Just a thing. Hope you like.

[This was not the original version, and I am not sure if I want to write another part to it, but I will consider based on feedback.]

Thanks for reading! :)

"Rick, go home. Eat, get some rest. I'll take good care of him."

Rosita guided Rick to the door of the infirmary. He had been at Carl's bedside since it happened. It was like a movie, black and white images flashing through his mind. The herd came. They were trying to escape.

It was dark when Rick took the trek toward his house. The streets were stained with blood, a stark reminder of what happened here only three days before. They were trying to escape. The walker grabbed Sam. There was no one outside. People were still trying to come to terms with the scene of the undead walking through their streets. There had been a non stop effort led by Glenn and Daryl to clear the streets and bury the fallen, but still there was a long way to go. A hefty cloud of mourning hung over all of Alexandria. The heaviest over Rick, who was waiting for his son to wake up.

Slowly, Rick walked up the steps of his porch. There was still a pile of wood slabs resting on the side that was being used to reinforce the windows and doors. The walker grabbed Sam. Sam grabbed his mother. He opened the door to his home, inside there was a lone candle burning on the mantle in the living room. None of his family was in sight. It was not surprising. He expected as much. Most likely already sleeping, all the work that still needed to be done was taking a toll on everyone. He paced over to the kitchen and grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl that sat on the counter. Rick took a bite of the crisp fruit, but just the mundane task of eating turned him off. He placed the fruit beside the bowl, his appetite non-existent. Nothing felt right. Sam grabbed his mother. Jessie grabbed Carl.

Rick carried on to the second level of his home. Michonne's bedroom door was cracked open, but he walked past it to head to the bathroom and start a shower. The hot water massaged his muscles, as the dirt and grime of the last three days washed away. Jessie grabbed Carl. She would not let go. The water rinsed through his brown curls, down his face. The dirt from his body coursed down, around and into the drain, leaving behind nothing but despair and hopelessness. He felt empty, he felt lost. The same things kept happening. For the first time in a long time he was not sure if he could really keep his family safe. He was not sure if he could keep anyone safe. The universe kept throwing him curve balls and he never knows what is coming next. All he knows is that its coming and it won't stop. She would not let go. He had to cut her arm. He was failing. Rick turned off the water and dried himself off. He absorbed his reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was the first mirror he looked into when he came to this place and even still he did not recognize the man staring back at him. This place was supposed to be the answer. It was supposed to be a new start for his family, but because of him, again, his son was lying in the infirmary bed, a hole in his face. He had to cut her arm. Then Ron saw.

Rick brushed his teeth and exited the bathroom heading to Michonne's room where he was sure Judith would be. He slowly entered, Michonne was sitting upright on the bed with Judith softly sleeping in her arms. Then Ron saw. Then Carl saw Ron. Rick had not seen Michonne since a little after it happened. They were able to get Carl to Rosita, and everything that happened after was a blur. It was hectic, his focus was trying to save his son's life, while also keeping Alexandria in tact. Michonne left them there and went back out to help take care of the herd. Like the woman she is, she helped clean up Alexandria. Once the bulk of the herd was taken care of, Michonne came back to the infirmity to check on Carl. She had whispered something in his ear, then left without so much as a word to Rick. He recalled her face when she walked out of the infirmary. It was not a face he had seen since they found Andrea bit in the Governor's torture room. Though this time, the anguish seemed tenfold. Then Carl saw Ron. Carl jumped in front of me.

Michonne barely acknowledged Rick when he walked into her room. He rounded the bed to the side where she sat, and she gently placed his daughter in his arms, so to not wake the sleeping baby up. Carl jumped in front of me. Ron shot Carl.

Judith was sleeping soundly in his arms as he rocked her back and forth around the room. He could only imagine what was going on in that tiny brain of hers. He wondered if she knew all that was going on around her, if she knew that her brother was lying unconscious in bed. Maybe she was just immune to it all. He supposed she was. Sometimes he wished Carl would have been born into the world like this, already primed and ready. It would be easier to navigate if you did not remember before. If you don't let emotions and nostalgia get in the way. If you were something less than human. Ron shot Carl. Michonne killed Ron.

Rick glanced over at Michonne who was now under the covers in her bed. Her back was facing him. There was never time to ask her how she felt, having to kill Ron. It all happened so fast. He would have done the same thing, if the roles was reversed, but knowing how much she wanted this place, how much she wanted Carl to live and thrive with these people, he knew she was struggling with it. How could you not? They were all struggling, but for her he knew it was deeper than that. She has killed before, but it was not in her nature. Ron was not a bad kid. He was just confused and hurt, but still dangerous. And Michonne? Michonne was not a killer. Michonne killed Ron.

Rick slowly proceeded to exit the room with Judith so Michonne could get some rest. Ron shot Carl. Michonne killed Ron. He would sleep downstairs in the living room, having no desire to sleep in his bedroom when his son was not there. There was a hollowness within him that permeated his entire being. He had nothing to latch on to. Even his daughter who was so quietly and peacefully sleeping in his arms could not help him. Rick's body was running on empty, but his mind was waging war. He had half the mind to go back to the infirmary and just be with his son, but he knew it would only make the torment stronger. Right now, he was just barely staying a float. Nothing felt right, nothing felt good and that was all Rick wanted to do, feel good. For once, just feel good. He moved to turn the doorknob when her soft voice spoke to him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Rick?"

He waited.

"Stay."

