Still.

Michonne draws her sword as the low moans of their dead-undead friends grow louder in the otherwise still day. Rick pulls his Colt from his gun belt and steps behind her dutifully, his eyes scanning the school yard as they creep into it. Their footsteps are slow and deliberate as they move into the small carnival setting, the walkers not aware of their presence as of yet. Rick counts the bodies as they wander aimlessly. Twenty, maybe thirty, "There's too many of 'em."

She glances back at him quickly, her breathes just as deep and deliberate as her footsteps. She shrugs. She's not worried about them. She keeps treading forward, not really concerned with if he's following her or not. He flicks his eyes between the walkers and Michonne as his mind begins to race. She's not stopping. He stops, his breath becoming heavy. She's been destructive lately; angry. Her usual calm, level headed demeanor has dissipated. Now, she just wants blood. She see's red in almost every situation. It scares him. He's not used to being the one to talk someone out of killing another.

"There's too many of them, Michonne." He repeats lowly, but she keeps her steady pace, "Michonne!" He whispers harshly, grabbing her arm to stop her.

She pulls her arm from him violently, turning slightly to stare back at him. That look is back in her eyes. They're still beautiful, nothing could ever change that, but their dark. They're angry. They're sad. They're full of hate and he wishes like hell he could take it all away. She drops her eyes from his after a moment, "We need what's in there."

Rick shifts his weight, "I know that."

"Do you?" She hisses, "You've been so busy feeling sorry for yourself, I didn't think you'd noticed that that prick has completely wiped us out of supplies."

He's taken a back. It's been a tough couple of weeks for them but she's never snapped at him like that before. She's been walking on egg shells really, soothing and reassuring him at every chance and turn to keep him from blowing his brains out. She's out of patience really. He drops his blues from her intense stare as he shifts uncomfortably under her gaze. This is strange. Feeling uncomfortable around her is strange. She always has his back, no matter what and now… but he can't dwell on it. He's gotta stop her from killing herself.

"There is too many of them." He emphasizes again, "We could get into trouble."

"I got it." She answers defiantly, gripping her sword again.

Before he can try to stop her, she whistles loudly, drawing the walkers' attention. They turn slowly toward the noise and begin bounding toward the duo, their arms outstretched toward them. Michonne takes off toward them as adrenaline rushes through her veins and her vision tunnels. Rick runs after her, cursing under his breath as he has no time to center himself. Michonne runs right into the middle of them, slicing through a few of their soft heads as she moves. She plants her feet and twists her upper body, the blade of her sword cutting through the air with a slight noise as she drops three more of them. Rick slams his gun back into the holster and drags out his machete, not wanting to hit her with a stray bullet.

He swings the metal with all his might and connects with a skull, blood squirting in every direction possible. He kicks the walker in the chest to remove it from his machete and spins around to take care of a new group that snuck up behind him. Rick pulls a smaller knife from its holder and slams it into an older walker; its skin sliding off of its bones at the slightest touch from Rick. He pulls the knife from its brain with a grunt as he turns quickly again and pushes two more walkers back. Michonne continues carving her way through the group that surrounds her, twisting and turning, swaying and rocking as she lets her instinct take over.

She dissects them with a certainty and a precision that would impress an outsider. Her body moves in a fluid motion; every muscle, every bone in sync with the other. She doesn't even think. She doesn't have to. She keeps a death grip on the hilt of her katana as she uses every ounce of her weight and strength to drive it through the chest of a rather new walker. He's big too; must have been a football player. He's still meaty, his blood still fresh and bright as it spills down his white shirt. She withdraws the steel of her weapon quickly and uses her powerful swing once more to decapitate him, noting the difference between the thickness of new flesh versus old. The toughness of it.

She stops momentarily, catching her breath as she's worked her way through the first wave of them. But there's more approaching. She smiles. She twirls the katana in her hand, her wrist whirling it around like a flag girl in the band would do. Yeah, she's cocky. She runs toward them again and with a Jose Canseco homerun swing, beheads three in quick succession. She trips another one and slams her sword through her head and into the hard ground beneath her. Poor, stupid bitch. With one quick pull, the blade leaves the blonde woman's skull and she's on the prowl again, severing hands and arms and heads as she hunts.

