A/N: I'm warning you now, Jessie will be in this story! I know, I know. I don't like it myself (seriously, my outline for this story is full of rude commentary about her, lol), so I will do my best to keep her to a minimum. But I'm mostly going with show canon here, aside from filling in a few spots, so… Yes, there will be Supercuts, and yes, Rick will be acting a damn fool. Unlike the show, though, I will do my best to make it good. Better, anyway, haha. But I hope you like! –Ash

Chapter 1
"Deal."

Rick sighed heavily as he trudged up the steps of what he was beginning to consider his new home. It had been an exceptionally long day, from driving to Alexandria, to getting everyone interviewed, washed, and fed. He felt like a completely different man than the one he woke up as. And while that was probably a good thing, he couldn't help but feel a bit wonky in this new place. The home they'd been given was absolutely beautiful, but he couldn't imagine feeling comfortable there for quite some time, if ever.

The rest of his group, however, seemed quite cozy, settled on the living room floor downstairs. He'd run up to the bedrooms to see if there were any more blankets he could steal for the night, but his mission was thwarted when he heard water running in one of the bathrooms. The door was wide open, so he took it upon himself to peek in, finding Michonne rinsing her mouth out. She was apparently brushing her teeth. Again.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he declared, leaning against the doorframe as he watched her return to the brushing portion of the show.

"Do you have a problem?" she asked with a smirk and a mouth full of toothpaste.

"No, but I think it's safe to say you do," he answered playfully, with raised eyebrows. "Did you not already spend twenty minutes doing this?"

"That was before we ate," she reminded him, smiling to show off her impeccably pearly whites. It felt so good to not have a nasty layer of tartar covering them.

"It's a bit much, Kiddo. Nobody's teeth need to be this clean."

She glanced at him briefly before spitting in the sink again. "Maybe I found myself a cute Alexandrian and I'm getting ready for a booty call. You don't know."

"I know you better not be," he smirked. He was doing his best to play it cool while still letting her know how he really felt about such a thing. "Besides, by the time you finish, it'll probably be morning."

"Oh, look at you with the jokes," she chuckled, flipping the water off once again. "You've been hot for all of three hours, and already, you're all kinds of arrogant."

He scoffed at the fact that she called him hot and took a few steps further into the bathroom. "Put down the toothbrush, Michonne."

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say my toothbrushing isn't nearly as dangerous as your little haircut you got this afternoon." She, too, was trying to come off as casual, while still relaying her true feelings on the matter.

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, you really let a stranger near your head with two sharp blades? Are you not the same guy that cold-cocked Aaron yesterday morning for showing you a picture?"

He had to chuckle at how hostile he'd been towards the poor guy. "I'll apologize to him tomorrow," he promised her.

"If you want to," she shrugged. "I'm more concerned about how reckless you were today."

"You mean with Jessie?" He hopped up on the bathroom counter as he dismissively waved off the idea that she could be a threat. "She was so obviously harmless." He noted that Michonne was looking back at him skeptically, so he went on. "She was one of those stay at home mom types. If you'd seen her, you'd understand. She could've been my wife, honestly."

She stopped brushing again and let her thoughts roam for a moment, fondly remembering some of the conversations they used to have back in Georgia. It all seemed so long ago now, but in reality, it had only been a few months. "You used to say I could be your wife," she reminded him, pointing her toothbrush at him.

"I used to say you should be my wife," he corrected her, looking her up and down. "Never once have you reminded me of Lori."

She figured that was supposed to be a compliment, but she wasn't going to push the issue one way or another. She rinsed her mouth out one final time before turning off the water and gazing back at him. She couldn't figure out why he was staring at her as if he'd never seen her before. "Are you all right?" she frowned.

He snapped out of his trance – the one in which he'd been imagining Michonne as his wife, in some other life – and smiled at her sheepishly. "I'm fine."

She tilted her head to get a better view of his face. She didn't understand how he managed to be even more attractive than she originally thought him to be. And she found him pretty damn attractive when they first became friends. "It really is nice to see your face again," she told him sincerely.

He began to blush again. Others had been commenting on his good looks all afternoon, but only Michonne evoked that shyness in him. To the point where he seemed to forget just how well they knew each other. "Can we not do this again?"

"Fine." She dropped her toothbrush into its holder and patted his thigh. "But next time you need a haircut, you come to me. Deal?"

He chuckled at the fact that this had so clearly annoyed her, but offered up his surrender. "Deal."

With that, she left him to rejoin the group downstairs.

9 months ago.

Rick pulled their pickup truck into one of the many empty parking spots at an old, abandoned Waffle House. They needed a place to sleep for the night, and it seemed like a good spot – off the road, but had high visibility. "How's this?" he asked Michonne, looking over to her for approval.

She yawned as she made no hesitation of reclining the back of her seat. "It's fine."

He rolled his eyes at the fact that she had barely gotten a response out before letting her eyes fall closed. "I guess I'll take first watch then," he mumbled.

She purposely ignored his sarcastic comment, seeing how he'd been the first to go to sleep the night before, and turned so that she was facing her window.

