourbon, just grazing her lips with his jaw. Jessie sucked in a breath.

Rick poured himself another shot and refilled her mug. He swirled the auburn liquid around. "A good bourbon beats any fancy wine I've ever tasted."

Rick downed his shot of bourbon, his eyes never leaving Jessie's. She stood watching him, desire blazing in the depths of her warm brown eyes. He inhaled her scent - vanilla with a hint of roses.

Rick placed his mug on the kitchen counter, his hand grazing her hip. He grabbed her mug with his other hand and downed her shot as well, placing it on the other side of the counter, his hands effectively trapping her.

He settled in, her sweet breath warming his lips. "You smell good," he said.

"It's just shampoo," she said, panting.

This was the point of no return. If Rick kissed Jessie, it would mean his relationship with Michonne was really over. There would be no going back to the way things were, before she'd confessed her secret, her lie.

Rick moved in, capturing Jessie's lips with his own. Her lips were soft and sweet. But they weren't Michonne's. The thought cooled his libido like ice water.

"Rick," he heard Michonne gasp from behind him. Rick's heart beat a tattoo against his ribcage, but he kept his back to her. He kissed Jessie deeper, driven more by his desire for vengeance than his desire for Jessie. She pulled away.

"Rick, we should stop," she said, blushing furiously. Her eyes slid to something behind him and she gasped. Jessie trembled, not uttering a word.

Rick turned to find Pete standing where he'd expected to see Michonne.

"What the hell is going on here?" Pete asked, his face twisted in a menacing smirk.

Rick had wanted to see the hurt on Michonne's face, to know that he had wounded her as much as she had him. With Michonne nowhere to be found, he focused his anger on Pete instead.

"What does it look like?" If Pete wanted a fight, Rick would be happy to give him one. A fight was about the only thing he was in the mood for. Good thing Carl wasn't here.

"It looks like you're sucking face with my wife," Pete spat, slightly slurring his words.

"Pete, please," Jessie squeaked out.

"Shut up, I'll deal with you later," Pete said, moving for Rick.

Pete may have had a few inches on Rick, but the shorter man knew how to handle himself in a fight. He had taken down guys a lot larger than Pete in the tussles he and Shane had gotten into as teenagers. Frat guys looking to start trouble in their town had soon realized they had taken on more than they could handle, when Rick and Shane got involved. Rick looked forward to putting this drunk doctor in his place.

"You're not man enough to hold onto your own woman, so now you're trying to move in on mine."

Rick dodged Pete's sloppy punch and leveraged the man's momentum to slam him to the floor. Jessie screamed. Rick only saw red.

Pete flipped over to find Rick on top of him. "You should've picked on someone your own size," Rick said.

He slammed his fist into Pete's jaw. The pain shooting through his hand made him feel alive, like he belonged to the world again. Like there was more to life than just grief and misery. There was hatred too.

"Rick, no!" Jesse yelled, her words barely registering. He hit Pete again, the bones in his nose crunching under the impact.

Rick could sense people gathering around, some yelling at him to stop. He threw punches, his rage controlling his movements like a puppeteer. He landed one blow after another, his right hand going numb.

He thought he heard Michonne's cries through the haze, but he was on a mission to destroy Pete and no one was going to stop him. Not even her.

"Daryl, don't!" He thought he heard Michonne yell before he felt a fist connect with the back of his skull, the conscious world falling into a dream.

#

The throbbing at the back of Rick's head woke him from a restless slumber. He lay face up on a sagging mattress that had seen better days. He opened his eyes to dimness. Daylight streamed through a tiny barred window to his left, casting the mattress in a muted glow.

"You look like sh*t," Michonne said from somewhere in the shadows. Rick sat up, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

A chair scraped slowly against the cement floor. He guessed he was in an unfinished basem*nt somewhere.

Rick looked around the dim room. There were no furnishings except for the mattress and the chair. "What is this place?"

"Somewhere Deanna thought would be a good place for you to cool off."

"I was drunk. It wasn't a big deal."

"The kiss or the fight?"

So she had seen him kiss Jessie. "The fight," Rick said, watching closely for her reaction. She offered him none.

"The expression on your face said otherwise. If Daryl hadn't stepped in, you would've killed Pete."

"I doubt it was that serious. And anyway, I'm sure your new boyfriend enjoyed having the opportunity to knock out his competition."

"Let's get one thing clear – there's nothing going on between me and Daryl. Period. We're just friends."

"Not if you ask him. He's been in love with you since the prison."

Michonne remained silent, not denying or confirming anything. Typical lawyer.

"Or maybe he's just another man for you to betray."

"That's not fair."

"Fair? That's hilarious coming from you. I'll tell you what's not fair – my son dying before I even have a chance to meet him. Now that's unfair."

As had said the words, Rick wished he could take them back. But the damage was already done.

Michonne's bottom lip trembled furiously. She covered her face with her hands, muffling her sobs.

"Michonne," Rick said softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." He did mean to upset her, but he said the words he hoped would comfort her and end her tears. Seeing her cry made it difficult to hold onto his anger.

Michonne continued to cry and Rick sat silently, not sure what more he could say.

She gradually quieted down and lowered her hands, her face messy with tears and snot. She swiped her sleeve across her cheeks and nose, doing her best to remove the evidence of her obvious distress.

"How did he die?"Rick asked gently, knowing this was not the right time, but needing to ask the question that had haunted him ever since she'd revealed the truth.

Michonne took a deep breath. "After this thing started, my only concern was to keep Andre safe. We lived in the suburbs then, which had yet to be touched by the infection. It was where I felt safe, where I felt I could keep Andre safe. But Mike wanted to find his parents, who were living in Atlanta. We argued for days, but I finally realized he was going whether or not I came with him. And Andre wanted to stay with his dad."

Michonne watched Rick, likely anticipating a reaction. Rick kept his face blank, though the idea of Mike raising his son infuriated him.

Michonne continued. "So we left for Atlanta. But we never got there. Outside of the suburbs, there was only chaos and death and anarchy. I refused to go any further. Luckily, we met a couple on the way to a camp the military had set up and was supposed to be safe. We had just enough gas to make it and for the first time in a month, I felt safe. Andre had shelter and food and protection. And I thought we were okay."

Michonne paused for some time, finally continuing in a shaky voice. "We lived in the camp for a few weeks, without incident. I volunteered to go on runs, to contribute what I could. I had become pretty good with the katana and that proved to be valuable to the people in charge. I returned from one especially long run, I think we had been gone for three or four days, to find the front gate littered with walker bodies. The gate had been overrun, with no signs of the military, except for the soldiers shuffling around as walkers. The group I was with, we fought our way inside, only to find our loved ones in various states of...decay. I found Mike and Andre in our tent. From what I could tell…they had both turned and someone else had taken it upon themselves to put them out of their misery."

Rick just listened, grateful to Michonne for reliving this horror in order to share this story with him.

"When I saw Andre like that, more than grief, I felt relief. Relief at not having to put my baby down myself. I stayed with them, wishing for another walker herd to run through the camp, and reunite me with my family. Obviously, that never happened and I decided to pack what I could carry and let a higher power decide my fate. That fate brought Andrea across my path and the rest you already know."

Rick nodded. "Thank you," he said, vying with a slew of emotions. "But I just have one more question."

"Yes?" Michonne asked, as though she did not really want to hear his question.

"Did you ever once consider calling me, after this all started? Did you ever think that maybe I was the better choice to keep Andre safe. and not Mike?"

"Rick, I thought about that every day, but I was afraid. Afraid of how you would react. Of how this might affect your family. I couldn't burden you with that responsibility."

And Rick said the words he knew could sever their relationship for good, but which he could not hold back. "Maybe if you'd had the courage to tell me about Andre in the first place, he would still be alive."

Michonne closed her eyes. "Maybe," she said in a low voice. "And that's something I'll have to live with for the rest of my life."

She stood and reached into her pocket, retrieving a glossy photo. She handed it to Rick. He hesitated before reaching out to take it.

"I'm sorry, I wish I could give you more than just his photo," Michonne said somberly, before exiting the basem*nt and locking the door behind her.

Rick's hand trembled as he brought the photo into the light. A toddler, with golden brown skin and clear blue eyes, beamed at the camera. He sat in the lap of a man Rick assumed to be Mike. They appeared to be at a football game, surrounded by fans in red jerseys. Andre was perfect. And he had Rick's eyes.

Rick finally let go, weeping for the son he would never know and grieving for the love he'd probably lost forever.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

Michonne set her trap and waited, the descending afternoon sun signaling night's approach. In her hiding place, crouched behind a dense juniper bush, she tried to focus on the ticking of the kitchen timer. But flashes of Rick kissing Jessie kept popping into her head.

She had anticipated his anger, his rage even, but his betrayal had completely blindsided her. Michonne slowed her breathing to counter the pressure building in her temples. Why her, of all people? She admitted Jessie was attractive, in a desperate kind of way. Her sad eyes and weak disposition screamed for someone to rescue her. And Rick had foolishly heeded her call.

While part of Michonne believed Rick really wanted to help Jessie, the other part suspected he had just wanted to take a jab at Michonne's pride.

Within seconds of meeting Pete, Michonne had pegged him for a misogynist with an inferiority complex. So when she'd heard the gossip about him beating his wife, she had been disgusted, but not surprised. Scum like him enjoyed preying on the vulnerable.

The kitchen timer sounded, the shrill noise echoing through the darkening woods. Michonne estimated that any walkers within a quarter mile would be drawn by the sound and she planned to dispose of every last one of them.

"What the hell are you doing?" a woman's voice asked from out of nowhere.

Michonne whipped around to find Sasha squinting in confusion, a sniper rifle resting at her side.

"Are you following me?" Michonne raised her voice in irritation.

"I spotted you from the tower." Her voice was clear and calm and very Sasha.

"Go home. I'm not in the mood for company."

"Then you should learn how to cover your tracks better."

Since arriving at Alexandria, she and Sasha had hardly seen each other. Michonne had been busy with Rick and constable duties, while Sasha was either manning the tower or teaching at the community school.

Michonne sucked her teeth. "And you should learn to mind your own business."

She and Sasha had grown close during their time on the road together, and Michonne valued her friendship. But now Sasha just felt like an annoying little sister.

"Tyrese used to say the same thing, until he realized it made absolutely no difference."

"Shhh," Michonne said, motioning for Sasha to crouch beside her.

Michonne heard their moans before she saw the group of walkers. A man, long dead, stumbled into the clearing where the timer lay, followed by six more of his kind.

Sasha raised her sniper rifle and Michonne placed a hand on the barrel, stilling the woman's movements.

"I got this," Michonne said, before darting into the clearing.

"There are too many!" Sasha yelled from behind her, but Michonne ignored her, rushing toward the walker mob.

Sasha's yells had alerted them to her presence and they shambled in her direction, meeting her halfway.

Michonne slid her katana from behind her back, the familiar movement snapping her into killing mode. This rush – this bloodlust – was exactly what she needed to block out the pain of Rick's betrayal.

She slammed her boot against the chest of the first walker, knocking him to the ground. Michonne raised her katana above her head, disgusted by the gore hanging from the corner of the walker's mouth. She brought her sword down hard, stabbing the creature dead center through his forehead.

Michonne had just enough time to remove her blade before the next walker was on her, forcing her to twist around and slice aimlessly through the air. Luckily her blade connected with its neck, decapitating the walker in one swing.

Shots rang out and two of the walkers furthest from Michonne dropped to the ground, motionless.

"Damn it, Sasha!" Michonne yelled, disappointed at missing the chance to end those monsters.

"Let me help you!" Sasha said as she aimed her sniper rifle in the direction of two walkers lurching straight for Michonne.

"I don't need your help!" Michonne headed for the two remaining undead. She spread her legs, katana raised in front of her, gripping the handle tightly. Once they were less than a foot away, she spun around, decapitating them both with one swing. The satisfying thud of their heads hitting the ground relieved the tension building in her gut. Michonne breathed heavily, catching her breath.

Sasha joined her, looking down at the carnage. "I think it's time you tell me what's going on with you. Is this about Rick?"

Michonne slid a soiled rag along the length of her blade, removing bits of gore and blood in one smooth motion. She stuffed the rag into her pocket. "Screw Rick."

"Everything seemed to be working out for you two. And then you show up on our doorstep like a stray puppy." Sasha stepped in front of her. "I care about you Michonne. We all do. You've got family, no matter what happened between you and Rick." Sasha placed her hand on Michonne's shoulder. "You need to talk to someone before this pain you're trying to outrun gets you killed."

As the adrenalin from the kill quickly dissipated, the hurt resurfaced, stronger than before she'd undertaken this suicidal mission.

Michonne met the concern in Sasha's eyes, suddenly yearning for the presence of another living being, to wash away the stench of death surrounding her.

"Let's get out of here," Michonne said. "It's going to be dark soon." She turned around and headed for Alexandria, with Sasha walking by her side.

Sasha broke the silence first. "I know it's been a while since we've seen each other, but you can still talk to me. Sistas gotta stick together."

Michonne smiled at Sasha's attempt at humor, feeling relief for the first time in a long while. "You're laying it on a little thick, aren't you?"

"Whatever gets you talking," Sasha said, shrugging.

Michonne's smile waned as she considered where to start. "Rick and I knew each other before the prison."

"What?"

"We met over five years ago in Atlanta. He was a witness for the prosecution in a case I was defending."

"Ok…"

Michonne could tell Sasha wanted to say more, but she remained silent, allowing her to continue.

"He was married and I was in a relationship, but we had a…connection. We spent the night together and hadn't seen each other in five years, until we crossed paths again at the prison." Michonne paused, bracing herself for Sasha's reaction.

"Ok, I've encountered some unbelievable sh*t in my life – we all have – but this just doesn't sound possible. The odds of meeting a one-night stand again, when you lived in completely different worlds, were slim even before the half of the human population was wiped out. So meeting one in this world…that's like fate."

Michonne had been worried that Sasha would think less of her for having an affair with a married man, but apparently that wasn't much of an issue for her friend. "Or a curse."

Sasha stopped, turning to face Michonne. "So what happened between you two? I mean recently. We all know you were together."

Michonne had suspected their relationship wouldn't remain a secret for long, not in a tight-knit community like Alexandria, where practically everyone knew each other's business.

Sasha tilted her head to the side. "Come on. It can't be that bad. Is he still in love with his dead wife? Is Carl not okay with the two of you being a couple?"

The last time Sasha had learned an intimate detail of Michonne's life, she wasted no time in relating the information to Tyrese. But, as far as she knew, that's as far as the information had gotten, since Tyrese was much better at keeping his mouth shut than his sister.

Michonne sighed, though she kept walking. She needed to tell someone, if only to process all that had happened since she'd confessed all to Rick. "Andre, my son, was Rick's."

"Nooo…" Sasha said in surprise, catching up to Michonne.

"And I had never told Rick about him – until a few weeks ago."

This last revelation completely silenced Sasha. She seemed to be considering her next words carefully. "He kicked you out when you told him?"

Michonne nodded. "And has apparently started a thing with Jessie."

"Jessie?!"

"I caught them kissing the night of the party. The night he attacked Pete."

Sasha pursed her lips and shook her head. "Man, I thought Rick had a lot more class than that. Sounds like Jessie moved on to him after she failed to get her claws in Tyrese."

Michonne was surprised by her own shock. "How long ago was this?"

"Not too long after we first arrived. She would come by for visits, bringing goodies from inventory, always paying more attention to Tyrese than anyone else in the house. And Tyrese being Tyrese, welcomed her in and accepted her gifts, completely oblivious to her true intentions. Until she tried to kiss him."

"That thirsty…" Michonne let her words trail off before she uttered the word she hated most in the world. Even if the term did fit Jessie perfectly, she refused to degrade another woman.

"Tyrese turned her down and she hasn't come around since. I think she finally figured out she was barking up the wrong tree. Tyrese is way too moral to be involved with someone who's married." Sasha looked apologetically at Michonne. "No offense."

"None taken," Michonne said, though the judgment in Sasha's words stung a little.

"Well, I hope you two can get past this; though I can understand Rick's perspective as well."

Michonne frowned at Sasha for siding with the enemy. "Yeah, but sucking face with whoever comes along." Her voice rumbled with anger and jealousy. "That's just low."

"I agree. But in my time as a kindergarten teacher, I've come to learn as much about parents as I have about kids. While some parents were the type to hand their kids off for school and never look back, others would depart with a big hug and kiss. I don't know much about Rick, but I know he's the hug-and-kiss-and-then-linger kind of dad. He would give his life to protect his children, without a second thought. So to have a son, that he couldn't protect, I'm sure he's somehow managed to blame himself for Andre's death."

Michonne doubted that, since the last time they'd spoken, he was quick to blame all of it on her. "Maybe."

"I've never met two people who were more meant to be. I really don't know what Rick would do without you, other than lose his damn mind. All this Jessie nonsense is proof of that."

"Thanks, Sasha," Michonne said, continuing toward the gates.

She still loved Rick, even if he was being an undignified jerk. Her conversation with Sasha had helped make that crystal clear. She did not plan on giving up on her true love without a fight.

As the two women walked through the gates of Alexandria, Michonne promised herself that she would try and repair what she had fractured between her and Rick. He was her soul mate and Michonne would fight Rick to the death for his heart, if that was what it took.

