A/N: Thank you all so much for reading, following, hitting the favourite button and leaving a review. This instalment offers some insight into Rick and Michonne's home life. Enjoy!

The old wooden floorboards creaked as Rick made his way to the bathroom in the early morning. His best friend, Shane Walsh, had been persistent in questioning Rick as to why he chose to rise so early when they did not have to go to school and he did not have a summer job (besides helping his father around the farm). Rick had oft times explained that he did not want to waste the days, so after he had finished his chores to his father's liking, he wanted to have enough hours in the day to the things that he truly enjoyed. Shane thought that he was crazy. He reasoned that if he had the chance to spend the morning in bed, he would not balk at the opportunity; yet, just like the summers before, he had to work.

Rick stepped into the bathroom, washed his face at the sink and then towelled it dry. He checked his reflection in the mirror, taking note of the light stubble that had begun to sprout on his chin and cheeks. His seventeenth birthday would soon arrive and yet sixteen year old Rick Grimes was already quite adept at growing facial hair.

"You'll have a great beard one day," his Daddy Gene often remarked.

He ran his fingers through his hair, tossing the mess of curls around before making his way to the toilet to relieve himself; he usually washed up lightly, ate breakfast and then went to start his work for the day. During the summer, their cattle would be left to graze the pastures before being brought to the barns for milking twice a day. It was Rick's responsibility to help Gene bring the cows in of a morning for milking. He would then either muck out the horses stables or tend to the corn, alfalfa and timothy-grass that they used to feed their animals. It was hard work, but his father insisted he learn how to run the farm.

"Good mornin', sweetheart," said Sheila as her son approached and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I made pancakes."

"Smells good, Mama," said Rick as he took up a seat at the small, round kitchen table; Sheila placed a short stack on a plate and brought them to Rick.

"What're your plans today?" she asked sweetly before grabbing her coffee and sitting across from Rick; they had the same kind eyes and soft brown curls.

The teen chewed his food and quickly wiped his mouth with a red and white napkin that sat under his plate, "The usual."

"Will you take Jeff fishin' again?" she asked.

"Maybe," Rick replied, knowing he would to get the hyperactive twelve year old out of his mother's hair for a while. "But it won't be until later. Mr Johnson, he said he'd pay us for a couple o' catfish so I'm definitely goin' to throw a line out."

"That's good, honey. Some extra pocket money for you," she said with a smile. "I know you wanted to get out there and get some paid work this summer, but your Daddy really does need help around here and he appreciates it."

Rick nodded his head; he knew his mother was just trying to make him feel better about the situation. He had wanted to take the opportunity to find a summer job, save some money and buy himself a car. His father had other plans and wanted him to learn the virtue of hard work and family legacies. Rick was secretly somewhat of a dreamer; he did not see a future for himself working and breaking his back like his father, especially with the dairy industry undergoing so many changes. Still, Rick was loyal and trustworthy and would do what was asked of him.

"I know, Mama," he replied with a small smile of his own. "Thanks for the pancakes. You're the best. I gotta get goin'. Is Daddy already out there?"

Sheila nodded her head, "Yeah, sweetie. You have a good day."

xXxXx

The warm morning sunlight bathed Michonne in a golden glow as she stood bare-footed on the porch of her grandparents' large house. She stretched her arms high into the sky and linked her hands above her head; she then leaned forwards and reached down to her toes. After an instant of jumping up and down on the spot to get her blood pumping, Michonne jogged down the steps and headed up the driveway for her morning run.

She was a very dedicated track runner and had claimed many titles, both state and national, for her school. While she had other aspirations for what she wanted to do later in life, she enjoyed the atmosphere of elite competition and at that very moment in time there was something very refreshing about an early morning run.

Her feet pounded against the loose road as she sprinted to the end of the long driveway; she stopped when she reached Old Route 3 and glanced in both directions. She could either run towards town or venture down towards the farms. She quickly decided that she would run in the direction of the property where her grandfather had dropped off those two boys the day before.

xXxXx

"Rick! Go get those stragglers up over there!" Gene called out to his son as he pointed to the four cows lazily grazing near a far fence.

The teenager nodded then mounted his horse; he kept her at a trot and moved over to where the cows were. Steering his horse between the fence and the cattle, he effectively got them to move in the direction of the larger herd. As Rick was about to follow along behind them, he noticed a figure coming down the road; they appeared to be running. Suddenly, his stomach dropped as he thought something awful had happened and that the person approaching quickly was in trouble.

