Summary: Zombie AU: An alternative reality where Michonne, instead of Morgan, saves Rick after he awakens in the hospital. What happens when the two meet again after facing so much lost and devastation?

A/N: This chapter is a bit long, but there's a lot I wanted to convey at the start. I didn't want to split it into two chapters. I hope you enjoy, and as always thank you for reading.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. None of these characters belong to me.

Rick's limbs felt paralyzed. He tried to lift his arm to wipe the bead of sweat that was dripping down his forehead, but he was only met with resistance. His chest moved up and down as he took in shallow breaths. He lifted his head, but the heaviness caused it to immediately fall back down. The anticipated hard blow was instead replaced with a deep softness. His brain felt scrambled. It was the second time in a matter of hours or minutes (he couldn't tell for sure) that he was waking up perplexed. He laid there with his eyes closed hoping the first time was a dream and his family was somewhere nearby. He tried to move again and felt a deep pressure on his wrists and ankles. It was then he realized his arms and legs with tied to something. He moved his head. The softness he laid under reminded him of those Memory pillows Lori loved to buy.

He was tied to a bed.

He opened his eyes when he heard voices talking faintly around him. His blurry vision focused on two bodies standing at the foot of the bed.

"...not a walker..."

"...supposed to know..."

"...talked...things don't fucking talk."

From the cadence of their voices he knew the two people were arguing. He tried to speak. To ask what was happening; what was going on. But all that came out was a strangled cough. The two figures turned towards him. One rushed over to where he laid. Rick could feel long hair brush against his bearded cheek as the person bent slightly over him. He blinked his eyes rapidly in succession until the figure became clear. A woman with dark skin looked down at him. Her eyes held a mixture of suspicion, fear, and concern.

"Hey," she said, "what happened to you?" She gestured with her hand towards his bandaged torso.

"What happened?" Confusion marred Rick's face. He thought he should be the one asking that question.

"Were you bitten?" The woman asked a little more forcefully. She placed the back on her hand on his forehead. "He doesn't have a fever, Terry," she said to the man still standing at the foot of the bed gripping a bat nervously.

Rick's police mind took over for a moment as he noticed the man's medium height and medium build. He internally debated whether he could take him one on one if he needed to escape.

"That doesn't mean anything, Michonne. He could develop one at any moment. I told you we should have left him out there," Terry said.

"What if this isn't a bite? I couldn't leave him out there to get eaten by one of those things," she said.

Rick ran the names Michonne and Terry through his cobwebbed brain. Neither sounded familiar. Just as he was about to ask why they were holding him hostage another man walked into the room carrying a toddler in his arms.

"Sometimes it takes a little while for the fever to set in. Remember back at the condo with Rodney," the man said.

Michonne's face immediately softened at the man and boy. She nodded her head at his words. "Right," she said. "It took him about three days to get a fever."

"And only a few hours to turn," Terry said.

All the adult eyes in the room fell on Rick as the toddler started to struggle in the man's arms while reaching for Michonne.

"Mommy," he whimpered.

Michonne rushed over to where they stood in the doorway and pulled the boy into her arms. "Hey Peanut. Mommy's here. Don't be scared." She placed three quick kisses on the top of his head and tickled his tummy. The boy's laughter filled the small room.

Rick closed his eyes again feeling a pain much deeper than his physical body could produce as he thought of his own son.

"You weren't there when he woke up from his nap," The man crossed his arms and took a step away from Michonne. "He's used to you being around all the time."

Michonne tried to hold eye contact with the man, but he looked away from her. "I know, Mike," she smoothed down the boy's hair. "This is taking longer than I thought."

Mike looked briefly over at Rick. "Well, it's good you're being more lenient with who's one of those things and who's not."

"Mike..."

"Never mind," he said. He tilted his chin towards Rick. "He's still not talking?"

"No," she said. "I'm not sure he understands what's going on. I cleaned his wound. It doesn't look like a bite mark, but you never know."

Rick coughed again as he tried to speak. "Shot...somebody shot me." He was finally able to say.

Michonne sat the boy down on the floor. She grabbed something from behind the door that Rick couldn't see. When she walked backed to the bed he saw a long sword encased in her hand. His body reacted instinctively with muscles tightening in fear, but his body relaxed again as their eyes met. There's was something about her stare that instantly brought a semblance of comfort to him.

"Nothing has bitten you?" She asked.

