Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Summary: Post “Knots Untie.”  It bothers the F outta me that we don’t get to see Michonne and Carl together.  But I do think there will be a flashback of some kind in the season finale.  In short, here’s a fill in the blank.  Rick and Michonne bring boxes of groceries into their house…

“Carl,” Rick greeted with a nod of his head.  “Where’s Judith?” he asked, setting a box down on the counter.  Michonne placed an identical one next to his, and began to unpack jarred goods.

“She’s taking a nap,” Carl replied, watching both of them carefully.  “We have groceries now?”

“Yep.  Vegetables, seeds, and even a cow.  Well, the cow’s coming,” Rick explained.  Michonne took a jar from his hand, giving him a small smile.

“Rick, why don’t you go upstairs to shower and change.”

“What?”  Rick looked down to where her eyes had traveled–there were still blood stains on his shirt and coat.  “Oh yeah.  I’ll be back in a bit.”  He gave her hand a squeeze, smiling at her, lingering for a bit, then headed out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaving Michonne alone with Carl.

“You gonna help me with these groceries or not?” Michonne asked, turning her back to him, resuming what she was doing.  Though he didn’t answer, Carl walked over next to her, taking items out of the box.

“So…you’re not avoiding me,” he said, putting a big jar of pickles in the cupboard.

“Why would I do that?” Michonne replied, though she didn’t make any eye contact with him.

Carl sighed.  “Michonne, you haven’t looked at me once since this morning in the hallway.”

Slowly, Michonne turned to him, and looked at him straight on, unwavering, chin held high.  Then she wavered, looking away again, leaning heavily against the back counter.  “I just…That wasn’t the plan.”

“What was the plan?” he asked, a joking tone coloring his voice.

Michonne shrugged.  “I don’t know what the plan was, but it wasn’t that.”

“It’s okay.”

“Carl–”

“No, really.  When I asked Jesus what he was doing, he said he was waiting for my mom and dad to get dressed.”

Michonne, visibly embarrassed, turned away from him.  Carl stepped in front of her, making her look at him.

“It didn’t jar me–not him referring to you as my mom. The getting dressed thing was confusing, but only for like five seconds.  Honestly, I thought, ‘About time.’”

Michonne looked at him, curious.  “You did?”

“Well, yeah.  You guys have always…I don’t know.  I just wasn’t surprised.  And, it felt right.  I mean, this is…it’s not temporary, right?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Michonne said, shaking her head.  “I…we…I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Carl said with a nod, satisfied, resuming putting the items away.  Then he added, “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“Oh?” Michonne said lightly.  “Figure out what?”

Carl gave a casual shrug.  “That you’re a Grimes, too.”

Chapter Text

Rick: Carl, you stay here with Gabriel and the others. Stay on top of patrol for the walls and–

Carl: Dad, I'm coming with you.

Rick: Carl–

Carl: No, I need to be there. [He looks at his dad pointedly] I love her, too.

Rick nods, more to himself than Carl. His jaw is tense, and his eyes squint a bit. His emotions threaten to overwhelm him, but he won't let it; can't let it. Not now.

Rick: Yeah. Go get your stuff. [He pats Carl on the shoulder] We're gonna bring Michonne home.

Chapter Text

Rick can’t stop his eyes from welling up.  He can’t let her walk away.  “Michonne, please–”

“No!” she says fiercely.  Stunned at her reaction, she takes a deep breath and tries again.  “No.  Not while he’s out there.  You should be there, too.”

Rick shook his head, placing both hands on her shoulders.  “We can’t.  I can’t…”

“You don’t have to.  I will.”

“I mean…I can’t lose you.  You don’t know what it was like,” he whispered, his face twisted with grief.  “When I came home, and you weren’t there, and when I saw that walker wearing your vest, your hair and that night…that can’t be you.  That…that can’t be us.  Please, Michonne.”  He pulled her to him, hugging her close, rivulets of tears finally making their way down his face.  “Please don’t go.”

She hugged him back, quiet sobs wracking her body.  “Damn it, Rick…I have to…”

He kissed her temple, her cheeks, her mouth, then rest his forehead against hers. “I love you.  Stay.  With me.”

Chapter Text

Rick lay in bed, under the sheets, lights out, staring at the baby monitor.  Judith was sleeping, breathing heavily.  Carl was sulking in his room.  And Michonne...

Michonne was out there; restless; wandering. 

Rick shut his eyes tight, trying like hell to block out the images of what she could face.  He couldn’t stop her--couldn’t make her see.  Couldn’t get her to stay.

He let out a shaky sigh, once again looking at the monitor.  This is why he had to stay.  Had to...

He stilled when he heard the bedroom door slowly open, then gently close.  He heard the quiet rustle of clothing and the light padding of feet.

“You came back,” he murmured. 

She got into bed behind him, pressing her naked body to his back, wrapping her arm around his torso.  “I came back,” she whispered.  She kissed his neck, his shoulder, then squeezed him to her just a bit tighter.  “I’m sorry.”

Rick took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the top of it, then her palm.  “I’m sorry, too.”

“It’s not your fault.  I don’t blame you, for any of it.  I’m mad as hell, Rick.  But not at you.”

Rick turned in her embrace, facing her.  

She stared into his eyes, her fingers lightly touching the planes of his face.  She gave him a watery smile.  “I love you.  You know that, don’t you?”

Rick swallowed, closed his eyes and nodded.  “Yeah.”

He wrapped his arm around her when she leaned in, kissing him ever so gently.

“As long as we’re together...we’ll be okay,” she said.  “I believe that.  I do.  We’ll figure this out.  Together.”

Rick tucked her hair behind her ear, staring at her lovingly.  “Do you know how lost I’d be without you?” he asked.

“About as lost as I’d be without you,” she replied, running her fingers through his curls.

Rick wasn’t sure who kissed who then, but it didn’t matter.  Having her back in his arms, safe, close--

That was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

“ To be that close to her...holding her. Feeling her, feeling her beneath you. Surrounding you. The scent ...”

~Spike

As the sunlight filtered their room, Rick slowly awoke.  There was something about having her in his arms that made the world slow down--slower to wake--for it was then that he would have to let her go.  Things needed to be done--tend to Judith, working the perimeter...She just made it so easy to let go.  

Rick couldn’t put into words the level of elation he felt the day she chose him.  He didn’t think anything would compare to it, except for moments like this: holding her all night, arm wrapped tightly around her--there was no other place he’d rather be.  Feeling her warmth, her softness molded against him...What could he do, but kiss her soft skin and inhale her ambrosial scent--coconut.  

He loved every inch of her.

Rick wasn’t sure if he still believed in God, but there was one thing he was certain of: he was so incredibly thankful to be good enough.  For her.

Chapter Text

Inspired by these. In my head she’s his wife, and there’s something so juvenile about “girlfriend/boyfriend” especially given whose listed directly above her as the same damn thing. Like, no.  Just no.  They’re more than that.  Also, not listing Carl and Judith as her adopted kids kind of burns my grits.

Anyway...

“Hey...you okay?” he asked her in that soft, concerned tone that he seemed to reserve just for her.

She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Michonne...what’s wrong?” he asked, cupping her cheek.  She closed her eyes at the touch, holding his hand to her face, slightly leaning into his palm.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes, staring intently at him and said, “I don’t want to be one of those women who needs to label everything, but I think I am.  It seems ridiculous given everything, but...”  She shook her head at herself, starting to pull away.

He pulled her back.

He placed his hands at her hips, and halted her with his intense stare that was so open and full of love.

“Michonne, whatever you want this to be will be what it is.”

“And what about you?  What do you want it to be?”

He shrugged, tilting his head as he smiled at her.  “I’m yours.  Have been for a long while.  I just want you to be mine.”

Michonne entwined her fingers in his curly locks.  “Always,” she whispered.

He stared at her intensely for several beats.  “You’re mine,” his voice rumbled low from stoked passion.

Michonne gave a true smile.  “I know.”

Chapter Text

Rick turned at the sound of crying--Judith.  

He could see on the monitor that she had woken up, fretfully so.  Placing his book on his nightstand, he got up from his bed, heading to her room.  He paused in the doorway as he saw Michonne lift her up gently and hold her close.

“It’s okay, sweet girl.  It’s okay,” she murmured, kissing Judith on the forehead.  It was as if a switch had been flipped--Judith instantly quieted, resting her head on Michonne’s shoulder. Still, Michonne began to sing to her.

“Who knows how long I've loved you?  You know I love you still.  Will I wait a lonely lifetime?  If you want me to, I will.  For if I ever saw you, I didn't catch your name.  But it never really mattered.  I will always feel the same.  Love you forever and forever.  Love you with all my heart.  Love you whenever we're together.  Love you when we're apart ...”

Rick felt something inexplicably clench in his chest.  It happened every time.  She was so good with them--Carl and Judith.  Like she’d always been there.  He remembered the hug Carl gave her when she found them holed up in that house after the prison.  Rick knew the joy that Carl felt, cause he had felt it too when he saw her.

And it was her; Rick had known for some time.  Michonne was the one.

He loved her; there was no question or qualms about it, but...they were friends.  Such good friends.

How did he tell her...how would he tell her?

He wished--longed that she would feel what he felt.  Sighing, Rick slowly backed away, heading to his room.

He sat on the bed, lost in thought as Michonne’s dulcet tones were playing softly over the monitor.  He started to unbutton his shirt, then remembered his watch, unhooking its clasp.  He looked down at the gold band on his finger.  He exhaled, twisting it about.  He slipped off his watch, placing it into the tiny dish he kept it in at night. Slowly, he slipped off his ring, placing it in the center of the dish with his watch.

“For the things you do endear you to me.  Oh, you know I will.  I will...”  

He figured that would be as good a step as any.

Chapter Text

Michonne thought she could sneak into Rick’s bathroom quickly and squeeze some toothpaste onto her brush without him noticing.  He was in the shower, but she wasn’t sure for how long.  As soon as she had gotten the cap off, he started to open the shower door.  

“Sorry,” she called out.  “I’m in here.”

“Okay,” he called back, grabbing the towel off of the rack, wrapping it around himself while still inside the shower stall.  She wasn’t worried about propriety—the doors were steamed and given what they shared, PG-13 nudity was low on the totem pole.  

Still, when he exits, towel wrapped low on his hips, water beads on his skin, she tries not to notice how enticing he looks, hair all wet and slicked away from his face, stubble enhancing his features.  ‘Though he looked just as good clean shaven,’ she admitted silently to herself.  Putting the toothpaste on the counter, trying to escape her musings, she turns to leave.

“If you want to brush in here, you can.” Rick’s voice, soft and steady, halts her.  He grabs his toothbrush with his right hand and the toothpaste with his left, putting some onto his own brush.  

Michonne watches him from the corner of her eye as she begins to brush and notices instantly—it’s gone.  His wedding band was gone.  Her face does not to let on she notices, though her body reacts—her pulse quickens; her breath catches, the latter unfortunate a bit, given the foam of toothpaste in her mouth.  Still, she continued to brush, her mind racing.  She had wondered when he might do that—she had been waiting for the moment when he would be emotionally whole.  Now that he was, she found that she was actually terrified.  The ball was now in her court, and she had no clue which play to make.

Rick gave her a smile around his brush, gazing at her in the mirror, as if he were pleased.  Or waiting.

Michonne promised herself he wouldn’t have to wait too long.

Chapter Text

Inspired by @girl-ninja‘s awesome observation post on tumblr.  

Everything had been going so well.

Everyone was out on that sunny, Sunday afternoon, enjoying the barbeque.  Judith was with Beth, and Carl was talking to Hershel about a new plowing technique.  Rick spied Michonne, sitting off to the side alone, observing everyone.

Just like he was. 

He went and fixed two plates, then went over to her, sitting down.

“Can’t believe we’re at this point,” he said, handing her a plate.  “Getting to sit around and enjoy a summer breeze.”

“Thanks. Didn’t think I’d be at a backyard barbeque ever again,” she said with a smile.

“Things are settling down, leveling out.  We’ve finally become fully self-sufficient…Runs aren’t as necessary as they used to be.”  His voice was quiet, then.  While he was sure of what he was saying, he was unsure how she would respond to it.

Michonne didn’t say anything for a moment, pushing some beans around on her plate. Then, “No, they aren’t.”

Rick smiled as Beth walked by, helping Judith wave hello.  Michonne shifted in her seat, looking away.

“I picked up a trail a few days ago.  Ran out of supplies, but I’m fully stocked now.  Gonna head back out later today.”

Rick cocked his head at her, eyes squint a bit as he stared at her.  “Really?  Today?” He was incredulous, and wasn’t afraid to show it.

Michonne shrugged, looking away.  “Seems like a good day for it.”

Rick sighed, clearly exasperated, sitting back in his chair.  Still, he didn’t comment.  But only for a moment.

“You should stick around,” he said casually.  “We don’t see enough of you.”

“Hmph. I think you see me just fine,” she teased.

It took a lot of effort for Rick to not eye her up and down, but he managed.  

“It’s just…we worry.  I worry.”

Michonne reached out, squeezing his hand.  “I’ll be back soon enough.  I always am.”

Rick nodded more to himself than her, trying like hell to shake off that creeping feeling of dread.  “Will you at least finish eating first?” he asked.

She let his hand go, then shoved his shoulder playfully.  “Of course.”

“Well, there’s that, I guess.”

She looked at him then, staring at him intently as she thought.  “Why don’t you come with me?”

Rick looked shocked for a moment, “yes” on the tip of his tongue.  Then he sighed, looking across the way at Carl, Hershel’s voice in his head.

‘What kind of life will he have?’

Rick’s jaw clenched, and he looked down at his plate of ribs.  “…I can’t.  That’s not me.  Not anymore.”

Michonne smiled at him.  “Farmer Rick it is, then?”

Rick smiled back, chuckling a bit.  “Don’t laugh. One of these days, I’ll have you as Farmer Michonne.”

Michonne leaned back in her seat, relaxed in his company.  “That’ll be the day.”

-----

“Man. You got it bad.”  Daryl watched Rick as Rick watched Michonne on her horse, leaving the safety of the prison.

Rick nodded a bit before a burst of laughter erupted from him at the realization that he did indeed have it bad.  Then he sighed, suddenly weary.  “I just wish she wouldn’t go out so much, is all.”

“Can’t tie that woman down, Rick, even if it’s for her own good.  She's gotta figure it out on her own,” Daryl said, clapping Rick on the shoulder.

“Yeah...probably karma, anyway.”