He tiredly rested his head against the back of his seat and stared out to the old restaurant ahead of them. He wasn't sure where they were, exactly, but it somehow felt familiar to him, all the same. Perhaps because being near a Waffle House always reminded him that he wasn't far from home. He really missed those days where he and Shane would stop by the place after a long shift and have a quick waffle before calling it a night. Or when he and Lori would go for a Saturday morning date and eat all the bacon they could handle. Those were the best days of his life, and he'd had no idea.

His stomach began to growl in the quiet car, as he thought of all his favorite meals, and he looked over at Michonne to make sure it hadn't disturbed her. She answered his silent question by instructing him to eat.

"I brought plenty of granola bars," she told him softly. "You should have one."

He made a face at the thought of choking down granola when he really wanted a ribeye and a fried egg. "I'm all right," he declined.

"You haven't had anything but water since we left," she knew. "You should really eat."

He did as told and pulled out the bag she'd packed for their mission. There were a couple of books, some water, a can opener and a couple of cans of corn for them to share, and finally, the granola bars. He grabbed one for her as well, and set the backpack behind them again. With a sigh, he bit into his dinner, pretending it was something else. "I really miss the cheese grits," he said out loud, even though he wasn't sure whether Michonne was still awake. He wasn't above talking to himself.

Michonne opened one eye, hoping that he didn't think she was trying to engage in a conversation now. She wanted to sleep. Desperately. But he answered her question by continuing to talk.

"Two eggs, smothered hash browns, and a bowl of cheese grits. That was my favorite..."

"Are you serious right now?" she asked, craning her neck to look back at Rick.

"Did you ever eat here?" he wondered obliviously. "Probably not, since you lived in Atlanta. You had a hundred choices on every street."

She chuckled quietly to herself, remembering how she and Mike would eat at The Flying Biscuit every Sunday in the summertime, like clockwork. There was always a line wrapped around the building, but it was worth it. "Not since college, she admitted, turning so that she was on her back again. "But I do remember those being some good times."

"You went to… Spelman," he asked, hoping he'd remembered the name correctly. He'd overheard her talking to Carl about it a few weeks prior, and made it a point to keep it in the back of his mind.

She was impressed, and didn't hide it. "I did."

"And you majored in political science, with a minor in art history?"

"Anddd now you're starting to sound just a little bit like a stalker…"

He quietly laughed to himself, knowing that she was joking. "Not only do I see things, but I hear 'em, too."

She smiled up at him, glad that the two of them could share a bit of levity every now and then. Everything surrounding them was so dark, but she had begun to lighten up a bit when he or Carl came around. They allowed her to do something other than mourn for Andrea, and she appreciated that. "It doesn't seem like you've been seeing things as much lately," she knew. He'd been much more lucid ever since their road trip to King County.

"I haven't," he nodded, glancing over at her. "I don't know if it's just because we've been busy or what, but…"

She simply nodded. Whatever the reason was, she was relieved for him. She yawned once more as her sleepiness began to win the war against Rick's talkativeness. Her eyes began to close on their own.

Rick, however, still unaware that he was disturbing his companion, launched into more of his random queries. "What's your favorite season, Michonne?"

"Summer," she answered flatly.

"Why's that?"

"Because I like when the sun is out. I like the beach. I like being nearly naked. There's a freedom that comes with summer."

He swallowed hard at the thought of her being nearly naked, and closed his own eyes, imagining what that must have looked like. Her dark skin in some brightly-colored bikini, frolicking in the ocean. He then exhaled sharply, knowing he would never get to see such a thing. "I like winter," he returned after a long pause. "It makes me feel safe."

She was hesitant to ask him to go on – she really wanted to rest – but she also wanted to know more. "What, about winter, makes you feel safe?"

"I dunno, I guess because it's the opposite of summer. You're not free. You're wrapped up in coats and scarves, always trying to find your way inside. You find warmth in your loved ones… I dunno."

She liked his answer and grinned in response.

"Did you ever live anywhere else besides Atlanta?"

She opened her eyes again, realizing that he was just not going to stop talking if she didn't intervene. "What's up, Rick?"

He looked over at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you refusing to let me sleep?" It was hard to believe this was the same guy that was practically silent all the way to King County. Of course, he didn't trust her at the time, and probably wouldn't have minded if she died. Even so, he was becoming quite the opposite of the reserved man she'd been expecting to be on the road with.

"Sorry," he replied with a nervous cough. "I thought you were… I dunno." He let out another sigh and stared out of the driver's side window to a couple of passing walkers. His hand instinctively went to the butt of his pistol. "I don't know what's gotten into me. My wife used to say I didn't talk enough."

She lightly scoffed at that idea, given how chatty he was being. But then, she wasn't exactly the outgoing person she used to be in the old world. People change. "My boyfriend used to say I talked too much," she admitted. She readjusted the back of her seat so that she was upright again. They both smiled at each other, laughing at how different they had become.

"Is it all right if I talk to you sometimes?" he wondered hopefully. He realized then that she was the only person he was comfortable with asking such a thing.

She nodded, looking down at the console, where she noticed he'd left a granola bar for her. "So long as it's all right if I'm silent with you sometimes."

He grinned in response. "Deal."

"Deal."

A/N: And we're off! Just a bit of a preview to show where we are (and where we've been) in the story. I have a feeling the rest of the chapters will be somewhat long, because they all contain flashbacks, but I'm still deciding on whether to make them separate chapters or not. What do you guys think?