A/N: Yep, I've got another one! My mind has been all over the place ever since 5x09 aired, so I wanted to do something that expounds on those moments a bit. I have this all outlined already, but I left a few open threads, just in case 5B goes anywhere in the way of Richonne. (I'm obviously expecting it not to, but we'll see lol.) So let me know what you think and/or what you'd like to see! -Ash

prologue

Michonne's POV

There's an eeriness in the air when I step off of that fire truck. It's not just the usual aura of death that follows us everywhere we go, but more of a sadness. It feels like hopelessness. And what makes it eerie is that we were all so happy when we got on that truck, headed into Atlanta to meet the rest of our group. We drove into the city, believing we would save Beth and Carol, and everything would be fine. Even if Washington was a bust, we had hope because we had each other. But I can feel it melting away with every step we take towards this hospital. Something is wrong.

And then it happens. Rick appears, and he's got this frown on his face that I can't decipher. Is he angry? Is he sad? He shakes his head and I realize it's both.

The vision of Daryl carrying Beth's limp body out of that place is one I won't easily forget. It's burned into my memory, along with the scream Maggie lets out when she sees her sister. I've been there before. That feeling of knowing you were just a little too late – it haunts you.

I catch a glimpse of Glenn, and he looks utterly lost. And he probably should, because there's absolutely nothing he can do. There's nothing he can say to help his wife, and there's nothing we can say to help them. This life keeps chipping away at our family, and for whatever reason, it's decided to sink its teeth into the Greenes and not let go. I feel lost for them. What I wouldn't give to be able to fix this world for these people.

But I can't. And I can't stand here any longer, watching all this grief. Daryl looks completely shattered, and I can feel that tugging at me. I remember Beth going around the prison saying she didn't cry anymore. Well, that's me now; perhaps because I've simply run out of tears. So I turn for the truck to check on Carl and Judith, and by extension, Eugene, I suppose. But then I catch sight of Rick walking away, and it stops me in my own tracks. I can't help but wonder where he's going.

I know he has moments. Moods. He's been unusually subdued, ever since the prison fell, and it scares me that he hasn't reacted to anything. Not Hershel, not Bob, not gutting someone to death. He's stayed on a completely even keel, which makes me wonder if he's on the verge of breaking.

I follow him between the tents and watch him for a second. He's holding one of the tent poles with one hand, and the bridge of his nose with the other. He looks like he needs support. "You okay," I call out to him.

He turns to my voice and then away from me. I can tell he's wiping his face. "I'm all right," he returns hoarsely. I can tell he's not. I stand there for a second too long, deciding whether he wants me to join him, and he cuts to the chase. "I just needed a minute."

That's understandable. We all need minutes. I turn to give him his, but my mind wanders to the last time I've seen Rick cry. Aside from those wonderfully happy tears when he and Judith were reunited, I can't think of one. I want to say something, but again, I have nothing that would help.

"I can stay with you," I finally offer. He doesn't respond. I know I should probably take that as a no, but I make the steps toward him anyway.

"I'm tired, Michonne." His voice is so faint, I can tell that it's true. His eyes are low, but they're open, as if he's watching his own tears drop to the ground.

"You should be," is all I can say.

He looks at me as he wipes his face again. "Aren't you?"

Constantly. In fact, I'm tired of being tired. But part of me feels like that information won't do either of us any good, so I feign a smile for him and shake my head. "Bob believed that there was good in this world. And so did Beth. So I hold onto that and I keep on pushing."

He nods, and it feels like he's hearing the words, but he's got nothing left in the way of belief. "I don't know," he sighs. His hand goes over his face once more and then he slowly stoops down to sit on the ground. It's as if his body has physically given up on him. His head rests against the tent pole as his eyes close. "I'm not sure how much I've got left."

It kills me to hear him say this. I've probably taken for granted just how much he had to give in the first place, but the last thing I want to see is for Rick Grimes to give up. He was the guy to let me into this group in the first place. He and Carl and Andrea were the ones to break down these big metal walls I'd put up, and let some light in. So him giving up isn't an option. He's the real reason I've kept pushing.

My hand instinctively goes to run my fingers through his hair. It's what I used to do with Andre, when he'd run into the kitchen and hold my leg, like the little peanut that he was. God, I miss him. And Rick obviously isn't him, but I get the feeling he needs comforting in that same way. And when he lets the back of his head rest against my leg, I know I'm right. Sometimes, just physical contact will do. And it doesn't have to be a hug or kiss. Just the touch of someone who cares about you.