“Karma?” Daryl asked, bewildered.

“This must’ve been what it felt like for Lori, whenever I would leave.  I just…I don’t want anything to happen to her out there.”

Daryl grunted.  “Maybe just…I dunno, tell her.”

“Well it’s not that easy, Daryl.”

“Why? You say some words, she hears ‘em…”

“Okay, I did tell her.  She just…she asked me to go with her.  Couldn’t do that,” Rick said with dismay.

“Hey man, we got time.  She’ll come around.”

Rick stared, worriedly watching as she disappeared into the distance.

“Yeah…she’ll come around.”

Chapter Text

What Is the Meaning

What is the true meaning of salvation?

Can I find it in your eyes?

In your smile?

Is my salvation in your heart?

And what of the meaning of Love?

Can I feel it in your touch?

Taste its nectar on your lips?

Can I be loved wholly by your soul?

And what of contentment?

Shall I feel it when I hold your hand?

Shall I feel it when you lay next to me and

Hold me close?

When you whisper, "Goodnight"?

I can say I've found these things and more

The day I found you.

Rick collapsed backwards onto the pillow, still gripping the backs of Michonne's thighs, body sheened with sweat, panting heavily. Exhausted and sated, without having much strength left, he took her hand and gently spun her around, pulling her upward towards him. She collapsed on his chest with a satisfied sigh.

"That...was new," he said, hand dropping down to cup her left cheek, giving it a squeeze.

"It was," she agreed, tracing invisible patterns on his chest. "...did you like it?"

"Oh sweetie, I loved it," he said, subconsciously licking his lips, still tasting her. "Didn't you?"

She nodded. "I did."

"It wasn't planned, I swear," he said. "I just...you were so close...and I love doing that to you. Felt natural just to pull you over."

"It's okay. I have no complaints." She gave a kiss to his left peck. "Still, not as big of a deal I thought it'd be. As far as kink goes, it's not high, considering. You're just simultaneously giving and receiving," she mused.

"Made it more intense, I think. Or at least, I was trying like hell to focus."

Michonne chuckled. Then, "So...you've never done that before?"

"Nah."

"None of your lovers wanted to try that? Really?" she asked, incredulous.

It was then that Rick laughed, gazing down at her lovely face. "Just how many lovers do you suppose I've had?"

"Oh...I don't know. I don't want to guess that," she said, shaking her head.

"Come on. Take a guess," he prodded, smiling.

"Well, you were married to your high school sweetheart, so that cuts the list down tremendously. Still...a dozen or so?"

"Hmph," Rick grunted, neither affirming or denying her guess. "What about you?"

"And I officially don't want to play this game," she said, snuggling deeper into his embrace.

"Come on, we tell each other everythang."

Michonne sighed, looking away from him, debating with herself. "All right...as you know, I wasn't married, but, I was with my son's father for quite awhile. Almost six years. But before.." She sighed, fingers mussing his curls. "You'dmakefour," she mumbled.

"I'm number four?" he joked. She slapped his chest.

"No. You are not a number, Rick. And you didn't give an answer. You are not getting out of this. Was it much higher? Did you live it up before settling down?" she asked, her tone teasing.

Rick looked at her, a dreamy smile on his face as he shook his head, "no." "You've got me two to one, darling."

Michonne's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Not that you're a number, but, officially, you'd be 'two,'" he said with a smirk and a roll of his eyes.

Michonne sat up, starring at him for a long while.

"What?" he asked.

She leaned down, kissing him gently, her hair brushing his flushed skin.

"Rick Grimes...you are sweet. Kind. Loyal. I know you were married, but more than that, you never struck me as the rolling stone type."

"Huh."

"Am I wrong?" she challenged.

"No. You're not," he said softly, taking her hand.

"Okay. What would you say about me?"

"Now that feels like a trap," he joked.

Michonne then rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Tell me."

He looked at her, smiling, absentmindedly caressing her arm. "You're a romantic. Cautious, but loving, once you open your heart. You weather storms better than anyone. It's a big part of the reason why I love you."

Michonne gave him a smile at that. "Love...I think I've got you beat two to one on that, too."

Rick smiled back at her. "Let's call it a draw."

Chapter Text

"I thought I'd lost her," Rick whispered.

"But you didn't, Rick.  She's still here.  And she still loves you."  Gabriel gave a small smile.  "I know my place in this world, now.  But I still have the power of ceremony.  Let me unite the two of you in the eyes of the Lord."

Rick's head jerked at that.  "You want to marry us?"

“I’ve always found that, in such times of darkness, the best thing to do is something that inspires hope to a brighter future, thus making for a brighter day. You love each other. I’m here, we have a church…”

“But we just lost…” Rick shook his head. “It’s not the right time.”

Gabriel put a comforting hand on Rick’s shoulder. “In the world we live in, Rick, is there really such a thing as the right time? Or is it merely just right now? The clock is ticking for us all. Don’t let this moment pass you by.”

Rick looked down, thinking, rubbing his thumb rapidly over his pointer and middle finger.  He gave half a chuckle.  "Think she'll say yes?"

Chapter Text

It was odd, seeing everyone pick up and go like that.  Rick watched with a furrowed brow as they filed out in groups, going to their own houses.  It was something he’d have to get used to, for sure.  

“Don’t think of it as abandonment,” Michonne said, sidling up to him.  “Think of it as them giving you your space.”

“Yeah...it’s just we’ve been cooped up together for so long.  But it’s probably for the best.”  He glanced at her.  “Did you pick your room yet?”

“Yeah, the one closest to the stairs on the first floor.”

“That’s good.  The bathroom upstairs is nicer.  Master bath.  If you ever need anything...”

She smiled at him.  “I know.  And totally noticed the bathrooms, but, there were only three bedrooms upstairs, so...”

“Still.  It’s your home.  Use whatever bathroom you please,” he said, placing a heavy hand on her bare shoulder.

Michonne looked at him and smiled.  “We really made it, huh?  Home.”

Rick stared at her, a small smile on his lips.  “Thanks to you.  We did.”

Chapter Text

"Rick and I had our differences. And it was bad towards the end, but…he shouldn't be alone. I don't want him or Carl alone. And if we can do this one thing, I want to do it right."

"I'm telling you…she's the one."

She looked at him skeptically. "Are you sure?"

"Rick was my best friend. Damn near my brother…I screwed up so much. I owe him this. Make it right. And she's the one to square it up."

"Why her?"

"Look at her–she's a survivor. A mother. A fighter. And, she has attributes Rick will appreciate," he said frankly.

"No need to be crass, Shane."

"Yeah, well…you asked."

"I just don't think they'll get along. She doesn't seem like his type."

"You're wrong. When those two meet–sparks are gonna fly. Rick won't know what to do with himself, as usual, but he'll figure it out in the long run. Lucky for him, she's a long haul kind of woman."

"What about Carl?"

"She's gonna love him. I mean it's Carl. And Carl will love her. She wields a sword. That is damn cool. Besides, she lost her own son…and Carl lost you. Those two will get on fine."

"I hope you're right."

"I was wrong about a lot of things, Lori…not about this. Let's make sure she gets there, then we can go."

"Go?"

"To the great beyond thereafter. Don't know if we're going to the same place…probably not," he admitted quietly. "But we do have to finish this, and finish it right."

Lori nods in agreement, preparing to do this one last thing for her family.

Chapter Text

“You and Rick, huh?”

Michonne turned at the sound of Daryl’s voice.  He was leaning in the kitchen doorway, eating an apple.

Michonne smiled to herself.  “Yeah.  Me and Rick.”  Her brow furrowed, and she looked at him.  “You weren’t surprised,” she stated.

“Nah.  Knew for awhile how Rick felt.  He told me back at the prison.”

Michonne’s eyes widened.  “He did?”

“Mmm.  Every time you’d leave, looking for the Governor, he’d want to go after you and couldn’t.  Told him you’d be back around.”

Michonne smiled at him.  “He was worried.”

“‘Bout you?  ‘Course.  When I saw the three of you together after...seemed right.”

Michonne nodded.  “It was.  Is.”

Daryl shrugged.  “No argument, here.  Anyway, you two been walking around like old marrieds for the longest.  ‘Bout time you wisened up and made it official,” he said, taking another bite.  “Don’t screw it up,” he said with a smirk, turning away.

Michonne scoffed, leaning back against the sink.  “Yeah.”  

Chapter Text

Abraham glanced over at Rick, who was still staring down the road.  “I asked Daryl how long you two been shaking the sheets and he said he didn’t know. More like couldn’t tell. No one could.  But, in hindsight, it makes perfect sense.”

“It hasn’t been long...this stage is new.  Couple of weeks new,” Rick said, eyes not straying.

“What about the next stage?” Abraham asked, taking another pull on his cigar.

That made Rick turn to look at him.  “What?”

“Already got the white picket fence, Rick.  Plan on adding a couple of more pups, too?”

Rick stared at him, waiting for him to explain.

“Glenn told me that he and Maggie were trying to build something.  That it wasn’t an accident.  Looking at Sasha...I get that.  Dunno how she feels about it, but...I’m thinking Judith and the Gleggie new baby will want other kids to play with.”

Rick squint his eyes a bit at that.  “Jesus, Gleggie?”

“What with the world ending and all, someone has to keep pop culture references alive.”

Rick leaned against the gate, attempting to will Michonne home.  “Yeah...that’s not what I’m worried about keeping alive right now.”

Abraham clapped him on the shoulder.  “She’ll be okay.  But really, you should think about that.”

“Kids?”

“Your future.  I plan on being around a good, long while, Rick.  We are part of the few who get a second chance at this.  I have every intention of going the full nine and then some.”

“Just being with her...it’s everything.  Makes it easy to forget about...but I do.  Want that.  With her. When she gets home, we’ll talk.”  Rick gripped a bar in each hand, resting his foot at the bottom of the gate, settling himself to wait patiently for Michonne to turn.  “Any second now...”

Chapter Text

Rick couldn’t take the sight, as he was unsure of what to do.  Seeing Michonne sitting on the edge of her bed, tears streaming down her face as she suffered in silence…he wasn’t sure what to even say.  He couldn’t tell her it would be all right–that they were still alive; that Glenn was still out there and okay.  That would be a lie, and she’d see right through it.  

This wasn’t something they could fix; not something he could fix.  They had to just wait it out.  Rick wasn’t sure how to do that.  And seeing her grieve on top of that–it was a dagger to his heart.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, wiped the corners of his eyes, then abruptly turned, heading to the front door.  And he was out–outside.  It allowed him to breathe again.  It was just too hard; too complicated…For the first time in a long while, Rick longed for a simplicity that no longer existed.

Chapter Text

Rick felt himself falling.  Mouth agape, brow damp, he fought against the tide of emotions, and began to pull back.

But Michonne...she held him to her, staring up at him.  "Don't," she whispered.  "Don't stop."

