"She's getting so big."

Rick tilted his head to get a different vantage point. It wasn't just the angle; not long ago, their daughter looked like a tiny little bean all curled up in the center of her crib as she slept, now a laid there, toes nearly touching the bars at one end and head nearly touching the other.

He recognized Michonne's gentle admonishment that it was past time to move her out of the small alcove that was her bedroom and into the empty room next door that once belonged to her brother. They had talked about it before, but didn't seem to mind letting other projects and distractions take precedence over the past few weeks.

"Yeah, I know," he sighed.

He reached down and smoothed his hand over her curls and and draped her light yellow blanket over her then placed his hand on Michonne's back as they stood there looking looking down on her. After a moment, he felt a small rumble of laughter in her chest.

"She's still wearing her dinner," she pointed out of the red tomato cause crusted around her lips.

She moved to wipe it with the pad of her thumb, but he reached out and stilled her hand.

"She'll be fine," he assured her with a slight grin. "Not worth waking the monster."

Michonne smiled back as she withdrew her hand. Why trade a sleeping child for a cranky one? It was Parenting 101.

"You're right."

They continued standing there, quiet and still. This was always how all of their days ended since Carl passed. Grief was exhausting, but trying to move on was even more so, but it was imperative not just for themselves, but for everyone around them.

As parents, it was easiest to put on a brave face for Judith. They would smile, laugh, play as if everything was fine, anything to preserve her happiness and innocence for as long as they could.

As leaders, they woke up day in and day out and put in the back breaking work to not only rebuild what they had lost, but expand on what they had. With the livelihood of not just their family, but so many others at stake, there were no days off.

As lovers, however, they hadn't regained what they had lost. At the end of the day, they would retreat to their room, drained with little else left for each other. They would clean up, discuss plans for the following day, exchange a kiss and I love you's, say their good nights, and lay down on the layered blankets on their floor that served as a bed. It was the only time in their day where they could give into their grief, where they didn't have to put up a strong front for the sake of others.

It wasn't just fatigue, though, not on his part, at least. There was a crushing sense of guilt that nearly extinguished any desire he had to experience pleasure for himself, and intimacy with Michonne was the most pleasurable act he could possibly engage in.

Just a month ago, they would shirk responsibilities to spend a few more minutes in bed together or sneak off together for a brief rendez-vous in the middle of the day or a run. It was absolutely exhilarating, the most alive you could possibly feel. In the wake of other losses, that was the how they were able to keep going. With Carl, though, it was hard to unabashedly celebrate life in the wake of this loss.

It couldn't be like this forever, and they both knew this, life would eventually have to return to normal, or at least a new normal, on all fronts. If they waited for the mood to strike them, he supposed they could be waiting for a long time. All he knew was, Michonne was the love of his life, and their relationship was the most important thing in his life, and they needed to nourish it and each other, especially when it's strength was central to everything else around them.

"C'mon."

She looked up and he took her hand and nodded toward the door, gently leading her out of the room. They passed the closed door of Carl's bedroom and arrived at their own. They came to a stop, and Rick took both of her hands in his.

"I did a little scavenging of my own today," he informed her quietly. "I guess we were kind of thinking the same thing today…"

She smiled as they had a tendency to do that. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together, after all.

"You telling me there's a chocolate cake waiting in there for me?" she teased gently.

He shook his head, and chuckled softly. "No, hopefully you won't be disappointed now."

She squeezed his hand and shook her head. "Never." she promised. "Not with you."

He smiled inwardly at her unwavering faith in him, then grasped the knob and opened the door. Her eyes widened and she looked up at him with genuine surprise. He led her into the room, then allowed to her go on while he quietly closed the door behind them. She stood there looking at the full-sized boxspring and mattress that sat in the center of the room where their makeshift bed used to be.

"Where did you find this?"

"Attic of one of the townhouses," he said as he joined her. "I know it's not as nice as our old one, but it's something," he shrugged. "And I know there's a long line of people here who need one, but with the way you've been taking care of me and Judith and everyone else, I thought you of all people deserved to have a soft place to land at night."

She looked up at him, her lips formed into a tight grin and her eyes watering. She cupped his cheek with her hand and shook her head.

"I have one," she whispered back.

He closed his eyes tightly and lowered his forehead against hers.

"Yeah, we do."

"I love you," she breathed out.

"I love you, too."

She lifted her head and pressed a soft kiss against his lips, then began to pull away, but he brought his hand to her cheek to stop her. He met her eyes and then leaned in to kiss her again, this time, his lips parting against her, as he deepened their contact. He could hear and feel her softly sigh into his mouth, becoming pliant in his arms as she did. Soon her arms were around his neck, pulling them closer together.

Need.

There was no other way to describe their intensifying touches and kisses aside from sheer need to feel close to one another again. Their movements were not frantic, rather slow and deliberate. Weeks of tender hugs and chaste kisses that led nowhere now had them falling onto their bed, passionately kissing as their legs entwined and arms wrapped around each other. He rolled them from their sides, onto her back and began to kiss her cheek, then neck as she ran her hands down his back and under the edge of his jeans, grasping the pert tops of his buttocks to draw him closer to her.

All she had been thinking about was getting closer to him, physically closer than they had been in weeks, but with that she began to feel the arousing effects of that closeness, his hardness pressing against her thigh and the warmth and ache in her center, and it gave her pause.

"Rick," she breathed out as she moved her hands up his back and braced the back of his neck.

His lips stilled against her skin and he lifted his head from her chest to meet her eyes, narrowed and questioning.

"You OK?" he asked.

She gave a slight nod yes. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "This is OK," he assured her.

And to prove his point, he leaned back in to capture her lips with his then resume his slow reunion with her body. As his lips trailed down her chest and her tank top came creeping up and eventually off so that he could have access to more and more of her, he hands returned to his body and began to tug at his t-shirt.

With so many thoughts running through her head and conflicting feelings in her heart that felt betrayed by the eager reaction of her body, she decided to focus on just one thing.

She loved this man with every part of her being; mind, body, and soul and tonight they were honoring that and each other.

And so they made love. Luxuriating in the slow strokes and languid kisses, breathing each other in, declaring their love and devotion to another in hushed whispers and strangled gasps as they moved toward release together.

Once they reached their peak, they stilled in each others arms, breathless, as they found ecstasy with release and comfort in each other. After several seconds, he eased himself onto her, covering her like a blanket as she wrapped her arms and legs around him to try to do the same. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck, dusting it with light kisses.

"I've missed you," he murmured into her skin.

"I've missed you, too." She pressed her lips against his temple emphatically. "We're going to be OK."

"We are," he corrected. "We are."