Rick's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Like an animal?"

"No," she knelt down, "like a person."

Rick looked deeply into her eyes trying to understand. "Why would someone bite me?"

Michonne looked closely at him. There was a deep sadness in his eyes that made her heart contract in sympathy. "Where have you been the last few weeks?" She asked him softly.

Rick face contorted into a grimace. It was all beginning to be too much for him. "Nothing's makes sense anymore." His words were barely audible.

Michonne reached out to gently massage the spot between his eyebrows until his face relaxed. She looked up at Mike and Terry. "Why don't you guys go get dinner started. I think I can handle him from here."

Mike frowned at her. "You sure?"

"Yeah. I think he's telling the truth about getting shot," she said.

"How?" Mike asked.

Michonne shrugged. "I just do. You know my gut is rarely wrong. I have my sword. I'll be fine.

Mike looked down at her sword as his frown deepened. "What if you're wrong this time?"

"Mike, please." Michonne stood up exasperated. She swung an unruly dread back over her shoulder.

"Fine," he said. He picked up the boy from the floor and waved for Terry to lead the way out of the room. He turned before exiting. "I hope you're right about this, Michonne."

Rick watched as her face went through a plethora of emotions in a few seconds. Anger, sadness, resignation, and finally determination. She rotated her shoulders back and stood up straighter before looking down at Rick. Her sad smile didn't reach her eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said. In four quick motions she cut all the ties that were binding him to the bed. Rick slowly swung his legs to the floor as he sat up. He was impressed by how expertly she wielded the sword. He usually would feel embarrassed sitting there with a woman, who wasn't his wife, in only his boxers and a hospital gown, but now wasn't the time for petty concerns.

He rubbed his wrists as memories from earlier in the day came back to him.

"I saw you shoot a man," he said. "I was outside of my house and you shot a man."

"That wasn't a man."

Rick cocked his head to the side. "He was my neighbor Bill. He was definitely a man."

"Not anymore, he wasn't. You really don't know what's going?" Michonne asked.

"No," He blew out a breath and threw his hands in the air. "All I know is I woke up in the hospital today to a world I don't recognize. Please tell me what's happening."

Michonne sat next to him on the bed. She kept her eyes straight forward on the opposite wall. "There's a virus. The whole world is infected. No one's sure how it started. It's been weeks now. Two months maybe. I don't keep up much with dates anymore." She started tapping her sword up and down on the floor. "The news reported it as a pandemic of people infecting others through bites. It was strange to see on TV. These things that used to be human roaming the streets." She looked at Rick and saw he was watching her closely. "It's even stranger seeing it live and in person. It starts with a fever. It burns you out. You die. Then you come back craving flesh."

Sounds of preparations for their bare bones dinner drifted in from the front room, but Rick and Michonne sat in silence. Rick gripped the mattress with both hands. His mouth was opening and closing not knowing what he could say. "Shit," he finally said.

Michonne tore her eyes away from Rick and looked back to the wall. "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too. The news and power went dark a couple weeks ago. We have no idea what's going on in the rest of the world anymore, but right here in King's County the dead are walking among us."

Rick wanted to argue with her; to deny everything she was saying. But he couldn't because of all he'd witnessed that day and for some reason he trusted her. He knew she was telling the truth.

Michonne pushed herself off the bed and walked to the window. She looked at the chaos of the streets from a small hole in the blinds. "I never did ask you your name," she said while her back was still to him.

"Rick."

"I'm Michonne."

"I know," he said. "I heard Terry call you that. Is Mike your husband?"

He watched as her long dreads shook. "No. Boyfriend."

"And your son?"

She turned around then. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful her smile was as she talked about her son. "Andre Anthony. He's my world."

Her smile made his own mouth turn up slightly at the obvious deep love she had for the boy. They made eye contact again. Something in her eyes made him not want to look away, but he finally did as he looked around the room.

"This is Mrs. Sanders' house. Her guest room. I helped her hang those curtains over there," he said.

"Nana Sanders," Michonne said. "She was Mike's Grandmother."

"Is she here?"

Michonne turned back to the window and started slowly spinning the sword in her hand. "Mike spoke with Nana on the phone before the power and everything went out. She was scared, but was okay. The plan was to swing by here, pick her up, and then head back to Atlanta to one of the camps the government set up. We couldn't find her when we first arrived. Her bedroom was locked. We could hear noises behind the door so Mike tried to kick it down." She paused. Rick waited patiently for her to go on. "I've been the one going out getting food, checking on friends and neighbors since the beginning. I've become well acquainted with these things. The sound they make is disgusting. I sometimes hear it in my sleep. So I knew. Before he opened that door I knew."