He stared at her, understanding what this might mean.  He swallowed, kissed her, and kept going.

~~~~~~

Rick lay on his side, his hand propping his head up.  His free hand traced the curve of her body over the sheet. “Hey,” he said, looking at her.  

"Hey back," Michonne said with a quirk of her lips.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked her.

Michonne took a deep breath, momentarily averting her eyes.  “…It’s just…it’s what I want.  It’s what I want with you.  I look at Carl and Judith…I love them with all my heart.  But do you think there’s room for one more?”  

The fear and uncertainty in her voice nearly broke his heart.  'I can fix that.'  He took her hand, kissed it and whispered, “Yeah.”  

She gave a shuddering sigh as she stared at him, running her fingers through his hair.  “When I was younger…I always thought I wanted just the one, you know?  Andre, my son…he was my world,” she said with a sad smile.  

Rick’s brow will furrowed.  He lightly caressed the side of her neck, over her collarbone and down her shoulder.  “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”  

Michonne shook her head, blinking back tears.  “After Carl and Judith, I think three’s a better number.  I wanna work on number three,” she admitted quietly.

Rick rolled on top of her, covering her with kisses.  “Three or four, I’m all in,” he said playfully.  

Michonne giggled from the touches and tickling, his beard worrying her sensitive flesh.  She cupped his face, and staring deeply into those soulfully blue eyes of his.  “Are you sure?” Her brow was furrowed with worry.

Rick stared at her just as intensely and said, “I’m sure about you.  About us.  About our family.  Let’s add another member,” he finished with a smile.

She smiled back, grateful, kissing him, remembering what he had known for sometime:

They'd be all right as long as they were together. 

Chapter Text

“You know, it was Carl who made the call. He said you belonged here. You're one of us.”   

Michonne looked at Rick, giving him a small smile before turning, walking away.  Rick turned around and watched her go, then followed Michonne as she walked down the cell block, taking a couple of long strides to catch up to her.  

“And here I thought I was on the outside,” Michonne said, glancing at him.

“No, you’re not on the...you’re not,” Rick said firmly.  “You have a place here.  A home.  Always.”  His voice was still firm, but was soft somehow.  Sincere.

Michonne halted her steps, staring at him, her face full of an emotion that Rick couldn’t quite place.  “Yeah.”

Rick nodded.  “Good.  Glad that’s sorted.  You ready?”

Michonne looked away, taking a breath.  “Yeah.  I’m ready.”

Chapter Text

Rick looked at Daryl and Tyrese, Michonne’s sobs reverberating down the halls.  Andrea had been Michonne’s only friend; her first friend after everything.  He understood why she wanted to stay there, but now...

“I’m going in there,” he muttered, opening the door.  Michonne was still crying, cradling Andrea, rocking her.  Gently, he took Michonne’s hands, pulling her up.  “Hey.  Hey now,” he said softly, holding her.  She held him back, crying onto his shoulder.  “I’m so...sorry.”  Rick glanced at Andrea, then looked away.  He guided Michonne out of the room.  He caught Daryl’s eyes, shaking his head.

“I shouldn’t have left her,” she cried.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, arm wrapped around her.  He guided Michonne outside into the fresh air.  She leaned against the building, hands at her knees, breathing deeply.  Rick walked over to her, rubbing her back.

“I shouldn’t have left her,” she said again.

“We...we all make our choices.  Andrea did what she thought was right.  All we can do now is...do the same.  I think we should bring the people from Woodbury back with us.”

Michonne looked up at him.  “It’s the right thing to do.  It’s what Andrea would have wanted.”

Rick nodded at her.  “Yeah.”

Michonne wiped her face, and when the tears kept coming, she wiped it again.  “I’m okay.”  Slowly, she started to head back inside with the others.

“Hey Michonne?”  She turned back, looking at him.  “What Andrea said, about being glad you found us...I’m glad you found us, too.”

Michonne stared at him, giving a watery smile.

Though they had a long road ahead, Rick had a feeling it would be okay.

As long as they were together.

Chapter Text

”When did you know?” she asked him, wrapped in his arms, warm, loved, under the sheets.

“I wanted this, wanted you for a long time,” he whispered.  “Felt like forever.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I just...I didn’t know you felt the same way.”

She smiled at him.  “I guess we were both stupid then.”

Rick shook his head.  “Not anymore.”

Michonne caressed his face.  “No.  Not anymore.”

Chapter Text

Rick fiddled at the bandages, staring at the sky.  It was clear, bright and blue--a polar opposite to what was happening within the prison walls.  Hell, it was opposite to how he felt.

“Rick?”

He turned at the sound of her voice, offering a small smile.  “Hey.  How are you?” he asked, looking at her leg.

“I’m okay. How are you?” she countered, taking in his bandaged hand and bruised face.

“I’m...yeah.”

Michonne quirked her brows at that.  “You’re, ‘yeah’?”

Rick sighed, drumming his fingers on the butt of his gun.  “I don’t...I dunno.  I lost it back there.  I just...I thought that part of me was gone.  If Daryl hadn’t been there...I didn’t want to stop.  What does that make me?” he asked, looking at her cautiously.

Michonne stepped closer, keeping her eyes on him.  “Human.”

“You should keep your distance.  It’s not safe--”

“No.  I told Beth I thought it was stupid for Maggie and Carl to come after me.  And she told me that, when you care about someone, that’s what you do.  That’s what we do, Rick. I’m going on a run with Daryl and a few others.  I’ll see you when we get back.”  She walked past him, squeezing his bicep as she did so.  Rick turned, watching her walk away.  Then--

“You won’t go after the Governor anymore?” he asked quietly.

Michonne turned back, glancing at him.  “I won’t.”

Rick nodded.  “Glad to hear it.  See you soon.”

Chapter Text

For @richonnefics Open Mic Night

It was gone.

Noah’s sobs echoed through the empty streets, loud and painful.  But Rick couldn’t focus on that.  He could see the tears in Michonne’s eyes; he could feel her devastation.  He wanted to make it right for her, but he didn’t know how.  He wanted to hold her; he wanted to comfort her; he wanted to tell her...it would be okay.

But he couldn’t offer that.  Not now.  Not until he found an answer.

All he could do was let her know that he was there.  They would figure this out, together.  He kept his eyes on her as he walked past her, and she kept her eyes to the ground.  But Rick knew--what she was feeling, what she was trying to hide.   Gently, he touched her wrist, his fingers brushing her palm.  It wasn’t a hand hold, but he just needed her to know:

All wasn’t lost.  Not as long as they had each other.

Chapter Text

Canon-friendly one-shot for season 6 that’s pre-"The Next World."  This is unabashedly-sexually-attracted-to-Michonne!Rick.  So like, you know, pretty much canon!Rick, cause for real...  What could have been innocent gets kind of sexy and then finally awkward.

Chapter Text

Rick sat alone, back to the dying fire, keeping watch.  Abraham and Tara were directly behind him, several yards away, keeping watch, marking the other end of the camp, their van and truck flanking them.  Michonne, Carl, Noah and Judith were still in the truck, Carol, Sasha and Eugene in the van, and everyone else in sleeping bags inside the perimeter.  Everyone was asleep.

“I told you to wake me up for our shift,” he heard Michonne say.

‘Well, almost everyone,’ he thought.

He smiled, turning a bit so he could see her.  “You needed the rest.”

She scoffed, sitting next to him, placing her sword beside her.  “No more than anyone else.”

Rick sighed.  “Can’t a guy just do something nice?”

“Not if it involves me slacking off,” she said, shoving his shoulder gently with her own.

Rick chuckled.  “’Michonne’ and ‘slacking off’ are two things that definitely don’t mix.”  He looked at her.  “You were sleeping.  You haven’t gotten much rest, lately.”

“None of us have.”

“That’s why I let you sleep in.  Besides, I need you alert and awake for whatever comes next.  I want you to get as much rest as you can, when you can.”

“And what about you?” she asked quietly.

Rick studied her face, illuminated by the flickering fire.  He remembered waking up, seeing her across from him in the truck. She had looked so peaceful, that he couldn’t bear to wake her, so he hadn’t.

“I’ll be alright.”

“Next time,” she said, “just wake me.  It won’t be long before I get up, anyway.  I think we have the same internal clock.”

Rick gave a small smile.  “We must do.”

She looked at him, her face somber.  “Do you need to talk about it?”  

Rick looked down at his hands, clasping them.  “I was right there. She was right there. I couldn't save her,” he said quietly.

Michonne shook her head, grasping one of his hands,  letting her arm rest on his raised knee.  “It’s not your fault.”

He held her hand back.  “I know, I just...”  Rick looked up at the stars.  “She wanted to get Noah home.  I think we should get him there.  He said they had walls.  Maybe...  What do you think?” 

“I think we should.  We should take him. And if they have walls, if it's still going...  We should stay. A place where we stay more than a day or a couple of nights. It could be good.” 

He gave a swipe of his thumb over the top of her hand before letting it go.  “You ready to settle down?” he asked, looking at her with a smile.

Michonne chuckled.  Then--

“After all we’ve lost, all we’ve been through, don’t you think it’s time?”

Rick stared into her eyes, taking her in.  “I hope it's still there. For him.”  Rick paused, waiting a beat.  “For you,” he admitted quietly.

Michonne looked back at him before looking up at the night sky.  Imperceptibly, she leaned against him, taking his hand once more.  Even though she hadn’t said a word, he knew what it meant.  Silently, he promised himself he wouldn’t fail her.

Chapter Text

Rick, Michonne, Daryl and Sasha go on a run.  They separate into two teams--Daryl and Sasha head in one direction, while Rick and Michonne take the other.  

Twenty minutes in, Rick and Michonne get approached by a herd.  They fight back to back to back, calmly and in tandem.  They’re holding their own, but then they hear Sasha yell “Down!”

Rick spins, hooking Michonne around the waist, diving, taking her with him to the grassy ground as bullets and arrows fly overhead, taking out the rest of the walkers.  Rick covers Michonne with his body until it’s silent.

He lifts his head up, staring at her face.  “You okay?” he breathes, trying to ignore her supple form is beneath him.  

She breathes heavily too, mirroring him, adrenaline still pumping as she stares at him as intensely as he’s staring at her, hands gripping his shoulders.  She nods.

“Y’all okay?”

They both turn at the sound of Daryl’s voice.  Slower than necessary, Rick rises, offering a hand up to Michonne.  “Yeah.  We’re good.”

The spell broken, they all head back to the others.

“Find anything?” Daryl asks.

Rick exhales, shaking his head.  “No.  Not today.”

Chapter Text

Aaron gave a smile.  “Took some time, but, I knew they’d be good for this.  For us.”

Deanna smiled back.  “I think so.  But, I need you to tell me something...when you were alone with them, what was the dynamic?  What was the dynamic when you were following them?”

Aaron frowned, unsure how to verbalize it.  “Well, Rick is the clear leader, through and through.  He made almost all of the calls.”

“Almost?” she asked, curious.

Aaron took a deep breath.  “For a moment Deanna, I was terrified.  It wasn’t going how I planned by any stretch of the imagination.  Rick knocked me out and took me hostage.  He didn’t believe my story about Alexandria, or anything.  Wasn’t even going to see if my story was true.”

“Story about what?” Deanna asked.

“Eric and I had to leave the trailer and the car at a block in the road.  There was a huge storm, and a tree fell.  But, Michonne stepped up and demanded they go and see.”

Deanna’s eyebrows rose.  “Michonne?  Really?”  Deanna paced a bit, hands behind her back.  “Actually, yes.  She has a lot of conviction and passion, doesn’t she?”

“Thankfully, yes.  If I had to guess, I’d say she was co-leading the group with Rick.  Earlier, when I was following them, Sasha broke rank, and Michonne was the one to reprimand her.  Not anything extreme, just...yeah, co-leaders.  Though Rick is the head roost in charge, Michonne is there to cover him.  From what I could see,” he hastily added.  “Even when I showed up, they silently conferred with each other as to what they thought of me.  Thank god Michonne saw things differently.” 

“Huh,” Deanna said with a smirk.  “They have their own government--checks and balances.”  Deanna headed to her desk, picking up her notebook and began furiously writing.

“What are you thinking?” Aaron asked.

“Rick and Michonne?  I won’t break up that dynamic.  They’re going to continue working together.  As constables,” she said, turning to him with a self-satisfied smile.  “They know about law and order, and control their people.  They should have no problem controlling the waywards here, keeping a handle on things.  Yes, I think that will work out just fine...”

Chapter Text

Summary: Inspired by @ricks-chonne post and the comments within them.  When I think of what I want to happen, and how it feasibly could happen…this is what came from that. 

It doesn’t have to be a big thang, just…

The sun was slowly setting, its orange glow enhancing the stained glass windows.  Rick stared down at his hands, gently holding hers.

Just us.  You.  Me.  Carl and Judith.

She turned and smiled at Judith’s singing.  Carl bounced her on his lap, but keeping his eye on them all the while.

I need you to know Michonne…there’s no place I’d ever want to be.

“Shall we begin?” Father Gabriel asked.

Rick looked up, his eyes meeting Michonne’s.  He smiled.  What else could he do but smile at this beautiful woman, whom he loved.  She gave his hands a squeeze and smiled back.

“Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Rick and Michonne in matrimony, commended to be honorable among all…” His voice echoed in the nearly empty hall of the church.

The words began to blur as he stared into her eyes.  Rick blinked back tears, mouthing, “I love you” to her as Father Gabriel continued.  Droplets rolled down her cheeks as she mouthed back, “And I love you.”  One fell on top of her white button down.

“…and therefore is not to be entered into lightly but reverently, passionately, lovingly and solemnly. Into this–these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.  Rick?”  Father Gabriel looked at Rick in askance.

Rick reached down into his jeans pocket, pulling out twin silver bands, etched in filigree.  He handed his to Michonne, then slipped hers on her left ring finger.  She did the same, and they held hands once more.

“I don’t know how long I’ve loved you, Michonne.  I–”  Rick paused, wiping at his eyes.  “All I know is, until my last breath, I’ll love you.  You know me in ways that…I’m glad you’re staying with me, ‘cause I’d be lost without you.”

Michonne didn’t bother to hide her tears, though she tilted her head back, taking a calming breath.  “Rick.  The way I feel for you…I’ve never felt this before.  Never.  You saw me when no one else could.  You love me with all of your heart, and I want you to know I love you with all of mine.  Every inch, every fiber.  There’s no place I’d rather be,” she said, echoing his words.  Rick smiled.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you…”

Rick and Michonne gravitated to each other.  Rick cupped her face as they gently kissed, their hands still clasped, their rings catching the light…

Chapter Text

Quietly they sat back to back, under the stars, keeping watch of their camp, the quiet of night keeping them company.

Rick shifted a bit and asked, "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue. Yours?"

"I was always more partial to green. Why blue?"

Michonne shrugged. "The color of the sky on a clear day, the color of the water…it's calming, I think."

"I bet you'd look pretty in blue," he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth unbidden.

Michonne smiled. "I did have a few blue dresses that I think I looked quite nice in."

"You in a dress? There's a sight I'd like to see," he said, bumping her shoulder.

"Maybe someday. Favorite breakfast food?"

"French toast," he said without hesitation. "Though I could only get it at a restaurant. This diner by the station had great French toast."

