AN: The thought of this fanfic sprung up from reading and watching potential spoilers about the upcoming Season 5B of The Walking Dead (a franchise which I own no part of). As a down and dirty Michonne fan, I'm concerned that she might be put in the background (again). As a poor and crazed Richonne fan, I'm saddened with the thoughts that she will be pushed aside for "Samantha" and eventually Sasha (yes, many predict that she is the new Andrea). In hindsight, she has had much growth in the series…but I want to see more (do I sound a bit spoiled?)! So, what better way to deal with this anxiety than to give the Samurai her DUE, just in case any of this happens?

(Side note; Richonne is one of the few ships I've jumped aboard. The first had to be Storm and Wolverine in the X-men. They didn't really get together until his death…so yea, there's hope lol)

This takes place in Alexandria, when our lady heroine notices some dynamics have changed…

Chapter 1: Non-complication

Her dark hands re-twisted her locs. The process was something she never changed on a daily basis, but this morning was the best grooming she had in years. Washing her hair in a hot shower made her feel like a human once again. Yessssssss, there was nothing to compare to feeling like a woman for even a split second. Michonne knew that this place could be a lion's den, or that outside of the walls could be a mass herd of walkers. Her mind did periodically do the math about the world's populace; by now she was sure that cities, counties, or even states of the dead could be moving around in unison. She shuddered at the thought. Then again, death would come one day. Then again, she was alive now – so she couldn't think of what she could not control.

Her dark reflection stared back at her from the tall mirror, wearing a constable's uniform. She laughed to herself. There weren't many clothing options, but the stiff get-up was not truly her style. Oh well, she thought.

! ## ?

Carl gave her a strong hug after opening the door. "Michonne!"

She had to chuckle. Any joy from him was wonderful. She knew his heart teetered tottered on the edge of coldness; his few childhood expressions brought hope. "Well Carl, I'm happy to see you too!"

She walked in to see a visitor's concern by Rick.

"Umm, uhhh," stumbled the blonde woman.

The two partners knowingly glanced at each other.

Michonne smirked, "I didn't mean to interrupt anything, but our shift is about to begin."

"Right, right," Rick replied. "Don't worry, you didn't interrupt." He nervously rubbed his head as the blonde scurried off with a boy around Carl's age and not saying much.

"She's not the babysitter?" Michonne asked.

"N-no," Rick pinched his nose. "Carol volunteered."

&*&*((

Their patrol was quiet, which was nothing new. Communication could magically be so unspoken. Rick spotted a suspicious drifter. Michonne walked up to the person and questioned them. Michonne led the way or vice versa. They spotted each other and were each other's minds. Yet, today, not everything was the same between the two blood warriors.

"Are you happy?"

"Excuse me?" he thought he should know if and why he would or wouldn't be.

"Oh, Rick."

Once her knowing look darted at his face, his eyes shifted. "I just met her. She's married. I shouldn't even consider it, but her husband is abusing her and her son." His blue eyes stared back, pleading for some understanding.

She sighed. "You never told me the details of your marriage." She was already looking away when he stared at her. "I can still recognize that her death wasn't the only trouble you two had. I had issues too with Mike before he passed."

"Mike?" Rick leaned in closer. It was about time she revealed some more.

"Yes, Mike. I say this because you know that adding more complications to a situation filled with problems only makes it worse."

"So," he paused before he could form his lips to process the following words. "Who cheated, you or Mike?"

She scoffed, somewhat amused by this. "Neither. If he did, I never knew."

"Oh! Then how-"

She laughed. "People talk."

Rick pinched his nose. He shouldn't have been surprised – the Governor, of all people, knew that Judith was possibly not his child. He grimaced at the thought, but was relieved by one of the beautiful smiles that he was lucky to see (not too many people saw it, and Rick knew he was amongst the chosen few).

"So, did you have fun last night Mr. Grimes?" She didn't know that he adored how she batted her eyes.

Rick's mind flashed back to threatening the blonde's husband. The man scurried off, but Samantha (that was her name) returned with a lust-filled favor. The right corner of his mouth curved at the thought of relieving himself after so long. He still knew there would be consequences from this. Rick shrugged, "it was quiet."

Bullshit. Michonne didn't care much if he had some pleasure that night, but she was frustrated that he thought he needed to lie to her of all people. Their steps became lined with a quiet air.

"What about you," he inquired.

"It was quiet too." Honestly, she enjoyed the gracious hosts at a house party, the gorgeous gown she flowed in, and delicious food. Her thoughts were dismayed at having to practice wearing heels again, stupid gossip, and how people pretended that the gruesome outside world was a sci-fi tale. Rick nodded his head, knowing that she lied to him as well.

"How is it with your roommates?"

"Roommates?"

"Yes," he smiled.

"Same as it ever was. Daryl, Carol, and Sasha are easy to live with. Once upon a time I would have wanted my own space. Now, I love to be surrounded by those I trust. It must be great to have a home for you and the kids."

"Yes, it is. You know, Carl said he'll miss being around you as much."

"Oh, come on now. He should know he can visit whenever, and I'll always come to check on him."

"I know we're all family, but you are family. We trust you, too." Rick's eyes pierced at her smooth skin, then looked into her eyes.

Michonne blinked. "I don't like complications."

Their steps led them closer to Abraham and Eugene's construction site. "What do you mean by that? Nothing is complicated between us."

"Enjoy this time you have with your children. I always respected how your children are your main focus, then the rest of the group. We'll always be close, but I don't know what will happen to the rest of us in a place like this. I'm just open to new experiences. But I," she stopped to place her hand on his shoulder, "want you to live for a bit. We know everywhere we go isn't safe. Sometimes you have to smell the roses."