"She had turned into one," Rick said.

"She lunged at him as soon as the door opened. Went right for his neck. I stuck my sword through her head before she had a chance. Andre was crying in my arms as I put that thing masquerading as Nana out of her misery. Mike was yelling that I killed his grandmother. She must have died recently because she didn't look as rotted as a lot of them. But the noises she made. And the eyes," Michonne shuddered. "They have the most god-awful eyes. There was no mistaking what she was."

"Mike must realize now what she was," Rick said. "After the shock wore off."

Michonne sighed and turned around again. Unshed tears shone in her eyes. "You would think but...," She shrugged. "He hasn't forgiven me yet even though I saved his life. Sometimes it feels like he's afraid of me now." She walked back over to where Rick still sat on the bed. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I guess I just needed a friend."

Rick felt the urge to hug her, but he stayed planted on the edge of the bed.

Michonne placed a hand lightly on Rick's shoulder. "I think Mike may have some clothes that'll fit you. I'll go get them. Then you can come out and eat dinner with us."

Rick watched as she walked out of the room.

Michonne cleaned the table with one hand as she held Andre firmly on her hip with the other. She kept sneaking glances at Rick where he sat on the couch. He was quiet during dinner, and had just been staring into space for the past fifteen minutes or so.

Mike and Terry were in the kitchen supposedly inventorying their supplies, but Michonne knew they had found Nana's liquor cabinet. They were currently trading shots of twenty year old Cognac. She sighed and threw the paper towel she was holding into a nearly full trash bag. She walked further into the front room and sat on the floor across from the couch Rick occupied.

"I hear them," he said.

"There's more out there than usual. I shouldn't have used my gun earlier. Noise attracts them," she said.

"Is that why you have the sword?" He asked.

"Yeah. Does what needs to be done quietly."

Andre struggled off of her lap. He walked over to Rick and grabbed onto one of his legs. He looked up at the man and smile. "Hi," he said.

Michonne smiled brightly again. "He's a very friendly kid."

"I can see that," Rick said. He reached down and brought Andre to his lap. "Hey little guy. How are you doing?"

"My name is Andre," he said pointing to himself. He then pointed to Michonne. "That's Mommy."

Rick couldn't help but to smile. "Well, I'm Rick." He clasped Andre's hand in his in a handshake. "It is very nice to meet you."

"Reek," Andre said we glee. He stood on his little toddler legs and gave Rick a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Okay, Andre go back to Mommy now." He waved at Rick and climbed down from the couch. He ran and threw his arms around his mother as he settled back on her lap. Michonne hugged him tightly and placed kisses all over his face.

The smile never left Rick's face as he watched them.

Mike and Terry walked into the room then laughing loudly and dapping each other over who knows what.

"Shh," Michonne hushed them.

Terry rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond until Mike gave him a friendly pat on the chest and shake of the head.

Mike joined Michonne on the floor giving her a kiss on the shoulder, and Andre's hand a little squeeze. Michonne didn't comment on the sweet smell of alcohol on his breath. She was just happy he was back to being the man she fell in love with for a little while.

Terry sat on the couch next to Rick. "So me and Mike have a little bet going about how you ended up with bullet in you. My man here says you were in an O.K. Corral type shoot out." Terry placed one hand on his chest. "Me though? I think your woman caught you cheating and took care of business. So which is it? The last can of fruit cocktail is riding on this."

Rick looked to Michonne who seemed amused by the exchange and then back to Terry. "Sorry, but Mike has it right. I'm the most wanted man in Georgia. You've probably seen my picture on the news."

"Goddamnit," Terry said as he and Mike laughed.

Michonne tensed at the ruckus they were making, but said nothing this time.

"I'll of course share with you, baby." Mike kissed her on the shoulder again. "So for real, Rick, what happened to you?"

Rick ran his hands down the rough material of his borrowed jeans. "I'm a Sheriff's Deputy. I was shot in the line of duty."

"Shit, man," Mike said, "that sucks."

Rick cocked his head to the side and back upright again. "Tell me about it."

Mike tilted his head towards the stairs signaling Terry. He caught on to the meaning immediately. "Oh right. Michonne, if you approve, your lover and I will be going upstairs to make sure everything looks safe from up top."