"I love waffles, with their little trays for syrup or fruit or, my favorite, vanilla mascarpone. I had my own iron."

"Did you like it? Cooking?"

"When I was in the mood. Favorite type of eggs?"

"We should really stop talking about food," Rick said with a grin. "I miss it terribly."

"Well, last one. On food," she clarified.

Rick exhaled. "I liked pepper eggs—it jazzed up the scramble. You?"

"Deviled, but only with Miracle Whip. And not Light Miracle Whip—the real deal."

Rick chuckled at her passion for the tangy zip. "Favorite sport to play?"

Michonne cocked her head, thinking. "I loved swim. Cutting through the water…"

"Were you on a team?"

"Nah. I did it for the fun of it. You?"

"Running. And I actually was on the team. In high school, anyway. Track and field."

"Skilled at running. Worth its weight in gold these days. Did you love it?"

Rick sucked his teeth. "I did. Feeling the wind…like I was flying. These days, though, kind of rips the fun out of it when I run because my life depends on it."

"True. Favorite…nineties band."

"That's hard, but…I'm gonna have to go with Stone Temple Pilots. 'Plush' was probably my favorite. The acoustic version."

"Oh, I love Scott's voice, but…I'm gonna have to go with Nirvana. 'Heart Shaped Box' was just…"

"Yeah. Though overall, they were too angry for my tastes." Michonne laughed. "Still," he continued, "It was a gross injustice, his murder. Didn't have to be a cop to see it."

"Don't get me started…" She rested her head against his, comfortable. "Sunrise or sunset?"

"Sunrise—a brilliant, fiery sky to break way to the day."

"I love the sunset more, I think. The sky's aflame then, too, but then it dies into the beauty of the night. Sunlight or moonlight?" she asked.

Rick paused, thinking. He loved how the sun kissed her skin, but he also loved the ethereal glow the light of the moon gave her. "They both have their merits. Sunlight is…well it's life. Moon beams…it gives a magical quality to the night."

"You sound like a poet," she commented. "'The night is shattered, and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'" Her tone had grown quiet, wistful. Soothing.

Though he loved the sound of her voice, he craned his neck, annoyed he couldn't look at her. He loved watching her speak.

"That's lovely. Who is that?"

"Pablo Neruda."

"I was never into poetry, but…fiction. I love Ray Bradbury. Novels, short stories…" Rick looked up at the stars, but imagined her face, bathed in moonlight.

Simultaneously they leaned back, stretching their arms out, palms flat on the blanket underneath them. Their pinkies on their respective right and left hands lightly touched, causing them both to smile. Neither moved closer; neither moved away.

"Favorite toothpaste?" she blurted out.

Rick chuckled. "Random question, but, I like the fiery, tingly sensation of cinnamon."

Michonne chuckled. "Cinnamon's good, but, it's got nothing on spearmint and baking soda."

"Is that right?"

"One of these days…" She nudged him with her shoulder. "I'll school you."

Chapter Text

Michonne looked up at the sound of a light knock at her door--it was Rick.  His jaw was set as he leaned in her doorway, arm braced on the door jamb, staring at her as if he wanted to ask something.  She cocked her head, staring back, unable to read what was wrong, patiently waiting for him to speak.

“What?” she finally asked, impatience winning.

Rick sighed heavily, looking away.  “Carol’s moving out.  Not far or...to the Anderson’s.  Guess it’ll be Carol’s Place, now.”  He looked back over to her.

“She needed some space?” Michonne asked.

Rick shrugged.  “I guess so.”  He paused, then, “Do you?”  His voice was quiet, uncertain.

Slowly, Michonne sat up on her bed, keeping her eyes on him.  “No more breaks.  Remember?” she reminded him softly.

Rick smiled.  “Yeah.  I do,” he replied, just as soft.  “You wanna feed Judith?” he asked, his tone back to normal.  He wasn’t sure why Carol was leaving, exactly, but as long as Michonne was sticking around, for Carl, for Judith, and if he were honest, for him, he knew they would be okay.

Michonne grinned, getting out of bed, heading for the door.  As she brushed past him, she squeezed his upper arm a bit, giving him a look, conveying everything that Rick needed to know:

They were family, and they were sticking together.

Chapter Text

Rick: "Michonne…We're only here because of her. Being out there as long as we were…it was breaking her down."

Deanna: "And that's important to you?"

Rick: [stares at Deanna carefully] "My job is to keep my family safe. That's all that matters."

Deanna: "Weren't you safe out there?"

Rick: [quickly] "We were."

Deanna: "So this…this is more than safety."

Rick: [nods] "Some of us needed more. Michonne…she was out there alone for awhile before she found us. She knows what it can do. She's seen thangs she didn't want us to see."

Deanna: [smiles] "And that's where you come in. A sheriff. A provider. A family man."

Rick: "She believes in this place. I'm here to make sure you don't let her down."

Deanna: "Fair enough."

Chapter Text

“How do we fix this?” she murmured, more to herself than him.

They were standing across from one another in the kitchen, home, a small respite from yesterday’s nightmare.  Their family was smaller, now.   One gone, one taken, and one who decided to leave.

Michonne looked at Rick, who looked decidedly better, considering.  For hours after, he had checked out.  He was just...gone.  He was here, now, with her, but still so broken.  

They both were.

“I don’t know if we can.  Don’t know if I can...”

Michonne walked over to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders.  He choked back a sob, arms squeezing at her waist.

“Thought I’d lost you,” he whispered.

“I’m still here.”  Her voice was quiet, but steady.

Rick pulled back a bit, taking her in, marveling.  His face broke a bit as he stroked her hair, disjointed, short strands sticking out from amongst the rest while splatters of blood marred her cheek and neck.

“Rick...I still believe in you.  This wasn’t you,” she said with certainty.  “I need you to know that...okay?”

Rick sighed, shaking his head.  “Yesterday Abraham asked me...asked if I was afraid--afraid of being in love again.  I told him I was.  I’m scared because...being with you means the rest of the world falls away,” he admitted.  “And not being with you means the world falls apart because, being with you?  I forget what I’ve lost.  I forget to be in pain.  Being with you means I lose myself in you.  There’s nothing more that I want to do than that, Michonne.  But it’s not safe to...”

Her eyes welled, fearing what he was going to say next.  Rick shook his head, cupping her cheek.

“I need you,” he clarified.  “I need you to guide us through this.  I need you to take point.  I know that you can.  They’re all looking to me.”  He grabbed her hands, eyes still locked on her.  “But I’m looking to you.  I need you to help me with this.  I can’t do this without you.  Michonne, please.”

Michonne swallowed, taking a steadying breath.  “Rick...I’m right here.  I’m not leaving.  We’ll beat this.  We’ll beat him.”

He kissed her with a firm press of his lips--a promise--then leaned his forehead against hers.  “We will.”

Chapter Text

“It’s weird, isn’t it?  Going back to...”  Michonne gave a cross between a laugh and a sigh.  “I wanted this.  But it doesn’t make it seem any less foreign, you know?”

Rick nodded slowly.  “Yeah.  I do.  How things are, how they were, how they could be...”  He sighed.

They were sitting on the couch, side by side, still in uniform after their first day on the job.  The lights were out, the house quiet.  Neither thought they’d ever have still moments like this again.

“When did you know?”

Michonne looked at him, brows knit together.

“When did you know the nightmare was real?” he clarified.

“I was...I was coming from work.  People were in the streets.  Police.  Walkers.  I saw a woman, not a woman...it was headed straight towards me.  Arms stretched out, moaning, eyes that dead ice color. . A cop blew her head off right in front of me.  Blood and brains were all over my face.  That’s when I knew.  It was real--all of it.”  Her voice had grown quiet, a faraway look in her eye.  She looked at him.  “When did you know?”

Rick loosened his tie, pulling it off from around his neck.  “I woke up in it,” he murmured.  “I was in a coma, and I woke up in that hospital bed, alone.  Dead bodies in the hallway, outside...I thought I was trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t get out of.”  He chuckled quietly.  “I thought I was crazy, and alone.  Probably the only man in the world who was glad the nightmare was real.  It meant it wasn’t me.  I wasn’t...”

“Crazy?” Michonne supplied.  “That came a little later,” she said with a smile.

He smiled back at her.  Then he sobered.  “It didn’t last long, that relief.  I found my family but...it was different.  They thought I’d been dead.  My wife, she uh, she found comfort with my best friend.  And he deluded himself into believing he was in love with her.  So much so that he...”  Rick trailed off, remembering.

“What?” Michonne asked softly.

Rick looked at her, troubled.  “He tried to kill me.  I didn’t believe it at first.  Didn’t think he’d go through with it, but...he did.  He made me end it.”  Rick rubbed his face, weary.

“I’m sorry,” Michonne said.  “That he put you in that position.”  Michonne paused, then, I didn’t kill my best friend, or my boyfriend.  But I let them die.  More than that, I watched them die.  Let them turn...  They were uh, they were the walkers I dragged around.”

Rick’s brow furrowed.  “Really?”

“Yeah,” Michonne said curtly.  “In hindsight, I shouldn’t have dragged them around like that, but, the rest?  They had it coming.”

“What’d they do?” he asked.

Michonne gave a nervous laugh, discretely wiping at her eye.  Rick still saw that, though.  “It doesn’t matter.”

He nodded, then leaned back against the couch, attempting to enjoy the quiet, with her.  But thinking about Shane...Rick often asked himself what Shane would do, what he should do.  Rick opened his mouth, tempted to tell Michonne about the pact he had made with Carol and Daryl.  He shut it, opting to keep quiet about it.  Instead...

“We can’t let this place fool us.  We’re secure for now, but we’re not safe.  We have to keep our guard up.”

“Rick--”

“Michonne, please.”  He turned to look at her, hand on her knee.  “We can’t forget.  We can’t let this place take us over.”

Michonne stared at him, eyes sad, but nodded.  She placed her hand on top of his, and gave it a squeeze.  Slowly, she stood.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, surprise and a bit of hurt tinging his voice.

“Long day.  Gonna go to bed.”  She gave him a parting look, a small smile on her face.  She wasn’t angry, or upset.  “Goodnight.”

Rick rest his head on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling, longing to tell her everything, and wondering if this place had changed her already.

Chapter Text

By the time they got home, it was nightfall.  Judith was sleeping, and Carl was in his room, preparing to pack it in. Daryl was in the basement, leaving Rick and Michonne to put away the groceries.  

”Hey, Michonne?”

Michonne paused, putting a can on the shelf, then turned to look at him.

“I know we didn’t get a chance to talk about...everything.”

Michonne leaned against the kitchen counter, looking at him.  “We can talk now.”

Rick nodded.  “Yeah.  You and me,” he said, gesturing between them, “this is...When I go up those stairs, you’re coming with me, right?” he asked, slightly uncertain.

Michonne smiled shyly.  “Yeah.”  Then more seriously, “Of course.”

Rick smiled too.  “Does that mean you’re gonna move your stuff upstairs now?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

Michonne bit her lower lip.  “Okay.  You gonna help?

“Of course.  Get this thang done twice as fast.”

Michonne looked at him from beneath her lashes.  “Shame.  Gonna miss that room.  Wish I could give it a proper goodbye.”

Rick narrowed his eyes, striding over to her.  “Let’s go give it a good sendoff, then.”  He picked her up fireman style without warning, carrying her to said room, her laughter echoing down the halls.

. . . . . .

They laid in her bed, entwined in the sheets, snuggling, too boneless to move upstairs just yet.  She lay on his chest, while he gently stroked her hair.

“I’m glad you finally came around,” he murmured.

“Me?” she said indignantly.

“Come on, Michonne.  For the longest time, I wasn’t even sure you were interested.”

Michonne sighed.  “Yeah, well...”  She drew invisible patterns on his chest.  “I was afraid.”

“Of what?” he asked.

“I dunno, I just...I wasn’t sure you were really ready.  Or maybe it was me.  I don’t know if I was ready.”  She lifted her head, looking up at him.  “I am, now.”

Rick gazed at her, lovingly.  “You know what the best part is?  You know me.  You understand me.  You expect the best from me without expecting me to be perfect.”

“And you,” Michonne said, “you’d move the world for me.”

He kissed her.  “I would.”

Michonne smiled at him.  “Look at this place, Rick.  You already did.”

Slowly, they kissed, enjoying each other’s embrace before falling asleep.  The next morning, Michonne’s things were moved to Rick’s room, the proper sendoff for her old room complete.

Chapter Text

“We’re gonna need to start going on runs again,” Rick stated.  He was sitting at the kitchen table next to Michonne, and across from Daryl.  "We can do teams of two.  But I think…I think one of us should just stay here.“  After his opening statement, Rick looked down at his clasped hands on the table, waiting.  

Michonne looked at him, quiet.  Daryl’s eyes darted between them, then he scoffed, lounging back in the chair.

"This is stupid.”

Michonne and Rick both looked at him.

“He wants you to stay with the boy and the baby.”

Rick looked at her, hesitant. “Yeah. I do.”

“More importantly, she wants to stay,” Daryl said, staring at Michonne.

Michonne looked at Rick, a small smile on her face. She nodded.  "I do.“

Daryl grunted.  "Good.  I’ll go ask around.  See who else wants to pair up and go out later.  Me and Rick can go tomorrow, see what we can see.”  Daryl stood up, heading out.

“Well,” Rick said.  "I’m glad that’s settled.“  He looked her over. "You really wanna stay?”

“Carl needs me,” she said simply. “This place needs me.”

“Not the only thangs that need you Michonne,” he said with a grin.

She grinned back. “I know.”

“Thank you.”  He places his hand on top of the back of hers, giving it a squeeze.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted me to stay?” she asked.

“Well, why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to stay?”

Michonne sighed, looking in the direction Daryl had left.  “He was right.  We were stupid.”

Rick chuckled.  “Glad it didn’t last too long.”

Michonne laughed too, even though she knew she was still holding back.

‘Stupid,’ she thought.

Chapter Text

Barbara: Rick, did you think you would make it this far?

Rick: At first?  No.  Then something changed…I’ve survived so many things, things you couldn’t even imagine.  For me and my family?  Our motto became “We don’t die.”  For the most part, it’s been true.

Barbara: You’ve experienced a lot of loss.  But you’ve had some significant gains.
Rick: I have.

Barbara: Why do you think so many didn’t see you and Michonne ending up together?
Rick: I’ve thought about that.  It’s laughable, but I’ll humor you.  Um, in spite of growing up in the South, color was never an issue for me.  People are people, you know?  But I know that’s not the case for everyone.  And I think, I think that’s definitely the reason why they couldn’t see–didn’t want to see it.  I mean Jesus, I couldn’t stop staring.  I knew it.  Michonne knew it.  Daryl knew it.  The signs were all there, so that’s their own fault.   There was only one woman for me, and that’s her.  I don’t want anyone else.

Barbara: What about Jessie?
Rick:  Jessie…she was a nice woman.  I liked her.  I did.  She reminded me of…hell, thangs past.  And I met her at a time when I thought…I wasn’t over Lori–my wife–yet.  And I wasn’t…I didn’t think I had a real shot with Michonne.  I didn’t think she wanted me the way I wanted her.  Good thang I was wrong.

Barbara: Would you say Michonne is your soulmate?
Rick: I never thought a lot about stuff like that, but, if I had to put a label on what we have…yeah.  Michonne understands me in a way that no one ever has.  And I want to be there for her in ways I never have been for anyone else.  I was married, before.  But this?  This is different.

Barbara: What do you see for your future?
Rick: I dunno.  I just know she’s in it, by my side.  Carl.  Judith.  Daryl.

Barbara: They’re your constants.
Rick: (quietly) Yeah.

Barbara: Well, this has been enlightening.  Thank you for your time, Rick.
Rick: Sure.  Thank you.

Chapter Text

