Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: Inspired by the events of 6x10 when put under the scope of the soulmate trope. The pairing for this fic is Rick/Michonne/Tobin but with an already established relationship with it comes to Rick/Michonne. Essentially au in terms of they were together romantically before 6x10 but were aware from the moment they found each other that they were 'missing' something – someone.

Warnings: Threesome, sexual content, soulmate au. Considering the trope there could be mild consent issues at play but in terms of this fic this is really not the case.

Epexegesi

"Move."

"Hey."

"She's practicing in her sleep."

"Yeah. It's good to be home."

"Yeah you're telling me. Where's Daryl?"

"Watching over a guy 'til some other guy can take over."

"You found a guy?"

"Crazy day."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Naw, not right now. I just wanna turn my brain off for a minute. Want to tell me about your day?"

"No. Same thing."

"You found a guy?"

"Not a guy."

"Oh. Got ya somethin'."

"Is this instead of the toothpaste?"

"Mmhmm. Well I do have a crate of toothpaste for 'ya. It's currently at the bottom of a lake."

"Oh, so you had a day."

"Yeah. All on account of your dental hygiene. Have your mints."

The thing about soulmates was coming to terms with the fact that at the end of the day, no one really knew what the hell was going on with them. That went for your own - for anyone's really. Understanding soulmates, particularly how soulmates found one another - how it all worked - was like trying to capture rain with a rusty sieve. Pretty much useless.

It was less of a headache if you just didn't think about it.

Course, no one ever did.

Obviously.

The way soulmates found each other were as different as the people themselves. For some, it was a timer interlaced with the blue-blood veins that criss-crossed the inner of their wrists. Counting down the years, months, days, hours, minutes and seconds until they met their soulmate. For others it was shaking a strangers hand and suddenly having the world go from grey-scale to full-fledged color. It was matching marks. Voices in your head. Your one's first words traced in their own handwriting across your skin. It was an ever growing catalog of living, breathing romantic predestination and sometimes he just wanted to run screaming to the hills and escape to some other reality where you weren't born to wait.

So, like he said, the trick to understanding the mechanics of the whole 'thang was not to.

Not like that stopped anyone from trying, mind you.

Himself included.

All he knew for sure was that he'd been born with a black line tattooed on his back. It was nothing dramatic, just a simple, boring horizontal line that stood out below his right shoulder blade. His parents had taken him to every specialist in the state trying to figure out what it was. But obviously none of them could give a straight answer. Some theorized that it could be a matching tattoo, that his soulmate might carry the same line. Another ended up writing a journal article about the possibility of this being yet another example of a new sub-set. Suggesting that perhaps when he met his match they would have the completing piece of the picture. Something that would have the line make sense. Or maybe it meant nothing. Maybe he was one of those ones that had a mark, but there was no one out there to match it. Maybe he was different - wrong. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

Even after he'd married Lori and had Carl, he spent a lot of time just thinking about it. About what it meant. It wasn't like he could talk to Lori about it after all. Lori had her own feelings on the subject and none of them were good - not that he blamed her. After all, she had a dead-man's name written in red on the flat of her left hip. One of the unlucky one's whose soulmate had died before they could ever meet. It was never his intention to make that reality weigh any heavier on her, but they'd still fought over it. Stupid angry words that flowed thick like molasses whenever she figured he was putting in too many hours at the station.

She'd even accused him of it once, just before that car chase gone wrong and he woke up to find the entire world had changed on him. She said that once he had it all figured out, once he found his one, he'd just up and leave them. Leave her and Carl like they meant nothing to him at all.

He'd raised his voice that night. He shouldn't have, but he did. Words bitter like acid in his mouth as he bit his tongue and forced himself not to say anything he might regret in the morning. He didn't succeed. But neither did she. Neither did Carl listening at the top of the stairs, breathing unsteadily between the bannisters. There were no real winners in that game.

Shane understood where he was coming from better than most.

After all, he had a tattoo on him that he'd never found a match to either.

Little Bird.

Whatever that meant.

The only difference was, Shane never seemed bothered by it. He'd never really understood that part, how Shane could live and love so freely. But he'd appreciated the fact that the man had always seemed to know what to say those lazy days out on patrol. Shit talking about old girlfriends, their supervisor and the big what ifs as the hours rolled by and he forgot about that stupid line on his back that was a constant reminder that his own god damned wife didn't have a matching one.

Because honestly- the real terrible thing about soulmates was that when they didn't show up conveniently, right when you wanted them to, having one actually kind of sucked.

"Don't ever touch me again."

It was pretty safe to say that he hadn't expected to find the answers when the world ended.

But in hindsight, it was probably just par for the course as far as the fates were concerned.

Because the moment she'd hissed those words at him in the prison, the moment he'd reached out to make her wounds hurt all over again like a threat, he'd jolted with it. Watching in real time as her own mark, a diagonal left side slash on her side was joined by his matching horizontal one.

They'd just stared at each other after that.

Knowing what had happened but not really processing it.

It wasn't the way he'd expected it to happen.

It wasn't what he wanted.

He didn't know what to do with it.

So soon after Lori and the baby and the red fog that was threatening to swallow him whole.

She was his and he just couldn't.