"Man, you're not funny." Mike gave both Michonne and Andre cheek kisses. "I won't be long, baby." He was always overly affectionate when he was drunk.

Michonne smiled tightly. It was strained and didn't reach her eyes. She watched as the two men pounded up the stairs. She was so lost in her thoughts for a few moments shock registered over her when Rick was no longer sitting on the couch once she tore her gaze away from the stairs. He was instead standing in front of the window.

"What do you see?" She asked.

Rick watched the undead wander aimlessly through the streets of where he called home for so many years. "I see my house across the street. It looks more like a tomb than a home right now." He hung his head to try to keep the tears at bay.

"How long have you been married?"

"Thirteen years," Rick said while looking at his wedding ring.

"Your wife's Lori? Your son's Carl?"

Rick looked up with a start. "Do you know them? Have you seen them?"

Michonne shook her head. "No. You said their names after Terry hit you with the bat earlier. Before you passed out."

Rick blew out a breath. The few seconds of hope followed by disappointment felt crushing. "They weren't in the house. There was no trace of them there. It's like they don't exist anymore," Rick rubbed his eyes. "Lori's strong in a lot of ways, but I don't know if she would be able to defend herself and Carl against one of those things."

"People can surprise you," Michonne pointed towards of sword in the corner. "I never knew I would be a pretty good samurai."

"How'd you end up with it?" He asked

"Found it just laying on the sidewalk in front of our high-rise. Once we figured out how to kill those things it became invaluable."

The noises from outside began to get louder and closer. Rick turned back to the window. "Should we be concerned?"

"As long as they don't see us, we'll be fine. They can't open doors, but if enough of them pile together they could break through the glass."

Rick moved away from the windows and for the first time noticed a crate holding vinyl records in the corner next to Michonne's sword. He bent down to look through them. "Are these Mrs. Sanders' records?" He asked.

Michonne gave him a sheepish grin. "No, they're mine."

"You brought your records with you?" Rick gave her a curious look.

"Yeah, I know, but they hold a sentimental value. I inherited them from my dad. He was a jazz connoisseur. We used to listen to them while my mom made Sunday brunch. These records are responsible for some of my fondest memories." She reached into the crate to pull out a Billie Holiday album with a black and white cover. "My favorite is Billie Holiday. The song 'I'll Be Seeing You' never fails to calm my mind. I even brought my portable record player with me. I'd love to listen to it right now, but I can't justify the use of battery power. Or the noise."

"I think it's kind of nice that you brought them. Hang on a little to your old self," Rick said.

Michonne smiled at the sincerity of his words. "Yeah, but I know it's a kinda a silly thing to bring in the middle of the end of the world."

Rick became serious. "Do you really think this is the end?"

"The dead are rising. It has to be a road paved to the end at least. Doesn't mean that we can't block its path though."

"Wasn't there something similar described in Revelations?" Rick hadn't stepped foot in a church since his mother's funeral, but he remembered some of his Sunday school teachings.

"I believe so. Though I haven't stepped foot in a church for a long time," Michonne said.

"I guess God can't help us now," Rick said.

"If he ever could," replied Michonne.

The scent that traveled down from upstairs was not unfamiliar to Rick. He had smelt it many times when he was called to break up wild parties. And a time or two or twenty back in high school with Shane behind the bleachers. Michonne noticed the look of recognition on his face.

"That's how they cope," she said.

He noticed how her face contorted as she spoke. "But you don't agree?"

She looked briefly behind them at the staircase then back down to Andre who'd fallen asleep on her lap. "I've never thought smoking weed was a big deal. I was known to partake myself back in the day but," she shook her head, "we're in a different time. Something really fucking major is going on. I understand the need to escape mentally, but being alert is a must right now. They can't take care of themselves much less Andre if they're always high."

"Seems like you're doing a pretty good job of taking care of yourself and everyone else. You're obviously a strong woman," Rick said.

Michonne tensed. She bit down slightly on her bottom lip and looked over to the stairs hearing the laughter of the two men again. "People have called me that most of my life. Sometimes it feels more like an insult than a compliment."

Rick raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?" He hoped he hadn't offended her in any way.

"Can I be honest with you, Rick? I don't know why, but I feel like I can tell you things I'd normally keep inside."