Rick turned from Gabriel and saw that Michonne was already down the road.  He sped up his pace, catching up to her.  He stared at her as she moved, admiring her, then softly called out, “Hey, slow down.”  She turned and looked at him, pausing, a question in her eyes.  “I thought we were on a team,” he said.

She smiled.  “We are.”  She started walking again.

Rick continued to walk alongside her.  “So how come you left me back there?”

Michonne shrugged all casual like.  “Well, you were taking too long.”

“And here I thought you liked it when I took my time.”  He looked over at her, smirking.  Though she was still smiling, her expression said, ‘Oh, come on.’  

“Sorry,” he apologized.  “Shouldn’t make jokes on the job.”

“Jokes on the job are okay.  Lightens the mood,” she said.

Rick looked around.  “We’re on a kill mission.  Not sure the mood should be light.”

Michonne stopped walking, staring at him.  “No.  Middle ground is good.  We still are who we are.”

Rick turned to her and said, “Yeah.  I’d hate to deprive you of my jokes anyway.  I know how much you enjoy them.”

“Your jokes are kind of corny,” she said with a slight tilt of her head, a smile on her face.  “It’s a good thing I enjoy you instead.”

Rick smiled, shaking his head.  He placed his hand low on her back, resuming walking, escorting her along the way.  “Yeah,” he said, exhaling.  “It is.”

“Besides,” Michonne added, “I know you love to watch me walk away.”

Rick snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her to him, planting a kiss on her lips.  “Yeah, I do.  I may be on the job, but, my eyes work just fine.”

“Rick Grimes--true to form,” she said with a smile.

“What?”

“Just you, checking me out.  The job be damned.”

“Yeah well, having a beautiful woman around can make things pretty hard.”

Michonne laughed, low and flirty.

“I didn’t mean it like that, but that’s not untrue either,” he said, tightening his hold on her, kissing her slowly shoulder, his lips lingering.  Gently she pushed him away.”

“Don’t,” she admonished.  “We’re on the job, remember?”

“Yeah...” Rick agreed, letting her go.  “Still, when we get home,” he sucked his teeth, “I’ll have a different job in mind.”

“Hmph.  You’re never off the clock.  I like it.”

Rick shrugged.  “When duty calls...”

“You’re on it,” Michonne said flirtatiously.  

Rick stared at her in that way that left her dizzy and damp.  She averted her eyes to the road.  “Hell yes,” he said.  “Let’s find this head and get going.  I’ve got important thangs to do back home.”

Michonne nodded, quickening her pace.  “Damn right, you do.”

Chapter Text

“I’ll be back before nightfall,” he mumbled, heading toward the bedroom door.  Michonne took in the bow of his head; the slope of his shoulders.  The defeat in his gait.  Most of all, she took in how he wouldn’t look at her, and her heart broke a little at that.

“Rick,” she called out softly, voice trembling.  He paused, but didn’t turn around.  “Can...can we talk first?” she asked him.  

Back to her, he nodded slowly.  “Yeah.  Yeah.”

“Can you turn around?” she asked, voice more steady, louder.  Slowly, he turned, looking down at the carpet, glancing up in her direction, but looking just past her ear, or over her shoulder.  Michonne didn’t bother to wipe the tear that rolled from the corner of her eye.  Instead, she walked closer to him, placing her hands delicately on the sides of his face, the stubble there tickling her palms.  Gently, she lifted his face upwards.  He allowed it, but kept his eyes downcast.  “Rick...look at me.  Please,” she pleaded, her voice just above a whisper.

Slowly, he did as she asked, and she cried a bit more at the unabashed shame there.  She shook her head.  “You don’t have to feel that.  Not with me, okay?  I don’t blame you.”

He stared at her, eyes laden with tears, roaming over the planes of her face as if he were memorizing them--committing every inch to memory as if she might go away.  Michonne pulled him to her, kissing him softly, lingering.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips.  “Always.”

He closed his eyes in relief, then, allowing the tears to fall, but reveled in her touch, this time pulling her to him, kissing her with the passion he had been so afraid to show her.  He had forgotten that Michonne knew him--every inch, every fiber, every spec; the joyous parts, and the fearful parts.  She knew it all, and still loved him.  All this time he feared that she wouldn’t; that she couldn’t.

“Everything we need...is right here,” she said, placing her hand over his heart, and placing his over hers.

He nodded.  “Michonne...I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to pull away.”

She gave a watery smile.  “I know.”

“I love you, Michonne.  I love you more than...I was just...I thought maybe you stopped, loving me back.  I didn’t want to face that.  I couldn’t.” he admitted quietly.

“You don’t have to.  I’m still here.”

He gave a slight smile, recalling a memory.  “Do you remember, right after that monster flu at the prison, and you were moving walkers onto the back of a truck?”

“Yeah.  Why?” she asked, confused.

Rick wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, but he was smiling full on, now.  “I had finally mustered up the courage to, well...I wanted to spend some time with you, and I asked if you needed any help.  And I remember you just, were standing up there over a pile of bodies, and looking beautiful as ever in the sunlight...and then you turned me down.”

Michonne frowned, then laughed, the full scope of that moment dawning on her.  “You were asking me out,” she stated more than asked.

“Yeah. I just wanted to be close to you.  Didn’t matter what we were doing.  Having you with me...I was terrified of losing that.  But I remember something else you said.”

Michonne peered at him, waiting.

“You’re okay,” Rick said simply.  “And if you’re okay...”  He took her hand, grasped it, then brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it lovingly..  “Then I’m okay, too.”

He stared at her then, just like he always used to do; just like he always did.  In sections, taking her in, committing her to memory, staring into her being, clear through to her soul.  And then he kissed her, devouring her taste, giving himself over to the feeling, taking her along with him, only to make love to her shortly thereafter, each losing themselves in the depth of love they felt for one another, Rick staring into her eyes unabashedly all the while.

Chapter Text

"Looks like I interrupted a moment."

Michonne turned at the sound of Jesus's voice. She had just come down the stairs after getting dressed, and it seemed as if the man had been waiting for her.

"Everyone else is outside, but, I wanted to talk to you alone or a minute," he explained.

Michonne stared at him, curious, adjusting the grip on her sword as she waited. "Why?"

"To apologize. When I went to wake up Rick, and you consequently, I wasn't aware."

"Aware of what?" Michonne asked, suspicious.

"That it was your first time together. Judging by the expressions of your friends and how no one seemed to know, including your son, or…" He trailed off after her narrow eyed glare.

"How much did you see?" she questioned.

"Enough to know that you and Rick and the kids were all sleeping on the second floor, like any other family. Someone lives in your basement, I'm guessing Daryl, and there were two empty rooms on your first floor. Only took a cursory glance, but, you and Rick being together and this being a family unit was all quite clear."

Michonne's expression softened considerably. "You saw all that?" she asked.

Jesus laughed. "You are the clear lady of this house, and Rick, well, he looks at you as if you hold his world in your hands. It's clear he's a man in love."

Michonne smiled to herself, looking away. "Is that why you're doing this?"

"Doing what?" he asked, confused.

Michonne arched a brow at him. "Trying to get on my good side, of course."

Jesus shrugged. "Couldn't hurt. But, for the record, I do like you. Not many women would hop out of bed like that. It was quite impressive. Your reaction. I mean…" Michonne stared at him as he fumbled his way through. He started again. "You and Rick are well-suited."

Michonne started to walk towards the front door. "Yeah, well, someone wakes me up from a good sleep like that, they're liable to get cut down. Clothes be damned."

Jesus chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind." He stepped ahead of Michonne, opening the door for her. "It's gonna be a long ride to my place," he said. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"That's gonna be tough, since I'll be riding shotgun."

"Some other time, then," Jesus said as they headed down the porch steps.

"We'll see," Michonne said.

"You're warming up to me Michonne. I can feel it," he teased.

Michonne smiled, heading towards the trailer. "I said we'll see."

Chapter Text

"So. Are you all coming home with me?" Jesus asked, addressing the room, but keeping his eyes on Rick.

Rick just stared unblinkingly at Jesus for ten seconds straight, not saying a word, then he finally took a glance at Michonne, who nodded at him imperceptibly. Rick quirked his lips a bit, then turned his eyes back to Jesus.

"Abraham, Glen, Maggie, Daryl, get packed. We leave in twenty..." Rick glanced at Michonne one more time, who was decidedly now not looking at him. "Thirty minutes. Make sure Spencer, Rosita, and Sasha are covering the watch points."

Meeting over, Rick got up; Michonne got up with him. Together, they walked into the hallway, heading up the stairs.

"You were gonna tell him no, weren't you?" she asked.

"Thought about it, until I looked at you. Good thang you were there," he said with a smile.

Once they were in his room, Michonne quietly went to the side of the bed, picking up her bra and head band, gently sweeping her hair from her face as she did so. Clothing essentials in hand, she turned back towards the door.

"Hey," Rick called out to her, making her pause. "Where you going? Aren't you getting dressed up here?"

"My clothes are downstairs," she explained simply.

"Hmm. You can always just bring them up here. The shower's better up here anyway," he said, his gaze lingering.

Michonne smirked at him. "Oh is that what the extra ten minutes was for?"

Rick shrugged. "Well, figured we could save time, us both being up here." He paused, walking up to her. "Cause everything I do," he sang.

"Stop," she protested, laughing a bit.

"I do in double time." He swooped her up into his arms, making her laugh more. He carried her to the bed, dropping her down, getting a good bounce in before joining her on the bed, nestling himself between her legs, fists on either side of her pushing, pushing into the mattress.

She caressed his face, staring up at him. "That song is terrible. But I like the message," she said, her voice dropping, seductively.

In perfect synchronization, they grabbed at each other, mouths fusing as they pulled their clothes off.

They would both be damned if they didn't get morning-after sex.

Forty-five minutes later, they rejoined the others, ready to hit the road.

Chapter Text

Accepting @queenmojo22‘s “How they mourn” challenge.

Gently, Michonne closed the heavy, wooden door.  They had made it to Hilltop, staying in various rooms in the large, historical home.

She paused, seeing the weariness that still consumed Rick as he sat on the edge of the bed, hands braced on his knees, staring at the floor.

“Jesus said we can stay as long as we need to, but...I think we should head back tomorrow.  Alexandria’s still...I need to see Judith,” she admitted quietly, her voice slightly hoarse from earlier that night.  She hadn’t screamed that much since...a long while.

Rick continued to stare at the floor, but nodded, letting her know he had heard. Slowly she approached him, sitting down next to him, thighs touching.  She looked at him, brushing back a lock of his hair, then she sighed, maneuvering behind him, legs draped on either side of his as she embraced him, resting her chin on his shoulder, body flush against his back.  She wrapped her arms around him, resting her hands on his belly.  Not realizing she was crying until she could taste the salt at the corners of her mouth, she murmured, “Rick?”

His body began to shake as he sobbed, dropping his head into his hands.  Michonne cried with him, holding him tighter.  He paused, feeling the dampness at his shoulder, then turned towards her.  “Michonne?” he whispered.  He stood, turning around so that he could face her unhindered.  Rick caressed her cheek, wiping her tears, ignoring his own.  “I’m sorry,” he rasped.

She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch.  “I’m sorry, too.”

He bent down, kissing her forehead, lingering, then nuzzled her nose with his own.  He swallowed, eyes closed.  “I love you,” he whispered.

Exhaling a gasp at the admission, she kissed his lips, passionate yet tender.  Intensifying the kiss, he leaned her backward until she lay against the bed, his body pressed intimately against hers, never breaking the kiss.  The tenderness gave way to the heat and urgency of the moment--to a carnal need of solace intermingled with love and determination; they were still there, and they still had each other.  Shirts still on, but pants quickly discarded over the side of the bed, they made love, tears in their eyes but wide open, blue boring into brown.

“Love you...” Rick reiterated. 

Though it took her a moment, emotions consuming her, she looked at him and affirmed, “...and I love you.”

Chapter Text

A/N: Did some late-night dot connecting and came up with this moment from “Remember.”

It had just been so long since he had actually looked in the mirror, and he couldn’t believe who was looking back at him.

‘Jesus, who would want to look twice at this?’

He wondered what Michonne must have thought all this time.  Looking through the cabinets, spying a razor, he thought what she might think after seeing him...

After a good trim with a pair of clippers, carefully, Rick lathered the cream on his cheeks.  As he took the first downward stroke of the razor to his face, he realized this was, him, re-entering civilization.  Coming here, shaving his face, all for...

Rick rinsed off the excess lather, and looked at himself again.  He was clean shaven, but he still didn’t quite look how he remembered.  The road--the world--had aged him.  Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure.  Maybe he shouldn’t have shaved at all.  Maybe she wouldn’t like it.

Still, he left the bathroom.

He went out, walked around, ran into just about everyone.

Except Michonne.

When he made it back to the house he supposed was home now, seeing everyone preparing to make camp in the living room, she still wasn’t there.  Rick frowned.

“Has anyone seen Michonne?” he asked the room.

Abraham nodded towards the hallway.  “She just went in the bathroom a couple of minutes ago.”

Rick looked down at his watch, then at the door, anxiously waiting.  After a couple of minutes, he moved off to the kitchen, just so it wouldn’t seem...he didn’t want to be right at the door when she came out.  That might have seemed weird.  That wasn’t what civilized people did, anyway.  It was a bathroom in a house that was full of people--she was fine.  Judith began to fuss, and he tended to her for a bit as he waited.

Once she had quieted down enough to be put in her crib, and seventeen minutes later, Michonne emerged, a blissful smile on her face.

“How long was I in there?”

“Twenty minutes,” he answered immediately, towards the hallway to greet her.  He gave her a shy smile, hoping she’d...Hoping she’d like it.  She cocked her head, smiling a brilliant, mirthful smile at him.  

“I’ve never...I’ve never seen your face like that.”

Was she laughing?  Did she like it?

Rick touched his face, feeling a bit self-conscious.  “That’s how I felt both before and after,” he said, turning away, unsure of how to take her response.  But then she halted him, and the mood turned from jokey to serious.

Silently, Rick wondered if they’d ever find that middle ground.

Chapter Text

Summary: It's been circulating how Michonne is going to help raise Rick up post-Negan, and I know I know–he was a broken man the last we saw him. Still, I wondered…I wondered what if…

She lightly touched his hand and said, "We'll be…" But she didn't finish the thought. Instead, she got up, and walked to the bathroom that was part of their guest room. Rick watched her as she went.

He needed her, here.

He stood, hesitant, waiting. She hadn't closed the door behind her. He followed her in.

Her hands were braced on the old fashioned sink, head hung down low as she took measured breaths.

"We shouldn't've been out there," she whispered harshly, more to herself than him. Then she began to cry. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry…"