Rick continues his fight as more walkers pour from the trees behind him. He continues to back up as he swings at them violently, dropping one after the other. He loses his balance, tripping over one of his victims and stumbles back into a fence. Before he can recover, three walkers are on him. Rick throws up his hands, keeping two at bay and uses his foot to separate the third one from his flesh. They snap their jaws at him so hard, what teeth they have left break and fall to the ground from the force. He grunts as their weight continues to push against his arms and leg and he finally lets out a scream as they continue to swipe at him.

Michonne whirls around at the sound, her eyes widening at the scene before her. She rushes toward him in a panic as her stomach and heart drops to her feet. Get there! Get over there stupid! Save him! Rick growls in fear as he pushes back against them with all his might before screaming again. Spit and blood splashes against his skin as they continue to snap at him, biting and swiping at him with their dirty fingers. His family's faces flash before him as he stares back into the dead faces of the walkers. Daryl. Glenn. Carl. Judith. Michonne. God he loves them. He loves them so much. So, so much. The fence buckles underneath the weight of the four of them and his hand slips ever so slightly. The walker shuffles forward and chomps at Rick again, missing his neck and shoulder by centimeters.

"Rick! Duck, duck!" Michonne screams as she runs up onto the them, bringing her sword up again.

Rick dips as low as he can and suddenly all of the weight he was fighting against is gone. He swears loudly as his breath quickens and he drops his hands to his knees. He looks up and she's there, her chest heaving as she holds her stance, her arm and sword outstretched to her side. If he wasn't so pissed off, he'd be incredibly turned on in her moment of heroics. She looks like an ancient Greek warrior as she stands, covered in blood and sweat as she stands triumphant. His Greek warrior queen.

"Are you okay?" She asks through her heaving breaths. She drops her sword and helps stand him up, her hands roaming over his torso and arms, his back and sides as her eyes frantically search him for wounds, "Rick? Are you, are you okay?"

He nods quickly but pushes her hands away from him, "What the fuck is your problem?" He screams out of frustration, "I told you there were too many! Jesus!"

She stumbles back, the adrenaline finally turning on her and making her feel sick to her stomach. Her chest continues to heave as she tries to catch her breath, "I know, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I don't-"

"You're sorry? You're fucking sorry won't change the fact that I almost fucking died!"

"I know!" She screams back.

"Jesus Michonne!" He runs his bloody hands through his hair, pulling on the ends, "You can't keep this up. You cannot keep doing this!"

She nods her head, mentally cursing herself at her stupidity today, "I know." She answers quietly, so quietly that he barely hears her.

You're being stupid. Stupid gets you killed. Now you can't follow your own advice? She throws some of her dreads over her shoulder as she lifts her head toward the sky. She glances around before closing her eyes. What are you doing? What are you doing girl? Rick watches as she struggles within herself. She's angry, he knows that. But something else is building up in there. She's been angry before. She's been sad before. But now she's reverting back to the Michonne he met at the prison. The closed off, untrusting, loner. He's losing her. She doesn't need him to shout at her right now, she needs some soothing and reassurance herself. He steps forward and reaches for her. His fingers graze against her arm and he's still, after all of this time, surprised at how soft her skin is. He tries to pull her into him but she steps out of his grasp, her eyes watery, her lips trembling.

She turns away before the tears can fall. She hates to cry, especially in front of him. She takes a few slow steps away from him, feeling his eyes on her the whole while, "I need a minute." She says as her voice trembles slightly. He wants to stop her but he doesn't. He just watches as she walks away slowly, her shoulders slumped as the empty sheath bounces against her back. He'll give her a minute. He'll let her breath. He picks up her katana after a moment and finally takes in the scene before him. At least fifty bodies lay around him, unmoving and completely silent. The only thing that can be heard is the wind whistling through the leaves of the trees that hang over him. He's responsible for maybe ten of them, the rest are notches in Michonne's belt. He smirks after a moment. Damn, she's good.

Rick busies himself for a while, rummaging through the small tents that are set up outside of the school. He finds a couple of bottles of water, a box of batteries and some gauze before he hits pay dirt. He steps into the last tent and comes across sixteen cases of bottled water and hundreds of t shirts in every color imaginable with Durham Middle School printed across the front. He comes across another box full of band aids and an array of Tylenol and Advil bottles. The find makes him hopeful for what they'll find inside the school. He should get the car but he wants to find her first. Let her know what he's found. His chest fills with pride as he leaves the tent. He can't wait to show her. He can't wait to make her proud.