"It's been a bad day," I tell him, still gently caressing him. "But that doesn't mean it's a bad life."

Rick's POV

Our bad day ended at a women's shelter near downtown. Carol and Daryl were there just a couple of nights before, so it was clear of walkers, at the least. There were enough beds for each of us to have our own rooms, but no one wanted to be alone. No one even wanted to sleep, because that meant allowing your subconscious mind to be alone with your conscious thoughts, and having no control over what it decided to do with that information. No… no, thanks.

Michonne, Carl, Judith, and I were sharing a room that night. We had a bunk bed and a bathroom, but most importantly, each other. It was reminiscent to our days on the road to Terminus, with our weird slumber parties on the floor of some abandoned house. Of course, we didn't have Judith then, so it was difficult for Carl. I tried to stay strong for him, but much in the same way Glenn tried to be there for Maggie today, I knew I was failing. And Michonne stepped in and did what I couldn't, god bless her. She had a way of doing that – making my son smile. And now my daughter, too. Speaking from experience, it's not so easy to get a Grimes to smile. But she did it.

It was late by the time we got the kids to sleep. Judith was easy. She would fall asleep mid-sentence if she could talk. But Carl wanted to stay up with us, being all down in the dumps about Beth, and I thought it was important to let him. Just because I didn't want to talk through my grief didn't mean he didn't.

I listened to him and Michonne talk for an hour straight, about absolutely nothing. Some video game called Grand Theft Auto, which sounded hilariously inappropriate. How they couldn't believe the Saints won the last Super Bowl we'd ever see. The Saints and the Falcons are mortal enemies, after all. How the ending to Lost was some bullshit. That one, I had to agree with. And then my mind started to wander, and I couldn't help but think that maybe this is our island. Maybe Beth is seeing some alternate life right now, while she waits to get into heaven. I wonder what that looks like.

"Hey." Michonne's voice went tumbling through my thoughts until I brought myself to look at her. She was staring back at me with concern.

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded, shaking off my daze. "I'm all right."

"Well I asked if you wanted to take the bottom or the top bunk, and you didn't answer."

I looked up at the top bunk, where Judith and Carl were already fast asleep. I suppose she could've taken Judith and I could hop up top with Carl, but there was no need to disturb them. "We can share this, don't you think?"

"Yeah?"

"Unless you have a need to get under the covers or somethin'…"

She smiled at my little joke and sat down on the bed beside me. "I think I'll live."

I let my eyes fall closed and replayed those four words in my head for a moment. After the day we've had, I think it bears repeating. "Me, too." I passed her a pillow and we both fell back into the mattress at practically the same time.

"It feels odd to be back in this city," she declared with a small sigh. "When we were driving in, I just kept imagining getting off at my exit and going home."

I turned my head so that I was facing her. Even in the darkness, I could place every single one of her features. "That's how I felt when you, me, and Carl took that trip back to my hometown. I walked into that police station, and it felt good for a minute. It felt like I was back where I belonged."

"Instead of always feeling so displaced," she agreed.

"Feeling like a drifter…"

"A nomad."

"Vagabond." I laughed, mostly at the fact that that word was even in my vocabulary. She did, too. It felt good to laugh, even if it was at the very somber notion that we had no home. We were lost. I said that to Shane nearly two years ago, having no idea just how much worse it could get. It felt silly now, thinking back on it. We had it good on that farm.

"Where do we go now?" she asked, seeming to read the hell out of my mind. "Eugene can't save the world…"

"Shocking."

"Right," she smiled. "But for the first time in a long time, we have no direction. What are we gonna do?"

I'd been asking myself that all evening long. I had a group full of broken people, with no way to fix them, and nowhere to put them. "I don't know," I answered honestly. "But you pulled me out of the darkness today," I assured her. "It was like you just turned on a switch... So I know it's possible. And I'm gonna do the same for them. For us."

She nodded against her pillow with a small grin still tugging at her cheeks. "Sometimes, your only available transportation is a leap of faith."

"Yeah…" We locked eyes for a fraction of time and I nodded at her unspoken agreement to follow me on whatever journey we were about to take. We were headed into unchartered waters, and we both knew it. I inched just a little bit closer to her – not much, but enough so that we could feel each other's warmth – and I closed my eyes. "Let's jump."