Slowly Rick placed his hand on her back, then gently pulled her to him, embracing her, holding her close as she cried into the crook of his neck.

"It's…" He almost said okay, but he knew like she did that it was a lie. He started again. "It's not your fault. You were trying to do what's right. We all were." He stroked her hair, clenching his teeth at the hacked off strands.

'I'll kill him,' he thought.

He thought back to how Michonne had been there to lift him up without judgement. Tonight. When the prison fell. He wanted her to know that he was there for her just as much as she was for him. He cupped her face, pulling her back a bit so that he could look into her eyes. "We've seen some horrible things, and lost so many people. But we will come back from this. This isn't it for us. It's not."

'You afraid… to go back to it? Let somebody close?'

Rick couldn't believe that had only been hours before. Hours…He swallowed, realizing that what had been more terrifying than that, was the idea of losing her. What if he had? What if that morning had been the last time? If she never knew…

"I love you," he said firmly, without hesitation. "I love you. And I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner. This isn't it for us. It's not."

Michonne stared at him, lip trembling, cheeks covered in tear tracks. She kissed him, then hugged him, arms around his neck. "I love you, too," she said into his ear. "We won't let him get away with this."

"We won't," Rick promised as he hugged her back, breathing her in, eyes closed at the feel of her. They had lost so much; so very much. Still, having her in his arms again, he knew that Abraham had been right:

He was ready to rip the world a new asshole.

Chapter Text

Rick and Daryl were sitting on the front porch, taking in the solemness of the town after Reg and Pete’s abrupt deaths.  After Daryl explained about how he came across Morgan, Rick took a deep breath, catching Daryl up on the last twenty-four hours back home.

“It’s good you weren’t here for that.  When you told me you felt differently about taking this place...I should have listened.  Instead, I lost my head a bit back there and uh...Michonne reeled me back in.”

“I heard she laid you out,” Daryl said, a small smirk on his face.

Rick chuckled, shaking his head.  “Yeah.  She did.”

“So what’s this? The love tap phase?”

“It’s...it’s a good thang she was there.  A voice of reason among all the chaos,” Rick mumbled.

“Yeah. When it comes to you, she’s good at that.”

“Carol thought Michonne had betrayed us--me.  I knew better.  Michonne, she’s...”  Rick exhaled in an almost dreamy sort of way.

“Your better half,” Daryl supplied.  When Rick looked at him, Daryl shrugged. “I know you--both of you.  She’s the little lady of the house.  It’s obvious, man.”

“I’d like to think so, but, she doesn’t feel that way.  We’re...”  Rick looked down at his hands.  “...friends.”

Daryl smirked, pulling out a beat up pack of smokes.  From around a cigarette filter, he mumbled, “Mmm.  If you say so.”

Chapter Text

Pre “First Time Again.”  Carl has a talk with the ‘rents.  I wanted to get to the bottom of the “something different” business.

“Michonne?”

Michonne looked up from her book to see Carl standing in her doorway.  “Hey.  What’s up?”

Carl approached slowly, sitting on the bed next to her.  “I don’t like Ron,” he blurted out.

Michonne frowned.  “That’s...well you don’t have to like him, you know.  Just be amicable.  Offer pleasantries, you know.”

Carl shrugged.  “I guess.”

“Now.  What’s the part you’re not telling me?” she prodded.

Carl took a deep breath, looking at her.  “My dad likes Jessie, or something, and...  I don’t want to spend more time with them than necessary.”

Michonne’s frown deepened.  She swallowed, putting the book down.  “You think it’s something serious?” she asked quietly.

“Well, no but...what if it does?  What if we have to live together, or--”

“Carl.”  Michonne put her hand up, wanting him to halt that train of thought.  Taking a moment, she gave him a smile.  “I wish I could answer that for you, but I can’t.  You have to talk to your dad about that.”

“I know I just...I don’t want to hurt him,” Carl confessed.  “Why can’t it just be us?” he asked her imploringly.  “I like it here.  In this house.  With you.  And Daryl and Carol,” he hastily added.

Michonne pulled him to her, hugging him tightly.  “I like it, too.”

. . . . . .

“Dad?”  Much like he had approached Michonne, Carl stood in the doorway of his father’s room.

“Carl.  Is everything okay?”

Carl kept his eyes on his dad as he closed the door behind him.  “Are you and Jessie together?”  Straightforward, and to the point.  

Rick veered back at the question.  “What?  No, I...”  Rick paused, hands at his hips as he looked at his son.  “Where’s all this coming from?”

“I know you two have...there’s something going on, isn’t there?” Carl accused more than asked.

Rick shook his head.  “No.  No, we just...  She’s nice, right?  You think she’s nice?”

“Well yeah, but Dad, there are lots of nice people here.  And I don’t wanna live with any of them,” Carl countered.

“Live with?” Rick parroted, it finally dawning on him what Carl meant.  “No, no, son, that’s not...  We aren’t going to live with the Andersons, and they aren’t gonna live with us, okay?  I like Jessie.  I do.  But that’s all it is, just...just a crush.”

“So...you just like her,” Carl said.  “You don’t like, love her or anything.”

Rick gave his son an, “are you kidding me look?” then smiled.  “No.  I don’t love her...”  Rick trailed off, his mind going elsewhere.  

“But when something like that does happen, when it’s...different, you’ll tell me, right?”

Rick walked up to Carl, patting him on the shoulder.  “If I ever get serious with anyone again, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Chapter Text

Summary: During Deanna’s party.  There were so many gaps from what transpired there, and I know Rick and Michonne interacted or at the very least looked at each other.  Where did it all go wrong?  Well...

Note: Pardon any inconsistencies; I typed this out in a rush on my lunch break, cause, obsessions, blah blah blah.

Rick had been skeptical about coming, but everyone had to put their best foot forward in making this place work.  Or at the very least, he would.  He would.  

Michonne had told him and Carl to go ahead, and that she would be along in a bit.  Carol was already there, exchanging cooking notes, and he was pretty sure Daryl wasn’t going to come at all.

Still, he passed the time making polite conversation with Reg and Deanna.  He thought it’d be like riding a bike, but it was a bit harder than he had imagined.  God, he needed a break.  As Reg took his glass to refill his drink, he looked up and saw her enter the room.  Michonne.  She looked just as lovely as ever, even though the dress was totally not her style.  He had imagined her in something more fitted and flowy. Vibrant.  Still, it was a sight to behold.  He smiled at her, and she averted her eyes, smiling back.  When she looked back up at him, Rick’s view was suddenly blocked by the broad back of Spencer, who decided to chat her up.

“Here’s a fresh one, Rick,” Reg said, handing him the glass.  Rick’s jaw tightened as he stared down into the amber liquid.  

‘Fuck it.’

He knocked the glass back in one gulp, the warmth of the fluid burning down his throat to his belly.  He dared to glance back, and saw that Michonne was laughing at something Spencer had said.  Not a true laugh or a hearty laugh, but she was smiling at him.

Before he could dwell on that too much, the Andersons entered.  He looked at Jessie.  She was smiling, too. But then, she seemed to always be smiling, the weight of the world beyond the walls of Alexandria leaving her untouched.  All them were untouched, clean.  There was something nice about that, simple.  On the other hand, he knew that most of them wouldn’t make it.  Still, if there was a way he could preserve that smile on Jessie’s face, keep Alexandria going...maybe there really was a future, for all of them.

. . . . . . 

It took some doing, but Michonne was able to politely excuse herself from Spencer’s polite chat.  She walked around the room, searching and...

She found him, smiling and talking to that Anderson woman.  Michonne swallowed, looking at her plate of finger food.  Not making eye contact with anyone, she briskly walked to the back door, finding solace in the emptiness of the porch.  She rested her forearms on the railing, exhaling.  She shook her head, feeling foolish.  Of course he would talk to other people--they finally had other people to talk to.  Women.  Women who were blonde.

‘And married...’

Rick was a good looking guy.  Single.  She could delude herself into thinking it was just standard polite chat, but she knew better.  He was checking her out.

‘Or maybe it was the alcohol.’

Being in this place...it would take some adjusting.  She just wanted to make sure everyone was happy; that everyone would have a shot at really living a life.  The only trouble was, she wasn’t sure how to go about that for herself, exactly.  It was easier to focus on everyone else, and make sure they were okay.

And that was exactly what she was going to do.

Chapter Text

Summary: This rewatch is making all of my synapses fire or something.  Um...it was weird, I thought, having Carol move out without any word as to why, or why we never hear Carol’s insights on Rick and Michonne, or see her reaction like we see the others.  This is post “No Way Out,” and hopefully lends a bit of fanwanky insight on what could have happened...

“What are you doing with my cherries?”

Rick paused, tablespoon frozen halfway to his mouth, full of cherry pie filling.  He looked at Michonne, who seemed decidedly cross with him.

Eyes squint with mirth, he put the spoon in his mouth, eating it slowly.  “I didn’t know these were yours.”

Michonne’s eyes narrowed as she walked over to him.  “The hell you didn’t.  I was saving those,” she said, reaching for the can.  Rick stood, holding it out of her reach.  “Give them here.”

“They’re already open.  Might as well let me keep ‘em, now,” he reasoned jokingly.  

Michonne jabbed his side with her pointer.  He half laughed and half winced.  “Give it up, wise guy,” she said with another jab, making Rick laugh more.  

Using his free hand, Rick tickled her tummy with his nimble fingers.  She choked back a laugh, jerking away from him.  “Stop,” she said, a smile on her face.  

Rick smirked, sliding the cherry can down the counter away from her.  “I think you challenged me, Michonne.  Good thang I love a challeng.”  He grabbed at her, pulling her against him as he tickled her sides and belly mercilessly, eliciting laughter and “stops!” from her writhing body.  Her back to him and clasped in his arms, she was at a clear disadvantage.  Still, throwing her arms up and behind his neck, she tried to tickle him back at his nape.  All she ended up doing was giving him more access to playfully assault her.

“Give up yet?” his voice rumbled in her ear.

She shrieked, slapping his hands away.  “It’s mine!”  Suddenly, Michonne’s body stiffened.  “Put me down,” she said seriously.

Rick did as requested without hesitation, frowning in concern, hoping he hadn’t hurt her or crossed a line.  That’s when he noticed Carol standing in the doorway.  Michonne adjusted her shirt, embarrassed. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Carol said, observing them both quietly.

Michonne waved it off.  “It’s okay, you weren’t interrupting.”

Rick didn’t bother to chime in, quietly feeling different on the matter.

“Judith’s sleeping.  Here’s the monitor in case she wakes up,” she said, handing it to Michonne.

“Where are you off to?” Rick asked.

“I’m going beyond the wall to gather some acorns.  I’m in a cookie baking kind of mood.”  With a little wave, she headed off.  

Rick and Michonne looked at each other.

“Uh, sorry about that, the cherries.  Daryl and I are going on a run soon, and--”

“Oh, it’s okay,” MIichonne interjected.  “Between you and Carl, and Daryl, I should have known to have kept it in the safety of my room.”

She pat his forearm, then headed in the direction of said room, leaving him alone to the can of cherries.  Rick had had every intention of sharing them with her, but, the moment had passed him by.

. . . . . .

On a Sunday afternoon while Carl was at PT with Denise and Michonne, Rick picked up Judith, heading downstairs.  He paused in his tracks at the sight of Carol carrying a box, a couple of others stacked outside of her room.

“What are you doing?” he asked, genuinely confused.

Carol sighed, looking him over.  “It’s moving day.  I’m moving.”

“What do you mean you’re moving?  Moving where?” he asked, defensiveness coloring his voice.

“Rick, I’m not...I’m not running away.”

“Oh no?  Sure looks like it,” he countered.  

Carol shifted the box to her side, holding it with one arm.  “Fact is, I need my own space.  It’s time.  And you need your own space, too,” she said conspiratorially.    “I know what you want, and it’s hard enough with two kids to mind, let alone me and Daryl.”  Carol shrugged.  “Just think of it as one less person standing in your way.”  She smiled, patting him lightly on the shoulder before shifting the box around, carrying it with both hands.  Just as she was about to turn, she paused.  “And please, stop dragging your feet.  Make your move already.”

She began to walk down the hallway.

“I don’t know how,” he called out.  Hands cradling Judith, weight shifted on his right leg, he shook his head in dismay.  “I don’t...I don’t wanna screw this up,” he admitted quietly.

Carol rolled her eyes.  “You’re so blind, Rick.  If you be yourself, you won’t.  It’s you that she wants.  Just keep that in mind,” Carol said with a wink heading towards the door. 

“How did you know?” he asked.

Hand on the doorknob, back still to him, she paused.  “I knew for awhile.  Before you did.  Michonne has powerful sway over you.  It scared me at first, but...”

“It scared you?”

Carol dropped her head.  “I dunno.  I figured if you had her, you didn’t need me.  It was stupid.  It was...lack of control.  If Michonne could change your mind, I was afraid she’d change it in the wrong direction.”  Carol looked at him.  “But she hasn’t.  She really does have your best interests at heart.  All of us.  And you love her.”

Rick straightened at that, but didn’t comment.

“So.  Go get her, dummy.”  Carol gave him her no nonsense look before opening the door, heading out.

Rick leaned against the wall, holding Judith close, realizing that Carol was right, and wondering what the next step was.

Chapter Text

I changed my mind about "Knots Untie." Rick and Michonne were not flustered when Jesus woke them up. But they were, however, when they came out of Rick's room. I got to thinking...

"Who the hell was that?"she asked, putting down her sword.

"That guy I told you I found? Looks like he found me…" Rick explained, searching for his clothes in the dark.

Michonne shook her head. "He could have killed us in our sleep."

Rick dropped his pants at the sound of worry in her voice, immediately going to her, wrapping his arms around her. "Hey. We're okay."

She looked up at him, nodding. "I know."

Rick stared into her eyes, fingers under her chin, then gently pulled her face to his, kissing her lips. Remembering the feel of her, he squeezed her in his arms, eliciting a moan from her mouth. Michonne stared at him as he stared back, knowing now what that look truly meant. She swallowed.

"It won't be long." His voice was a rumble in his chest, tampered down by arousal.

"He'll hear," Michonne countered, fingers threading through his curls as she eyed his mouth.

"Probably." Rick swooped down, tasting her lips again, lifting her up as he kneeled down, laying her gently atop their pile of clothes. "Less noise," he explained, positioning himself between her legs. Michonne took in a surprise sharp inhalation of breath as he entered her. Rick paused, smirking. "Or not."

Michonne giggled, full of joy as she gathered him into her arms, wrapping her legs around him, taking in each of his determined thrusts. Biting on her lower lip, stifling moans that wanted to break free, she let Rick take her on yet another ride to ecstasy.

Chapter Text

Summary: Takes place after “The Same Boat,” but pre- “Twice As Far.”  I’ve wanted to focus on the fun side of Richonne, as well as attempt to cover the 24xs theory... Some of which I’ve already addressed in other parts of my The Inbetweeners series.  Anyway, this has been on my mind.

Aaron: “’Audition’ makes it sound like we're some kind of a dance troupe. That's only on Friday nights.” 

Sometimes, there’s the occasional shindig in Alexandria...

The Temptations’ “I Can’t Get Next To You,” blasted on the stereo as Aaron and Sasha sang along with them on the karaoke machine.  Drinks were poured and cocktail sausages served.  They were celebrating--the deal with Hilltop and their win against the Saviors...all without any of their people getting hurt or worse.