"You can," Rick said. He didn't know why he felt so safe with her either, but she was a comforting presence in this new found chaos.

"I'm tired. Tired of always having to be strong. I want to yell, scream, and cry at this fucked up situation we're in. But I have to keep going. My baby boy needs me. Keeping him safe is the only thing that matters right now."

Rick stared at the woman who was radiating equally vulnerability and strength. He swallowed hard fighting the urge that had come over him again to comfort her. "Well, you're welcome to cry, scream, and yell in front of me," he said. "I have to warn you though. I'll probably be right there with you doing the same."

Rick felt proud when she graced him with the smile she usually reserved for Andre.

She stood up careful not to jar the toddler from his slumber. "We should get some rest. It's been a long day." She pointed to a stack of blankets and a pillow. "You can sleep on the couch if you want. Me and Peanut sleep in the make shift bed over there. Terry and Mike are usually up late."

Both took a few minutes to get comfortable in their respective beds for the night. Rick looked up at the ceiling willing his mind to shut off so he could sleep.

"Just think of the mountains and the sea. The tranquility helps ease the mind enough to fall asleep." Michonne's soft voice cut through the agony his mind was putting him through.

"I've never seen the mountains. Been to the beach only a handful of times."

"Think of the waves lulling you to sleep."

Rick closed his eyes and thought about the last family trip he took. He saw Lori taking pictures as he and Carl threw a football on the sand. Everyone was smiling and happy. He closed his eyes with a sad smile on his face.

"Good night, Rick."

"Good night, Michonne."

The next morning she found Rick in the back yard staring at the trees, then the ground and back up again. He turned his head slightly to acknowledge he knew she was there, but kept going through his routine. "Everything looks so normal," he said. "Flowers are blooming. The oak trees are still mighty. How can all of this be the same when everything else is so different?"

Michonne crossed her arms over her torso. "I wish I had answers." She looked around the yard. "You shouldn't be out here alone. It's not safe."

"In the backyard? How can they get in here?" He asked.

"They're more resourceful than they look. You can never be too careful."

"I still don't understand any of this," he said.

"I was wide awake when this all started, and I still don't understand either. I can't imagine how you're feeling," she said.

"Like Tom Cruise is going to come around that corner at any moment and I'll realize I'm in the middle of a movie and not real life."

"Tom Cruise? He's way too short. I would have said Denzel Washington or Will Smith. Maybe Daniel Craig."

Rick smirked at her. "I guess I should have said Angelina Jolie or Halle Berry. That'll at least make this movie more interesting for me."

Michonne smiled back at him. "Your very own Bond girls. I guess a man can dream."

An old jazz tune started to drift into the backyard. Michonne recognized the Duke Ellington classic. She sighed. "He shouldn't be playing the music so loud or wasting the batteries." She started walking back to the house.

"Wait," Rick grabbed her arm, "Your records."

Michonne looked at him in confusion. "What about the records?"

"You saved your records. You brought them with you." Rick ran back into the house towards the front door. Michonne followed closely after him.

Mike was sleeping off his hangover next to a still slumbering Andre. Terry sat on the floor picking through her crate of albums.

"Cut that shit down." She said in a loud voice so he could hear her over the music.

"Why did you bring these damn things if she didn't want anyone to listen to them," Terry muttered but he shut down the music.

Michonne caught up with Rick. "Wait before you go out there."

"I have to get to my house." He wore a look of determination.

"Okay, but wait. We have to be prepared."

Michonne grabbed her sword and handed Rick a knife from the kitchen. She slowly opened the door. The cluster of walkers from the night before had cleared. Only one lingered in the front yard. She looked back at Rick with one raised eyebrow. He nodded understanding what she was conveying to him. Following her out of the door, he gripped the knife in his hand and went in for the kill right as the walker turned to him. He recognized the undead thing as his neighbor Fred from down the road. The knife landed into Fred's shoulder. He went down, but immediately reached out for Rick's legs. The steel blade of the katana pierced his brain before he could hook his rotted hands on Rick.

"Always go for the brain," Michonne said. "It's the only thing that'll kill them."

There were more walkers down the street, but were far enough away for the two of them to safely get across the street to Rick's house. Michonne watched as he frantically search the living room drawers.

"What's going on Rick?"

"The pictures. All of the pictures are gone. Our wedding photos, Carl's school pictures. Last night you said you brought your records because they were sentimental. Lori is the same way about our family photos. They're not here. She took them. They're alive. She and Carl are alive." He had tears in his eyes.