He walks the grounds of the small carnival and finally spots her up in the Ferris wheel. He lifts his head toward the bucket she's occupying. Fuck, she climbed this thing? He pulls against some of the bars that hold it up but they're locked in place. He takes a breath and hoists himself up and begins the climb to his love. Michonne only turns her head when she hears him approaching, grunting and cussing as he works his way toward her. She chuckles slightly but it dissolves in the air before he can hear it. She turns her head back toward the many miles before her as she sits in the sky, her mind roaming again as he finally climbs in beside her. He plops down and lets out a long breath, "Holy hell."

She lets out a quick breath as a smile tugs at the corner of her plump lips. Another gust of wind washes over them and she closes her eyes, letting it envelope her, cleansing her in a sense. She opens her dark brown eyes and surveys the land around them as the sun shines brightly over them, "It's nice up here." She lets out finally, softly.

He nods slowly as he scans the grass below them before turning his gaze toward the most beautiful thing he's seen all day. She sits with perfect posture, her back straight as a board as her hands rest on her thighs. Her breaths are calm and deliberate, unlike earlier. His Michonne is back. "It is." He answers.

Silence falls between them but it's nice. They just sit and watch the tree limbs shake as the wind vibrates them. He finally makes a move. He slides up right next to her, his leg, his hip, his arm, his shoulder right up against hers. He slips an arm around her waist and tugs, pulling her smaller body into his as much as possible. He kisses her temple and she smiles before lifting her sad eyes to his in what feels like forever. No words pass between them but they both know the other is sorry for their actions earlier. She rests her head on his shoulder and he plants another kiss on the top of her hair, breathing in her oat and honey shampoo.

"I had my first kiss at a carnival." He pipes up after another long silence between them.

She smiles at the admission, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," he nods, "I was thirteen?" He questions, squinting his eyes slightly as he tries to remember, "Her name was Sarah, or Susan, or Samantha…"

He trails off and she laughs genuinely, "Something with an S."

Rick chuckles, "Yeah. Anyway, I was nervous as fuck, she was the cutest girl in school and Shane dared me to ask her out. It was night time and the rides were all lit up and she kept looking at me all longingly and shit," Michonne laughs again and throws her arm across him, resting her hand on his chest, "I didn't do anything though, I just kept playing games and winning her stuffed animals. She finally just grabbed my face and laid it on me."

"Aww," She laughs again, staring out across the grass, "That's sweet. She must have really liked you."

"I guess," He laughs, "Fucking Shane was spying on us from behind on of the tents and told the whole damn school. Lori got all pissed off and didn't talk to me all summer."

"I didn't know you and Lori dated that young."

"We didn't. We were just friends until junior year but apparently she had a crush on me since we were like six."

She sighs happily, her body and mind calm and soothed after their hectic afternoon, "What happened to Sarah, or Susan, or Samantha?"

He chuckles again and it vibrates through her hand, "She got pissed off too. She punched me."

"Oh no." Michonne laughs, lifting her head.

"Yeah, thought I was the one who told everybody. Shane was always an asshole." He rubs her side with his thumb as he rests his head against hers, "Did anybody every take you to the carnival?"

Her smile fades but then brightens at the memory of Andre's small hand wrapped around her fingers as she walked him through the gates of his very first carnival, "Just one." She says longingly, finally wanting and needing to open up to him, "My son, Andre."

He whips his head toward her as his mouth falls open. She continues to stare out in front of her, feeling his eyes on her as he waits for more information, "It was his birthday, he was turning three. Mike and I had made plans to take him to the carnival after we got off work but, he ended up having to stay late, so I took him by myself. It was the best day," She smiles as her eyes flutter shut as she remembers, "I can still hear his little laugh. I must have spent two hundred dollars on tickets that night so he could play all of the games and ride the rides," She lets out a breathy laugh, "He loved the Ferris wheel and the tea cups."