#

Michonne knocked on the door of Rick's home. It felt weird to knock on the door that had once been her own. She and Rick had shared some of the happiest moments of her life in this home. Now, she was unsure if he would even let her in.

Deanna had called a community meeting for later that night to discuss Rick's actions. She, Daryl, Carol and Glenn had met last night – without Rick – to decide how best to approach the meeting. While Carol suggested stealing weapons to arm themselves, in case of the worse, Michonne urged the group to use their contributions to Alexandria as leverage and remind Deanna of why she welcomed them into the community in the first place; and to make it completely clear that if Rick was exiled, the group would follow.

They voted unanimously for Michonne's plan, though Carol seemed a little ruffled at the prospect of attending the meeting unarmed. Michonne suspected that was why Carol volunteered her to share the news with Rick, a job no one else wanted, as Rick had been on a short fuse since the party.

Rick's front door slowly squeaked open and Michonne inhaled, holding her breath. She rubbed her sweaty palms against her jeans, feeling nervous for the first time in years, as though she were meeting a blind date.

She exhaled in relief as Carl smiled from the other side of the doorway, his eyes wide with surprise. "Michonne!" He lunged through the door and straight for her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Michonne stumbled back to catch her balance. She returned his embrace.

"Carl." Michonne hugged him tightly. She realized just how much she'd missed him these past weeks.

Rick had forbidden him to visit her and she had made Carl promise not to disobey his father. She'd had a panic attack that night, hyperventilating into a paper bag to calm her nerves. She found that crying in the dark silence of her bedroom helped to relieve most of her anxiety and to keep the attacks at bay. This moment with Carl was helping even more.

"I'm so glad you're here. Dad has been a pain since you've been gone." Carl pulled away, scrutinizing her with the wise eyes of his father. "Are you back?"

Michonne ruffled his hair. "Have you gotten taller?" she asked, avoiding the question she could not quite answer yet.

Carl frowned. "Not in the two weeks since you last saw me."

"Carl, who is it?" Rick's voice called from inside of the house.

Carl nodded for her to come in. He closed the door behind Michonne as she stepped into the foyer. "Someone wanting to talk about the patrol schedule," Carl called to Rick.

Michonne followed him to the kitchen. If an ambush was the only way to get Rick to speak to her, then so be it.

A pot clattered against the floor. "sh*t!" Rick cursed from the kitchen. The frustration in his voice made Michonne consider if this was the right time for this conversation.

Carl sighed. "He's been doing all the cooking since you've gone. A kid can only take so much tuna casserole."

Michonne smiled and the knots in her gut melted away. Michonne would do everything in her power to reunite her family. She treasured Carl as much as she did her own son. And she planned to tell him about Andre as soon as she reconciled with Rick.

Carl and Michonne reached the kitchen to find Rick straining for some hidden object on the top shelf of the cupboard.

"Dad, I don't think this can wait," Carl said.

Rick poked his head out from behind the cupboard door. His expression morphed from annoyed to chilly when he spotted Michonne. He slammed the cupboard door shut. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk, Rick." Michonne impressed herself with the level tone of her voice, though her insides trembled with excitement. This was the first time he had spoken to her in weeks; the first time she'd been close enough to smell the cologne she'd found for him on one of her runs. He's still wearing it, she thought hopefully.

Rick glared at Michonne and started to speak when Judith's cry on the baby monitor interrupted him.

Carl rushed for the stairs, as though he were dodging a bullet. Michonne figured he was eager to escape the tension quickly building between her and Rick. "Talk to her, Dad. You need this as much as she does." And with those words, Carl disappeared up the stairs.

Rick sighed heavily and released his crossed arms. He walked over to the island, not even bothering to glance Michonne's way. He snatched a peeled onion from the countertop, cradling it in his hand. He placed it lightly on the cutting board, and slammed the chef's knife down the middle, cutting it perfectly in half. Michonne jumped at the sound, her nerves already on high alert. Rick proceeded to quarter and then slice the onion, still ignoring her.

Michonne took a deep breath and broke the silence. "We've come up with a plan for the meeting tonight."

Rick continued slicing onions, sniffing frequently. The aromatic scent of onions made Michonne's eyes water.

"Deanna is a rational and thoughtful leader. Even though she's probably pissed at you right now for breaking the rules, she knows how valuable you are. How valuable we all are. And we plan to remind her of that." Michonne paused, waiting for Rick to respond, to nod, to do something. The only sound filling the kitchen was the clap of his knife against the cutting board. "We want to make it clear that if you go, we all go."

Rick finished chopping the onions and placed the knife on the counter, finally turning to face her. Michonne's heart quickened at the gaze of his clear, blue eyes. Dense scruff covered his chiseled jaw and it looked like he was on his way to growing another beard. Michonne wanted to run the back of her hand along the bristly hairs, to stare into those beautiful eyes up close.

"I don't need your help," Rick said, crossing his arms and leaning against the kitchen island. "I don't need anything from you. Not anymore."

Michonne's heart squeezed in despair at the harsh tone of his voice. Somewhere, deep down in the pit of her stomach, she found the courage to push pass his icy exterior and make him see reason. "This is about more than just you and me. Think about Carl and what Alexandria could mean for him. If you're exiled, then he's out on the road too, since he could never not be by your side."

"Don't tell me how to handle my son. You're not his mother."

All the hurt and remorse Michonne had been feeling disappeared with those last words. The anger soon followed. Rick knew how much she cared about Carl, how she thought of him as her family, and now he was trying to use that against her to hit below the belt. Michonne was done being sorry.

"Whether you like it or not, Carl is just as much my son as Andre ever was."

Rick's eyes widened, a flicker of empathy softening his expression. "And Andre was as much a part of me as he was of you, yet I never even knew he existed." His face twisted in pain. "How can I forgive you for that?"

Michonne was familiar with the darkness of the place he was in right now – it was the same abyss she had fallen into following Andre's death. For the first time she realized that Rick was grieving the loss of his son.

"Not telling you about Andre was a mistake," Michonne said softly. "I was a coward for not telling you the second I found out I was pregnant. I admit that. But that one night completely altered the course of my life and I didn't want that for you, or your family. They needed you." She stood up straighter. "I won't apologize for not wanting to wreck your family. I understand your grief, but losing him because of my own bad choices – the pain of that is unimaginable." Her voice cracked with these last words. "I know I made the right choice, Rick."

Rick squinted his eyes. "Your choice? What about my choice? I should have been able to decide what role I played in Andre's life. That's the least I deserved."

Michonne agreed with him, but his stubbornness was beginning to irritate her. "As his mother, the one who grew and birthed and fed him, I only had one priority – for Andre to have a family. Mike was able to offer him that. I'm not sure I could say the same for you, especially considering how you've dealt with this whole situation and the people you've chosen to seek comfort from."

"You drop the biggest bombshell of my life on me and expect me to just accept it, to wallow in pain on my own?"

"You are a grown man, after all," Michonne said with venom. "Or at least I thought you were until you made out with a married woman. And Jessie at that? I thought you were better than that, Rick."

"And I thought I could trust you, Michonne. This lie...you've only made me feel like a fool; like the deadbeat father I despised and promised myself I would never become."

Michonne's anger dissipated at the look of despair on Rick's face. She looked away, afraid to admit her own role in his grief and desperation.

"I bet you and Mike had a good laugh behind my back- the backwoods sheriff who fathered your son."

"Michonne is pregnant?" Carl walked in suddenly, startling Michonne. Excitement lit his face. "I'm getting a little brother?"

sh*t, Michonne thought. She didn't want to lie to Carl, but now was not the time to tell him about Andre.

"Carl-" was all that Michonne could manage before Rick cut her off.

"I'm not going to lie to you, son," Rick said, walking over to Carl. "It's time you knew the truth – about me and Michonne."

"Rick, please," Michonne said, her voice breaking.

"But I already know you're a couple. I've always known," Carl said, oblivious to the anxiety on Rick's face.

"No, son," Rick said, placing his hand on Carl's shoulder, which matched Rick's in height.

Michonne stood silent, frozen in shock.

"Michonne and I were together…long before Alexandria. Long before the prison," Rick said slowly and with intention.

"Before the prison? While you were searching for me and Mom?"

Rick shook his head. "Before that. We first met five years ago."

Carl started to speak, but stopped himself. He furrowed his brow. "What do you mean you were together?"

"Michonne and I had an affair. While I was married to your mom and while she was in a relationship with her boyfriend."

Michonne's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. She thought she might be sick. Carl looked to her, maybe for confirmation, and Michonne looked away, unable to face what she feared would be disapproval.

She heard Carl take a step away from Rick. She looked up to find him facing his father, his fists clenched. "You cheated on mom…with Michonne? I can't believe this. I won't believe this."

Rick reached for Carl, but he dodged his father's hand. "It's the truth. And there's more."

"More? As though finding out that my dad is not only a major asshole, but that he cheated with the only other person I respect in this world, weren't enough news?"

"Watch it, Carl. I know you're upset, but there's no need for that kind of language."

"Hell yeah, there is."

"You have a right to be upset," Michonne said. She joined them from across the kitchen.

"Obviously," Carl said, glaring at her. Michonne could feel Carl's anger vibrating through her, leaving her numb.

Carl turned his glare back on Rick. "Just get it over with and tell me what else there is."

"Michonne's son – Andre – was mine. I only found out a few weeks ago."

That's right, deflect all the blame onto me, Michonne thought with distaste.

She had told Carl about Andre after reuniting with the two of them, following the Governor's attack on the prison. They had talked for hours and Carl wanted to know everything about Andre, from his birthday to his favorite cartoons. That had been the best conversation she'd had in a long time.

"Mom deserved better," Carl said to Rick before turning his back on the two of them. "And I deserve a stepmom I can trust. Don't follow me, I need some time alone," he said before escaping the kitchen. Had she lost him too? Would he ever speak to her again? Michonne shivered from the chill creeping up her spine at the thought.

Michonne had suffered all the humiliation and grief she could handle for the night. She spoke in a low tone, ignoring Rick's expression, which looked vaguely apologetic. "I could forgive the thing with Jessie, as juvenile and humiliating as it was, but I will never forgive you for this, Rick. Never."

Michonne departed, not waiting for Rick's response and not wanting to lay eyes on him any time soon. With one move, Rick had unleashed the wrath of the woman who loved him most in the world. And he had yet to experience her true fury.

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

Rick was officially the bad guy. Not only had he alienated himself from the whole of Alexandria, but he had driven a knife through the back of the woman he loved.

"Jackass," Rick mumbled to himself as he strapped his watch around his wrist. There were times when he wondered why the others had appointed someone like him – a person who sometimes lacked judgment and was not especially honorable – to lead the group. This was one of those times.

Deanna had called a meeting for tonight, inviting all of Alexandria to join. Rick and the rest of his group suspected that Deanna intended to punish Rick for attacking Pete. Some feared that punishment might be exile. Rick doubted Deanna would go that far, but they were all prepared for the worst, a skill they had learned time and time again surviving on the road.

Rick zipped up the trousers of his constable uniform, which hung loose around his waist. Missing meals and working through the night was beginning to take a toll on his body. He would have to make more of an effort to take care of himself – three meals a day, eight hours of sleep, quality time with his kids. And to cook something more nutritional than tuna casserole for dinner, especially if he wanted Carl to ever speak to him again.

The boy had mostly holed up in his room since Rick had dropped the bomb of his illicit affair with Michonne and their subsequent child, Andre; Carl's long lost brother and Rick's long lost son.

Rick simply couldn't bear to lose another one of his children. That was not an option. He would apologize tonight, even if that meant kicking in Carl's locked bedroom door.

He pulled on his windbreaker and headed down the stairs. Carl had gone ahead to the meeting, taking Judith with him. Rick walked through the house, which lacked the warmth and security of their previous life with Michonne. The hooks above the mantel hung low and empty, dutifully awaiting the arrival of Michonne's katana.

He closed the front door lightly behind him. He missed his family, the family he and Michonne had built together. He feared after how he'd treated her, jamming a wedge between her and Carl, that she would never come back. In all honesty, that was what he deserved. But he couldn't force that empty life on Carl and Judith as well.

His grief and self-pity at learning of Andre and his death had clouded his judgment for long enough. The second Michonne said she would never forgive him, the blinding haze lifted. He wanted to call to her, to kneel down and beg her forgiveness, but she had already vanished, leaving behind a heaviness that settled in his gut.

He had never thought of himself as a coward. But his reaction to her confession had proven him to be just that. He had been so afraid to learn of this lie - where he thought there was only love and trust – that he had pushed her as far away as he could, hoping she would take the truth of her betrayal with her.

Pushing away Michonne, however, had only made things worse. He could not stop thinking about how they parted in Atlanta, Michonne with Andre already growing in her belly. There were nights he would pull out Andre's photo and just sob, the thought of lost opportunities with his son, overwhelming him. If he had known about Andre, he never would have let her go.

And then he questioned what he would have done if he had known. Would he have divorced Lori and left Carl behind? He might have; just like his own father had. And that admission terrified him. And blinded him with rage, which he redirected to Michonne.

Rick neared the open space functioning as a town square for the small community. It flickered with light from the bonfire blazing in the center, casting shadows every which way. People sat on either side of the fire. He spotted most of his people gathered on one side, unified in their mission to defend him. His heart skipped a beat. He had put everything at risk, their lives as well as his own, because of some stupid temper tantrum. And yet they still stood beside him.

Carl sat with a sleeping Judith in his arms. He rubbed her back lightly as he listened to Deanna speak.

"Alexandria is guided by certain rules," Deanna spoke authoritatively, "and those rules have been broken." Her eyes followed Rick as he stopped to stand behind his people.

Rick spotted Michonne, standing to the side rather than sitting with the others. Arms crossed, she looked slightly bored with the proceedings.

"Glad you could finally join us, Rick," Deanna said, her usual smile not accompanying her greeting. She returned to addressing the crowd. "We are here tonight to discuss Rick's blatant disregard of the rules that govern and hold us together as a community. Tonight, we will discuss Rick's unprovoked attack on Pete."

Grumbling seized the crowd.

"Those who would like to speak, have the floor." Deanna left the podium, her eyes still on Rick.

There was movement among the crowd and the first speaker rose from his seat. Tobin thanked the crowd for attending and went on to list the reasons he thought Rick's actions proved him to be a danger to the community, as someone who wanted violence more than peace. He suggested that Rick be removed from his duties as constable.

A few more Alexandrians spoke, all admonishing Rick for his actions, the final speaker suggesting that he be removed from the community as soon as possible.

"Is there anyone else?" Deanna asked, when no one else rose to speak.

Rick noticed Glenn turn to Michonne and whisper something to her, but she ignored him.

"Michonne," Glenn whispered, loud enough for Rick to hear this time. But Michonne only shook her head.

Maybe it's for the best, Rick thought. He really didn't deserve anything from her at this point.

Glenn stood, nodding to Rick before walking toward the front of the group. He placed both hands on either side of the podium.

Glenn took a deep breath before beginning. "When Aaron first told us about Alexandria, we thought he was lying. The world we knew was full of bloodshed and violence and hardship." He looked to Maggie, who nodded to him in encouragement. "Alexandria sounded like little more than a fantasy. But Rick was willing to give it a try and that decision changed all of our lives for the better."

Some people in the audience whispered, while others nodded in response. Rick felt a sense of pride at his words.

Glenn stood straighter. "Granted, we've all had to do things we're not proud of. It's the way of the world now." Glenn looked into the crowd. "Rick has only ever had our safety in mind, and that now includes the safety of everyone in Alexandria. His actions may have been…extreme, but he is not a threat. The real threat is lurking beyond those walls and Rick can keep us safe from that."

Glenn returned to his seat. Maggie whispered into his ear and he smiled, kissing her lightly on the neck.

Rick looked to Michonne, but her attention was focused on Carl, a look of desperation on his young face. Michonne shook her head and headed for the podium.

Michonne looked as natural in front of the crowd as a fish in water, reminding Rick of the time he first laid eyes on her. Her opening remarks had silenced the courtroom that day and he'd wondered if he wasn't the only one dazzled by her commanding nature and beauty.

"I've never been one to shy away from the hard, cold facts, so I won't sugarcoat this – Alexandria needs us to survive. Before we arrived, you lived sheltered, ignorant lives. You had a false sense of safety, lacking the resources to truly defend yourselves from any dangers that might climb over these walls."

There was only silence as Michonne held the floor. Rick noticed Deanna watching her closely, as the crowd watched Michonne.

"In a matter of weeks, our people have taught you how to face your fears rather than to turn a blind eye to them. We have only ever wanted to help you survive and at the first sign of trouble, you're ready, eager even, to turn your backs on us. On Rick."

Michonne's eyes fell on Rick, lacking warmth but full of determination and resolve.

"Rick made us strong. He made us into a family," Michonne continued. "He is the glue holding us together."

Her eyes left him then, and Rick willed them to back – to no avail.

"Rick is a protector – it's in his bones. He would do whatever it takes to protect us, as he's proven time and time again. Rick protected Jessie and her kids when no one else was willing to stand up and do the same. He didn't turn a blind eye to a hard truth and took matters into his own hands. And yet you want to punish him for what you were too afraid to do."