Michonne's own eyes started to tear up. She looked quickly away. She wanted him to find his family almost as much as he did. "You should go to Atlanta," she said. "Camps were being set up all over the city. I'd say that's where they escaped to."

Rick went into the kitchen and found the keys he was hoping were still hanging on the wall. "I have an idea," he said.

Rick felt more like himself as he walked to the front of the Sheriff's station dressed in his uniform. Michonne and Andre, freshly showered and smiling, were sitting at Rick's desk. He watched as she bounced the boy on her lap, talking to him softly. Andre smiled at what she was saying and then broke out in a fit of giggles when as she tickled him. Rick felt himself grinning at their interaction, but it soon turned into a frown as he thought of Carl and Lori. He missed his wife and son more than he could say. He felt as if he hadn't seen them in months yet also as if he'd just seen them yesterday. Michonne looked over at him noticing the sadness that had overcome him.

"You're going to find Lori and Carl. I feel it," she said.

"How can you be so sure?" Rick asked; desperate for her to be right.

"I have a sixth sense about these things," she said with a smirk, "My grandmother always told me so."

"You can see into the future?" Rick asked with a smirk on his face similar to hers.

"Not quite. Just a feeling I get sometimes."

Rick sat on the edge of his desk. He looked out of the window at the deserted streets. He was ready to start the search for his family, but he had an ache is his gut that told him that he'd never see his hometown again as it used to be. That nothing will ever be the same again. Maybe he had a sixth sense too. He opened his mouth to say as much to Michonne, but was caught off guard by the intensity of her stare as he locked eyes with her again. He read a fear in her face similar to what must have been on his. They both looked away at the same time. But Rick eyes soon found his way back to her. He studied her profile. She sat regal. She was strong, but the slight slump of her shoulders showed him how the weight of responsibility was dragging her down.

"Come with me." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I know you want to get back to Atlanta. We can look out for each other."

"I can't, Rick. Mike's not ready to go back yet. I'm sure he will soon. Don't let what I said last night taint your opinion of him. I was just blowing off some steam. He's going to be there for me and Andre. I know it."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" Rick asked.

Michonne shot up from the desk chair; holding Andre tightly in her arms. "Look you don't really know us. You can save your judgment."

Rick held up his hand. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I just want you and Andre to be safe."

"We will be," Michonne said. She softened her tone. "Thank you for caring. I didn't mean to get so defensive."

"You don't ever have to apologize to me for your emotions, Michonne." Rick started to reach out his arm to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but stopped himself. A tension hung in the air. It wasn't combative, but something much deeper.

Rick took out a pair of walkie talkies from the police bag he'd filled with weapons and supplies. "At least take one of these. Turn it on every morning at 6:00 am so we can touch base daily."

Michonne nodded as she took the device from him; their fingers brushed together slightly. "We'll meet again in Atlanta."

"I'm counting on it," Rick said.

"Walkie", Andre shouted from his spot on Michonne's hip.

She laughed. "I guess we have Andre's seal of approval."

Mike and Terry soon joined them up front and the group made their way outside. The streets were still clear except for one walker on the other side of the fence wearing a Sheriff's uniform.

"I know him," Rick said. "Awful deputy, but he doesn't deserve that fate."

"Go ahead," Michonne said. "I'll take care of him."

He nodded his thank you.

"Deputy Grimes," Mike reached out his hand to him, "thank you for this man. The hot shower is just what we needed."

"No, I'm the one that needs to be thanking y'all. I wouldn't have survived if you hadn't found me," he said as the two men shook hands.

He stood in front of Michonne. "I like the newly clean shaven look." She pointed her finger in a circle around his face. "It works for you."

Rick ducked his head and felt his smooth face suddenly feeling bashful.

"I'll be seeing you, Rick," she said.

"See you, Michonne." He watched the two men load up their truck with the supplies he'd given them from the station. He looked back to Michonne with squinted eyes. She mouthed, We'll be fine, to him. He nodded and rubbed Andre's little curls. "See you later, little guy."

"Reek go bye, bye?" Andre asked.

"Just bye, bye for now," Rick answered.

It was past noon; not wanting to delay his trip any further, Rick climbed into his squad car and drove slowly down the driveway. Before turning onto the street he looked into his rear view mirror, locking eyes one last time with Michonne before beginning the journey to find his family.