All was quiet aboard the train tonight. The silence was broken only by the gentle shaking of the cars on the tracks. It had begun to snow, the flakes falling thick and fast outside of the frosted window panes. Rick Grimes shivered. There had been a time where a lonely cold night hadn't seemed such a herculean task. That time was long since passed.
He crept from car to car, checking passengers, finishing his duties. It was easy work, far preferable to the back breaking labor of actually laying railroad tracks. Still, in one way he missed it. The toil had been hard, the days long, the money never enough. It hadn't mattered.
She'd been with him. That was more than all the rest put together.
He sighed, making his way out of the first class car and into the area that housed his sleeping quarters. He was anxious to lie down, to shut the world out, to be alone with his thoughts. Sometimes, he fantasized that she was there when he opened the door, that they were living out their plans together. Traveling this great country had lost its appeal without her. Instead, every stop had become a fruitless search. He eagerly peered into every station, every port, every train car, every guest, hoping for just a glance of her wide brown eyes, her full, soft lips, that smile that brightened her whole face.
She was long gone. With every day, he feared that her image would wipe clean from his mind. He only had one photo, a blurry one, its edges frayed and bent from age. They'd been just teenagers then, naïve to the ways of this world. The future had stretched ahead of them, bright and promising as this nation, the sparkling new tracks leading to adventure in every direction. In the photo, he stood next to her, his arms around her shoulder, hers around his waist, like they belonged to one another. He looked at it almost every night, determined to fill his mind with images of her face before he slept.
Rick took one last glance out of the window, watching the steam of the engine mix with the flurries of snow. She would have loved this. He hoped wherever she was, that she was warm and safe. He hoped that the husband her parents had picked for her loved her even half as much as he did.
The door scraped along hollowly on its tracks as Rick hurried inside, shutting it behind him. He set about the tasks of preparing for bed, warming the room up to combat the winter cold. It took a moment to get the gas lamp going, his fingers stiff around the matches. One finally caught and he eagerly pushed it through the small glass opening, illuminating his modest quarters in a golden glow. He turned to set the lamp down on a wooden end table beside the bed. Rick nearly jumped out of his skin when his eyes found her, seated on his cot, looking all the world like a vision from a dream.
"Rick," she smiled shyly, her voice barely more than a whisper. She tugged nervously at one of her long braids.
"Michonne?" Rick nearly dropped the lamp. He hadn't said her name in months, nearly a year, but it fell from his mouth with so much reverence now that it could have been a prayer. He hastily set the light beside her, watching as the flame bathed her face until he could see her clearly.
"I found you," she replied. She made as though to stand up, removing the blanket she had tangled herself in.
She never made it to her feet. Rick was on her in seconds, tugging her into his arms. His grip may have been too tight but neither of them cared. She clung to his shoulders with the same fervor, a little gasp leaving her. Her skin was cold and he wondered how long she'd been waiting for him. He quickly covered her exposed hands, warming her up.
"Michonne," he repeated, the words watery, punctuated with tears. "How?"
"I left," she whispered back, her face pressed to his. "They moved us away, moved us south. I couldn't do it. I left." Her lips brushed his as she spoke, her fingers digging into his arms.
"When?" he wiped the moisture from her face, staring into the eyes he was sure he'd never see again.
"Three months," she bit her lip. "I've been looking for you."
"You found me," the smile that cut across his face was so large it nearly hurt.
"I did," she mirrored him.
Words failed Rick, but it didn't matter. He closed the scant distance between them, covering her mouth with his own. Eagerly, she folded herself into his embrace, mewling as he slanted his head to deepen their kiss.
His tiny cabin began to heat up at once, aided by the feeling of the woman he loved beneath him. She slipped her simple cotton dress over her head, then wasted no time in ridding him of his uniform. Her skin was like fire against his, warming him to the tips of his toes. He settled on top of her, their lips only parting to draw breath.
"Marry me," he asked her shakily, trembling as her body welcomed his.
She let out a gasp, her mouth parting in pleasure. Her eyes, heavily lidded, met his.
"Yes," she breathed back, tugging at his waist.
Rick needed no further encouragement. Elated, he made the woman beneath him his.
The evening wore on outside of the train, the snow falling gently to herald in Christmas day. Neither of the lovers paid it much mind, sequestered in one another's arms, each refusing to let go.