When she opens her eyes again, tears spill down her cheeks. Rick holds his breath as she speaks, his eyes never wavering as the weight of what she's telling him compresses his chest. She had a son. A baby. That's no longer with her. He stares at her in sadness, knowing he could never comprehend the loss she must feel day in and day out, "That was just a couple months before the world went to shit. We ended up in a uh, in a camp in the city. After a few weeks, supplies ran low and they needed people to go out and so I volunteered. That's how I found my sword. Then one day after being out, we came back and found the walls down." She stops momentarily and glances over at him before she blinks her eyes off toward the distance. More emotion comes as she sits up and bites her lip, "My heart just stopped," she lets out quietly, dropping her head, "I didn't even think I just ran inside. I finally came across Mike and Terry and they were both bit but I couldn't find-" Her breath catches in her throat before she can get it out.

Rick covers his mouth with his hand, closing his eyes as he finishes her sentence for her in his head. All this time, he had no idea. He had no idea what she was carrying around with her, "He was just gone." She finally sobs, causing him to turn toward her again, "The only thing I could find was his little shoe. Those things, they, they fucking ate my baby." She turns toward him, making eye contact with him as it all finally comes out of her. A tear slips down his cheek as he takes slow, deep breaths to try and stay strong for her.

Her eyes are big and wide as she stares at him, the air rushing out of her lungs before she can fully replace it. She breaks. Like a dam on its last levy and the tsunami of emotion washes over and destroys everything in its path. He can't find the words. There's nothing he can say, nothing he can do but let her cry and maybe that's the best thing. He wraps her up in his arms and holds her as she buries her head in his chest and wets his t-shirt with her emotions. She grabs at his shirt, balling it up in her fist as her baby boys' smile lights up her memory. She turns her head inward and screams into him as her body is wracked with grief. He takes it all. Absorbs every little bit. Rick just stares out across the school yard, keeping his eyes still as his own silent tears streak his face. He thinks of losing either Carl or Judith; my God he'd never make it. Seeing their little faces every day gives him a reason to rise each morning and fight for whatever he has to. He'd just give in to it all if he lost them.

The wind rustles the trees again. The wind has carried her screams and cries to another group of walkers and in return, carries their low moans back to them. Rick turns his head and squints his eyes to spot them but they're at least a mile or more out. It'll take them hours to reach them and that's if they don't spot a squirrel or rabbit to distract them. His thumb resumes its slow stroke along the exposed flesh of her side. He still doesn't speak. There's still nothing to say. An hour must pass before her tears and cries subside. She just sniffles now, playing with the hem of his shirt as she stares down at his shoes. In a weird way, she feels better. The weight is off of her chest, she's finally been open and honest with the man that she loves. It's almost as if she's free and now, she can remember her son as he was. His bright smile, his cute little laugh, the twinkle in his eye. She doesn't have to think of him as some walkers' meal anymore.

She sits up slowly and joins him in a long stare. The sun has moved into the middle of the cloudless, blue sky. The grass below them seems like its twinkling as it moves with the breeze and glints from the intense light. It really is a beautiful view up here. Everything seems so damn still. Calm. Like the end of the world never happened.

"Did you want more kids?" Rick asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

She nods slowly, "We would have had more."

They don't look at each other as they speak, "Do you think about it still?"

She doesn't answer for a while. She just blinks slowly as she mulls it over in her head. Then she nods again, "Yeah." She lets out a shaky breath.

He finally turns toward her, his blues still watery, "Do you want another baby?"

The question shocks her. Her mouth drops open a little as she shifts her eyes toward him but the answer slips right off of her tongue with ease, "Yes."

He doesn't hesitate, "Then let's make a baby."

She lets out a shaky laugh as she tries not to cry all over again. She blinks rapidly as tears return to her eyes as she looks over at him, "Yeah?" She asks, laughing a little through her tears.

He nods, "Yeah."

She half expected him to change his mind when she asked, "You have a baby."

He nods again, "Not with you." He grabs her hand and runs his fingers over the backs of hers, "You asked me once, don't I want one more day with a chance? Remember?" She closes her eyes and shakes her head, "Babies give you an unlimited amount of days for an unlimited amount of chances. Don't you want that?" Michonne keeps her eyes closed as she nods her head emphatically, "Have a baby with me Michonne."

She opens her eyes and turns toward him, connecting her brown eyes with his blue ones once more, "Okay." She states simply. Confidently.

He smiles at her, his eyes roaming her pretty face as she smiles back at him. She rests her head on his shoulder once more, linking their fingers together tightly as they return their now hopeful gazes back out on the miles of grass and trees before them. Another breeze whips around them and rustles the trees again, whooshing in their ears as it passes. Then, the earth stills once again and it's just him and her and their hope.