With his eyes narrowed, Rick watched as the person edged closer still; he felt a little surprised to see that it was Mr Johnson's granddaughter, Michonne. When she was close enough to Rick that he could see she was actually running for leisure, he relaxed a little and watched until he caught her attention.

Michonne slowed a little when she noticed the boy sitting atop a chestnut colored horse; he was staring at her, the hint of a small smile on his face.

"Good mornin'," he called out to her as she slowed, but did not stop; she offered him a crooked sort of smile and lifted her hand up in a half-hearted type of wave. Rick waved back at the athletic girl and continued to watch as she went on her way down the red dirt road.

xXxXx

The late afternoon sun hung languidly above the trees and a fresh breeze swept across the fields. Rick and Jeff, having just walked into their home, had spent most of the day down by the river fishing. They had caught three redear sunfish and one catfish; Rick, who was not satisfied with the three bream, wanted to stay until they at the very least caught one catfish. He was eager to take it to Mr Johnson's house not only because the older gentleman had requested that he do so, but also to hopefully catch a glimpse of his pretty granddaughter.

As soon as Rick had set the fishing gear aside and given their catch to Sheila, he raced upstairs, undressed with haste and jumped into the shower. Rick washed away the filth of the day from tending to his farming duties to sitting on the muddy banks of the steady water. He was determined to be presentable when he took the fish to the Johnsons that evening.

After he was cleaned up, Rick dressed in his dark jeans and a button down shirt that he tucked in neatly. He combed his hair and then pulled on his boots that were still specked with grass from the field that morning. As he made his way downstairs, his parents looked at him questioningly as they sat at the kitchen table.

"Where you goin' all spruced up, boy?" asked Gene.

"Over to the Johnson's," Rick replied. "Mr Johnson said he'd buy catfish from me if I caught some."

"I suppose you wanna take my truck?" asked Gene.

"Yes, sir," replied Rick. "If that's okay."

"How many did ya get?" his father asked.

"Just the one," Rick answered.

"That ain't worth headin' on over there for," said Gene as he sipped from his coffee. "He ain't gonna want just one of 'em."

"Just let him go," said Sheila. "It's the thought that counts."

Gene sighed, reached into his pocket and then tossed his keys to Rick.

"Go on, son," said his mother. "We'll see you later."

Rick looked from his father to his mother and then nodded his head before turning on his heel and exiting through the back door. Jeff was outside cleaning the fish with the garden hose.

"Where you goin'?" the boy asked of his older brother.

"Takin' this fish over to Mr Johnson," he explained without stopping.

"Can I come?" asked Jeff, standing and wiping his hands on the front of his sleeveless top.

"No," replied Rick with a smirk. "I'll see ya later."

xXxXx

The sun was very low by the time Rick had driven his father's sky blue Ford pick-up truck into the Johnson's driveway. Their home was not a farm, but they had ample space on a few acres; their house was large and old. Much too big for the old couple, but Rick guessed they had a lot of children that were now grown with their own families. The Grimes family knew most of their close neighbors and Rick had often been sent to do odd jobs here and there, especially for the elderly ones. Mr Johnson was a retired court judge who had worked for almost fifty years in the area in the local judicial system. He and his wife were always very friendly with Rick and Jeff but they did not know that much about them. He certainly did not know that he had a fine looking granddaughter who was there for the vacation. Rick wondered how long she had been there and how on earth he had missed noticing her in the first place. He reasoned that the farm work and fishing may have had something to do with his lack of a social life.

He parked the truck under one of the large oak trees and then got out; the fish was secure inside a brown paper bag and Rick left it on the seat while he made sure his clothes and hair were presentable. He smoothed his shirt down, brushed his curls back with his fingers, grabbed the fish and then walked up to the door. He could see that the lights were on inside and the curtains were still open. A little surprised by the way he was feeling slightly anxious, Rick swallowed hard and then dried his sweaty palm on his pants.

There was no doorbell, so Rick knocked loudly a few times; he waited a moment until he heard the footfalls of someone coming to answer. The silhouette was slender and almost the same height as him. When the person stopped and did not open the door immediately, Rick wondered why; around that part of the world people were largely hospitable.

"Who is it?" came the muffled voice of a girl.

"Ah, it's Rick Grimes," he answered.

"Who?" she asked.

He spoke more loudly this time as he stared at the blurred figure on the other side of the window, "Rick Grimes. I brought fish for Mr Johnson."

After a moment, the door opened slowly and Michonne stood there looking at Rick and then down at the bag containing the fish.