He had to cut her arm. Michonne killed Ron. With a sigh of relief, Rick let his hand fall from the door. He did not want to be alone. His mind and thoughts were eating him alive. The image of Carl's face being blown off was imprinted in his brain. Everything felt terrible and it was taking all of his energy to just stand. So when she called his name, it was like a life saver thrown out for him. She wouldn't let go. He had to cut her arm. Rick placed Judith back in her crib that sat next to Michonne's side of the bed. He glanced over at Michonne's face as he softly placed Judith in the crib. It was blank and emotionless, her eyes glinted in the soft glow of the moonlight that peeked through the blinds of the window. She did not look at him. Instead she focused out into the abyss before her. He wanted to say something, but there was nothing to say. He felt exactly like she looked. Desolate.

After getting Judith situated in her crib, Rick walked back to the vacant side of the bed and slipped under the down comforter. He laid on his side, her back to him. Rick could feel the warmth coming off of her and he wanted to get closer. He wanted to feel her. He shifted his body closer to the middle of the bed. Closer to Michonne. The scent of her shampoo invaded his nostrils. It was pleasant. The first pleasant thing he could recall in a long time. Ron shot Carl. The vision of his son in his arms as blood gushed from his face seized his mind. Carl's mouth agape, bloody, trying to call out for him. Rick shut his eyes tightly, doing his best to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. He was angry at himself. Angry that he allowed this to happen again. His emotions were spiraling down a deep dark rabbit hole. Without much of a thought, Rick placed his arm around Michonne's waist, pulling her into him. He needed to feel her, he needed to feel okay. Since the world had turned she has been his constant, the only one who could settle him down, and he needed her now. He wanted to feel okay. He needed to feel okay. Michonne killed Ron.

Michonne felt Rick's tight grip on her and with it she felt the pain of the past two years well up inside her. She stabbed Ron straight through the chest. It needed to be done, but even still, she took the life of a young boy. A kid who had just lost everything. She brought them here, she said they could live here, and Carl was now fighting for his life, missing half of his face. Just when she thought things could be okay, this happens. She placed her hand over Rick's, matching his grasp, welcoming his touch. She just wanted this nightmare to end. She was tired of feeling pain. That was all she felt, pain. A vision of Andre flashed in her mind and her heart tightened. This world has brought her nothing but pain.

Rick pulled Michonne even further to him. His face snuggled in the nape of her neck now. Inhaling her, he pressed his pelvis into her backside. He craved her, he needed a distraction from everything that was happening around him. He needed Michonne. He needed his best friend. She was the only one who could possibly understand his hurt and know what to do with it. Every time he was around her he did not have to think. He wanted that now, to not think.

Michonne felt him as well, so she ground back into him. Wanting the same.

His right hand traveled underneath the purple tank top she wore. The smoothness of her skin, against the roughness of his palm was so enchanting. He cupped her breast and massaged. Rick's breath was heavier in her ear. Hungrier. He buried his face into her back, planting small kisses as his manhood grew in his pants. Michonne rhythmically pressed against his growing erection. Her carnal desire increasing with each passing moment. She needed this. They both needed this. Rick traced Michonne's body until he found the hem of her shorts. Swiftly and deftly he pulled them down, along with her panties, just enough to expose her voluptuous rear. He took a moment to appreciate the round, smoothness in his hand. Michonne lifted her leg giving him permission to enter her from behind.

Without hesitation, Rick pulled down his own pants and guided himself inside her warmth. The connection was immediate. The pleasure almost instantaneous. He slowly began to move his hips. Deeper he went, until he filled her entirely. Her womanhood slick and inviting. Rick slipped his hand under and around her body, grabbing at her breast again, embracing her further into him, teasing her nipple while using his free hand to rub her clit.

Michonne surrendered to the pleasure that Rick was providing her. A quiet moan released from her mouth, letting him know just how much she was enjoying it. Rick's fingers moved faster, teasing and pleasuring her sensitive bud. His thrusts in tune with each moan that left her mouth. She would not let go. He had to cut her arm.

The visions he tried to forget slowly crept back into his minds eye. How easy it was for him to kill. Rick shook his head, trying to push away the memory. He removed his hand from Michonne's bud, and gripped at her waist again, latching on. Willing himself to focus on the feeling and nothing else. The Ron saw. Then Carl saw Ron. Rick's pace increased, Michonne felt the distinct pinch of his nails digging into her skin as he held on to her. She whimpered in pain.

Rick continued to pump in and out of her, his clasp on her flesh getting tighter, as if she would disappear from him if he were to let her go. Carl jumped in front of me. Ron shot Carl. The veins in his forehead were protruding now, as he took his anger and hurt out on Michonne, no longer trying to share in the pleasure, but just needing his release. Ron shot Carl. His fingers dug deeper into her brown skin, his manhood pushing roughly into center, faster and faster. Rick felt a stirring within him, he was ready to explode. Michonne bit her lip and closed her eyes, grimacing in pain, no longer enjoying it, but not feeling the need to stop it. Instead she just let Rick continue and hoped he would finish soon enough.

Ron shot Carl. Beads of sweat formed across Rick's brow. He continued to move in and out Michonne, trying to focus on the sensation she provided, rather than the visions of his son's bloody face. Michonne killed Ron. He was almost at his peak. She would not let go. He had to cut her arm. Rick let out a guttural cry, finally spilling his seed inside Michonne. He released his forceful hold on her, but did not fully let her go. Rick buried his forehead on her back as he tried to catch his breath. Michonne could not turn to see his face from the way he held on to her, but very soon his ragged breathing turned into painful whimpers. She felt a warm wetness on the back of the tank she was wearing. She did not move, instead she just laid, wrapped in his arms and let him cry. Rick cried for his son. He cried for the Anderson family. He cried for Michonne.

She closed her eyes, and allowed her own tears to fall as she silently cried for her family. For Rick.

In this dark room they cried together, but tomorrow they knew they would get up. Get up and go to war.