Heads turned to Jessie. She wrapped her arm around Sam's shoulders, dropping her chin onto the top of his head. Pete was nowhere to be found. It was true that Rick had attacked Pete more out of anger than to protect Jessie, but he was glad his actions had at least resulted in the man being separated from his family.

"I stand here tonight to make one thing crystal clear, so there is no doubt – if Rick goes, I go. If Rick goes," Michonne waved her hand in the direction of their group while looking to Deanna, "we all go. It's all or nothing. Your choice."

Michonne returned to her standing position. She focused on Carl, who smiled at her, nodding his head. She smiled in response and Rick wished she would share that same smile with him. He feared she would never smile for him again, that this was the most she would ever do for him again.

"We've heard from both sides and they've all been very convincing. But the fact remains that Rick assaulted someone severely enough to knock him unconscious and debilitate him for days. This is not something that can be taken lightly. And I think before we make any decisions, we need to hear from Rick himself." Deanna stepped aside, lifting her chin in Rick's direction.

Rick walked past Michonne, who refused to meet his eyes. He stopped in front of Deanna, facing her, their height difference not fazing Deanna in the least. "Deanna, I want to thank you for taking us in and giving us the opportunity to experience life again. And I apologize for not conducting myself in a more…acceptable manner."

Rick turned to the crowd, but his words were meant for Michonne more than anyone. "I apologize for not handling this situation with more grace and understanding, for letting my anger turn me into someone cruel and unrecognizable. You didn't deserve to be harmed by my actions and I apologize sincerely for hurting you in any way."

Michonne's eyes briefly flitted to his. He knew his apology could not begin to make up for his horrendous behavior over the past weeks, but it was a start. She had at least looked at him.

Deanna spoke up. "I appreciate your apology, Rick. I'm sure everyone does. And thank you for helping me realize when enough was enough." She nodded to him then and Rick knew it was sincere. She turned back to face the crowd. "Rick will remain as a constable in Alexandria. Though his actions were impulsive, I believe his intentions were pure. If there is anyone who objects to this decision, my door is always open. And with that, the meeting is adjourned. Have a good night, everyone."

A healthy chatter resounded as people made their ways back home. A few folks even came over to shake Rick's hand and thank him for what he'd done.

Rick looked on as Michonne and Carl hugged. His heart melted but his resolve sped into gear. One down, two to go, Rick thought, as he planned his next apology.

#

Rick knocked on Carl's door. "Dinner's ready," he said, balancing a plate of Carl's favorite foods.

"I'm not hungry," Carl called from the other side of the door.

"But I made fish sticks," Rick said, "and fries." He doubted Carl could resist the two foods he loved most at the moment.

Rick waited, and after what seemed like an eternity, Carl swung open his bedroom door, a glare on his face. He reached for the plate, but Rick snatched it back. "Only if you give me two minutes to talk."

Carl sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. "Fine."

Rick smiled at his victory, glad this was turning out to be a lot easier than he had expected. Rick handled Carl the plate, following him into his bedroom. A Spiderman comic book lay open and facing down. A small lamp clipped on the side of his headboard cast the only light in the room, which was decorated with random posters others had collected for Carl since he'd been in Alexandria. The one Daryl had found of some comic book character named Deadpool was Carl's favorite.

Carl plopped down at his desk. He dipped a fish stick in ketchup and hummed as he devoured the crispy morsel.

Rick sat on the edge of the bed. "I know it's been a pretty rough month and I owe you an apology. I dodged a bullet last night and am sorry that I put you and Judith at risk of losing your home."

Carl continued eating, but slowed down a bit, part of his attention on Rick.

"And I'm sorry to have dragged you between this thing with Michonne and I. You should have never learned about your brother that way."

Carl popped a fry into this mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Rick suspected he had something to say.

"What is it son? I promise to answer any questions you have, about anything. I owe you at least that much."

"Did you love Michonne…more than Mom?" Carl asked, still making his way through his fries.

"You're not holding back, are you?" Rick asked, amazed at how mature his son had become seemingly overnight. Rick sighed before continuing. "I loved your mom very much, which is why I married and had two wonderful children with her." Rick's voice lowered. "At some point, though, the two of us grew apart." Rick did not feel the need to mention Lori's affair. That information he planned to keep to himself. "And then I met Michonne and fell in love with her. A love that was different from what I felt for your mom."

Carl remained silent for some time before continuing with his line of questions. "Why didn't she tell you about Andre? Back then?"

"Well, that's complicated. She was living with someone at the time-"

"Mike," Carl said, nodding.

"Yes, Mike. She was living with Mike and I was still married to your mom. I guess," Rick said, voicing these thoughts for the first time, "she just wanted to do what she thought was best for everyone, including your mom."

"Is that why you kicked her out? Because she lied to you about Andre?" Carl faced him now, his eyes almost level with Rick's due to his growth spurt.

Rick nodded. "Not my finest day and one I wish that I could take back. But yes, that is why I've been so upset these past few weeks."

"More like crazy," Carl muttered.

Rick chuckled, though he was sorry his son had to witness him being so unhinged. "Love, especially the loss of love, can make you do crazy things. You'll find out in due time."

Carl blushed and Rick wondered what that was all about. His son cleared his throat. "So, do you still love Michonne?"

"Yes," Rick said, without hesitation. "I don't know that I can say the same for her, though."

"She still loves you," Carl said confidently. "You just need to say you're sorry. And mean it."

"I'm glad you two are on talking terms again. I'm glad I didn't come between the two of you after all."

"I was pissed, don't get me wrong. I'm not happy that you cheated on mom. But Michonne is my best friend and she came through for you at the meeting. I can't change the past, only the future. And a future with Michonne and her sword is a lot less boring."

Rick laughed. "I wonder if I'd been the one with the sword, if you would have forgiven me so easily."

Carl shrugged and smirked in response.

"Well, I wish it were as easy as saying sorry, but I'm afraid it's going to take a lot more than fish sticks to get Michonne to forgive me."

"Never underestimate the power of a fish stick."

This moment with his son, the two of them joking around again, filled Rick with the strength he would need to face Michonne and beg for her forgiveness.

Carl leaned over to hug Rick. His son's embrace solidified his courage.

"Bring her back, Dad. Promise." Carl suddenly sounded a lot younger than his sixteen years.

"I promise, son," Rick said, though he was suddenly unsure if he could keep his word.

#

Rick knocked on Michonne's front door and waited. His heart beat a drum roll against his ribs. He ran through his speech for the umpteenth time. He was sorry and could understand if she hated him. He didn't deserve a strong and beautiful woman like her. But he loved her, and she still loved him. And they were meant to be together.

Sasha opened the door, putting an end to Rick's silent rant. Her expression was not exactly welcoming when she realized who had knocked on her door.

"Hey, Rick," Sasha said with a half-smile.

"Hey, Sasha," Rick said, his voice confident despite the uncertainty of his mind. "Is Michonne here?"

Sasha crossed her arms. "Yeah." She didn't move aside to grant him entry. "But she would probably never speak to me again if I let you in."

"Understandable, considering," Rick said, not sure how much Michonne had shared with Sasha.

"Considering you found out you were the father of her deceased child and kicked her out of her home?"

Rick's cheeks flushed. "Considering that, yes."

"Hmmph." Rick could have sworn Sasha rolled her neck slightly.

"I came to thank her for last night, for speaking up for me. Think she would make an exception for a thank you?"

"Only if you're here to apologize as well."

"I'm here to apologize as many times it will take to win back the woman that I love."

Sasha's face softened and Rick knew he had won her over. If only Michonne would come around this easily, he thought.

Sasha smiled and the tension between them eased. "I'm betting on at least seven apologies and plenty of groveling." She moved aside to let Rick pass. "She's out back with Daryl. Good luck."

"Thanks," Rick said. But all the luck in the world might not be enough.

Sasha nodded to him as he continued through the house to the backyard. He noticed Michonne's katana leaning against the couch in the living room. Her sword belonged above the mantel in their home, not lazing against the couch. It belonged in their house, with him.

The patio door was open and as Rick approached, he heard Daryl's voice.

"'Chonne," Daryl said in a husky voice. There was no response, only the rustle of leather, spurring Rick to pick up the pace.

He zipped through the open door to find Daryl leaning in toward Michonne, his hand on resting on her thigh. Daryl's eyes were closed, his lips inches from hers.

Michonne had her eyes closed as well, not leaning forward, but not pulling back either.

Rick cleared his throat loudly, startling the two of them, their eyes shooting open and Daryl straightening up. "I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?" Rick passed an accusatory glare between Daryl and Michonne. He pulsed with rage.

Daryl and Michonne scrambled to their feet. Daryl looked like he had been caught trying to steal from the cookie jar. Michonne just looked annoyed.

"I'd like to speak to Michonne for a minute," Rick said, failing to keep his voice level.

But Daryl stood his ground. He turned to Michonne. She nodded to Daryl almost imperceptibly. Daryl reached out and squeezed her forearm, and she smiled. Rick clenched his fists.

"Just holler if you need anything," Daryl said. Rick met Daryl's eyes as he passed. Where Rick had expected to see hostility, he saw something else – fear. And then Rick realized what he had been too blinded by his own emotions to see – Daryl was painfully and utterly in love with Michonne. And he was just as afraid of losing her as Rick was.

Pity replaced Rick's anger. He questioned whether he even had the right to pursue her. She had given everything to him – mind, heart, body, soul – and he had thrown it all back in her face.

Were his intentions to claim her selfish? Should he just step aside and let her finally be happy?

But then he and Michonne were alone and he looked into those deep brown, knowing eyes and he knew he couldn't just give up. She was his and he was hers and there was no going back. He loved her. And he was fighting for more than just himself – he was fighting for his family, Michonne included.

"I wanted to say this last night, but you left before I had the chance," Rick said, not daring to close the distance between them, afraid she might scurry away. "Thank you for…your kindness. I definitely haven't done anything to deserve it."

Michonne looked just over his left shoulder, avoiding his gaze. "I did it for Carl, not for you. A boy needs his father."

Rick's heart squeezed in regret. "You're right now and you were right then. Andre needed a father and you were able to give that to him…with Mike. I'm grateful for that."

Michonne still would not look at him but she sighed and uncrossed her arms. "You've said what you had to say. Now go."

Rick didn't budge. "That's not all that I have to say."

"Well, that's all I'm willing to listen to. If you don't mind, I'd like to move on with my life."

"With Daryl?"

Michonne kept her expression blank. "That's none of your business or concern. Besides, I think it's best for everyone if we just forget we ever met."

Michonne moved toward the house and Rick stepped in front of her, blocking her way. He reached out to grab her shoulders, but she moved out of reach.

"Don't touch me," she said in a low voice. "You don't get to touch me anymore."

"Michonne, please baby," Rick said, unafraid to express his desperation. "I know I've handled all of this in the worst way possible. Jessie means nothing to me. Less than nothing."

"Which makes what you did even worse, Rick," Michonne said, finally meeting his eyes. Rick flinched at the raging fire in her eyes, wishing they were bright with desire and not anger.

"I can't ask you to forgive me for that. It was thoughtless and pathetic and I wish I could take it back. But I can't. And I need to explain myself."

Michonne looked away but didn't move to leave. Rick took that as a sign of encouragement. "When we parted," he continued, "I couldn't stop thinking about you. Your laugh, your smile, your lips…"

Michonne sighed and rolled her eyes.

"I imagined what our life would have been like if I'd met you first…before Lori. If Carl was your son and not Lori's."

Michonne listened now and Rick found the courage to continue. "Just the thought of it made me want to pack my bags and leave her. And maybe if you had told me about Andre, I would have." Rick looked away and into the distance. "And I would never have forgiven myself for that. For leaving Carl without a father."

Rick moved for her now, grabbing her hands. "Thank you for making the choice that I might not have been strong enough to make back then."

Michonne's bottom lip trembled and Rick longed to comfort her. But as he moved to take her into his arms, an explosion shook all of Alexandria. And Rick knew his luck was finally up.

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

The ground rumbled below Michonne's feet. She stepped away from Rick, spinning in the direction of the explosion. A large plume of grey smoke wafted from the south wall.

"No…" she said, in shock. Their world – their safe haven – was under attack.

"Michonne, we have to go," Rick said from behind her, though she hardly registered the words.

She felt a tug on her arm. "We have to find the kids!" Rick shouted.

Carl and Judith. The thought snapped Michonne out of her trance. She followed Rick back into the house. Daryl and Sasha were already armed and ready to go. Tyrese stood clutching a baseball bat, with a pistol holstered across his hip.

Daryl approached her. "You okay, 'Chonne?"

"Yeah, we're fine. I'm fine," Michonne corrected herself, focusing on Daryl to avoid Rick's eyes.

"Anyone get a look at the south wall?" Rick asked, checking the rounds in his Colt.

Rick had convinced Deanna to allow the constables to arm themselves since he had been reinstated and Michonne was especially grateful for that today. She grabbed her katana.

"From what I could see through the scope on my rifle, the south wall is on fire and a semi is backed into it," Sasha said. "Walkers are pouring out of the trailer…"

"sh*t," Rick said. "We're gonna need ammo – lot's of it."

"What's the next move?" Tyrese asked.

"You, Sasha and Daryl can head to the armory. Hopefully the others are following the emergency protocol and have gathered there as well. Michonne and I are going to head to my house. We need to find Judith and Carl."

He looked her way for confirmation and Michonne nodded without hesitation. Her family was in danger, and unlike with Andre and Mike, she would be there for them, even if that meant joining forces with her least favorite person in the world.

"I'm goin' with you," Daryl said, standing beside Michonne.

"I need you to head to the armory with Sasha and Tyrese and make sure whoever attacked us doesn't get their hands on our weapons," Rick said.

"I'm not leaving Michonne's side," Daryl said.

Rick advanced, invading Daryl's space.

Michonne recognized the look on his face. Rick was on the verge of breaking. His meltdown was the last thing they needed, especially when their home was under attack. She placed her hands on both of their chests, pushing herself between them.

"Enough," Michonne said. "Daryl will come with us. Sasha and Tyrese work better as a team anyway. They are more than capable of reaching the armory. The others should be there as well, if they're following the plan." Michonne turned to Rick. "Plus we need all the help we can get to rescue Carl and Judith."

Rick's expression softened, the anger slowly falling away. "Fine, just keep him out of my way." He stomped over to a window and peered outside.

Michonne's heart wrenched at the thought of Rick and Daryl almost coming to blows. They had been best friends – brothers – before she had unintentionally wedged a wall between them. She and Rick had a very passionate and complicated history, while she and Daryl had grown closer since she'd moved into his house. His attempt to kiss her was a clear sign of his intentions and she may have let him do it, if Rick hadn't interrupted them.

Daryl had been there for her when Rick tossed her out like trash and she knew he would never turn his back on her. Michonne could see things developing further with Daryl, but Rick still had a hold on her heart and it was unbelievably hard to shake his grip.

"This area is clear for the time being, so we should move now," Rick said, rejoining the group. "It's getting dark out there, but we can use that to our advantage. Just stay low and move quick. And if you see anyone you don't recognize, take them out."

Sasha and Tyrese nodded, while Daryl just stood with his crossbow at the ready. His shaggy hair was pulled into a low ponytail, his leather vest tight across his firm chest. His strength and sensitivity had always appealed to Michonne. But she owed it to him to settle things with Rick first.

Rick cracked open the front door, sneaking a look outside. "It's clear. Let's go." He swung the door open and walked through, holding his Colt pistol at the ready. Michonne followed, scanning the surrounding area.

Tyrese and Sasha split off from the group, heading toward the armory. Daryl trailed behind Michonne.

All was eerily still. Screams and moans echoed in the distance, but Michonne stayed focused on her immediate surroundings; and on Rick sneaking forward and low in front of her. She tried not to notice how his fitted jeans embraced his tight behind.

They were only two houses down from Rick's place, which was bathed in darkness. She felt a tiny bit of hope at the thought that they might actually make it without having to kill anyone or put down any walkers. Her hope was short-lived.

A haggard man dressed in a dusty leather jacket and filthy jeans rounded the corner of the house to their left. He let out a battle cry as he spotted them. He charged, brandishing a machete, the light from the street lamps bouncing off his weapon.

Rick stood up straight and trained his gun on the crazed man.

"No!" Michonne said in a loud whisper. "If you shoot him, you'll draw walkers."

Rick holstered his Colt and waited. As the man reached them, Rick crouched and drove his shoulder into the guy's gut. He let out a loud grunt before Rick tackled to him to the ground. He punched the man once, rendering him unconscious.

Michonne had never thought someone as little as Rick could tackle a guy twice his size, but Rick was a sheriff's deputy. She tried to not be impressed.

Suddenly, someone yanked Michonne's locs from the left, her neck wrenching to the side. Tears stung her eyes.

"'Chonne!" she heard Daryl yell as she fell to the ground. The twang of him releasing an arrow from his crossbow vibrated in her ear. She looked up to see the outline of a woman standing over her, raising what appeared to be a baseball bat.

Two shots rang out and the woman collapsed to the ground – dead. Michonne wiped warm drops of the woman's blood from her face and sat up. Rick stood with his legs wide, his pistol aimed where the woman had been standing.

