A/N: I've been seeing spoilers for a certain episode in season 7, and I just had to write something about it. But this take on it will be less light and airy than others I've seen out there, as I love angst, but its something that I've been wanting to explore with Michonne.

::

The groaning, gurgling sound of walkers could be heard in the distance as Rick and Michonne forced themselves into the abandoned school that they'd come across on their scavenging trip for their new junkyard friends. Brion, their leader, was an androgynous enigma; her dark eyes and her bright lavender hair that was cropped in a short pixie cut. She looked as though she belonged more in The Hunger Games dystopian universe than the zombie apocalypse, but neither of them questioned it very much. The thing that they needed the most right now was allies against Negan, the person who had taken not only two of their friends, but their lives. They hadn't been living in such a long time, but Rick grew tired of that feeling, and the nagging weight of it all nearly drove him mad. Michonne remembers him sitting for hours upon hours each day, holed up in his room, just crying or sobbing or screaming or shouting.

:

"How are we going to do this?" he'd asked her after one of his fits, his electric blue eyes were marred by darkness. The whites of his eyes bloodshot; the rings a deep dark red, with purple bags underneath. She'd never seen the man that she'd grown to adore so much in so much agony, and it hurt her to see him this way. "I don't think we can beat this one. I don't know what to-"

She cut him off with a single finger to his lips. "Stop," she said, falling down to her knees in front of him, her hands cupping his face. "It's time for us to figure out what we're going to do now."

"But, Michonne, he took-he took everything from us," he said.

The way his voice cracked broke her soul into tiny, fluttering pieces, that scattered onto the floor like shattered glass, but she fought through those conflicting emotions to be strong for him; out of the two of them, she had to be strong.

"Then why should we let him take our freedom? We were on the road, by ourselves, with no food or water; cannibals wanted to eat us; the Governor destroyed our home and nearly beat you to death but you're still here, and so am I," Michonne's voice rose higher and higher. "What we're going to do is pick ourselves up, and fight."

Rick simply stared at her, feeling her words envelop him. He saw her soft lips move in tandem with those words, her glowing skin, her bright eyes filled with hope, the hope that Lori never had about this darkened world, and he wondered once again how he'd gotten so lucky to find her. How he could always have her, and never lose her. It overwhelmed him - the feeling of it - and he found himself stroking her face, his eyes piercing straight through her, and what he saw there was hope. Hope despite the dark predicament that they were placed in, hope despite death surrounding them, hope despite the dwindling food, water, and resources, and everything else slipping between their finger tips. In her he saw the sun, and he didn't know how he'd missed it. He'd never loved anything as much as he loved her in that moment. The hand that was stroking her face cupped it, and she melted into his touch, and finally she broke; a tear fell down her beautiful face, and fell right into his fingers, the warmth of that water hit him, but he kept his hand there.

"If you don't believe in this, then how can I continue to?" she finally spoke, her voice soft and sure. "I need you, Rick."

"And I need you," he admitted, his whisper so faint that she could barely hear him.

:

"Is it clear?" he asked her, after they'd finally made their way into the school. It looked to be an elementary school of some sort, as children's pictures were scattered along the halls. Tiny pictures of smiling faces littered the floors, makeshift paper dolls with "About me" lined the entire hallway of doors and bulletin boards adorned empty hallways. Michonne was suddenly overcome with emotion, as she found herself walking towards the bulletin board, a seven year old boy named Dre was inside a makeshift paper doll. He looked just like her son, his light brown skin and dark eyes, that wide smile spread across his face. And then she heard the groaning again, but she ignored it. She was taken back to Andre's first day at daycare. He was just three years old, and wanted her to walk him inside; his little book bag swung on his back, bigger than he was. At the time, he'd been so into Paw Patrol, so she'd gotten him a one-of-a-kind bag made of it, and he'd bragged every single day about it to the other kids in his class, and spoke fondly of his teachers. She remembers how anxious she'd felt, leaving him there each day, and how much she wanted to see him again after she'd left him there. She remembers her little boy, her Peanut and - "Michonne! Watch out!"

She barely had time to pull out her sword before the zombie child fell to the floor with a single thud, as Rick placed his gun back into his holster, and ran to her. "They'll hear that shot, we've gotta go further in."

She felt herself nodding, as his warm hand pulled her along with him, and eventually they did find a back exit of the building, where the walkers were now congregating and heading towards them. She saw Rick lock eyes with her, and share a deep understanding with him. All of the walkers, except a few in military, were children. Their small bodies hobbled towards them, and suddenly everything started to move in slow motion. She saw him call to her, felt his warm hands pull her, knew that she'd pulled out her sword to chop their heads off, but she didn't know if she could do this. Andre, she thought. I'm still sorry, I should've been there - I shouldn't have left you. She cut through them in a trance, in autopilot, until she saw one of the walkers grab Rick's arm and scratch him, and suddenly the anger came back. She pulled the walker off of him, and began stabbing it in the head again and again and again and again. Even after it was gone, she continued to stab it, losing herself in the feeling. You're not going to take another person that I-that I love. And that's when it hit her. She'd opened herself up to this man, his children, to that pain again, and she almost lost him - it - again.

When all of the walkers were gone, she pulled him into the school again, reaching into her backpack so that she could fix him up. The entire time, his eyes followed her, desperately wanting to know what had made her respond like that to those walkers, but not wanting to push her.

"My son went to a school like this," she finally admitted, as she encircled the bandage around his arm. "We were in a camp like this, with - with my boyfriend, Mike, and his friend Terry."

Rick simply nodded. He'd known, or at least suspected for quite some time that she'd been a mother, just because of how she was with his children, but the last thing that he wanted to do was push her. He found himself stroking her face, his other hand went to stroke her hand.