Michonne had abandoned her seat on his knee to get some fresh air.  Rick kept staring back, glancing at his watch, drumming his fingers impatiently on the linen table top in Aaron’s living room.  She had been gone for three minutes.

“I wish Tara was here,” Denise said to him over the music.  “Having a party without her, or Heath...  It’s weird.”

Rick nodded.  “Yeah.”

“So, how much longer will it be?” she asked.

Rick frowned.  “How much longer for what?”

“Before you go out back after her?’ she stated more than asked, a knowing smile on her face.  “If Tara was here for this celebration, we’d be tethered as the libations flowed.”

Rick laughed as Denise handed him the rest of a bottle of merlot.

“Bye,” she said, waving him off.

“I’ll be back,” he said, taking the bottle by the neck, rising up in one, fluid motion.  As he stepped onto the back porch, he closed the glass door behind him.  The music and the laughter could still be heard from outside.

He stared at Michonne, as she swayed softly to  Al Green’s “You Ought To Be With Me.”  With a quirk of his lips, he walked up behind her, wrapping one arm across her abdomen, the other just over her clavicle, bottle still in hand, mouth at her ear as he swayed with her.  

“Took you long enough,” she said.

“Brought you a fresh one,” he murmured. 

“Hmm. The bottle’s open, so not that fresh,” she joked, still swaying, although a bit more intimately against him.

Rick groaned low in his throat.  “Still.  It’ll do the trick.”

Michonne chuckled, taking the bottle out of his hand, swigging from it.  Rick dipped his head, nipping at her neck as he ground against her.

“Didn’t think I’d see you in a dress again,” he said, playing with the hem of it.

“It’s a party. Girls wear dresses at parties,” she replied.

“My girl does.”  He caressed the side of her face, bringing her lips to his, kissing her, tasting the wine off of her.  As the kiss deepened, she ground against him more, harder, with Rick pushing back in kind.  He placed his hand on her inner thigh, slowly moving it upward under her dress until he reached her cotton panties.  Her damp, cotton panties.  He rubbed her through the thin fabric for a beat before slipping his index finger past the elastic hem, groaning in delight at what he found there.  

Breathless, a fist full of curls, she pulled back from his mouth and said, “Someone might see.”

From beneath heavily hooded lids, Rick just stared at her.  “Yeah.”  He let her dress down, released her, took the bottle from her, placing it on the railing, then grabbed her hand, leading her down the porch steps to the side of the house.  “They won’t see here,” he said, backing her against the aluminum siding.  She wrapped her arms around him as he hoisted her leg up with one hand, the other working at his belt buckle.  He just couldn’t keep his hands off of her; couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.

Even though they were outside, the voices of their family and friends carrying from within, he slid in slow, savoring every bit of her.  Mouth slightly parted, he stared into her eyes and thought, if he got lost in her, that would be okay with him.

Chapter Text

Some "missing scenes" during "Them."

[Michonne runs her fingertips delicately down the back of Judith's head.]

Michonne: "How is she?"

[Rick gently pats Judith's back.]

Rick: "She's okay. She'll be okay. And Sasha?"

[Michonne sighs, exasperated.]

Michonne: "She's been better."
Rick: "Yeah. Thank you for helping to keep her together."
Michonne: That's what we do."
Rick: "It is."

[Looks at her, concerned]

Rick: "How are you?"
Michonne: "I've been, better, too. We just gotta get there."
Rick: "And we will. But Michonne… If it doesn't work out–"
Michonne: "Then we'll keep looking."

[Rick glances at her worriedly, fearing she's chasing a dream. Still he nods, willing to chase it with her.]

Rick: "Yeah."
…

[Sasha slows down, lingering, wanting to wait for Abraham.]

Sasha: "I'm sorry."

[She gestures to his arm.]

Sasha: "You were right. I was…reckless."
Abraham: Understatement of the flipping year."
Sasha: "I'm sure you'll keep."
Abraham: "Oh, I will. And you were wrong, by the way. Well, sort of. Us being lumped together like this–stuck for life and all. Maybe it doesn't make us friends. In fact, I'm thinking it makes us more than that. We fight together, protect each other… I had friends who wouldn't loan me ham for a burger if I asked 'em."
Sasha: "Sounds like you had shitty friends."
Abraham: "Yeah well, relationships are a bit better these says, in spite of circumstances. All of the convoluted shit has been stripped away. We're with you, Sasha. Don't forget that."

[Sasha stares at him for a beat, then forges ahead, Abraham staring after her.]

Chapter Text

So the night before in “The Distance,” Rick has himself, Glenn, Michonne and Aaron leading the way to Alexandria, and that goes awry.  Rick ends up separated from Carl and Judith, and has to abandon the vehicle.

Cut to the next morning.

Rick has Carl and Judith, with Michonne riding shotgun, trailing behind the trailer with everyone else.  Now it’s obvious that’s his intermediate family, so of course they’d be together.  But think of the positioning; think of the why.

Rick was...”paranoid” is an understatement.  It was to the point where it would have been detrimental to the group had it not been for Michonne’s intervention.  But Rick teamed them off that way because, should something go wrong, he would have his family with him.  They were trailing back in case they needed to make a quick getaway.  Having Michonne and his kids, even if he lost everyone else...that’s the one thing--the glue--to keeping Rick Grimes together.  It’s why Michonne has that seeming non-sequitur of “You’ve got to let it go.”  She knows he was preparing for the worst; she knows he was keeping them close in case the worst happened.  He’s behind the whele [and thus, in control of the situation], he has his family with him, and he’s ready to flee if necessary.  Michonne sees that, and [later] let’s him know it’ll be okay.

Anyway, I’m mad we didn’t have scenes of them inside the car on the drive over...  

“Abraham, you’re used to big rigs.  You drive the trailer.  Michonne and I will take the other car, trail behind you.”  Rick looked over his shoulder, placed his hand firmly on Carl’s shoulder, and said just for his ears only, “Take your sister and get in the backseat, okay?”  Carl nodded, heading off.  Rick turned to Michonne.  “You ready?”

Michonne stared at him for a moment, then finally gave an imperceptible nod, heading to the car as well, Rick close behind.

"Wouldn't it be safer to have Carl and Judith in the trailer?" she asked him quietly. 

He took her by the arm, escorting her to the passenger side door. "I'll drive," he said simply.
......

"This was the safest play," he said, once they were in the confines if the car. "If something happens, my priority is to keep them safe. We have to keep them safe." He glanced over at her before looking back at the road. 

"I know," she replied. "And we will. But that doesn't mean that you have to--"

"Every one in that trailer is my family. But everyone in this car...I have to keep you safe," he said fiercely. "If there's a fight, I'm ready. If we have to run, I'm ready.  I know you’re optimistic--you all are.  But we don’t know what we’re getting ourselves into.  If we need to abruptly turn around, I have to be able to do that, and I couldn’t just..."  Rick hit the steering wheel, frustrated.

Michonne looked at him, noticing the tenseness of his body, the steel in his gaze. It was flattering in one way, his including her in his family in such a way, albeit not unexpected. She was, and had been part of his core family. Rick chose the groups with purpose. And yet...her heart broke a bit for him. Things could change--would change. Life wasn't a constant fight. Still, she knew this was his way of coping with the situation.  Change was hard, especially after all he’d been through.  Remaining silent, she grasped his hand as he continued to drive, hoping to convey things she couldn’t say just then.  He was still tense, but he gave her hand a squeeze in kind before letting go, continuing the drive onward.

Chapter Text

Summary: From RocketDog on TSDF "

Richonne seems like they're taking a break from rabbit-fucking (maybe Rick needs to find some more Jimmy Hats or needs to dip his wick in some cool water to soothe the burn) " Filming for 713 started today.

Rabbit-fucking. Said in jest, but it seems like a lot of sexing is going on. This made me wonder-I know there is gonna be some kind of time jump post the lost of a loved one, but they're still on edge cause of all of that Negan in their house crap. If you haven't read the spoilers, well, I don't spoil anything except for a location, which is mentioned in the fic. If you don't want to know about that, then read no further...

Anyway, it's no secret Rick has always had the hots for his lady love, so them humping like bunnies is not surprising. However, if they're showing it in excess, I can't help but think it's for a reason. As this is mid-season, my guess is the Andre conversation has happened (along with other poignant convos about loss), so honestly?

I think they're trying to have a baby.

That doesn't mean they'll succeed this season, but I think that's what they're aiming for. And that is the thing that sparked my Muse, and not the carnival itself. So with that in mind...

Here's my interpretation of the carnival shenanigans.

"You were right," Michonne said, sitting down into the Ferris wheel seat. They had climbed up to the top of the rusty structure, using the elevation to get the lay of the land. "I can see for miles up here."

"Well on occasion, I do have a good idea or two," Rick said with a grin, slowly sitting down next to her. The seat swayed gently back and forth from the movement, but the wheel itself was locked in place.

"Yeah, on rare occasions," she said with a grin.

Rick smirked at her. "Okay, I think we've got a good, fifteen minutes before we have to head back," Rick said, looking down at his watch. "You think you are now?"

"Hell if I know...but here?" she asked.

"Why?" he drawled. "Not in the mood?"

Michonne cocked her head to the side, looking him up and down. "Silly question. Plus you're wearing my favorite shirt," she said, fingering the denim material. "I love how it brings out your eyes," she murmured more to herself than him.

"I've always wandered what it'd be like to join the Mile High Club, and I reckon this is as close to it as I'm gonna get."

"What if someone sees us?" she asked, her voice on just this side of naughty.

"Let 'em," Rick whispered, pulling her closer to him.

They kissed hungrily, pulling at each other's belts.

"Wait," Michonne said, pushing him back. She kicked off her boots, then pulled down her underwear along with her skintight pants, letting them drop onto the red plastic floor of the seat. She pulled him out, rubbing the moisture from his tip all around his head. Rick leaned back, arms spread along the back of the seating.

"Come 'ere," he demanded.

Eyes still on his, she slowly moved, straddling him, then sank down slowly on him, exhaling an elated sigh at the feel of him. "Mmm," she hummed, shaking around him. He gripped her hips, staring at her face as she situated herself, the sun shining down on both of them. She braced her hands on his outstretched arms as she rose up, before sinking down again. Rick caressed and squeezed her backside, alternating as she moved.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered, helping her move faster. He used a hand to pull her tank top down, along with one cup of her bra, exposing her breast to him. Leaning closer, he licked a nipple as he wrapped his lips around it, gently nibbling, making her cry out. Rick looked up at her as he continued his ministrations, the breeze blowing her hair, the sun kissing her skin, and truly felt as if he were on top of the world.

Michonne moved her hands to the back of his head, the wheel seat swaying with her gentle movements, which were steadily becoming shorter and quicker as Rick thrust upward into her, making the seat creak as it swung harder from the weight. "Rick," she gasped sharply. "We...gotta be careful."

Rick released her breast so he could look at her, a devilish smirk on her face. Taking her hips once again, he stilled them. He scooted down in the seat a bit, spreading his legs, then pounded into her, making uncontrollable gasps and cries emit from her mouth. "Yeah," he panted, closing his eyes for a second at the feel of her before looking at her again. "That's it right there, isn't it?" He watched as she threw her head back, shortened nails digging into the flesh of his arms, full lips parted. And then she stilled, body tightened like a string on a bow as her orgasm hit her. Rick slowed down as she gently rolled it out, licking her lips. She looked at him, then dipped her head to his neck, softly licking and nipping at it, just as he liked.

"Oh sweetheart..." He placed one hand on her back, the other threaded in her hair, holding her there as she worked his spot. But it was the thought of what they were doing, or rather, what they were trying to achieve, that sent him over the edge this time. He held her to him as he depleted himself inside of her. Moving her hair, he kissed her bare shoulder. He heard her giggle.

"That was way more fun than it should have been."

"It is a carnival, after all," he replied.

Michonne looked around, then gave him a kiss on the lips. "It's beautiful up here."

Rick rubbed the apple of her cheek with his thumb, smiling as the wind rustled her hair. "Yeah, it is."

Chapter Text

Another season 7 prediction thingy.  This response from @rubducked got me thinking:

I’m also wondering (if there’s any validity to the idea that’s been floating around of Michonne wanting to go after Negan and Rick not being on the same page) if maybe they’re also keeping an active sex life to nurture that connection to each other so as to not let a disagreement on how to handle Negan get in the middle of them, whilst allowing them to cope with the trauma they suffered. 

 

“Michonne, this isn’t on you.”

“It’s on us,” she countered.  “We have to do something.”

Rick stared at her, the wheels turning.  “You’re right.  We do.  And we will.  But not half cocked like this.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.  “Is that what you think?  I’m half cocked?”

“Michonne--”

“I am fine,” she said firmly.  “I am thinking clearly.”

“Are you?  What we lost back there...”  Rick shook his head.  “He’s watching us.”

“He’s watching you,” Michonne clarified.  “He doesn’t see me.  And you and me?  We’re gonna keep it that way.  He can’t know about us, Rick. Not him, and not his people.  And they won’t see me coming.”  She stepped closer to him, cupping his stubbly face.  “This is the play. Can’t you see that?  I need your support on this, Rick.  I need you.”

“I don’t wanna lose you out there,” he murmured.  “But I don’t wanna lose you in here, either,” he said.

“Never,” Michonne whispered.

“I’m always on your side.  You know that, don’t you?” he asked her.

“I know.”

“I don’t agree with this plan...but I’ll go along with it.  I will.  I am,” he added.

Michonne smiled, then kissed him.  “Thank you.”  She rapped her arms over his shoulders, mouth hovering over his as their noses brushed.  “Wanna go to bed?”

Rick tangled his fingers in her hair, leaning her back, kissing her neck and her jawline.  “Mmmhmm,” he answered.

“Good.  Love you,” she said as he lifted her up, caring her over to the bed.

Rick kissed her clavicle before lying her down.  “Love you, too.”

Chapter Text

Both Carl and Michonne thought they could go it alone without their family, and soon realize that no, they can't.  More parallels.  I don’t know why that’s only resonating now...it was always there. 

Anyway, I’m going with the assumption that a full 24 hours passed from “After” to “Claimed.”  Carl is sitting down eating breakfast, Michonne has changed, Rick looks like hell, but apparently passed out again.  Maybe I’m wrong about them being in that house a night before “Claimed,” but that’s not really here or there--just sharing what makes sense to my brain.  Anyway, they had time to talk about Judith.  This is something that I have never seen come up.  How did he tell her?  I’m thinking that, in conjunction with Carl’s depression over it, is what causes her to tell him [Carl].  Telling Rick, when he was so racked with fresh grief, wouldn’t have been the right time...well, here it goes: Post “After” but pre-”Claimed.”

“I’m tired.  Gonna go to bed,” Carl said to Rick and Michonne.

“You sure you don’t wanna stay down here?” Rick asked.