"Hey," said Rick with a small smile.

"Hi," Michonne replied somewhat shyly.

"I, uh, brought a catfish for your granddaddy. Is he in?" asked Rick.

Michonne turned her head and then called up the hallway rather loudly, "Grandpa, you in?"

Rick raised his brow and looked at Michonne questioningly. He was used to being invited into a neighbor's home while you waited for the person you were calling on to meet you. Mr Johnson's granddaughter was obviously not from around these parts as Rick was standing outside feeling rather self-conscious.

"Ah, young Rick," said Mr Johnson as he made his way to the door. "Come on in, son. What've you got there?"

Rick stepped inside and glanced quickly at Michonne who was now leaning against the wall.

"I went out today, but only reeled in one catfish. Thought you might like it, sir," he offered with a pleased grin.

Mr Johnson smiled and clapped Rick on the back, "Ain't you a good boy. Come on through to the kitchen and get something to drink. Michonne, baby; close that front door and follow us."

The girl did as she was asked and walked slowly behind her grandfather and his guest. When they reached the kitchen, she climbed up onto one of the stools near the counter and watched as Rick handed over the fish and her grandfather smiled widely.

"That's a good size," Mr Johnson remarked as he set it down in the kitchen sink. "Thank you, son."

"You're welcome, sir," said Rick, stealing another look at Michonne.

"Baby girl, fix Rick here somethin' to drink. We got some iced-tea or lemonade," the old man offered. "What'll you have?"

"Lemonade's good," he said looking from Mr Johnson to Michonne. "Lemonade, please."

Michonne looked at them questioningly, almost rolling her eyes. She was happy to get food and drink for her grandfather, but the boy standing before her was around her age and she did not want to have to wait on him. She was not planning on being one of those ladies who waited on the men folk; but after Mr Johnson held her gaze, she conceded. Sliding down from the stool, she ambled to the refrigerator and took out a pitcher of lemonade before turning to Rick and gesturing to a cupboard, "Glasses are up there. Grab me one while you're at it."

Rick bit back a smile and then did as he was asked; the three of them sat down and Michonne filled their glasses.

"Now, how much do I owe you for that catfish?" Mr Johnson asked.

"Oh, no, Mr Johnson," Rick started. "You don't owe me anything for it."

Michonne found the twang in his slow Southern drawl pleasant.

"Mighty neighborly of you, Rick," the old man offered happily as Rick nodded; he felt the girl's eyes on him and wanted to look over at her, but he had no obvious reason to. "You been helpin' your daddy out?"

"Yes, sir," replied Rick. "Every day since school was let out."

Mr Johnson nodded; his small talk felt very much like being in the principal's office, Rick thought, so he drank quickly.

"You're a good boy," Mr Johnson replied. "Did you want to stay for dinner?"

Rick looked at Michonne and then the old man, "Thanks for the offer, sir. But I really should be gettin' home soon as Mama's expectin' me."

Mr Johnson nodded his head, "Of course. Maybe next time. Michonne, honey, go get my wallet."

Michonne placed her drink down and left the room; she returned quickly with what her grandfather had asked for and handed it over to him. He opened it and retrieved a twenty dollar bill, holding it in Rick's direction.

"Sir, it's fine, really," Rick said in earnest. "I can't take your money."

"No, I insist," Mr Johnson stated as Rick hesitantly took the money from him, not wanting to cause offence.

"Thank you, sir," Rick said. "I really should get goin'. Thanks for the lemonade, too."

Mr Johnson stood and so did Rick.

"Anytime, son," he answered, patting Rick on the back. "Tell your Mama I said hello."

"I will, sir," the boy replied. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," said Mr Johnson as he shook Rick's hand. "Michonne, see Rick out, please."

"Yes, sir," she replied and walked by their guest; Rick followed her and took the opportunity to look at her backside that fit nicely into the shorts she was wearing. She opened the door for him and held it open; Rick felt as if he wanted to say something to her, but nothing came to mind so all he said was, "See ya."

He gave her a small, friendly smile which she returned before wishing him goodnight. She closed the door and then went back to the kitchen.

"He's weird," Michonne commented as her grandfather chortled.

"Why, 'cause he's got good manners unlike those city boys?" the old man asked.

Michonne rolled her eyes, "No, Grandpa, because he's a door-to-door catfish salesman."

He is cute, though, she thought to herself as she finished her cool beverage. Very cute.

A/N: The next chapter is already up!