He ran over to Michonne, lifting her up by the arm. "Are you okay?" he asked, releasing her as she stood on her own.

"Yes, thank you," she said, massaging the side of her neck with her hand. She turned around to look at the woman who had almost ended her life. On her forehead was a "W" written in blood. "Who are these people?"

"I don't know," he said, "but we've got to keep moving before more of them show up. And the walkers won't be far behind."

Daryl joined them. "You alright?" he asked Michonne.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for having my back," she teased.

"Hey, I was busy takin' out two of those nutjobs," he said with a half-smile.

Rick had saved her life – which she both loved and resented him for – and yet she felt safer with Daryl in this moment than she did with him. Rick was sexy, exciting, complicated – and someone she felt she could no longer trust. Rescuing her from that madwoman had freed some of his emotional debt to her, but they still had a ways to go if he wanted to be anything more than her constable partner.

"We're almost there," Rick said, continuing toward his home.

Michonne and Daryl followed close behind. The sun had finally set completely and the light from the street lamps lit their way. Rick climbed the stairs of his house, walking quietly across the front porch. He reached the front door and inserted his key into the lock, taking a deep breath before pushing it open. Michonne and Daryl followed him into the dark foyer.

"Carl?" Rick called out. There was no response. "Carl! It's Dad!"

"Up here," Carl said from the top of the stairs. Lit candles placed along the stairs and in the foyer glowed and provided just enough light for them to make each other out.

"Thank God!" Rick said, running up the stairs to meet them. He hugged his kids, kissing Judith on the top of the head.

Michonne exhaled in relief at seeing Carl and Judith safe and sound. She smiled at the sight of the Grimes family reunited, wishing she was up there with them and not so far away, so distant. She tried to ignore the emptiness that rose at the thought.

"Rick!" Jessie squeaked from upstairs. She rushed out of the darkness, wrapping her arms around Rick and cradling her face against his chest. Her youngest son, Sam, trailed behind her.

Michonne's blood pressure rose, remembering the sight of Rick kissing her, and the anger flooded right back in.

Rick pried Jessie from his chest. "Glad to see you and Sam are okay. How did you two end up here?"

"This is the only place I could think to come when I heard the explosion. You're the only one who can keep us safe," Jessie said.

Michonne cleared her throat loudly. "We can't stay here. We're sitting ducks until we get our hands on some ammo."

"Michonne's right. We need to get to the armory ASAP," Rick said, stepping further away from Jessie.

"We can't leave," Jessie said, sniffling. "Ron is missing. He went to find his dad and isn't back yet. I couldn't stop him, Rick." She sobbed, her hands covering her face.

Rick put his hand on her shoulder, continuing to keep his distance. "I'm sorry, Jessie. But we have to go now. We can't afford to wait."

"No," Sam said, clinging to his mother. His cries mingled with Jessie's.

"What if comes back and no one's here? I can't leave him alone. I can't lose him." Jessie cried harder.

For the first time since she'd met Jessie, Michonne sympathized with the woman. She may not have been the most respectable or courageous person, but she was a mother who loved her children as fiercely as Michonne had loved Andre. Jessie wanted to protect her children but lacked the skills in this new world.

"I'll go," Michonne said. "Pete's place isn't too far from here."

"That's a bad idea," Rick said, descending the stairs. "Plus, we need you here with us."

"It'll take me five minutes, tops. If I'm not back by then, just head to the armory without me and I'll catch up."

"No," Daryl and Rick said in unison. They exchanged annoyed looks.

"Dad," Carl said. "If anyone can save Ron, it's Michonne. He's just a kid and has no idea what he's doing. He's going to get himself killed without help."

Rick looked back and forth between her and Carl. Michonne appreciated Carl's support and was proud of the man he was becoming – one who was concerned abut the well-being of others and not just himself. She imagined Rick felt the same pride that she did.

"Five minutes," he said. "If you're not back by then, I'm coming after you."

"Rick –" Michonne began to say, not comfortable with Rick risking his life for her, especially now that their relationship was more than a little rocky.

"It's non-negotiable," Rick said firmly.

Michonne could tell he had no plans to back down and she just wanted to get this over with. "Fine. Five minutes – no more, no less. I mean it, Rick."

He nodded in response, though she feared he was not in complete agreement.

"Be careful," Daryl said.

"I will," she said.

"Five minutes," Rick said. "I'm counting...beginning now."

"Thank you, Michonne," Jessie said, her cries finally subsiding.

Michonne nodded to her before heading out the door, not sure exactly why she had volunteered to find this kid in the first place.

#

Michonne made it to Pete's house in under a minute. She killed a few walkers on the way, but had yet to encounter any human enemies.

She crept up the front stairs, staying low and alert. She tried the door but it was locked. She knocked, not loud enough to attract unwanted attention but hopefully loud enough for Ron and Pete to hear. Light from the living room streamed through the front window.

Michonne waited a few seconds, but no one answered. She descended down the steps and rounded the corner to the back of the house. She reached the back door, which led into a laundry room, like all the other houses in Alexandria. She turned the knob and the door creaked open. She pushed herself through, quietly closing the door behind her.

"Ron?" she called out. No response. "Pete?"

And then she heard it – someone was crying. She made her way to the living room to find a dead body lying on the floor. It was a man in raggedy clothing, with a "W" painted on his forehead.

Ron kneeled on the floor, a pistol in one hand, and Pete's head resting in the other. Pete, lifeless and pale, had a machete sticking out of his stomach. A large pool of blood soaked the carpet underneath him. He was dead.

"Ron," Michonne said.

The boy continued to cry, unaware of her presence.

"Ron!" Michonne placed her hand on his shoulder.

Ron whipped his head in her direction, aiming his pistol directly at her chest.

Michonne raised her hands in surrender. "Ron, it's me…Michonne."

Ron looked at her as though she were a stranger; as though she were the enemy. Then his eyes filled with recognition. "Michonne?" His shoulders slumped and he lowered the gun, turning back to his father. "He's dead because of me. He saved me."

"I'm sorry about your loss, but your mother and brother need you. We have to go," Michonne said, very aware that her five minutes would soon be up. She pulled Ron up by the shoulder. "Stay back." She lifted her katana and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "You should turn around."

"You can't! This is my dad!" Ron said desperately. Michonne remained aware of the pistol in his hand.

"Your dad is gone. And the only way he's coming back is as a bloodthirsty monster that would kill you without a second thought."

Ron took one last look at Pete, grief raw on his young face, and turned away. Michonne brought her katana down swiftly, taking Pete's head off with one swing. Ron whimpered behind her.

"It's done, let's go," she said. She dragged him out the back door and they made it back to Rick's place without any encounters.

"Ron!" Jessie said as they walked through the front door.

Ron ran to meet his mother, breaking into tears as she embraced him. "He's dead," Ron said.

Michonne noticed Jessie's non-reaction to the news that her abusive ex-husband was dead. She rubbed Ron's back in tiny circles. "It's okay, honey," Jessie said.

She looked Michonne's way and mouthed the words, "Thank you." Michonne nodded in response. She was happy to have helped keep a family together.

Rick approached Michonne. "Four minutes. Impressive," he said. "Thank you for doing that."

"I didn't do it for you," she said, watching Jessie with her son.

She suddenly realized that her problems with Rick had nothing to do with Jessie. Maybe their relationship had been doomed from the moment they'd met in Atlanta. Their timing had never been right and their second try at love had her thinking that maybe it never would be. Rick had given her a beautiful son, maybe she should just be grateful for that and move on.

"Don't, Michonne," Rick said in a low voice. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, as though he'd read her thoughts. "Don't give up on us. I will earn your trust again, no matter what it takes."

Michonne sighed. "You only say that because you can't even imagine what it would take. Let's just focus on getting out of here alive." She walked away from him, even though a part of her wanted to stay by his side.

A heavy knock at the front door caught everyone's attention. Rick immediately approached, unholstering his Colt.

"It's Carol," a voice said from the other side of the door.

Rick holstered his weapon and let Carol in. She wore a dirty poncho and had a "W" painted in blood on her forehead. Michonne wondered whose blood it was.

"What are you wearing?" Rick asked.

"Their uniform," Carol said. She looked around at the others. "When I didn't see you at the armory, I decided to check your house. Why are you all still here?"

"We had a few loose ends to tie up," Michonne said. "We were just about to leave."

"Do you have any idea who's attacked us?" Rick asked.

"Lucky for us, they seem to all be unhinged maniacs, which makes it easy to take them out. From what I can tell, they only have handheld weapons, no guns. And of course, the 'W' on the forehead, though I'm not quite sure what that stands for," Carol said.

"What about the walkers?" Rick asked.

"There is a mob near the south wall, but I would guess there are less than fifty. If we can get everyone to the armory and armed, we could dispose of them pretty quickly."

"Let's get moving then," Rick said.

Michonne watched Jessie and her kids carefully. They were quiet and afraid, and appeared to still be in a state of shock from the attack. If it were just her people, they could make it no problem. But she wasn't sure how the Alexandrians would do if they encountered walkers up close.

"Maybe Jessie and the kids should stay," Michonne said. "There isn't much activity here and if they stay quiet and hide upstairs, they should be pretty safe."

Rick turned to look at Jessie. He seemed to be realizing what Michonne had – Jessie was not prepared for this. "I could use someone to stay with Judith and this place is probably safer for her than out there. What do you say, Jessie?"

Panic seized Jessie's face. "And be left here all alone? No, Rick. We would feel safer with you."

"Jessie, I don't think –" Rick said before Ron interjected.

"We're coming with you," he said. "You owe us, considering my dad is dead because of you. He never would have died if he'd still been living with us."

"Hey, don't blame my dad for that," Carl said.

"It's okay, Carl," Rick said. "We're all a little upset right now, but it's not the time to turn on each other. We need to stick together."

"Prick," Carl muttered under his breath, glaring at Ron. Michonne suppressed a smile.

Rick addressed Jessie. "Stay close and stay quiet. Otherwise, I won't be able to keep you safe. Got it?"

Jessie nodded quickly. "Yes. Thank you, Rick."

Michonne had a bad feeling about this and made a point to keep an eye on the harried woman. She obviously had no idea what they were about to face.

#

The group traveled in a single line, with Rick and Carol leading the way. Michonne and Daryl trailed in the back, making sure no one snuck up on them from behind.

"This is a bad idea," Daryl whispered to Michonne. "There're only a few Alexandrians I would trust to have my back and Jessie isn't one of them. She's gonna get somebody killed."

Michonne agreed but there was nothing to that could be done about it now. "She's doing fine, so far."

"Only 'cause we haven't seen any action yet."

And just as the words left his mouth, Rick stopped the line from up ahead. Michonne spotted what had stopped them – a group of walkers shuffled along, blocking the walkway that led to the armory. Fortunately, the walkers had yet to spot their group, who stood huddled in the darkness.

Rick waved his arm and pointed to the left. They all followed, changing direction without a word.

"Mommy," Michonne heard Sam whisper.

"It's okay, Sam," Jessie said, grasping onto this hand. "Just hold onto me."

"Shh," Michonne whispered in warning, as they all moved into the backyard of what looked like Aaron's house.

"Head's up!" Rick shouted from the head of the group.

To Michonne's horror, the backyard was full of walkers - at least ten - which quickly surrounded their small group.

"Ahh," Sam suddenly screamed, as a walker grabbed him by the shoulder and sank its teeth into his neck.

"Nooo!" Jessie cried out. "Sam!"

Ron raised his pistol and put a bullet between the walker's eyes.

"'Chonne, on your left!" Daryl yelled.

Michonne spun to the left, sinking her katana into the skull of the walker who was on the verge of attacking her. It crumpled to the ground. She turned back to Sam to find Jessie collapsed on the ground, holding him in her arms.

"My baby! No…" she wailed.

"Jessie, we have to move!" Michonne yelled, though her words fell on deaf ears, Jessie continuing to sob.

Ron shot at another approaching walker, but missed. The creature grabbed his arm and bit into it, ripping out a piece of his flesh. Michonne rushed to his aid, crushing the walker's skull with her katana. Ron grabbed his arm, his pistol dropping with a thud to the ground.

"Ron!" Jessie yelled. Another walker attacked Ron from the side, ripping through his throat with its teeth.

Michonne disposed of another walker directly to her right, while Daryl took out two more behind her.

She turned to Jessie to find the woman with Ron's pistol in her hand. She aimed it in the direction of the walker feeding on her son, which was also in the direction of Rick and Carl, who were busy fending off walkers. Rick had Judith strapped to his chest, the child screaming her head off at the commotion.

"Jessie, don't!" Michonne yelled, but the woman was driven by grief and fear and unaware of anything else.

A shot rang out and Michonne cried, "No!" She looked to Carl and Rick, and to her relief, they were both unharmed.

Jessie still stood with the gun aimed at the walker and Michonne knew she had to stop her before she killed someone. She attacked, stabbing her katana through Jessie's shoulder blade.

Jessie cried out, another shot ringing out before she dropped the pistol.

Michonne watched in horror as Carl sank to the ground, unconscious.

"Carl!" she screamed, as her world crumbled down around her.

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

Rick barely noticed the first shot. Or the second. But Michonne's cry drew his attention. He turned to find Carl - lying on the ground unconscious.

Rick blinked rapidly, his mind not quite processing the sight. He ran to Carl, Michonne already by his side. She had ripped a strip of cloth from her shirt and wrapped it around Carl's eyes, the right one bleeding profusely.

"I checked his pulse," Michonne said in a slur of words. "He's still alive."

Rick felt too empty to cry as he looked at his son, pale and on the verge of death. Carol and Daryl continued to fight off the walkers, most of which were sprawled motionless throughout the backyard.

"Help me, please," Jessie cried. She sat on the ground, a hand cradling her neck, blood oozing through her fingers. She appeared to have been bitten.

"I should've stopped her," Michonne said in a low voice, staring at Carl. "This is all my fault."

"I'm the only one to blame," Rick said. He quickly unstrapped Judith and placed her in Michonne's arms. "Take her, please."

He swept Carl up in her arms. His head and limbs hung limply from his body. Rick swallowed the fear that rose at the thought of losing his firstborn child.

"Denise," was all he could mutter before heading toward the front of the house.

"Please don't leave me!" Jessie yelled.

Rick ignored her, although his need to save Carl was as strong as his desire to watch her die a slow and painful death. She would either attract walkers or bleed out soon; either way, she would get what she deserved.

Michonne and Daryl led the way, while Carol guarded his back. Blood dripped from Carl's wound, running down Rick's arm. Tears blurred Rick's vision and he took a deep breath, barely holding on to his composure.

They reached Denise's place in a matter of minutes. Lifeless walkers littered the grounds in front of her house. He tried not to entertain the thought that their only doctor might not have survived the attack.

Rick rushed up the stairs, his arms burning from holding Carl for so long. He probably weighs more than me now, Rick thought. He wanted to see his son grow up; he wanted to see the man his son would become. He refused to give up the hope that his son would survive this.

Michonne banged on the door. "Denise!" she yelled.

Rick could hear the dead bolt being unlocked. Aaron swung the door open. His eyes immediately went to Carl.

"Oh no," he said. He ushered them inside.

"Over here," Denise said from the other side of the room. "Place him on the table."

Rick felt the last of his strength dwindling as he rushed to the empty dining room table, lightly placing Carl down. The color was rapidly draining from his son's clammy face. He looked like a shell of himself.

Michonne placed two fingers on Carl's neck to check his pulse. "It's weak, but a pulse is there," she said, sounding hopeful. Rick found strength in her hope.

Rick lost his balance slightly, suddenly feeling faint, like all the blood was rushing to his head. Michonne wrapped her arm around his waist, pulling him next to her. "I'm here. Hold onto me if you need to," she said quietly.

Rick wrapped his arm around her waist and nodded. She had handed Judith off to Carol, but the baby carrier remained strapped to her chest.

He tried not to think about Michonne finding Andre dead and being completely alone, without anyone to hold her and tell her it would be okay, that life would still be worth living.

How had she survived the death of her only child? She survived because she had to, he told himself. Just as he would survive this all, with the woman he loved by his side.

Denise stood over Carl. She removed the soiled bandage from around his eyes and stilled. Her audible exhale worried Rick, but he stayed quiet, wanting all of Denise's attention to remain on his son. He focused on the lint on her shirt to avoid looking at the wound, not wanting to know just how bad it really was. He needed to hold onto as much hope as possible.

"I'll have to operate and remove the bullet. Aaron, I need you to grab clean sheets and bandages," Denise said.

"On it," Aaron said, moving to a wooden cabinet filled with medical supplies.

"Carl's a fighter," Michonne said. "He'll make it through this. He has to."

Rick pulled her closer, finding comfort in her presence. There was no one else he wanted by his side for this, even Lori. "With us by his side, he'll recover in no time, craving fish sticks and fries."

"And French toast," Michonne said, shaking slightly. "That's his absolute favorite, even more than fish sticks."

"And French toast," Rick said.

Michonne's small laugh morphed into sobs and she began to weep. Rick turned to embrace her, his own tears starting to flow again and he held on tight, not wanting to breakdown. He rubbed her back, wishing he could reverse time and make this all go away. "Carl has been through way too much to let a meager gunshot wound take him out. He'll pull through."

