Michonne lay awake in the darkness of her bedroom. The encounter with Spencer in the woods earlier that day played over in her mind. She knew that the fetid, snarling creature that roamed the Alexandria woods in search of living flesh was not the woman who had once been her friend and Spencer's mother. That the Walker possessed of Deanna's body did not have her soul. But Carl was right. Whether arising out of the deep love between a son and his mother, or simply because he needed closure, Spencer had to be the one to kill it, and so Michonne had helped him. Somehow the knowledge that Deanna had died weeks ago hadn't made things easier. She hoped that wherever Deanna was now, she was truly at peace.

The front door closed, interrupting Michonne's thoughts. Rick and Daryl must be back from their run. She hastily pulled on pants and grabbed the baby monitor beside the bed.

The dim light of a kerosene lantern flickered across the living room. Michonne was relieved to see Rick stretched out on the sofa, his eyes half closed. In the weeks since Carl's injury, she had become accustomed to sitting with Rick in the evenings after the kids had gone to bed. Occasionally Daryl joined them, but usually he found an excuse to go to bed early and it was just the two of them. Michonne would make a pot of whatever tea they happened to have on hand and they would sit together on the porch in the darkness, talking, or else just listening to the low hum of the vast nothingness that had swallowed the whole world.

"Move," said Michonne, nudging Rick's arm gently with her knee.

"Hey," Rick said. He sat up and moved over.

Michonne sat down and tilted the baby monitor in Rick's direction, "She's practicing in her sleep."

Rick chuckled at the sight of Judith rolling over, "It's good to be home."

"You're telling me," said Michonne. "Where's Daryl?"

"Watching over a guy, until some other guy can take over." He leaned forward, pulling his weather-beaten cowboy boots off one foot at a time.

"You found a guy?" Michonne was intrigued. This was not something that happened often.

"Crazy day," Rick said, shaking his head. She detected a hint of exasperation in his voice.

"You wanna talk about it?" Michonne asked.

"Not right now. I just wanna turn my brain off for a minute," Rick said. "You wanna tell me about your day?"

"No," Michonne exhaled. "Same thing."

"What, you found a guy?"

"Not a guy," Michonne said.

They sat quietly for a moment.

"Oh," Rick said, fishing deep in his back pocket. "Got you somethin'."

He pulled out a roll of breath mints that looked like it had seen better days and held it out to her, the corners of his mouth turned up in a knowing grin.

Michonne laughed, taking the mints out of his hand with a playful snap. "Is this instead of the toothpaste?"

"Yep. Well I do have a crate of toothpaste for you. It's just currently at the bottom of a lake."

"Oh, so you've had a day!"

"Yeah. All on account of your dental hygiene," Rick said, smiling. "Have your mints."

When he tapped her palm lightly – his familiar way of showing her reserved affection – a rush of emotion welled inside her. In that moment, Michonne finally knew the answer to Deanna's question about what she wanted for herself. It was always Rick Grimes. All notions of platonic friendship between them went out the window when she interlaced her fingers with his and, to her surprise, he returned the gesture easily, holding her hand as if it had been his intention all along. If she were being honest with herself, maybe it had been. Since they'd first met at the prison all those months ago she'd gotten to understand Rick's motivations, to read his expressions. She'd noticed the way he sometimes looked at her while they were talking, his blue eyes wide and intent, his gaze shifting deliberately away from her face, taking in her entire body. From the beginning, there was always something between them. It had just taken time for her to understand what she wanted. Now that she knew, Michonne hesitated for a moment, afraid of what was next.

Rick settled things by leaning in close and kissing her softly. It was gentle yet insistent, drawing her in and demanding her full attention. Michonne reciprocated, her lips parting to receive the tip of his tongue. He touched her face lightly with his fingers, pausing occasionally in between kisses to look at her in wonder. She tried to close her eyes, but the need to read the lines of his face, to confirm what her body knew instinctively – yes, she was kissing Rick Grimes and he was enjoying it – was overpowering, and they fluttered open, catching him in a sweet grin. It occurred to her that despite everything they had survived together she had never seen an expression quite like this on Rick's face. He was relaxed and open, downright cheerful. It was as if the weight of all the responsibilities he carried had suddenly lifted, and tonight he were just a man. She wondered if this was how he used to be, in the time before. When he whispered that his gun belt was between his legs, Michonne giggled, waiting patiently as he awkwardly unslung it from his hips and placed it on the coffee table with a soft thunk.

Soon she was kissing him passionately again, hips aligned beneath his, breasts pressed firmly against the warmth of his chest, her fingers enmeshed in his soft curls. He was breathing deeply now, his hands caressing the length of her body. With each kiss she felt how much he wanted her.

"You wanna come upstairs?" Rick asked, finally. It was more of a statement than a question, her body having made the decision at the precise moment he pressed his lips against the hollow at the top of her sternum leaving behind a trail of kisses that ended in the well between her breasts.

Michonne nodded, "Uh-huh."

Rick stood up, gently helping her to her feet. They walked upstairs holding hands.

Rick closed the bedroom door quietly and pulled her towards him, his hands at the small of her back. "You are so beautiful, Michonne."

"So are you." She kissed him urgently, banishing the fear she'd felt moments earlier. They moved to the bed and she unbuttoned his shirt, exposing lean muscles honed from weeks on the road and the remnants of a farmer's tan. "But you need more sun."

Rick laughed, pulling her t-shirt over her head and cupping her breasts. He lightly teased one of her nipples with his tongue, before moving to the other, suckling gently. She relaxed onto her back as he unzipped her pants and pulled them off, taking her underwear with them in a single, fluid motion. He traced the curves of her hips with both hands, and kissed her stomach lightly, before gently spreading her legs and positioning his mouth over her wet center, wasting no time with his tongue. His beard tickled in all the right ways and she moaned, her hips rising to meet him over and over, as if she were ascending atop a giant wave that only he controlled. But just before the wave broke, she sat up unexpectedly and pulled him towards her, tasting her own saltiness. "I want you. Now."

He took off his pants, letting out a deep sigh as she guided him inside her. His thrusts were slow and shallow at first, as if he were trying to pace himself. Michonne appreciated his thoughtfulness, caressing his arms as she tightened her thighs around him. "Oh, God. Rick," Michonne whispered, "Don't stop." Rick quickened the pace, his mouth finding hers in an open-mouth kiss. And then her heart fluttered and she lost herself to the rhythm of his breath, the heat of his skin, his mouth. "Your body feels so good," he said, carrying her over the edge. She released a series of low moans, as her thighs quivered and her stomach tightened, and all the muscles in her body contracted and then relaxed. Before she could catch her breath he turned her over and entered her from behind, grabbing her hips and thrusting deep into her soft warmth as she moved with him. When he could hold on no longer, he collapsed next to her, wrapping her in his arms and placing a tender kiss on her shoulder.

"I'm so glad I found you," Rick said.

"Me, too."