Thank you to those who began reading this story. It is continuing as a series of short chapters telling a story that will be pretty obvious after this one if it wasn't already. I read the graphic novels, and I wanted to explore that two year time jump after the war with the Saviors, but with the TV characters.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Negan got up from the cot in the corner of his cell, and walked over to the bars to get closer to the woman who had entered dark basement that had been his home for the better half of the past year.

"Where's the fat one?" His eyes followed her as she silently walked across the room and placed the tray carrying his dinner on a stool in the corner. The only light came from a small lamp in his cell, but that didn't stop him from appreciating her ass as she bent over. "She's not as nice to look at, but she's a fuck of a lot better at conversation than you are."

She turned around, obviously not amused by his antics with her blank stare, and handed him an apple and a sandwich through the bars.

"She has the night off," Michonne said finally. "And her name is Olivia, you know that. Pass me the pitcher."

She may not have been amused by him, but he was more than charmed by her and he planned to make the most of the few minutes he got to be in her company. He tossed his dinner on the bed, then fetched the empty pitcher from the small table in the corner.

"You still mad at me after all this time?" he asked as he held the pitcher through the bars.

She reached for it, but he held onto it to keep her close. She yanked it from his hand and walked to the sink on the other side of the basement.

"Even Rick at least looks me in the eye, cracks a smile everyone once in awhile. Speaking of, how are things going with the lovebirds? Still fucking daily or have we moved to once a week now?"

She ignored him as she turned the faucet up all the way hoping to drown out the sound of his voice.

"Judging by your mood, I'm gonna guess the latter. Monogamy is a bitch like that...that's why it never worked for me. You know, I have needs, you have needs, we could work a little something out."

He watched her from behind as she turned off the faucet and took a moment to straighten her posture before she turned around to face him.

"Yeah, you're thinkin' about it, I see you over there," he called out as she began to walk toward him. "I'm already under your skin. You're having dirty dreams about me at night and seeing my face when you fuck Rick. You have to act like you hate me so you don't give in."

She walked up to the cell, shoved the pitcher through the space between two bars and into his chest causing some of the water to lap over the sides and splatter on his shirt.

"No. I hate you," she clarified with a steely tone and stare. "I hate you for what you did to my friends, and I hate you for being one more asshole who tried to take this world for himself instead of rebuilding it. The only fantasies I have about you are of driving my sword through your chest and ending it all."

"Then why don't you?" he asked with a smirk.

"Because we're trying to build something here." She paused for a moment before continuing. "We already have."

She didn't wait to hear his response because it didn't matter. Nothing he said mattered behind those bars because words were all he had left. They took his people and his power, and now he was their prisoner. She turned her back and climbed up the stairs that led to the exit. She opened the door of the dark, dank basement and walked out into the the streets of Alexandria where the late afternoon sun was still shining and her friends and neighbors were out either heading home from work or enjoying the fresh air. With her final duty taken care of, her eyes focused in on the yellow door of her two story gray house just across the street and down the block. She used to hate it when they had first arrived, but now it made her smile; the bright color seeming apropos for the happy family life she had inside.

"Mommy!"

Michonne hadn't even crossed the threshold before her presence was noted by her two year old who was sitting in the middle of their living room with what looked to be every toy she owned scattered around her.

"Baby girl!" she greeted as she stepped in and closed the door behind her. "Are you playing all by yourself?"

"No." She wrinkled her nose and picked up the rag doll that was lying face down in front of her. "Dolly."

"Silly me," Michonne said as she absently tapped the side of her head with her hand for effect. "Where's Carl?"

"Over here," the deep voice announced. She walked around the corner to find him sitting at the end of their kitchen island with the insides of an old CB radio spread out in front of him.

"Hey. You still working on that?" she asked as she came up beside him.

"Yeah, but I think I'm almost there. You home for the night?"

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna go over to Eugene's to get some help then," he said, finally looking up at her.

"But what about dinner?" He was well on his way to adulthood, but that didn't mean her maternal instincts were dulling as he grew.

"I'll eat with him. He always has good stuff."

"The man lives off of beef jerky and homemade potato chips," she pointed out as she put her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, the good stuff," he teased with a grin.

She shook her head and pointed to the door. "Go."

He gathered the parts of the radio off the counter and headed for the door leaving Michonne alone in the kitchen. She stared at the refrigerator trying to picture what was inside that she could whip up easily.

"Mommy play?" Judith asked in a hopeful little voice from the living room.

"Mommy has to make dinner," Michonne explained apologetically as she sighed. The combination of the disappointed look on Judith's face and her lack of desire to cook made her change her mind, though. "...but we can play for a little bit."

Much to Judith's delight, Michonne lowered herself to the floor, and sat cross-legged in front of her. There wasn't so much playing as Judith placing, taking, and replacing a series of toys in Michonne's hands as she tried to decide what to do in her state of toddler indecisiveness. Michonne didn't mind, though, because she loved this little girl to pieces and always valued these little moments together at the end of her day. She had a plastic horse in one hand and a wand in the other when she heard the door open and the familiar click of boots soon after.