Michonne continued to sob quietly and Rick led her away from the table and into a small bedroom.

A man stood at one of the windows. Rick had trouble recognizing him from behind, though something about him seemed vaguely familiar. The man turned around, holding a staff in one hand, and Rick's eyes widened in surprise.

"Morgan?" Rick asked. He wasn't sure if this was real or if he was just in shock.

"Rick!" Morgan said in response, looking as shocked as Rick felt.

A wave of emotion hit Rick and he lost all control, messy sobs shaking his entire body. He hoped his long lost friend and comrade would forgive him for such a crappy welcome.

#

Rick and Morgan sat in chairs near Carl's bed. Carl lay motionless, his breathing shallow and weak, a fresh bandage wrapped around his head and covering his right eye. Denise felt confident that if Carl made it through the night, he had a really good chance of recovering. But the waiting was torture. A parent should never have to consider their child dying before them.

Rick had sent Michonne away to spare her that pain. She had gone with Daryl, Carol and Aaron to clean up the rest of the walkers and kill any remaining "W" trespassers in Alexandria. Rick had suggested the task in order to keep her busy, as she'd been pacing back and forth for hours. Daryl and Carol promised to keep an eye on her and to keep her safe. That was the only way he could let her out of his sight, even though he knew it was for the best.

Denise and Judith were in the living room, taking much-needed naps. As tired as Rick was, there was no way he could sleep a wink.

"They call themselves Wolves," Morgan said. "I came across a small group of them a few weeks ago. They tried to rob me, but I wasn't having that. I never even suspected there were so many of them out there. Aaron and I encountered five just on our way here."

To meet Morgan again, after all this time and under these circ*mstances, was just surreal for Rick. Morgan had been the first person he'd met after waking up from his coma, alone in the hospital. The man had selflessly saved his life and Rick was forever grateful to Morgan for that good deed. He had only been with Morgan for a few days, but the man still held Rick's deep respect and trust.

Rick wasn't sure if their meeting again was reality or some dream. He futilely hoped that he would wake up from all of this, to find Carl healthy and happy, not struggling to survive.

"He looks just like you," Morgan said, breaking the heavy silence.

"When he was younger, he was the spitting image of his mother. But now…" Rick examined Carl's features closely. His usually bright cheeks lacked all trace of color and his breathing was almost imperceptible. "It's hard to tell."

"He looks strong, like his father."

Rick only nodded in response.

"You know, after we parted ways in Atlanta, Duane would go on and on about the cool sheriff searching for his missing family. He even grabbed a badge from the station and wore it almost every day, talkin' about how he wanted to be a sheriff when he grew up." Morgan smiled,. "I didn't have the heart to tell him that sheriffs don't exist anymore, not in this world."

Rick did not ask the obvious question – why Duane was not with Morgan. He knew the answer and it terrified him, knowing that his own son's life hung in the balance.

"Duane was a good kid. I think he and Carl would've been fast friends." Rick tracked the rise and fall of Carl's chest, making sure he continued to take the breaths that would keep him alive.

"Especially somewhere like here. This is a place where a kid could lead a normal life, safe from the chaos and darkness out there. Even with what happened today, it's still safer than anything I've ever come across."

"How did Aaron find you, anyway?"

"I have no clue. For some time now, I've been wandering, just following the wind. Aaron said he found me a couple of weeks ago and had been following me ever since. Wanted to make sure I was safe and sane. I guess I passed his test."

"Considering how I treated Aaron when we first met, I'm surprised he even brought us back here. I kind of held him hostage."

Morgan laughed. "Better safe than sorry."

"Only way to survive nowadays. A lot has happened this past year."

"I'd love to go back to the days when nothing happening was the norm, when the most I had to worry about was getting to work on time and helping my son with his math homework."

Rick smiled for the first time that night. "The good ol' days."

They sat in silence. Rick started to fantasize about a life with Michonne, Carl and Andre. Rick playing ball with his two sons, while Michonne watched from the back porch, smiling and telling them to be careful of Andre. And later, he imagined the four of them having dinner on the deck, enjoying the fireflies blazing in the warm summer night, his arm wrapped around Michonne and Andre sleeping in her lap. Carl would, of course, be lost in a comic book.

"It seems like you've surrounded yourself with some good people. It's clear how much they care about you and your son."

"We're family. I've been with some since the beginning, when I found my family again."

"I can understand where that drive came from, to venture out into the dangerous unknown to find your wife and son. Your wife seems like an amazing woman."

"My wife?"

"Yes. Michonne, was it?"

Rick wanted to answer, Yes, that extraordinary woman is my wife. But instead, Rick would have to explain to yet another person, that Michonne was not his wife.

He he had successfully flushed the possibility of their matrimony down the toilet. "Michonne isn't my wife. We're..." Rick was at a loss for words. He wasn't sure what they were anymore.

"Sorry," Morgan said with sincerity. "I just assumed from the way you two were with each other and how worried she was about your son…"

"We used to be a couple, but not anymore. All thanks to me." He felt the loss of his relationship and of Michonne even more deeply now, the loneliness threatening to dissolve what little strength he had left.

"I imagine it might be a struggle to have any kind of healthy relationship nowadays."

"We were doing okay, actually. We were doing really well before…" Rick trailed off. "It's a long story."

"We've got the time." Morgan adjusted in his seat, pulling an oily rag out of his pocket.

He picked up his wooden staff. He wrapped the rag around the tip of the staff and began to clean it, using small twisting motions. His movements were slow and repetitive, putting Rick more at ease.

Rick checked Carl's breathing once again. There was no change - his breathing was weak, but steady. Rick leaned back in his chair. He hadn't discussed his feelings about Michonne with many people, but Morgan had earned his trust long ago when he'd saved his life and asked for nothing in return.

"When I first met Michonne, I knew she was the one. She was smart, beautiful, confident - and way out of my league."

Morgan chuckled. "Isn't that always how it goes? I felt the same way about my wife."

Rick smiled. "When you meet someone like that, who just speaks to your soul on so many levels, it's impossible to ignore." He grew more serious, not sure how Morgan would take the rest of their story. "Unfortunately, this was five years ago and I was still married at the time."

"Hmm," Morgan hummed. He continued to clean his staff while listening.

"My marriage had been over for quite some time by then. My wife fell in love with someone else, but stayed with me for Carl's sake. And finding out – that she'd cheated – didn't hurt as much as I'd expected."

This was the first time Rick had admitted that to himself. It helped to put so much about their marriage into perspective. He'd been miserable with Lori after she'd cheated because he could no longer deny the fact that he'd never loved her.

"But when I fell in love with Michonne, I knew what it was to have true love and to lose it. I lost her because I wasn't man enough to face the truth."

Rick's sadness lingered just below the surface of his cool facade, only a memory or two away from exposing him for the pitiful, cowardly man that he felt like in this moment. He'd found true love and had been a fool to let it run like water between his fingers.

"My wife used to say the path to love is crooked and full of potholes. That there are so many twists and turns that it sometimes seems like you'll reach it. And yet you and Michonne still found each other."

"Twice," Rick said. "We parted that day, five years ago, and found each other again, in this new world."

"Even more amazing. I can see why you want to hold onto it. But it's clear you want love that she's not ready or willing to give to you yet."

"What gave you that impression?"

"Body language speaks volumes."

Rick regarded Morgan's staff. "Did you pick that up while learning to use that stick?"

"The purpose of Akido is to not only defend yourself but to protect your attacker from injury. Knowing how to read your opponent's body is crucial. In terms of you and Michonne – you move forward and Michonne moves back."

Rick wondered if his desperation was making him push too hard with her. He was determined to get Michonne back, even though she had been extremely clear about her reservations.

"Love is sacrifice, Rick. Sometimes you need to have the courage to let it go. If it comes back to you, then you've really earned it."

The thought of giving up on a relationship with Michonne terrified Rick. She was like air and letting her go would surely suffocate him. But he knew in his heart that Morgan spoke the truth. Michonne needed her space and he would be a selfish asshole if he chose his own needs over hers.

"I'm interested in speaking with Michonne about her technique," Morgan said, deftly changing the subject. "I imagine she is quite good at wielding that katana."

"One of the many reasons I'm head over heels in love with her."

The front door opened and Rick heard several sets of footsteps in the living room. He and Morgan left the bedroom to meet them.

Carol and Daryl stood huddled in the corner, whispering.

"How'd it go?" Rick asked. He noticed Michonne's absence. For now, he would focus on getting updates about their situation in Alexandria. And then he would find Michonne.

"Sasha and Tyrese managed to keep the armory safe, so the intruders never stood a chance against our weapons. They're all dead. The walkers and humans alike," Carol said. Daryl avoided all eye contact with Rick, while Morgan cleared his throat at his side.

"What about casualties?" Rick asked.

"From what we can tell thus far, we lost seven people. All Alexandrians." Carol gave Daryl a quick glance, as though there was more that neither wanted to share.

"What aren't you telling me?" Rick asked, looking from Carol to Daryl.

"Deanna…she's dead," Carol said. "Spencer found her. They had done a number on her with a machete, but she came back and he had to finish her off."

"sh*t," Rick said under his breath. Though he and Deanna had their disagreements, he still respected and admired her. She would be greatly missed. Her death would be a blow to the entire community. He had his work cut out for him.

"Where's Michonne?" Rick asked.

"She's out on the porch," Carol said. "She needed a breather."

Judith's cries filled the living room. She waved and kicked her little legs in the makeshift crib Michonne had put together for her – a large, cardboard box lined with blankets.

Carol grabbed a few jars of baby food from her pockets. "Michonne grabbed these for her."

"Thanks," Rick said. He picked Judith up and rocked her gently in his arms. She only cried when she was hungry.

He planned to take care of his daughter first and check on his son before seeking out Michonne. It was time they finished their talk.

#

Rick found Michonne sitting on the front porch, sipping on a bottle of whiskey. He sat beside her, Judith sleeping in his arms.

"Where'd you manage to dig that up?" Rick asked.

"Daryl's got a secret stash he thinks I don't know about," Michonne said. She seemed relaxed, but still in control of her faculties.

"Thank you for handling everything," Rick said.

"How's Carl?" Michonne asked quietly.

"He's hanging in there. He's still weak, but his breathing is steady and some of his color is returning."

Michonne exhaled. "Thank goodness."

Judith began to stir in Rick's arms and he rocked her, but she showed no signs of settling down.

Michonne took another sip of the bottle and then placed it down beside her on the porch. She held her arms out to Rick. "I'll take her."

Rick passed Judith over to her. Michonne placed Judith against her shoulder, rubbing her back in small circles. And then she began to sing a lullaby, the same one she'd hummed in the shower, that first time she confessed to Rick that she'd had a son.

Rick loved Michonne so much it hurt. He had joined her on the porch with the intention of doing the right thing by her, but his courage was drifting away at the sight of her with his daughter. He wanted to hold onto this beautiful woman and mother and never let her go, rather than do what he knew was best for the both of them.

She ended the lullaby, as Judith had finally drifted to sleep, resting her tiny head on the top of Michonne's shoulder.

"Michonne..." Rick began but he was interrupted by Enid's presence at the bottom of the stairs.

"Enid," Michonne said.

The girl walked up the stairs. "Hi," Enid said, her expression somber.

"You're here for Carl," Michonne said.

This must be her, Rick thought. He'd suspected Carl liked someone, but his son had been unwilling to share any info with Rick. Michonne doesn't seem surprised though.

"Yeah," she said. "Can I see him?"

"I'm sure he would like that," Michonne said. "He's not awake yet, but I'm sure reading that to him will give him incentive to wake up soon." She nodded to the comic book in Enid's hand.

"This one is his favorite."

"Even better," Michonne said, smiling. "Go on in."

Enid nodded and entered the house, leaving Rick and Michonne alone again.

"She seems like a nice girl," Rick said.

"She is," Michonne said. "Though she's more like us than the rest of the Alexandrians. I think that's why Carl likes her."

"Makes sense that he'd fall for the strongest of the bunch. Not unlike his father," Rick said.

Michonne remained quiet.

"We need to talk, Michonne," Rick said turning to her.

She continued to look forward. "Rick, this isn't really the time…"

"Please, just let me finish. This is long overdue."

Michonne nodded curtly.

"I'm sorry. For everything," Rick said, trying not to choke up. "I'm sorry for letting you walk away from me five years ago. I'm sorry for putting you in the position to have to raise Andre without his father. I'm sorry for being selfish and taking my grief out on you and Carl. I'm sorry for disrespecting you as a mother and as a woman. And I'm sorry for expecting you to still love me, after everything I've put you through. I'm sorry, Michonne."

Michonne closed her eyes, but she did not utter a word.

"I have no right to expect your forgiveness," Rick continued. "But I hope you will believe me when I say that you are the most extraordinary woman I have ever met in my life. And you deserve to be happy – with Daryl. I promise to no longer come between the two of you. He's a great man – a loyal man – and he loves you like crazy. I…wish you two the best."

He waited, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

"Thank you," Michonne said.

The words filled him with both relief and heartache. She had accepted his apology, for which he was grateful and which he should take for what it was – a sign that she had moved on. Yet, he still hoped against hope that she would want him. And that did not seem to be the case.

The front door opened and Rick glanced back to see Denise step onto the porch. "There's movement," Denise said excitedly.

"What?" Michonne and Rick said in unison. Rick rose and helped Michonne stand as well.

"He's not awake," Denise said, "but the movement in his fingers suggests that his brain functions are gradually returning to normal. I won't know for sure until he wakes, but I think Carl is going to make a full recovery."

"Thank you, Denise," Rick said, giving the doctor a hug. Michonne stood beside him, beaming.

He had just let go of the only woman he had ever loved and Carl was still technically in a coma, but Rick was grateful. His son would recover and Michonne would be happy.

The hope of them all being a family again, however, refused to fade away. And he was grateful for that too.

Chapter 16

Chapter Text

Michonne emptied her top drawer, packing the remainder of her undergarments into her suitcase. She had never been one to hoard non-essentials, so one suitcase was more than enough to hold all of her belongings.

"You really leavin'?" Daryl asked. He leaned against the doorway, his muscular arms crossed.

"We talked about this already," Michonne said with her back to him. She was not in the mood for another fight.

"It was more like you talkin' and me listening."

Michonne had decided to move in with Rick and Carl for the next month or so, until Carl was fully recovered. Daryl had been less than enthusiastic about her decision.

"Carl needs me. Rick is too busy leading Alexandria to watch over him. He'll be out for at least the next three days."

Denise had decided to use medication to extend Carl's coma and give his brain extra time to heal. She predicted he would wake up in the next few days, or a week at the most. Only then would they know the true extent of the damage caused by the gunshot wound.

"I need you," Daryl said quietly.

Michonne sighed, the guilt rushing over her in waves. Daryl had been her rock through this whole dilemma with Rick. He had been there to listen, to literally give her a shoulder to cry on. He understood her in ways Rick never would. She trusted him. And yet, she had to leave, knowing it would hurt him.

"We should discuss this later, once Carl has recovered."

Michonne continued packing. She wanted to avoid the inevitable for as long as she could. His friendship meant everything to her, but she was not in the place for a relationship right now. Carl was her top priority.

"If you move back in with him...I'll lose you." He walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Don't do this, 'Chonne."

Michonne stopped packing and turned to face him. "I don't have a choice. You know how important he is to me."

"Carl is important to me too. But Carol, Maggie or anybody else could help Rick out. Why's it gotta be you?"

"Regardless of what's happened between Rick and me, we're family. And I can't turn my back on family."

Michonne's heart dropped at the hurt in Daryl's eyes. "But you can turn your back on me?" Daryl stepped away from her. "Guess that family doesn't include me."

"Daryl, it's not like that…" Michonne reached out for him, but he pushed her hand away.

"I'm don't wanna just be your friend, Michonne." Daryl turned serious. "I'm in love with you."

He said the words she should have longed to hear. Instead, they filled her with anxiety and dread. Michonne had started to entertain the idea of moving beyond friends, to be something more with Daryl, but she was nowhere near love. His bold confession deserved her honesty.

"I care about you Daryl. You're a strong, caring man. If things were different, I could see us having a future together. But I can't give you anything more than friendship right now. I'm sorry."

Daryl nodded slowly, his lip curled in disdain. "So he dumps you after finding out you had a son together and then cheats on you – and you wanna go back to him."

Well, when you put it like that, she thought. But for her, this was all about Carl and had nothing to do with Rick; though the thought of living under the same roof as him did not completely repel her.

His eyes filled with disinterest. "You're not the woman I fell in love with. She was stronger than this. I want her back."

"Please try to understand," Michonne said.

"I get it," Daryl said, turning to leave."Family comes first."

Michonne watched him walk away from her, an emptiness settling into the place he'd filled with warmth and laughter. She valued his friendship and hoped in time they could be close again, but she was not going to change her plans to appease him.

He's right about one thing, she mused, family always comes first.

#

Judith sat in her high chair at the dining room table, clapping her chubby hands as Rick fed her another spoonful of sweet potato. Michonne sat across from them, amused as Rick made a complete mess of feeding Judith, pureed sweet potato smeared across her face and bib.

"I'm thinking we should hammer out a schedule," Michonne said. "To help simplify things."

And to avoid each other as much as possible, she thought.