"He loved school," she continued. "My job kept me busy a lot, and I hated leaving him there all the time...but he was safe, and happy."

Rick took in her words, pulling her entire body close to his and wrapped her arms around his center. They melted into one being as he felt and heard the soul crushing sobs that Michonne had finally allowed herself to let out. She hadn't cried like this, mourned like this about her son since this whole thing started, and it felt like she was releasing all of that pain, and allowing someone to help her heal herself from it.

:

"Andre, my little peanut," she said as she walked him up to the door of his daycare. She kneeled down to his height and squeezed his cheeks. "It's your first day of school and that means mommy isn't going to be here with you."

"Where are you going?" he asked, his big eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Mommy has to go to work, peanut, but mommy always comes back," she told him.

Andre's face morphed from sadness to confusion to happiness; his eyebrows shoot up, his little body does a jig, a bright smile fills his face.

"You promise?"

"I promise I'll come back for you."

:

They stayed like that for awhile, arms wrapped around each other, until eventually he pulled away from her, but left his hand on her face. He was still overwhelmed and grateful that she'd told him something that she'd kept so close to her heart; it was like he'd unlocked a door in the back of her hallway, one that was filled with all of her closest possessions and showed them all to him. It was the most intimate moment that he'd ever experienced with her, and it was finally a moment where he got to lift her up after she'd spent so much time doing that for him.

But then he saw her eyes light up once more as she looked out the window, a tattered ferris wheel that was barely hanging on to life stood out to him, but she only saw the concession stand, with games and prizes, and suddenly she was up and running towards it. His spirit had filled her once again, as she remembered how much Andre loved carnivals. Whenever one came into the city, he'd beg and beg and beg her to take him, and so she did. He'd eat his weight in fried food, and would always want her to win him his favorite animal - a cat - and hang it next to his bed in his room.

"I can't believe this," she finally said. "I can't remember the last time I was at one of these..."

"We should try it out," Rick said softly. "Win something for him...your little boy."

Michonne smiled wistfully, once again overwhelmed by his care for her. "We should."

She grabbed him by the hand, and ran around until she found the perfect game. A game of strength of sorts. Basically, you had to hit a gigantic hammer against a piece of metal, if it reaches the top then you're the strongest and you win a prize.

"Don't worry, I've got this," his confident, bowlegged stride turned her on, but she had to reign herself in.

He grabbed the rusted hammer off the ground, and lifted it; the muscles in his arm bulged, his forearms strained as it went down. Up, up, up it went until a large bell sounded, and he won the prize. He jumped up in glee, and scooped up one of the stuffed cats from behind the concession stand, and bent down on one knee in front of Michonne to give it to her. He just wanted to make her happy, to see her smile again.

"What was his name?"

She held the cat close to her heart. "Andre."

::

"You know, I never liked Ferris Wheels," she admitted to Rick as they continued to walk around the Carnival, partly for fun and partly to scavenge for something usable. "It just seems like some sort of death trap to me."

"I actually loved them," he admitted. "Lori - on the other hand - she despised them. Never let Carl even look at a Ferris Wheel."

Michonne found herself giggling. "I won't speak badly of the dead, so let me not go there."

"Hey now! Ferris Wheels can be dangerous," Rick laughed along with her.

And for a second, she just stared at him. She noted the grey at his temples, the salt and pepper beard, those light eyes, the laugh lines around his face, and the denim shirt that hugged him just right. And it was like she just had to have him, right then, right there, right now.

"Rick?"

"Yeah?"

Her eyes averted back to the school, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Ever done it in the principals office?"

Rick's eyes widened, but it didn't take him that long to run towards the school, pulling her with him.

::

Rick rolled off her body, sweaty from exertion as she leaned up on her side and stroked the side of his face. She remembered her son again as she looked at him, as she couldn't stop looking at him, and felt her heart expand like the Grinch. Fear, excitement, happiness, and everything in between melded into one as she leaned herself on his chest, and began to confess the things that had been weighing on her heart for nearly two years.

"I love you," she finally admitted to him, and to herself.

His lips popped open, as if he was about to speak, but she stopped him.

"I love you. I loved my son so much, and I did some pretty horrible things when this all started," she admitted. "We were in a camp, much like this one, and then it was just us after the military abandoned the city, saying there was no hope. Mike...he gave up pretty fast, and he wasn't the man that I'd fallen in love with; Terry was much of the same, but my son never gave up and I never gave up for him," she stopped, collecting herself for a moment. "I kept going, until one day, I had to leave him with his father while I went on a run and got some supplies. I was supposed to - I was supposed to be right back, but they got in. They got in and they - Mike had gotten high and my son, my son was gone. I was so angry. I just saw red, everything was red, and so I hacked their jaws off with my own sword so that they couldn't bite; chopped their arms off so that they couldn't scratch and chained them together to remind me of what I'd done."

Rick just stared at her in awe. He didn't have the words to describe how much he loved her, too. He just knew that if he could take all of her pain, and put it into his own body, then he would, so that she'd never have to hurt again.

"You have to know this about me, Rick," she tells him. "We've both done horrible things, but I've-I've never-I do love you."

"I love you, too," he cups her face again, softly kissing her on the lips.

It was a soul searing kiss. His lips bit and nipped and curved and formed against hers, speaking everything, saying everything.

I love you.

I love Andre.

I will never forget what you've gone through.

I'm only okay if you are.

You're everything.

You.

"Thank you, Rick," she finally whispered against his lips, their foreheads pressed against each other.

"Don't thank me."

He whispered this against her, his warm breath fanning her face like a promise.

"You've just given me another piece of you."

Fin.