Rick could always read Michonne (well, once he opened up to trusting her). At that moment he wasn't quite sure what had happened. Did she just reject him? Then again, he wasn't even sure what pushed him to ask her to move in. He felt a slightly familiar let-down in his heart…something similar to being heart-broken.

*&^%%##$

The bar did not serve the real deal. The path to happiness there was not laced with Vodka, Hennessey, Alize, Mai Tai's, Martini's, or anything remotely close. Customers were limited to a few shots of wine coolers… Cranberry cocktail was the best seller.

Girl's Night was not somber from sobriety. Tara found a nice face with shoulder length curly hair to snuggle up with. Rosita was the life of the party. Maggie convinced Sasha to dance with her. They both had losses, but were glad to have loved ones in a safe environment. Carol and Michonne smiled at the ambiance.

"Isn't this something," wondered Carol.

"What part of this do you mean?"

"Hmmm, everything. I want to celebrate, but I'll feel incredibly guilty if I do."

Michonne frowned. "That, and unprepared. Funny, I just told Rick to smell the roses, and I'm sitting here itching to go on patrol."

Carol's mind reflected on the lost lessons she taught Lizzie and Mika. "The moment you get comfortable is when things happen…and they took our weapons!"

Michonne downed her cranberry cocktail. "Let's go."

The two women stalked out the armory. There were two guards who walked in a pattern in front of the entrance. Michonne waited for Carol to tell her "when". Once the signal was given and one guard was exposed, Michonne put her in a sleeper hold while Carol hit the other one over his head with rock. Hope he'll be okay, she thought. They ran inside, to see Glenn dangling from a wire.

"Uh, hey guys," he loudly whispered.

They helped him down. "What are you doing here," asked Carol.

They all grabbed the weapons that they knew so well. "Rick and I set up a plan to do what you're doing right now."

"Okay, well let's go before something happens!" ordered Michonne.

&^%$#

It was interesting how her body could be so restful, but not her mind. Her katana was safely near her as she rested. However, it was such an evil thing. Her little bit of sleep was filled with visions of chopping down Mike and Terry, and then ultimately silencing Hershel. She had to work in the morning – this pestered her patience.

She walked into the living room to see Daryl peeking out the window.

"Can't sleep either, huh," he stated.

"Yes. Is this the new normal?"

"Maybe. I don't fit with these people. I'd rather be in the watch tower 24/7 than to go to another one of Douglas' meetings."

"It would be nice if they trained people here on how to deal with walkers."

"Humph," he sighed. "You and Carol are something else."

"Did you know about Rick's plan?"

"I wus the distraction."

Michonne chuckled and there was a knock at the door. A tired-looking Father Gabriel stood outside their apartment. "It's pretty late," she frowned.

"I know," he shook. "This is urgent."

She allowed him in while Daryl stared him down. He did not care that this man presided over Beth's funeral; his idiotic mistakes almost killed his nephew and close friend.

Gabriel slowly sat down. "There are some hoodlums in the street. They've been walking around with bats and demanded that everyone where I live give them their food." Gabriel lived with other spiritual advisors.

"With bats," Daryl asked.

"Yes. Some have guns."

Michonne and Daryl looked at each other with subdued shock.

&^%$##

Rick looked occupied when he opened the door.

"We didn't catch you at a bad time, did we bro?" questioned Daryl.

"What's going on?" He stared at Michonne with some annoyance.

Michonne ignored it. "Gabriel stopped by to say there are people bullying others, demanding that they give up their food."

"On top o' that, they have weapons."

"Seriously?" Rick pinched his nose. "Wait one second." He went to his room, and his two friends could barely hear the whispers.

"Just look after the kids while I'm gone for a sec'?"

"Sure, not a problem," responded Samantha, all wrapped up in his sheets. "Is everything okay?"

"We'll see."

"I should have asked before, but there seems to between you and Michonne."

He paused from changing. "You're the one in my bed, not her." He kissed her forehead.

Meanwhile, Daryl's gaze shifted from Rick's bedroom door to a stoic and contemplative Michonne.

"Yes?"

"What's tha deal with you two?"

"What is there to ask," she turned her head in his direction.

He took his time to say, "It's surprising that you're not in there."

Michonne sighed. "I told him to smell the roses yesterday. He smelled them before I told him to do that. We never said we were a couple, so I'm not concerned. My life doesn't revolve around Rick's. Does yours revolve around Carol's?"

Daryl scratched his head. "I don't know how to answer that."

The former sheriff walked into his living room. "Where are we going?"

&^%$%

The streetlights the lined this former small town never lit anymore. Douglass ordered it to only be used during emergencies. This further helped people obey curfew. The trio didn't care for that – their eyes had almost adapted to those of cats from their time in the woods. Perhaps the stragglers they observed had a similar evolution. A tall Samoan walked in front of the others, knocking on doors where quivering residents urgently handed goods without a word.

"That's gotta be them," whispered Michonne.

Daryl nodded in agreement. Rick focused more to see Pete, Samantha's husband, speaking the most to the rest of the outlaws.

"Sonnovabitch!" he mildly exclaimed.

"What," both of his comrades inquired.

"That one right there," he pointed to a white man close to his age with dirty blonde hair. "He must be the ringleader. He's also a doctor and pretty tight with Douglass."

Michonne's lips pressed tightly. "So, do we act now?"

There was silence. "I'll handle him, like a game of Chess," declared Rick.