"Is that daddy?" Michonne asked in an animated voice.

Judith rose to her feet from her crouched position to get a better look.

"Yeah!" She exclaimed once she saw her father's back as he took his boots off in entryway.

"Are those my girls?" he asked before turning around to see for himself.

"Yeah!" she answered excitedly, dancing in place with giddiness.

He made his way over to where they sat on the floor, and lowered himself down with a groan. Judith crawled into his lap and threw her arms around his neck to welcome him home with a hug.

"Hey sweetheart," he said as she wrapped his arms around her for a hug and kissed the top of her head before looking over at Michonne. "Hey baby," he greeted as he kissed her cheek.

"How was your day?"

"Good. Met with Gregory and Jesus to update the trade agreement since we're coming into growing season. Maggie joined us which was good to see."

"That is," she replied, genuinely happy to hear that her friend was getting back to herself. "How's Hershel?"

"The kid's growin' like a weed. He's a healthy, happy baby."

"Baby?" Judith asked, as she squirmed in her father's arms to turn to face her mother, her interest piqued by the "B" word.

"Yes, Baby Hershel," Michonne said. "Remember we talked about him?"

She nodded and settled back down in her father's lap, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as the grown ups caught up with each other.

"Sasha and Abe say hello. She's getting bigger by the day, too."

"I hope you didn't say that to her," Michonne said as she winced.

"I know better than that. She's all belly anyway."

"Still," Michonne warned.

"How was your day?"

"Uneventful," she said with a well timed yawn. "Just like the day before and the day before that. There seems to be a cold going around, though, both Olivia and Rosita called out from duty today."

"Do I need to go take care of Negan then?" he asked since Olivia was tasked with bringing him his meals, and few others in the community wanted anything to do with him. It was out of sight, out of mind as far as most of them were concerned.

"No, I handled it."

"You didn't have to, I know you-"

"Not now," she said as she reached over to rub Judith's head. "You hungry?" she asked in that put-on happy voice they often used around Judith.

"Starving," he said in that same tone. "In fact, I'm so hungry, I think I'm gonna have a snack right now."

Before she even realized what was happening, her father had scooped an arm under her legs and lifted her up to his face where he began to playfully munch on her stomach while she wriggled in his arms and devolved into a fit of belly laughs.

"No, daddy, no!"

Michonne, dressed in her light blue cotton spaghetti strap nightgown, was already sitting in bed reading when Rick walked out of the bathroom. As he got ready for bed himself, he continued to sneak glances at her. She had seemed subdued the entire night, and he was still left wondering if something had transpired between her and the prisoner that he knew she purposely kept her distance from.

"You sure you're OK?" he asked as he crawled into bed.

"Yeah," she answered without looking up from her book.

"Then why are you so quiet?"

"I'm not." She closed her book and placed it on the nightstand then looked to find him watching her with concern in his eyes. "I'm fine," she assured him. "In a strange way it was good that I saw him today. It reminded me of how far we've come. How we came through like we always do."

He nodded, wanting to believe what she was telling him, then placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Then why so tense?" he asked as he moved his fingers back and forth over the tight muscles in her upper back and neck.

She sighed, and brought her hand up to her shoulder to still his. She clasped his hand and then brought their joined hands down to rest between them.

"Because I know deep down that we really do have choices now and decisions to make," she admitted. "We took down our biggest threat, and here we are with our family, our community, and the support of others. We've said this before and been wrong, but this could really be it. This might be what the rest of our lives look like."

It was hard for her to be this hopeful with everything she had been through from losing Andre to almost losing her home and family several months ago. You had to have hope for some kind of future to make it through the day, have a reason to live; but to be too hopeful seemed naive and even dangerous. She knew, though, that she could always share her hopes and fears with this man without shame.

"It might be," he allowed. "Believe me, I'd want nothing more than that, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way." He clasped her hand tighter, and she did so in turn.

"Do you really think we can do it?" she asked, not even needing to name it because they both knew exactly what it was.

"I do," he promised, "but I also need you to know that I love the family we have and would be just as happy if that that never changed."

She looked down at their intertwined hands, contemplating how strong they were together and the kind of life those hands had built for themselves and others. They had never been complacent when it came to their survival, so why should they be when it came to their life?

"I'm not sure if I would be," she said quietly as she looked up.

He released her hand and put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her against his chest, then wrapping his other arm around her.

"Don't be scared if this is what you want," he whispered into the skin of her forehead before lightly kissing that spot. He tightened his embrace hoping to make her not only hear, but feel his promise of security. "We have each other, and like you said, we always come through."

He could feel her nod against his chest as she took a few deep, quiet breaths before speaking again.

"I'm ready."