A/N: Welp. I guess we're continuing with this. I have no clue how this will end, and that's never good, but there are definitely a couple of things I wanted to explore, so let's go for a ride, shall we? Haha.

Btw, to the awesome person that mentioned Rick's line reminding you of Danai's - that's exactly what I was going for, so nice catch!

Also, one of you guys read my mind and mentioned that the next chapter should be from Rick's point of view. Well... here you go!

Chapter 2
Beach Is Better

Last night, I think Michonne and I had a moment. And maybe that's not the word for it, but I don't know what else to call it. It was something significant, that I don't quite know how to describe.

She told me about her son, Andre, and it damn near broke my heart. I always suspected there was a great loss bubbling just beneath her surface, but when she told me about her boyfriend, I figured that was it. Didn't think much of it. Didn't want to, I guess. But I should've known it was more than that. There's a different pain you experience when you lose a child. I figure you can heal from just about anything, but that's a wound that doesn't leave. It festers, really, and maybe you just learn to ignore it. I have to be the luckiest man in the world, I was only without Judith for a couple of weeks. But that pain was real. And perhaps it was what brought me and Michonne closer without me even knowing it. Even without words, she understood where I was coming from. And now I understand where she's been. Maybe that means we help each other through whatever our next journey turns out to be.

My kids can't replace her son, I know that. That wound will always be there. But I've seen the joy she has when she's with Carl, I feel the hope she has when we're with Judith. I can't take away that pain, and I'm not even sure she would want me to – it's helped mold her into the woman she is today. But maybe, somehow, we can add some good to all the bad she's endured.

It's been a long travel day on this bumpy road to DC, and a little disheartening as we've gotten pushed further east than we have north. I'm tired, I can tell Carl is too, but we've stopped in this beautiful section of Georgia, near Jekyll Island, and I'd like to take a walk along the beach with him and Judith. I wasn't sure she'd ever get to see the ocean, and I can already tell it's blowing her little mind. So I'm gonna do my best to enjoy this evening.

"Hey Dad, can walkers swim?" my son wonders as we pass along where everyone is setting up camp for the night.

I look at him for a moment, trying to figure out the answer to his question. My common sense says they can't, but nothing about these things employs logic. "I'm not sure," I answer honestly as we approach Michonne's tent. She's sitting outside of it, enjoying the view. "You feel like takin' a walk?" I ask her.

She seems intrigued by the idea and immediately pulls herself from the sand in once graceful move. "Where we headed?"

"Just a leisurely stroll," I shake my head and look in the direction of the clear end of the beach. No walker pileups or debris, just sand and water. "I packed a little food for dinner. Nothing fancy."

"Dinner on the beach at sunset? Sounds romantic," she jokes. She shoots me a wink and then props her hands on Carl's shoulders, allowing him to lead the way.

I just roll my eyes and follow the two of them while Judith looks over my shoulder at the rest of the camp, fading into the distance.

The humidity of July has decreased significantly as the sun slowly makes its exit. The breeze from the ocean feels perfect, almost like one of those days before the turn when things were good more often than not. Being with Judy makes me feel that way a lot, I've noticed. Like we've got something to live for other than just being alive. It's for moments like this, I think, when things are quiet, when you get that tiny moment of peace, and you realize this world's not so bad either.

"Hey," I call out to Michonne but she and Carl both turn around. "Let's walk down by the water."

"You mean you're actually gonna take those boots off?" she smiles. "Hold on, let me prepare myself for this."

"You're one to talk." I shoot back with a grin. Yeah, we stink. There's no way around it. We're pretty much used to each other's smells by now.

"I can go in the water?" Carl asks to seemingly both of us.

"Not too far," I tell him, "but sure. Get your feet wet."

He excitedly kicks off his mismatched shoes and hands them to Michonne before rolling up his jeans and running towards the tide.

"Yeah, thanks for waiting for us," she calls after him.

I laugh as I take a seat on the ground, sitting Judith with me, and begin to remove my boots and throw them into our makeshift beach and diaper bag. "I'll take those," I tell her, referring to Carl's shoes. "Yours too."

She quickly obliges and now we're both barefoot, heading towards where my son is kicking up wet sand like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

The three of us are essentially soaked within the half hour, and even Judith got a minor drenching when we attempted to let her feel the water on her little toes. But you know what? Who's complaining? We're sitting in the sand, enjoying our dinner, and I'm fairly certain that this is what happiness feels like.

"You didn't bring any dessert?" Michonne looks at me once she finishes perusing our beach bag. It's empty, aside from Judith supplies. "What kinda dinner is this?"

"Dad doesn't believe in dessert," Carl declares, also looking at me as if I've disappointed him.

"I don't know if that's true," I laugh, wondering where he gets his information.

"You do seem pretty apathetic about sweets," Michonne appends. "Never understood that about you."

"I love dessert just as much as the next guy." I can't believe I have to defend my dining choices in the freaking apocalypse. "You two are the ones that didn't include me in your candy bar bets."

"You sound a little salty about that," she notes with an interesting smirk playing across her features. She seems amused by my exclusion. "You okay?"