"Works for me," Rick said, buzzing his lips to simulate the sound of an airplane. He moved the spoon slowly towards Judith's mouth, like he was bringing it in for a landing.

"I can take the day shift if you take the night," Michonne said. "Abe can handle constable duties on his own during the day, since things have calmed down some. The community watch group we put together is making a difference. It was a great idea to start one."

Rick had been voted as the new leader of Alexandria and passed his constable duties on to Abe. Michonne enjoyed Abe's company on their walks around the property, checking security at the gates and handling disputes among the community members. He had also suggested starting a group to aid with security, for which several people volunteered. It was a great way to empower the community and help them all feel a lot safer.

"Things are winding down a little, now that Reggie's on board. So getting home by dinnertime shouldn't be a problem." He fed the last of the sweet potato to Judith and cleaned her face and hands with a baby wipe. "You and Abe seem to work well together."

Michonne nodded. "He knows what he's doing. And I trust him. Though, he talks a lot more than you do."

Rick laughed. "Abe is a decent guy."

"Just not all that good at relationships. He mostly talks about Rosita and how pissed she is with him most of the time. The big guy is clueless."

"If anyone can help him out, you can," Rick said. "You've got a knack for sorting through the bullsh*t to find resolutions."

Michonne laughed. "Well, my advice to him would be to break up with Rosita. But I doubt he wants to hear that."

"Maybe it's exactly what he needs to hear. Abe's hard as a nail on the outside, but all soft and mushy on the inside. He'll listen." Rick lifted Judith from the high chair, her short legs kicking in mid-air. She gurgled as Rick planted a kiss on her face. "He's a good guy."

"Yeah, he is." Michonne said, watching them closely. "Ok, I'm going to call it a night." She stood from her chair. "I'll check on Carl again before I turn in."

Rick looked up at her, his clear blue eyes reaching secret places. "Thanks, Michonne. For everything."

"Sure." Michonne turned away from Rick, ignoring the stirring of her heart.

I'm here for Carl, she told herself. She hoped the schedule would help put more distance between her and Rick. He was slowly creeping his way into her personal bubble and sucking up all the air, making it difficult for her to keep things straight.

Michonne walked into Carl's room, the desk lamp the only source of light. The stack of comics in the "Read" pile was growing taller. Enid had visited Carl several times since he'd returned home. Sometimes she read from his comics, describing the pictures in detail, and other times she just talked to him, giving him updates on Alexandria and her own life. Michonne tried her best not to eavesdrop but she had to find her bits of joy somewhere. Witnessing first love never failed to warm the heart.

Carl lay on his back, dressed in flannel pajamas. His arms rested on top of the overturned comforter. He looked as though he were sleeping peacefully rather than in a coma.

Michonne sat in the chair beside his bed. She cradled one of his hands, finding comfort in the warmth.

"Judith spoke her first word yesterday," Michonne said. "During a visit with you. 'Buba' is what she called you." She paused as though they were having a real conversation. "Not a bad name for you. Could have been worse."

She smoothed his messy hair. "One of the first things I'm going to do when you wake up is cut these unruly curls. Can't have you looking like pre-Alexandria Rick." She chuckled, remembering how wild Rick looked with the beard and long hair.

"Enid plans on surprising you with a new comic tomorrow. You chose well, Carl. She's smart and tough like you. You be sure to treat her well when you wake up."

Michonne leaned over and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Sleep well, kid."

She replaced the bandage over his eye and emptied his bedpan before retiring to her bedroom.

Her suitcase lay unopened on the twin bed. Her old room looked exactly as it had when she'd moved out. She tried not to think about that day, not wanting to rehash all those emotions. She unpacked her belongings in less than ten minutes. Michonne had never been that interested in material possessions, which suited her in this new world. Give her only what she could carry in a knapsack and she was fine.

Michonne walked around the bed to the desk, to start a "shopping" list of all the medical and food supplies they needed to replenish. She stopped in her tracks. Propped on the desk was a picture frame holding two photos - the first was the picture of Mike and Andre that she'd given to Rick and the second was a black-and-white photo of her, Judith and Carl, sitting on the front porch of their home.

Michonne noticed the right side of the second photo had been folded over, hiding Rick. Aaron had taken the picture soon after they'd moved into the house. She smiled, picking up the frame. The word "Family" was engraved on the border. They all looked so happy - Andre and Mike, Michonne and the kids. It was difficult to remember the last time she'd felt that happy. So much had transpired since then.

Michonne accepted this gift from Rick. She just hoped the gesture wasn't an attempt to win her back. She had made it clear from the start that she was moving in only to help out with Carl and planned to move out once he was fully recovered. Rick had seemed to agree, not pressuring her for anything more.

Michonne would do her best to take this as a sign of friendship – and nothing more. The sexual tension between them had made a platonic friendship almost impossible in the past. This was their chance to finally do it right, to get to know each other as friends rather than lovers.

As long as she and Rick remained on the same page, everything should run as smoothly as she expected.

#

Dinner that night was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, the best Michonne could do with their food stores at the moment. She had no trouble feeding Judith small pieces of her own sandwich, since the tot loved peanut butter in any form.

Michonne heard the front door open and close. "I'm home," Rick called from the other room.

"We're in the kitchen," Michonne called in response. Judith gurgled happily, opening her mouth wide for another piece of the sandwich. Michonne plopped another bite onto her little tongue, watching her chew happily.

"Long day," Rick said tiredly as he entered the kitchen.

"I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. There are potato chips in the cupboard," Michonne said.

"Thanks." Rick removed his holster belt and slung it across the back of a chair. He grabbed the chips and his sandwich and joined Michonne and Judith at the kitchen island. He kissed Judith on the forehead before taking his seat.

He bit into his sandwich. "Mmm, this hits the spot." He popped a few chips into his mouth, crunching loudly.

"How was your day?"

"Full of meetings, half of which were actually useful. Reg has some good ideas for reinforcing the walls. He even planned out some spots for crops and a new school. I think we could really start something new here."

"Glad to hear that he's up and about again. It was touch and go there for a while."

"Yeah, I was worried he would lose it completely after Deanna died, but he's been able to pull it together. Spencer, on the other hand…"

Michonne wiped Judith's mouth with a baby wipe. She handed her a toy to keep her busy. "What about Spencer?"

"He would prefer for his dad to be in charge and isn't afraid to voice that opinion."

"Is he going to be a problem?"

"Glenn said he's overheard Spencer trying to convince a few others to join his cause, but so far he's had no luck. I'm not worried about it."

"I'll ask Abe to keep his ears open. Sounds like Spencer is still upset about Deanna, but we'll make a point to keep an eye on him. Better safe than sorry."

"Thanks," Rick said, finishing the last of his sandwich. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I've never been good at anything even resembling politics. That's why I became a sheriff's deputy."

Michonne laughed and leaned forward on her elbows. "And yet, you're a natural leader. Who's managed to keep us all alive for this long."

"Well…I had a lot of help."

"Maybe. Besides not wanting to be stuck in meetings all day, what made you want to become a sheriff's deputy? I don't think you've ever told me."

"I guess you've never really asked." Rick smiled. "My grandfather was a deputy and then sheriff, for fifteen years. After my dad skipped town, he pretty much raised me. I was a nightmare as a teenager, skipping class and getting into fights."

"Hard to imagine," Michonne said sarcastically.

"I wasn't that bad," Rick said, his lip curling into a smile. "But one night, after me and Shane picked a fight with a group of frat guys, he locked us up in a cell. He made me decide right then and there which side of the bars I wanted to be on. And I chose his side." Rick looked thoughtful. "And that decision saved my life…more than once."

"Sounds like your grandfather was a great man."

"He was. Taught me how to ride a horse and shoot a gun. But he also taught me how to be a man and take care of my family. I think that's what I'm most grateful for."

"It really makes a difference, having someone to look up to. My dad was that person for me."

"Was he a lawyer too?"

"Far from it. He actually tried to convince me not to study the law."

"Why's that?"

"He'd only ever had bad experiences with lawyers and couldn't bear the thought of his daughter becoming one of them."

"Makes sense."

"Hey, not all lawyers are jerks. Granted, some of the worst people I've met in my life were lawyers."

Michonne chuckled. "But seriously though," Michonne continued, "a lawyer was all I ever wanted to be, ever since I was a child. I wanted the power to protect the people that no one else would."

"Those are some pretty serious thoughts to have a kid," Rick said jokingly.

"Well, I had plenty of time on my hands, not really having any friends. I was pretty shy when I was younger and easily bored by most kids. I guess you could say I was mature for my age."

"Why does that not surprise me?"

"My aunt was actually the closest thing I had to a friend. She recognized my hunger for knowledge early on and would take me to museums and galleries whenever she had the chance. She was great." Michonne paused, looking down at her clasped hands. "Unfortunately, her husband did not appreciate her in the same way. He beat the sh*t out of her and no one lifted a finger to help her. Not even my parents."

"I'm sorry."

A knot formed in Michonne's throat, making it difficult to speak her next words. "He ended up beating her to death. And only spent a year behind jail for the murder."

"sh*t," Rick said under his breath.

Michonne cleared her throat and shook away the grief and anger that accompanied that memory. "So I studied hard and became a lawyer. And then I tracked him down to some small town in Georgia. Of course he was married and repeating the cycle all over again. I knew it was just a matter of time before he killed his new wife as well. So, I convinced her to defend herself, promising to get her acquitted when the time came."

Rick crinkled his brow. "The trial where we met…Sadie Matthews."

Michonne nodded. "And I failed to protect her. She went to prison because of me. All because I wanted to make that man suffer for murdering my aunt."

Rick placed his hand over hers. "It was my testimony that helped put her behind bars. You were the one who saved her life, Michonne."

Michonne pulled away, trying to laugh it off. "Well, I guess my dad was right. Lawyers are pretty sh*tty human beings."

"Good thing you're no longer a lawyer, then." His smile gave her some comfort. "We've all been given a second chance, to recreate ourselves. And you've proven time and time again what a courageous and giving person you truly are."

His kind words, as always, eased her mind. "Thanks," she said. She kissed Judith on the forehead. "I better head out, my shift is starting soon."

"Good night," Rick said, watching her go.

"Good night," Michonne said, not looking back as she left.

#

Michonne came back from her afternoon jog to find Rick sitting on the couch with a black eye and busted lip.

"What happened?" Michonne asked, unable to contain her shock.

"It looks worse than it feels," Rick said, wincing as he tried to crack a smile.

"Don't move," she said sternly, heading to the kitchen for the first aid kit.

Michonne returned with the kit and removed her sweat jacket. She took a seat next to him on the couch. He closed his eyes and leaned back, resting his head on the cushion.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she asked as she opened the kit. She fished out an alcohol wipe, gauze and medical tape.

Rick sighed. "Not much to tell. Daryl and I had a little disagreement."

Michonne paused. "What? You and Daryl got into a fight?"

"Don't worry, he's fine."

"So not the point." She removed the alcohol wipe from its package. "Come here."

Rick opened his eyes and leaned her way.

"This is going to sting," she said, as she dabbed the wipe against a cut right above his eyebrow.

"Ssss," Rick said, wincing.

"What did you fight about?"

"There's no need to make this a bigger deal than it is."

"I'm not trying to make this a big deal. I was just asking for information." Michonne tossed aside the wipe. She ripped a strip of medical tape from the roll.

"We decided to check out the grain storage that Eugene mentioned. The grain was gone, but we did find a truck full of supplies – food and toiletries mostly."

Michonne pressed the gauze against his cut. "And how did that lead to you two trading punches?"

"The tires on the truck were flat, so we had to pack as much as we could into the car, which meant leaving some stuff behind. We couldn't agree on what should come with us now and what we should leave for later."

She secured the gauze with the strip of medical tape. "All this over some supplies? I know there's been some…tension lately between the two of you. I blame myself for that. But I never thought in a million years that you would pick a fight with Daryl. He's your brother."

Rick held up his hands. "I didn't start the fight. He threw the first punch."

Michonne lowered her head, remembering the last conversation she'd had with Daryl a few days ago. Had he still been upset enough to start something with Rick? "That's still no excuse to fight him back."

"Trust me, he got in way more slugs than I did. I figured I deserved it."

"Why?"

"For stealing you away from him. For Carl, of course."

Mike had often told Michonne that men sometimes liked to handle disputes with their fists, rather than drawing conflict out like women typically did. She'd had trouble believing him until now.

She sighed, trying her best not to make it a bigger deal than it was. "Did it help?"

"Well, we didn't hold hands and sing 'Kumbaya' afterwards, but yeah, I think we're on the right track again."

Michonne exhaled in relief. Hopefully Daryl could learn to forgive her one day as well.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Rick said, digging into this back pocket. He pulled out a carton of mint toothpaste and handed it to her. "I noticed you were out and I know how you are about your dental hygiene."

Michonne beamed. The gift meant more to her than she would admit. Small luxuries like toothpaste made her world go round. "Thanks for thinking of me."

"Any time," he said, gazing at her. His eyes flitted briefly to her lips and Rick cleared his throat. "I should check on Carl."

Michonne's pulse raced. She'd both desired and feared for Rick to kiss her. "I'll go with you. He should be waking up sometime soon now."

The two of them walked up the stairs in awkward silence. Rick led the way to Carl's room. He stopped in his tracks, staring.

"What is it?" Michonne asked worried, unable to see what Rick was seeing.

"Carl?" Rick asked, his voice trembling.

Michonne stood beside Rick now. Carl sat up in bed, a smile on his face. "Hey Dad. Hey Michonne." His voice was a bit gravelly.

"Thank God," Rick said, rushing into the room to take Carl into his arms.

Michonne teared up. It had been way too long since she'd heard Carl's voice. She stood at the side of the bed. Tears streamed down Rick's face but he was happier than she'd seen him in a while. He moved aside then and Michonne embraced Carl, making certain it was all real.

"I missed you," Michonne said as she pulled out of the embrace.

"I'm hungry," Carl said.

Rick and Michonne laughed. "I guess you would be," Rick said.

"One chicken noodle soup coming up," Michonne said, moving for the door.

Rick suddenly grabbed her hand and smiled up at her. He nodded and she nodded in return. Small blessings were hard to come by these days, and having someone to share them with made all the difference.

Chapter 17

Chapter Text

"Yahtzee!" Carl yipped, jumping from his chair to perform yet another victory dance.

"No fair," Michonne said. "That's your fifth Yahtzee tonight. Are those loaded dice?"

"Don't be a sore loser," Carl said.

"One loss and she's already complaining," Rick said. If there was one thing Rick had learned about Michonne over the past month, it was that she hated to lose.

This was their fifth game night since Carl's full recovery. Rick suspected Michonne had instituted them as a means to lift Carl's mood, which had been low since he'd woken to a life with one eye. But she seemed to enjoy them as much as Carl did.

"All or nothing," Michonne said. "If you roll higher than a 15, then I'll make fish sticks every night, for a week."

"And if I lose?" Carl asked.

"You do Judith's laundry for a week."

Carl looked to Rick for support.

Rick raised his hands in surrender. "Don't look at me, this is between you and Michonne."

Carl looked to be considering Michonne's deal. "You're on. But under one condition."

"What's that?" Michonne asked, crossing her arms.

"Instead of making me fish sticks, you'll go on a date with Dad," Carl said.

"How is that a prize for you?"

"Is it a deal or not?" His one blue eye watched her, grating on her sympathy. "Imagine not having to deal with Judith's dirty diapers for an entire week…" he prodded.

Michonne's eyes settled on Rick.

Does she need my help deciding? Rick wondered. In that case, he would make his desires clear.

"How about sweetening the deal? No diaper duty for two weeks," Rick offered.

Michonne raised her eyebrows, looking from him to Carl. "Fine."

She grabbed the dice and dropped them into the red cup. She covered the opening with her palm and shook the cup vigorously, the clacking of the dice the only sound in the room. Michonne handed the cup to Carl.

Carl smirked and blew on the dice. He shook the cup in the same fashion as Michonne and then tipped it, the dice tumbling onto the table.

"Five plus three plus two plus one plus…five. I win!" Carl shouted.

Judith's wail suddenly filled the baby monitor.

"Looks like your little outburst woke your sister," Michonne said, her expression more amused than angry.

"I'll get her," Carl said, zipping toward the stairs. "Hope you two have fun on your date!" he called, before disappearing into Judith's room.

Michonne sent Rick an awkward glance. "We could just tell him that we went on a date…"

Rick laughed. Last week, he'd caught Michonne's reflection, staring at him with interest, when she thought he wasn't looking. The thing that had broken between them was slowly starting to heal, and he planned on helping it along.

"A deal's a deal," Rick said. "Don't worry, I'll take care of everything. All you have to do is show up."

Michonne groaned. The hint of a smile on her lips, however, gave Rick the drive to make their date as memorable as possible.

#

Michonne and Sasha walked the perimeter of Alexandria, checking for any signs of walkers or human trespassers. Things had been quiet since the Wolves' attack, but they still patrolled the surrounding area on a regular basis.

"You think they're gone for good?" Sasha asked, her eyes roaming the quiet woods.

"The Wolves?" Michonne asked, her right hand resting on her pistol as she remained alert.

Sasha nodded. "What if some of them escaped?"