“I’ll be okay, Dad.  Just upstairs,” Carl reassured him.  He turned, paused, then headed back, giving Michonne a hug.  “I’m glad you’re here,” he reiterated.  “Night, Dad,” he added before heading up the steps.  

Rick and Michonne watched him head up.  Michonne looked at Rick, who still sat on the couch, lids heavy.  Gently, she sat next to him.  

“I can’t tell you what this means, you being here,” he said quietly.

Michonne shifted on the couch cushion so that she could face him.  His head was tilted back, curly locks sweeping his brow.  Rick swallowed thickly, looking at her.  “Thought we lost everythang back there.”

Michonne gave him a small smile.  “Not quite.”  Rick gave her a small smile in return.  Then--

“You don’t know who else got out?”

He shook his head at her.  “Just us, I...”  Eyes watery, he stared at her.  “I found Carl, and we looked for Judith.  We found...”

Michonne’s brow furrowed when he began to cry, covering his face with his forearm.  Gently, she pulled him to her, holding him, stroking his hair.

“Nothing left but blood,” he whispered.  “Nothing.  I failed her.  I failed everyone.”

Michonne squeezed him tighter.  “No.  It wasn’t your fault.  You did everything you could.”

“I couldn’t protect her.  I couldn’t, I couldn’t...And Carl.  I failed him, too.”  Rick held on to her, his tears slowly abating, lids drifting closed as her presence comforted and calmed him.

“No, you didn’t,” Michonne said, voice firm.  “What matters is, we’re together, now.  We’re all still here.”  She felt his weight grow heavier as he drifted out of consciousness.  “Rick?” she called, but he didn’t reply.  She sighed, realizing he had passed out.  Slowly, she laid him back on the couch, putting him in a comfortable position.  She sat on the floor in front of the couch, leaning against it, keeping watch.  She wiped at her face, realizing she was crying.  She knew what Rick was going through, and her heart ached for him.  But her heart also ached because of Hershel.  Judith.  Their home.

Still, she sighed, grateful that her boys were okay.  She wouldn’t abandon them.  Not again; not for anything.

Chapter Text

Summary: Takes place post "No Way Out." Just a quiet moment on the couch...

Rick realized his face was hurting, and his neck.

He touched his face a bit and realized he was smiling. He wasn't sure for how long.

He and Michonne were sitting on the couch, Judith in her lap, watching "Cinderella."

"I knew she'd like this," Michonne had said, watching Judith's face light up at seeing the cartoon animals sing along with Cinderella.

"Yeah, you called it," Rick had replied. "Didn't think she's like this old cartoon."

"You stop right there, mister," Michonne had admonished. "This film is a classic."

He chuckled, stealing occasional glances at the two of them during the film. About halfway through, Judith had fallen asleep, resting her head against Michonne. "Ah, she didn't get to see the end," Michonne had said, turning Judith, placing her hands securely on her back, Judith's ear near Michonne's heart.

"We can watch it again another day. Want me to put her in bed?" Rick had asked her.

Michonne shook her head. "Let's just finish the movie."

So they sat, still watching. About fifteen minutes later, Michonne too had fallen asleep. Rick kept his spot next to her, but turned his head, staring at her, and apparently, smiling at the sight. Being with his kids was so easy for Michonne, so natural. And Michonne...

Rick sighed, staring at her face-the perky curve of her nose, the fullness of her lips, the softness of her brow, the smoothness of her skin... Rick turned on his side, facing her, giving his neck a break. This woman beside him, who meant so much...

'Could stare at her all night.'

"Dad?"

Rick turned at the sound of Carl's voice. "Hey."

"Want me to put Judith to bed?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah."

Carl came and gently dislodged his sister from Michonne's grip, both frowning in their sleep at the loss of contact. Rick watched as Carl headed up the stairs with his baby sister before turning his eyes back to Michonne. Slowly rising, he bent down, scooping her up into his arms. She stirred but didn't wake, turning her face into his neck, her arm draped over his shoulder. Bare feet padding on the hardwood floors, he carried her to her room, gently lying her down on the bed. He grabbed the comforter from the base of the bed, and draped it over her. Gently brushing her hair from her face, he whispered, "Night."

. . . . . .

Somewhere between Carl taking Judith and Rick picking her up, Michonne had awoken. Being in Rick's arms-she hadn't wanted it to end. But being in his arms, she realized the trouble she was in--feeling the stubble of his cheek brush her, smelling the linen and soap on his neck...It was an effort on her part to not frown or moan once he put her down. After the gentle click of her door closing behind him, she opened her eyes, wishing there was a way to open it again.

Chapter Text

Summary: Pre “East.”  Rick and Michonne have a lazy Sunday. 

The rhythmic sound of wood striking the wall echoed in the bedroom, overlapping breathy gasps, low groans, flesh hitting against flesh, and the creak of the mattress.  Sweat beads on his forehead as his fingers dig into the flesh of her hips, her round bottom flush against him.  Though she thrusts back against him, she drops her head down, her brow resting on her forearm as her body is jerked forward by the force of him, only to be brought backward by his demanding hands.  

“Need...need to see you,” he whispers.

She bites her lower lip then turns her head--she has to see him, too.

He was staring at her, his eyes unblinking, and full of unadulterated passion.  Slowly, one hand travels up and over her ass, going along her spine, up her neck and to her scalp, his fingers clutching a handful of her locks at their roots.  His other hand seizes her shoulder as he pulls her body backward, one leg propped up, leaning over her as he drives himself ardently inside of her.  He lets her hair go to lift up her leg, pulling it up past his hip, getting in to the hilt. One, two, three, four thrusts, making them both cry out.  With a whimper he pulls out all the way, then turns her over.  

A spring breeze rustled the curtains, kissing their bare skin as he hovers over her, leaning on one forearm, his mouth just above hers.  He keeps his eyes on her as he slowly enters once again.  She wraps one leg across his low back, her left hand grabbing his left cheek, her right gripping his curly, brown hair.  She whimpers at each down stroke, a gentle rub of her hilt with his thumb staying in sync.

She kisses him, drawing his tongue into her mouth, sucking gently.  His moans mingle with hers as they grow closer and closer...

He releases her mouth as he feels it approaching, leaving his agape.  Eyes trained on hers, he lets out a strangled shout as he comes undone.  

He drops his sweaty brow onto her shoulder, dropping a kiss on her smooth skin.  Maneuvering them onto their sides, he fondles and caresses her overly sensitive flesh until she clamps down on his hand, her body going rigid.

They wrap their arms around each other, giving gentle kisses, forehead resting against forehead as they hold hands.

“This Sunday didn’t feel so lazy,” she jokes.

“No,” he agrees.  “But it was damn good.”

Chapter Text

Summary: My take on the cell scene in "Hearts Still Beating." 

"I know that now...I know that, now."

His gaze was soft, but determined. All Michonne could do was smile with joy; with relief. He was with her. Rick was with her.

Kissing him then felt like falling in love all over again.

She felt his love wash over in that kiss, pulsate through his hands as they roamed over her body, landing on their favorite place of her backside. Gently she pulled his head back, fingers tangled in her favorite place on him-his curls. Her eyes traveled the planes of his face. Time and stress had taken a toll, and yet it suited him. His face had weathered many storms, and well. She moved a hand to his cheek, her thumb lightly stroking his full, bottom lip.

She remembered the first time she looked at him-really looked at him-and how she thought to herself that his lips were made for kissing. And she had been right.

Closing her eyes, she leaned in again, taking comfort in his embrace while simultaneously losing herself in it.

. . . . .

"Michonne..." His grasp tightened.

He had to have her. His mind was stuck in the mantra of, "love her; need her." He exhaled he slipped his hand downward under the cargo fabric of her tight pants, feeling the evidence of how much she wanted him, too.

Something akin to a moan and whimper escaped his lips when grasped him. He shifted his weight, his belt buckle jingling from the movement. He rest his forehead against hers as she ever so gently touched him. Rick still couldn't get over it-how her gentle, slow and measured touch excited him so. It was more loving than sexual; tenderness over a tight grip. And it was the sexiest thing ever.

She was the sexiest thing ever.

He looked at her from underneath his heavy lids, taking in the shine in her eyes, the soft fullness of her lips, the smoothness of her skin and thought how she was love personified. He recalled a day at the prison where he had looked at her, the sun shining on her, and how she had smiled at him, and how he had wanted to just...hold her.

And now she was his. She was his.

. . . . .

The cement floor of the cell was hard and cool against her back, but Rick was warm, his skin flushed as his body covered hers. His eyes never left hers as he moved within her, giving long, leisurely strokes as he stretched her arms above her head, fingers grasped between his larger ones. She wrapped her legs around him, letting him go deeper as his hips rocked against hers. The sound of skin colliding with skin and light pants filled the hollowness of the cell.

Rick wouldn't quicken his pace; savoring the moment with her was worth more than a quick release. Instead, he took his time, staring deeply into her eyes as he reclaimed his place home.

Note: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it, please drop a comment for myself and Brandenn for Talking Dead's Ultimate fan here: tinyurl.com/Vote4JillBran

Voting is UNLIMITED; just refresh the page, and hit that green arrow up for us. It's just about a week left to vote, and we need your help and support. #TeamRichonne

Chapter Text

     They were snuggled up on the porch bench. The baby monitor rested on the railing, Judith soundly sleeping. Their eyes locked on the two hand prints on the floor board. Rick's arms wraps a little tighter around her. 

     "I remember what it was like. When I thought we lost her. It was devastating. It crippled me." She turns, a tenderness and look of understanding on her face. She gently cups his cheek, silently urging him to continue. She knows. "But losing Ca --"

     His name catches in his throat. He shakes his head as his eyes well. "Part of me went with him," he admits quietly. "It feels like every time you and me take a step forward, something pulls us back."

     She rests her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "Yeah. I can't even properly describe, or explain, how you, and Carl, and Judith healed me. Wounds I never thought would... The feeling changes you, but it never leaves. Not really. You find a way to make do. To survive."

     "What if I don't want to just survive? What if I want more than that?" 

     "What do you mean?"

     "Did you ever... Have you ever considered having more children after Andre?"

     Michonne sits up. She reaches to the railing, grabbing the baby monitor. As she stares lovingly at the screen --

     "Before Carl, before Judith, no. I was afraid to love like that again. Afraid there would be nothing left of me."

     "And now?" he softly asks. 

     She closes her eyes, clutching at her chest. "I feel it, it's so raw. I carry it." Tears fall, but she doesn't falter. "We've had so many losses, Rick."

     "Yeah. Yeah. And I don't wanna feel like... There's no replacing him."

     "There's no replacing either of them."

     "But maybe one day, we'll take root, make a whole new plant." He smiles, his voice wistful. 

     She chuckles at that. "What?" 

     "Something Hershel said to me once."

     "Ah. So someday..."

     "Yeah. One day when we get to a place, in here." He takes her hand, and places it over his heart, holding it there. "A day when we aren't so broken?"

     She takes one of his hands and places it over her heart. "I'll be waiting on that day. I love you."

     He leans in, kissing her softly. "And I love you."

Chapter Text

"You ready?" he called through the bedroom door. 
     "Not just yet. I'll see you there!" she called back.
     When he left that big house he would never dream to afford that evening to go to Deanna's, he wasn't sure what he was expecting. Socializing. Drinking. Tiny tartlets. It all felt so foreign, and would have been even before the world fell apart. Distractions. Noise. And then she appeared:
     Her demeanor was soft, almost shy. Her hair hung loosely about her face. The dress, while not her style, displayed her curves in a different way. A warmth of light caught in her eyes. His breath hitched in his throat. He watched as she hugged Carl, familiar and full of joy. Love. A pang in his chest. 
     He takes the first sip of his drink. 
     He sees her laugh, politely, but laughs all the same at something Spencer said. He can't be that funny. And something tightens in his gut. He doesn't know what to do with it all. Not yours. She never will be.
     He takes another drink. 
     Because oblivion was familiar; distractions wanted. The easy, the simple, was welcomed by him, as it would never betray his true desires, nor would it break his heart. 
     And Michonne could. She could take his whole world in the palm of her hands, and he would let her crush it if she wanted, knowing she never would. Because his world was safe with her. His heart, though... And Carl?  He would tell her, if he could make the words just...go. But he can't; it's hopeless.
     He watches intensely as she walks away, the dress flowing behind her, her movements enchanting as ever. The sense of longing within him is as strong as ever. 
    He takes another drink, burying it. 

------

     "You're back."
     Rick's head jerks up at the sound of her voice. The smile on his face is automatic. He closes the door softly as she descends the stairs. 
     "Judith?"
     "Tucked away in bed. Carl and Noah are playing a card game."
     "Good, good. So --"  He steps a bit closer, unconsciously into her personal space. "What did you think?"
     "Of the party?" She sighs, hugging herself. "I think I felt out of place. Abe said I wasn't trying hard enough."
     "Did he?"
     "Uh huh. And I started to wonder, to realize, he's right."
     "I guess tonight was full of revelations."
     "Was it?" She peers at him, curious. "And what did you come to realize?" 
      His breath hitches in his throat at the question. He wants to look away, but he can't, lost in the gleam of her eyes.
     "I was talking to Jessie. And she said how we wouldn't have known each other before. Different places, different backgrounds. About how we all lost something. And got something else, something different out of the deal."
     "Wow. Kind of heavy for party talk," she said with a smile. 
     "A little bit. But it put some things in perspective. The things I've been through, we've all have been through, have been awful. Sometimes, a living nightmare. And yet I can't..." He drops his head, unable to look at her for this next bit. "I can't imagine a world without you in it." He raises his eyes to see her. She's staring at him with that soft expression on her face. She understands. Still, he presses on. "You've brought joy to our lives, Michonne. This place would have been unbearable without that. Without you. Thank you, for being here, with us."
     Eyes welling a bit, she grabs his arm, holding him there. "You -- all of you -- have brought joy to my life, too. We're in this, together."
     This was the moment. The moment where he could tell her anything, everything. He wants to. All he can hear, all he can feel, is his heart pounding against his --
     Judith's scream takes them both out of the moment. 
     Michonne rubs his arm, then lets him go. "I've got her." 
     He watches as she goes up the stairs, the flannel and tank top hugging her curves with every step. The thumping morphs into a pang, knowing that he could never --
     Knowing that she could never be his. Not like that. 
     Rick looks down at his left hand, fiddling at the silver band there. He knows he's holding onto something. Things that weren't; things that could never be. But the familiarity of having it there was safe. A distraction.
     A cold comfort.