The good thing was – if you could call it that – was that neither of them had been ready for it. So they'd just simmered through it, waiting until they were. Until all those old wounds slowly started to heal. He didn't think they would. That they'd be able to find their way back to each other like they'd been meant to. But they did. They started from the ground up, building trust, loyalty, friendship and slowly – ever so slowly – something more.

Still, soulmates were tricky things. So when they had each other that first time. In the long grass a couple days after Terminus. A mess of soft sighs and muffled sounds as she traced the mirror of her line down his skin, neither of them really panicked when they looked at each other and shared the same realization. That they were still missing a piece. Feeling a degree of that familiar hollowness he'd carried with him all his life throb quietly demanding in the center of his chest.

They were incomplete.

Unfinished.

There was another.

He wasn't sure if it was because he and Michonne had found each other, but they felt that missing person's echo stronger now. Almost every time they touched that absent space stretched out. Yearning.

They talked about it sometimes. When the others were asleep and the dark could hide the frustrated twist of their expressions. During that long stretch on the road before Aaron and Eric found them. Wondering if they were getting closer. Wondering if they'd be able to recognize them if they saw them. Wondering what they were like, what the world had done to them. Wondering what it would feel like when that missing piece finally slotted into place.

Then Alexandria happened and they didn't have time to wonder about much of anything.

In the end, the way things ended up happening stayed completely in character with what soulmates were down to the core. Beautiful. Confusing. And an absolute pain in the ass when it came down to it.

Because not long after he'd followed Michonne up the stairs and spread her across the sheets, Tobin – of all people - stumbled in after them. Nearly falling right through the door as he panted, staring. Blue eyes honest-wide and so far beyond confused that it made the impressive tent in his jeans absolutely comical.

He felt himself smile as the edges of that empty space started to soften and settle when Tobin pointed wordlessly at the inner of his arm. Plaid shirt rucked up to reveal the same small little triangle that was already taking shape on their skin. Watching in real time as their lines skimmed down to join his own right leaning diagonal.

There could have be words.

There probably should have been.

But to tell the truth, right or wrong, they were past all that.

Instead, they just got to their feet and pulled him in. They brought him down and fought over his lips as Tobin took up half the bed without even trying. Covering him over and tugging at his clothes until he was just as naked. Until his too-polite hands were trying and failing not to stretch out - brushing across their marks like a wondering question.

Like he still didn't believe it.

They laughed about it later, about how you could actually see the last threads of doubt vanish on his face when Michonne sank down on Tobin's cock with a shattered sound. Feeling their pleasure like it was his own as he held Michonne steady from behind. Letting her arch into the curl of his chest as Tobin surprised them by surging up to meet each and every one – demanding but gentle. Like he knew he deserved it this time around as Tobin tangled fingers with him and scooped the full of Michonne's ass up one handed. Half lifting her to meet every roll of her hips. Using his broad frame in a way he knew he'd probably be enjoying the benefits of later.

The thought by itself was enough to cause arousal and anticipation to pool in his belly.

It was a unique brand of want that he had absolutely nothing to compare to.

He'd never felt anything like this.

Not even close.

And that was a good thing.

Maybe.

Definitely.

Complicated.

But good.

And while neither of them lasted very long, it certainly made one hell of an impression.

It wasn't until later, when Michonne was coiled over the both of them and he was ass backwards by Tobin's feet – dazed and lethargic as they floated through the aftermath – that Tobin finally managed to string enough words together for a sentence.

"I never thought," the man murmured, in that quiet way he had. The same one that'd threatened to get through to him while they'd been shoring up the walls together. "I spent so long waiting, I never really thought I'd find- I'm glad though."

He watched Michonne smile up at the ceiling.

Finding himself helpless to stop his own, when his lips tugged upwards like a mirror image.

He had a feeling they'd be doing a lot of that in the future.

"Me too," Michonne hummed, stretching cat-like as her skin reflected the low-light. Making Tobin lean into her as she started carding her fingers through his hair. Smoothing the rumpled brown spikes before messing them right back up again.

"Likewise," he echoed easily – honestly - so comfortable he could have probably fallen asleep like that. Rubbing his toes across Tobin's ribcage with an idle, uneven rhythm as his lids grew pleasure-heavy and quiet. Rearranging the position of his cock with an indulgent hand as it surprised him by giving out a sated little twitch.

They existed like that for a handful of beats before the most hilarious part finally occurred to him. Morphing his smile into full blown laughter as Michonne and Tobin popped up from the mattress. Staring at him like he'd grown another head as he flopped back onto the sheets with a wordless snort. The muscles in his chest already lean and aching as he gasped the words out.

"Love triangle," he wheezed, smacking the mattress with the flat of his palm as Tobin and Michonne exchanged looks he was able to watch change in real time as the words aired out. "We're a god damned love triangle!"

They laughed themselves sick. Rolling with it until their sides hurt and they felt a little like dying or maybe even throwing up. Feeling complete for the first time in forever as Tobin pulled them close and the three of them slept like the dead until-

"Rick."

"Wake up, Rick."

"We need to talk."

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete.

Reference:

- The title, "epexegesi" is a rare word meaning: "the addition of a word or words to explain a preceding word or sentence."

- Big thank you to gunslingerdixon for the dialogue from the Richonne scene in 6x10.