"I think we took care of the ones that mattered. Any stragglers aren't coming back any time soon, considering that we pretty much decimated them."

Michonne and Sasha continued on in silence. Things had been awkward between them since Michonne moved back in with Rick. She was dying to ask about Daryl, not having seen him since before his scuffle with Rick. Daryl had a knack for avoiding people he wasn't too keen on.

"So…" Sasha said, breaking the silence. "How's Carl adjusting?"

"Very well," Michonne said. "The first couple of weeks were the hardest. He wouldn't let Enid visit him and spent most of his time holed up in his room. But now he's pretty much back to his old self, but with an extra dose of teenage attitude."

"I'm sure having you there helped."

"I'm just glad he's able to function fully on his own. That's what worried me the most."

"If anyone was going to bounce back from a gunshot wound to the head, it's Carl. From what Daryl said, this isn't the first gunshot wound he's survived."

"How is Daryl these days?"

Sasha shot her a sideways glance. "I didn't think you cared."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, you broke the guy's heart and never came by even once to check on him," Sasha said, the accusation clear in her tone.

Michonne's heart squeezed with guilt. "I wanted to give him some space."

"Sure."

Michonne touched Sasha's arm gently. Sasha stopped, sighing heavily before turning to face her. "That's not fair. Carl needed me."

"I get that. But Daryl deserved better. He cared about you more than anyone. More than Carol. Or Judith..."

Michonne read the hurt in Sasha's expression and it all suddenly became clear. "Or you."

Sasha scoffed. "What?"

"You're in love with him, aren't you?"

"You don't know what you're talking about." Sasha walked away from her, resuming her inspection of the perimeter.

Michonne followed, gathering her thoughts before speaking her next words. "He cares about you too, you know."

Sasha ignored her, focusing her attention on surrounding area.

"You two would talk for hours about tracking and guns," Michonne continued.

"We're just friends, with common interests," Sasha finally said in response.

Michonne laughed. "Daryl talking to anyone for more than a few minutes is rare. Even I couldn't hold his attention for that long."

"You held his attention plenty."

Michonne was starting to realize what a crappy friend she'd been to Sasha since they'd moved to Alexandria. All this time, she had been seeking comfort in the man one of her closest friends was in love with – and she had been too selfish to even notice.

"But you never said anything…" Michonne said.

Sasha scoffed. "Daryl has only ever had eyes for you. Probably before he even realized it, he was in love with you. There was no way I was coming between that."

"I'm sorry," Michonne said.

"Well, I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. Daryl's had it rough this last month and he won't talk to anyone. Not me, not Carol. You need to go see him, Michonne."

Silence hovered over them as they continued along their path.

"Facing Daryl," Michonne finally said, "means facing the truth of my betrayal of our friendship…and of his love. I wanted to move on, to love him the way he loved me, but I knew I never could. And what I did to him, the way I fed on him like a leech, makes it hard to even look at myself in the mirror. How can I even look him in the eye after that?"

"You stop hiding, for one," Sasha said.

They stood at the gated entrance to Alexandria, Michonne vaguely wondering how they had gotten there so quickly.

Abe slowly pulled open the gate. "Any action out there?"

"About as much as in my bedroom. So, you're in for a quiet night," Sasha said.

Abe chuckled. "That's hard to believe." Michonne caught Abe's eyes dropping to Sasha's hips as they walked away.

Interesting. Sasha's definitely got a suitor if Daryl doesn't bite, Michonne said.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow, promise," Michonne said, though her stomach churned at the thought of having to face him.

"There's no better time than the present," Sasha said, a little more pleasantly than Michonne would have liked.

Daryl exited the front door of their house, stopping in his tracks when he spotted Michonne. He held his crossbow in one hand and an oiled rag in the other.

Michonne had never run from anything in her entire life - except for walkers – yet she suddenly felt the urge to turn on her heel and run for cover. Nor from fear of what Daryl might do to her with that crossbow but from fear of finding out that he hated her.

Daryl scowled and Michonne tried not to take it personally, telling herself it was just his natural expression.

"See you, Michonne," Sasha said, slipping past Daryl and shutting the front door behind her. Michonne wished for her own escape.

Daryl sat on the top stair and began rubbing the rag along the dull wood of the crossbow. Michonne took a seat next to him.

The two sat in silence, with Daryl focused on his weapon and Michonne scrambling for a conversation starter.

"Carl has started learning how to shoot a gun with only one eye. He's almost as good of a shot as he used to be," Michonne said.

Daryl only grunted in response, continuing to rub down his crossbow.

"Judith is talking up a storm now, though it's mostly baby babble. She's gotten pretty good at saying 'Uh oh' after overturning a bowl of food."

A small smile touched Daryl's lips. "Little Asskicker…" he said quietly.

"I'll get Carl to bring her over some time," Michonne said.

"I'd like that."

The fact that Daryl was even talking to her gave her the confidence to continue. "I'm sorry I haven't been around in a while."

Daryl shrugged his shoulders. "You've been busy."

"I've really missed your friendship."

Daryl scoffed. "Ok."

Michonne's confidence dropped. Would this man ever trust her word again, after the way she treated him? The thought of losing him forever settled like a stone in her stomach.

"I wish things had turned out differently," she continued.

"I doubt that. You got what you wanted," Daryl said coolly.

Michonne knew she was in the wrong, but Daryl was starting to work her last nerve. "It's not that simple. I want you in my life too, Daryl."

"We can't always get what we want, can we? That's life."

"So is that it? Are you just done with me?"

Daryl placed the crossbow on the step beside him. He turned to her, examining her closely. "Did you ever care about me? Or were you just usin' me to get back at Rick?"

Michonne placed a hand on Daryl's forearm. "You know that I care about you. Rick and I…we have a complicated history together. I should have never dragged you into it."

"You love him?"

Michonne looked away, her eyes settling on the golden sun slowly dipping below the hills. She had avoided asking herself this very question since she moved back in with Rick.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I did once, but now…things have changed between us."

"He loves you," Daryl said quietly.

Michonne shut her eyes. She had known for quite some time how Rick felt about her, even though he tried his best not to show it. He was always there with a kind word or watching her when he thought she wasn't looking. He took care of her in ways she didn't even know she needed. But she wasn't ready to entrust him with her love again.

"You should give him another chance," Daryl said, breaking into her thoughts.

"What?" Michonne wasn't sure if she'd heard him correctly.

"Me and Rick worked things out, though we still won't talk about you much. Doesn't want to rub it in my face. But I can tell it's hard on him, not to share his feelings or whatever."

Daryl never failed to surprise her. The last thing she had expected was for him to encourage a relationship with Rick.

"I'm glad to hear you two have settled things," she said.

"He's my brother and he loves you. I'm doing my best to step aside."

"What you need to be doing is focusing on Sasha."

"Huh?" Daryl asked, like he had absolutely no clue what she was talking about.

Michonne stood, wiping the dirt from her behind. "Let's just say you two need to have a talk. Soon."

Michonne coasted down the stairs, not turning back. "Good luck." She waved a quick goodbye, not waiting for a response.

It would take some time for Daryl to trust her friendship again, but she felt hopeful they would get there. Getting him and Sasha together would keep her busy in the meantime.

#

"Is it close?" Michonne asked. Long drives made her queasy, especially if she wasn't the one at the wheel. The soft rock playing on the stereo did little to calm help. She hated soft rock.

"Another 20 minutes and we'll be there. Promise," Rick said.

"Good," Michonne took a deep breath. "Don't think I could last much longer." Michonne rested her head back against the seat, careful not to close her eyes. Shutting her eyes only made it worse.

Rick shot her a brief glance. "Isn't much longer than the trip we took to get to Alexandria. You seemed fine then."

"My stomach was empty and I was running on fumes, so I doubt I would have even noticed."

"Well, don't worry. This will all be worth it." Rick turned the stereo volume up as "More Than a Feeling" by the rock band Boston filled the car. He sang along quietly.

Michonne had to admit she was happy to see him in such a good mood. With all that'd happened with Carl and assuming leadership of Alexandria, Rick had been too busy to take any time for himself. Michonne suspected that was one of the reasons Carl suggested the "date" in the first place.

Maybe it was the smooth ride or Rick's soft singing, but Michonne ended up nodding off, sleeping in a moving car for the first time in her life.

She awoke to Rick's voice. "We're here," he said, shaking her shoulder you gently.

Michonne cracked open her eyes. "I fell asleep?" She yawned and stretched her arms wide.

"Yep. Luckily, the sound of the engine drowned out your snoring," Rick said playfully.

"I do not snore," Michonne said, feigning a hurt expression.

Rick chuckled. "Ok, I'll get it on tape next time, since you don't believe me."

"You must have a death wish," Michonne said, laughing along with him.

Getting away from Alexandria was already improving her spirits. The 5-ton weight on her shoulders suddenly felt as light as feathers. She let herself smile and laugh and just enjoy the moment.

Michonne and Rick exited the vehicle. She looked around, trying to figure out where they were exactly. She gasped when she spotted the pristine white house with a sparkling river rushing in the backyard.

"Is this Mt. Vernon?" Michonne squeezed out the words, her muscles tense with excitement. Even with the overgrown lawn and unkempt grounds, it was one of the most beautiful sights she had seen in her life.

"You're the history buff. You tell me," Rick said, smiling.

"But how did you even know I wanted to come here?" Since they'd inhabited Alexandria, Michonne had been adding to a list of historical sites she wanted to visit, if time ever permitted. George Washington's Mt. Vernon estate was in her top five.

"I took the hint after the third time you mentioned it," Rick said.

Michonne hadn't realized she even mentioned it once to Rick. Most people had no idea how much of a history geek she was. She loved it even more than art. If she hadn't become a lawyer, she probably would have ended up a high school history teacher.

"I can't believe no one has occupied it," Michonne said, scanning the area and suddenly feeling vulnerable without her katana, which she'd left in the car. There were no signs of walkers or humans, as far as she could tell.

"Someone posted a sign, asking people to preserve the home and the history. So far, it looks like they've done just that. Nice to know folks still feel the past is worth protecting."

Her chest welled with excitement and gratitude. "Thank you," she said as Rick came to stand by her side.

"This is our first date. I had to go all out," he said.

Michonne tilted her head to the side. "You're right. We did things kind of backwards, didn't we?"

Rick took her hand. "I'm down for a do-over, if you are."

Michonne squeezed his hand and released it. The flutter of her heart made her nervous. "Well, a first date is a good place to start. Let's just see where this goes, okay?" She stared into his baby blue eyes, so full of love and hope.

Rick nodded. "Sounds like I'll have to earn myself some more brownie points," he said, heading for the mansion. He grabbed her hand and tugged her along. "Get ready to have your history-loving mind blown."

Michonne chuckled, happy to let him to lead the way.

#

Rick and Michonne relaxed on the back porch of the mansion, enjoying the chilly autumn breeze on the riverside. He sipped lukewarm lemonade, sneaking sideways glances at Michonne. She sat in a wicker loveseat looking straight ahead, a light blanket thrown over her shoulders, her expression content.

Her happiness touched him. He realized how linked they were, how much her emotions affected his own. Just her presence in the house again, living as a family of sorts, had made each day feel a little brighter. The thought that he might once again be a source of her happiness filled him with hope.

"So, on a scale of one to five, how is our first date?" Rick asked lightheartedly, but somewhat anxious about hearing her response.

Michonne took a sip of lemonade, continuing to focus her attention on the river. "Is it over already?"

"It will be getting dark soon. We should be able to make it home before dark if we leave in the next 15 minutes or so." He finished the last of his lemonade, placing the glass on the porch. "You didn't answer my question."

Michonne patted the empty cushion next to her. "Come here."

Rick's heart beat a little faster. He rose from his chair and joined her on the love seat. She scooted closer to him, placing half of the blanket over his shoulders. She tipped her head, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

"For a post-apocalypse date, I'd give it a four," Michonne said.

"How do I make it a five?" Rick asked. He leaned in slightly.

"Hold your horses, cowboy," Michonne said, placing a hand on his chest.

Rick suspected he was doing a poor job of hiding his disappointment because Michonne's expression turned apologetic.

"Please don't think that I'm rejecting you. I just want to sit here, enjoying your warmth and the river. To remember this beautiful moment for the rest of my life. Is that okay?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," Rick said with a smile, though his heart felt bruised from her rebuff. "That sounds perfect."

Michonne sighed, resting her head on his shoulder again. Rick leaned to the side, resting his cheek on the soft cushion of her hair.

Rick planned to take things as slow as Michonne wanted, but was more than ready to speed them up when the time called for it. He closed eyes, hoping that day would come soon.

#

Michonne stoked the fire, the logs crackling as she repositioned them with the wrought iron poker.

"You're pretty good at that," Rick said. He lounged on the couch facing the fireplace, his shoeless feet resting on the coffee table.

"Pretty good for a city girl." The fire burned bright once again and Michonne returned the poker to the stand near the fireplace.

"That too, but my mom was born and raised in the country and she couldn't stoke a fire to save her life."

"She did rear an incredible son, though," Michonne said, sinking down next to him on the couch.

Rick threw his arm across her shoulders, pulling her in close. Michonne leaned into his warm body, reveling in his spicy scent.

Weeks had passed since their date at Mt. Vernon and Rick remained a complete gentleman, snuggling with her as often as they found the time, but never taking it any further. Taking things slow had allowed them to reach a new level of intimacy, something she'd never experienced before, even in all the years she lived with Mike. Little by little, she was starting to trust him again.

"I put in a request for more baby clothes for the next run. Judith is getting bigger by the day," Michonne said.

"That's understandable. She's got an appetite like her dad."

"I'm not sure that we have enough food to last us the week."

"Maggie's finally got the garden up and running, so that should eventually help. But it will be some time before it makes a difference."

"We'll have to put our heads together and figure out a plan soon. The second the food runs out, all chaos will break loose."

"Nothing we can't handle."

Michonne liked the way "we" rolled off of Rick's tongue, like it was second nature. She had been feeling the same way about their relationship lately. They were a unit, at home and in the community. All of the heavy baggage between them was slowly falling away and allowing them to clearly see their love for one another.

She looked up at Rick. The glow of the fireplace against his skin gave him a youthful appearance, even with the gray in his trimmed beard. He looked as handsome as he had the first day she'd met him.

Michonne reached up and turn his head to face her. He looked down at her, his blue eyes curious. She lifted up slightly from the couch and kissed him, the small rough hairs of his beard tickling her chin.

Rick returned the kiss, deepening it with the swirl of his tongue. His hand moved to caress her cheek and she pulled him down to lay on top of her. The weight and warmth of his body made her feel safe, which proved to be even more of a turn-on.

She ran her hands along his back and underneath his shirt, his skin smooth against the calluses on her palms. He quietly moaned, his hand creeping underneath the front of her tank top. Michonne's moans mixed with his as they made out like teenagers.

"Gross!" Carl suddenly said from behind the couch, snapping Michonne out of her lusty haze. Rick quickly moved with her, sitting up on the couch.

"Get a room," Carl said, as he walked into the kitchen.

"To be continued," Rick said quietly, stealing another kiss.

"Don't leave me hanging too long," Michonne said panting, sure she would burst if she couldn't run her hands all over his body soon.

"Waiting is not an option," Rick said, his eyes dark with desire. "We just need to find somewhere to stick Carl for the night."

"I heard that," Carl called from the kitchen.

Michonne and Rick laughed together, creating yet another memory with Rick that she planned on never forgetting.

Chapter 18

Chapter Text

Another glass crashed to the floor. "Damnit!" Rick cursed from the kitchen.

Michonne chuckled quietly from her spot in front of the fireplace. "Everything alright in there?" she called from the living room. The fire blazed brightly, the only source of light in the room.

"Doing just fine," Rick said, sounding more frazzled than upset. "I'll be out in a second."

Michonne leaned back into the couch, resting her legs on a cushy ottoman. She wore her favorite outfit - leggings and an oversized t-shirt. She stretched and yawned, doubting she could stay awake for much longer. She'd spent the day on a run with Spencer and Abe, and all she wanted to do was fall asleep in front of the fireplace.

Michonne had come home to find the kids gone and Rick slaving away in the kitchen. He'd sent Carl to spend the night at Daryl's and Judith was with Maggie and Glenn. Rick had gone to the trouble of planning a quiet dinner at home for just the two of them and all she could think about was crawling into bed.

Rick strolled into the living room carrying a tray with sliced apples, a bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes.

"Wow," Michonne said, pleasantly surprised. He had her full attention now. "Where on earth did you manage to find champagne?"

"I didn't," Rick said, joining her on the couch and placing the tray on the coffee table. "It's a gift from Daryl."

"Why?" Michonne asked, kind of shocked.

"Because he's happy for us. Why else?" Rick popped the cork and filled each flute with champagne. He handed her a glass and raised his own.

Michonne raised her glass in return, noticing a slightest tremor in his hand.

Rick cleared his throat. "To us."

"To us." Michonne clinked her glass against his before taking a sip.

"Will you marry me?" Rick blurted out.

Michonne choked, champagne dribbling down her lips.

"You okay?" Rick asked with concern and amusem*nt.

Michonne hiccupped and then downed the rest of her champagne. Her head felt a little fuzzy; whether from the shock of Rick's proposal or the bubbly beverage, she couldn't tell.

"What…what's happening here?" Not the most graceful response, but Michonne was still reeling from the shock of his proposal.

"Well," Rick said, placing his glass on the coffee table. He rose from the couch to face her. Rick bent down on one knee, taking a hold of her hands. "I asked you to marry me and now I'm waiting for you to say yes."

Joy bubbled up from her belly and her body began to shake with laughter. She tried to speak but could hardly catch her breath.

"Ok…is that a yes?"

"Yes," Michonne managed to squeak out. "Yes!" She threw her arms around him, bringing them down onto the rug in front of the fireplace. She straddled him with intention.

"Wait, wait," Rick said. He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a diamond ring – the same ring he'd proposed with the first time. Maneuvering their bodies, he took her hand and slipped the diamond onto her finger.

Michonne planted kisses all over his face, finally finding his lips. She breathed him in as she used her lips and tongue to show him just how happy he'd made her.

Rick gripped her waist with his hands and met her deep kiss fully, only pulling away to catch his breath.

"I've always loved you," he said, his probing blue eyes serious and vulnerable.

"Me too. I love you." Michonne captured his soft lips, her desire building. Heat coursed through her body as her hands deftly moved to his belt buckle. There was something extremely sexy about the man of your dreams proposing to you.

Rick moaned, his hands moving down her back to cup her behind. Michonne responded in kind, moaning into his mouth. There was no one else on the planet who could make her this hot.

"Do you have a condom?" Michonne asked as she parted the zipper of his jeans.

"Yeah," Rick breathed. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out the slim silver package, removing his jeans in the process.

She and Rick undressed in record time. Michonne explored his body with purpose, using her hands to memorize every hard plane and smooth line. Their bodies intertwined, the feel of Rick's lips caressing that sweet spot underneath her jaw, Michonne climbed to a new height of pleasure, taking Rick along with her.

Later, Michonne and Rick parted their sweaty bodies, spreading out on the soft rug, the fire reduced to low flames and blackened logs. Michonne lay face down, sleep slowly creeping up on her.

"sh*t," Rick cursed beside her.

"Hmm?" Michonne responded sleepily, her eyes drooping closed.

"The condom broke," Rick said in almost a whisper.

The shot of adrenaline to her veins made her eyes shoot open. "What?"

Rick looked at her apologetically. "Damn thing busted."

Michonne took a deep breath and began calculating the number of days since her last period. Seventeen days. Almost the exact same timing as the last time she'd gotten pregnant with Andre.

"Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together this time," Rick said, massaging her bare shoulder. "That's what marriage is all about, right? Having babies, making a family."

It was becoming obvious which outcome Rick was hoping for. All Michonne could feel at this point was fear - fear of the unknown, fear of loving another child, fear of losing another child.

"Don't get your hopes up. I'm over thirty-five, so my chances probably aren't as good as they were last time," Michonne said, hoping it was true.

"Not to boast, but I've got a pretty good track record." Rick pulled Michonne to him, wrapping his arms around her to spoon her from behind. "Plus, it's you and me, Michonne. Our chances are pretty much 100%."

Michonne sighed. "Either way, we'll have a better idea in the next couple of weeks."

"I've always liked the name Taylor," he said, snuggling against the side of her neck.

"Way too soon," Michonne said. But it does work well for a boy or a girl, she thought randomly.

"Turn right here," Sasha said from the backseat of the car.

"Got it," Rick said. He made a hard right at the next intersection.

"Easy," Michonne said, gripping the side of the passenger seat. Rick noted that her skin lacked its usual luster and she looked a little nauseous.

She's definitely pregnant, he thought. The idea filled him pride, though he kept it to himself. Michonne was over a week late for her period, so the odds of her being pregnant were even better now. Yet, Michonne had insisted on finding a pregnancy test to be certain; the reason for this little road trip.

"Gas station comin' up," Daryl said.

Michonne had invited Sasha on the run and Daryl had decided to tag along as well. It seemed Daryl and Sasha were together quite a bit lately. Neither one knew the true purpose of this trip, but Rick was glad for the company.

Things had been tense between him and Michonne recently. She had been aloof at best and contentious at worst. He hoped settling the mystery of her pregnancy would get them back on track. He wanted to start planning the wedding as soon as possible. He could hardly wait to call this woman his wife.

Rick pulled up to a gas pump at the station. Abandoned cars and broken glass littered the lot. Rick doubted there was any gas left, but he wasn't one to pass up an opportunity to collect fuel.

The group exited the car, checking out the surroundings.

"I'll check for fuel," Daryl said, heading for the gas pumps.

"Sasha, keep a lookout while Michonne and I search the convenience store for supplies," Rick said, grabbing Michonne's hand.

"Sure thing," Sasha said.

"This isn't a grocery store," Michonne said. "I can search a place this size on my own."

"You never know what could be lurking in a place like this," Rick said. "Plus, it will give us a chance to talk."

Michonne sighed and released Rick's hand. "I can only focus on finding a pregnancy test right now. And maybe a Big Kat and cheese puffs." She pushed past him, reaching the entrance of the convenience store.

I wonder what else she'll have cravings for, Rick wondered, more certain than ever that she was carrying their son or daughter.

Michonne unsheathed her katana, knocking on the glass door with the handle of her sword. Rick removed his Colt from its holster, coming to stand next to Michonne. The two of them watched and listened for any signs of movement. There were none, the store remained completely quiet.

Rick pulled on the handle of the door, a bell chiming as he opened it slowly. Even with the lights out, the small store was well lit by the daylight streaming through the windows. Michonne headed straight for the shelves, though most of them were bare.

"Not much here," Rick said.

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious," Michonne replied.

Rick watched her, somewhat turned on by how curt she was with him. Even her mood swings are sexy. Rick moved to the cashier area, hoping to find a gun or other weapon stashed behind the counter.

Rick searched while Michonne scavenged through the sparse contents of the shelves. All he managed to find was a half-full bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes.

"The last one!" Michonne said excitedly. She held up a small box with a pink plus sign and pink lettering. "Thank goodness it's not expired. Two more months and it would have been too late."

"I spotted a bathroom on the way in," Rick said excitedly. "Why not take it now?"

Michonne nodded, but remained where she was. "Didn't you want to talk?"

"That can wait –"

"No. Now."

Rick crinkled his brow. She was obviously looking for any excuse to stall, seeing as she had spent the last week avoiding this exact conversation. "Fine. This baby –"

"We don't even know if I'm pregnant yet."

"This baby," Rick continued, "is a gift to us, to our family. I understand the fear of losing a child, I face that it everyday. The actual pain of such a loss, I can't imagine what that must have been like for you. But I'm with you now, to protect our child together. We can do this, Michonne. I know we can."

"As safe as we are behind those walls, the world we live in hasn't changed. It's as dangerous as it ever was."

"How can you know that for sure? There could be other communities like ours out there, people building a future. This baby would mean that we believe in a better world, that we believe humanity has a shot at rebuilding all that it's lost."

Michonne came to him, her eyes glassy with tears. She quickly closed the distance between them, taking his face in her hands. She kissed him, distracting him from his original line of thought.

"I love you," Michonne said. "So much that I'm willing to believe in the future you see, with our baby."

"I'll really have to make it happen then," he said, pulling her in for another kiss. "Now…"

Rick gently gripped her shoulders. He led her to the bathroom and opened the door, guiding her into the dim room. "Now, go pee on that stick already. And then we'll wait for the results together." He kissed her lightly on the lips and closed the door behind him.

Rick left Michonne to it, going to check on Daryl and Sasha instead. The bell chimed as he exited through the front entrance. He scanned the gas station for Daryl and Sasha but found no sign of them.

"Daryl?" Rick rested his hand on the hilt of his holstered gun. "Sasha?" He remained still, listening. There was nothing.

Suddenly, a hard object pressed into his lower back. "In case you're wondering - yes, I will kill you if you make a sudden move." The voice was male and the tone was certain. "Hands up, buddy."

"You really don't want to do this," Rick said, raising his hands in the air.

"None of us know what we truly want. That's what makes life interesting." He slipped Rick's gun out of its holster. "Your gun should do for now."

"Where are my people?"

"They're safe. Just taking care of a few walkers I set as a distraction. Should be back soon, if they're any good at fighting. The woman looks like she can handle herself, but I've got my doubts about that biker."

"They better come back or I'll kill you where you stand."

"That's a little tough to do without your gu–"

Rick heard a thud and what sounded like the clank of a pipe hitting the ground. He turned to find a man with long stringy hair and a bandana hiding the lower half of his face crumpled on the ground. Michonne stood over the unconscious man.

"You okay," Michonne asked Rick, lowering her katana. Apparently, she'd used the butt of her sword to knock him out. She returned the weapon to its case.

"Yeah, I'm good," Rick said. He squatted next to the unconscious man. "Especially considering all he had was a pipe."

Rick retrieved his gun. He yanked down the bandana, revealing a trimmed beard. "This guy is definitely not some random straggler on the road."

"You think he's from another camp, like Alexandria? There have to be others we don't know about," Michonne said.

"Only way to know for sure is to ask him when he wakes up."

"Morgan's jail should come in handy until then."

His pulse now returning to its normal state, Rick remembered the reason they were out there in the first place.

"Did you get a chance to take the test?" he asked.

Michonne nodded. Before she could answer, though, they were interrupted by a shout in the distance.

"Rick!" a woman's voice called.

Daryl and Sasha came jogging from around the side of the convenience store. Rick and Michonne walked over to meet them.

"You two alright?" Rick asked as Daryl and Sasha joined them.

"Yeah," Daryl said.

"There was a small herd of walkers heading our way. We took care of them," Sasha said.

"You can thank him for that," Rick said, tilting his head in the direction of the unconscious trickster.

"Who?" Daryl asked, looking confused.

Rick turned back to find the spot empty. "You've gotta be kidding me," he said.

"My bag!" Michonne said in a panic.

"Son of a…" Rick said, scanning the area to no avail. He was gone.

"If he was just here, he can't have gone that far," Daryl chimed in. "We'll find him. What does the prick look like?"

"My height, long hair, trench coat," Rick said.

"Trench coat?" Sasha asked. "Definitely a prick."

Rick caught Daryl smiling Sasha's comment.

"We'll have better luck finding him if we split up," Michonne said.

"Right," Rick said. "Daryl and Sasha head East and Michonne and I'll head West. Meet back here in twenty."

Daryl and Sasha nodded and then they were off.

"We have to get my bag back," Michonne said.

"Don't worry, we'll sniff this guy out," Rick said. "With four against one, there's no way he slips by us."

"I hope you're right, seeing as the pregnancy test was in my bag."

"I really hate this guy." Rick gave Michonne's hand a light squeeze. "I promise we'll find him."

There was no way he was waiting another day, let alone another week or month even, to find out if his future wife was carrying their child.

He was definitely going to break this guy's kneecaps for making him wait even another minute.

As Michonne walked along with Rick, she started to wonder why she'd agreed to track this guy down in the first place. There was nothing of real importance in the bag – except for the pregnancy test. And she was in no real hurry to find out the results.

The thought of growing another precious life inside of her body made her stomach lurch.

It's just nerves, she told herself. Deep down, she knew it was more. She just refused to believe she was pregnant until she saw the results for herself. And a part of her wanted to delay that moment for as long as she could.

Rick placed a hand on her shoulder. "Wait," he whispered.

He silently pointed in the direction of a pond. He moved toward the still water and Michonne followed, slipping her katana from its case.

Michonne picked up the sound of whistling as they drew closer. At the edge of the pond stood the bandit who'd robbed her, her bag resting at his feet.

Unaware of their presence, he drew back his arm and then thrust it forward, a rock shooting from his hand. The stone skipped perfectly on the surface of the pond.

"Seriously?" Michonne whispered. "What is wrong with this guy?"

Michonne and Rick continued their approach, careful to not make a sound.

"Took you longer than I expected," the guy said without turning to face them. He skipped another stone across the pond.

Rick trained his gun on his back. "You have something that belongs to us."

Without turning around, the guy said, "It's only decent to ask someone's name before pointing a gun at them."

"Who are you?" Michonne asked, both annoyed and intrigued by this mystery man.

He turned to face her and Rick. "My friends call me Jesus," he said, a twinkle in his big blue eyes.

Rick scoffed. "Jesus? Yeah right."

"Where are you from?" Michonne asked.

"Nowhere in particular," Jesus said with a smirk. "You?"

"The same," Rick said, his gun still aimed at the man.

Jesus laughed. "Fair enough. Though the fact that she's pregnant makes me think otherwise."

Michonne's heart skipped a beat. Rick lowered his gun.

"What?" Michonne asked in almost a whisper.

"Congratulations," Jesus said.

Michonne dropped her katana, sobbing unexpectedly. The emotions she had expected to feel – fear, anger, anxiety – were outshined by the joy that hit her like a freight train. She was going to have a baby with the man that she loved and who loved her more than anything.

Rick took her into his arms. "It's going to be okay, I'm not going anywhere. We'll get through this together."

Michonne wanted to tell him that her tears were happy, that she was anything but upset. But she just couldn't stop crying. Finally, she managed to squeeze out a few words. "I'm so happy."

"Me too," Rick said, tilting her chin up to kiss her.

She'd just about forgotten about the stranger standing there, watching them. "Look, I know we got off to a rocky start…" Jesus said, interrupting their happy moment.

"That's an understatement," Rick said. He wiped the tears from Michonne's cheeks, his own eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"You two seem like good people. If you're looking for a doctor, I can take you to one," Jesus said.

Michonne and Rick shared a hopeful look. And just like that, she let go of all the pain and heartache she'd been holding onto since Andre's death, letting love take its place.

A year later…

"You may now kiss the bride," Father Gabriel said, smiling at the happy couple.

Daryl and Sasha leaned in to kiss. The crowd applauded and cheered for the newlyweds as they sealed their wedding vows with a kiss. Alyssa let out a gurgle in her sleep and Michonne smiled, rocking her gently. Even in her sleep, her little one seemed to be well aware of her surroundings.

Like mother, like daughter, Michonne thought, tucking the blanket tighter around Alyssa.

"I never thought I'd see the day Daryl was a married man," Rick said, smoothing Alyssa's soft curls.

Sasha beamed as she walked down the aisle, dressed in a white cotton dress. Daryl wore his leather vest over a dress shirt paired with jeans. He'd even combed his hair for the occasion. He also wore the biggest smile Michonne had ever seen on him.

"I think their break had something to do with it, especially when Jesus started sniffing around Sasha," Michonne said.

It had been hard for Sasha to break things off with Daryl, but it turned out to be the push he needed to fully commit to their relationship. They had been going strong ever since.

"Sometimes guys just need a little push," Rick said. He held out his hands for Alyssa. "I'll take over for a little while. You could use a break."

Michonne gently placed Alyssa in Rick's arms, sneaking in a deep kiss.

"Watch it, woman," Rick said. "You keep kissing me like that and we may just have to run off and get started on another one of these."

Michonne wasn't completely averse to that idea. "How about we start with dinner first," she said, giving him a peck on the lips before heading for the buffet.

Music blasted from speakers placed throughout the courtyard. There was no need to keep the music low, as walkers hadn't been seen within miles of Alexandria for the past few months. There'd been speculation that the humans were finally starting to eliminate the walkers, but Michonne knew better than to let her guard down just yet.

"Great wedding," Jesus said as he joined Michonne at the buffet.

"Even better than ours," Michonne said, in the middle of fixing a plate for Rick.

She and Rick had gotten married a month after Jesus had invited them to partner with the Hilltop. Their partnership – trading Alexandria weapons for Hilltop crops – had benefitted both communities greatly. Most of the Hilltop was in attendance for the wedding, adding to the jovial mood.

"He's a lucky man," Jesus said wistfully, watching Sasha and Daryl slow dance to "Georgia on My Mind."

"We're all lucky, to have come this far," Michonne said.

Jesus nodded, turning to scoop roasted yams onto his plate. "And our luck might be improving. There's been talk of another community called the Kingdom. But there's also a rumor that the leader owns a pet tiger, so I'm not sure how much stock to put into it."

"I guess anything's possible nowadays," Michonne said, loading green beans onto the plate. "You should take Morgan with you, in case this turns out to be more than a rumor. He's a great judge of character."

"Sounds like a plan," Jesus said.

"Try to enjoy yourself tonight," Michonne said.

Jesus nodded. "It is a celebration, after all."

Michonne joined Rick at their table. Carl held Alyssa, feeding her a bottle, while Rick played with Judith. Michonne's heart swelled at the sight of her family. She had come so far and had so much to be grateful for.

She slid onto the bench beside Rick, pushing the plate of food in front of him. "Thanks, babe," he said, planting a kiss on her cheek.

She watched Rick eat, seeing so much of Alyssa in him; wanting to see those features mixed with hers, maybe in a son this time.

Michonne grabbed his thigh under the table. "Hurry up and finish eating, I plan on taking you up on your offer to, you know..." she said, winking at him.

"Forget about the food," Rick said, dropping his fork and grabbing her hand. "I'm ready for dessert. Carl, keep an eye on your sisters."

"Again? You two are like teenagers," Carl said, shaking his head.

Michonne laughed as Rick dragged her home, hoping they acted like teenagers for years to come.