"All I'm saying is, don't accuse me of bein' a dessert hater when you're an active contributor to the problem."

She smiles at me and it feels like the sun never went down. "Fair enough."

I watch Judith in my lap as she plays footsie with my hands, and I realize Carl never answered my question. "I'd still like to know what makes you think I don't like dessert."

He looks at me as he throws his finished can of spinach to the side. "You never ate anything Mom used to bake. Literally never."

I don't want to tell my son that it's because his mother was a terrible cook, and an especially awful baker. Lucky for him, he was too inexperienced to understand how bad it really was. "Maybe I was just watching my figure," I joke, unsure of what else to say.

"Whoa, did you just attempt to be funny?" He looks to Michonne but gestures towards me. "Remember what we said?"

"I do," she smiles at him.

When I realize they're not gonna fill me in, I have to interject. "Now wait a minute, what's this about?"

"It's nothing, Dad. Just an inside joke between me and Michonne."

"About me, though."

"Maybe it's about you," she inserts. "Maybe not."

"First of all, you're an awful liar," I tell her, "and Carl just pointed me out."

"I could've been pointing at Judith," he defends weakly. "In fact, we never even talk about you. Right, Michonne?"

She is obviously stifling a laugh when she replies, "Nope. Never."

"All right, that's enough lies for one night," I announce as Judith and I yawn at the same time. "We oughta be headin' back anyway, before it gets too dark."

"But we just got here," Carl complains. "I wanted to go in the water again."

I look at Michonne to see if she wants to stay too. "It is quite nice out here," she answers with raised eyebrows. "Maybe we can wait a little while?"

"Go on then," I tell Carl, handing him a flashlight. "Stay close where I can see you."

"Yes, Dad."

As he takes off for the shore, Michonne calls after him, "Be careful!"

"Yes, Mom!"

She laughs out loud at his reply, and I suppose we both know he means it sarcastically, but it's an almost jolting thing to hear after not hearing those words in nearly a year. I imagine it probably is for her too, but she plays it off well, continuing her meal with a small smile on her lips.

"I'm sorry about that," I say to her softly. "Tact isn't exactly his strong suit."

"He's fine," she assures me with a dismissive wave. "It's his way of saying he respects my authority."

I nod appreciatively at her assessment. "You really are very good with him."

"And you're good with her," she looks down at Judith, who's still fighting sleep for dear life. "Feels good to have the gang back together."

I can't tell whether she means the four of us or the entire group, so I give a vague response. "It really does. Doesn't feel right any other way."

She suddenly begins to move all of the extraneous items on our blanket and then scoots back so that she can lie flat, her head resting adjacent to my thigh. She's so close, Judith could reach down and slap her in the forehead if she wanted to. Michonne sighs and it sounds as if she's content as she looks up into the sky, most likely at the stars. They're bright tonight.

"What happens when we make it to Washington? If we make it to Washington?"

"When we make it," I correct her with my own sigh. "I dunno."

"It won't be like Georgia."

"No, it won't. Lots more buildings and a lot less nature."

"More people means more walkers."

I nod, even though she can't really see me. "There's gotta be a place for us."

"Even if we have to make it ourselves."

"After Woodbury and Terminus, I'm not sure I could trust a place we didn't make ourselves."

"We could take the White House," she jokes, letting her eyes land on me now. "You, me, and the kids could live in the West Wing."

I smile at the thought. "I could use the Rose Garden for farming again."

"And I still wouldn't help," she grins back.

"And if by some miracle, Eugene really does know how to cure this thing... we become the First Family by default."

"Ooh, I like the sound of that," she smiles even wider now. "I'd be the President, though."

"Of course," I chuckle. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

"Oh, you are so full of shit, Rick Grimes."

"I just gave up the Presidency for you. Why would you insult me like this?"

"Because I don't believe you would!"

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown," I remind her. I don't mean to turn our conversation serious, but it's true. "I'm tired, Michonne."

"Yeah, but you're good at this. You were made for this."

"I think I can say the same thing about you."

"I'm good at leading myself," she counters. "The patience you have for other people, the people you care about, it's astounding, Rick. I don't have that."

"That's exactly what you have." My hand instinctively goes to caress her hair, and I'm not sure why. But she doesn't stop me – in fact, she doesn't even look up when I do it, so I continue. "You had patience and time for Carl when even I didn't."

"He's a good kid, Rick. It's not that hard."

"Mothers have the hardest job in the world," I whisper when I see that Judith has finally knocked herself out. "Mothers are leaders whether they wanna be or not. That intuition kicks in and that's just... who you are."

She nods underneath my touch. "You'd really follow me?"

"To the ends of the Earth, Michonne."

She smiles and I swear it rivals the glow of the moon. "Then let's take over the goddamn White House."

"Sounds like we've got ourselves a plan," I laugh.

She pulls herself up seemingly effortlessly, and turns to face me. Her eyes are inquisitive, as if she can get an answer to her unspoken question by just looking at me. And truth be told, she probably could. "Did you invite me out here tonight out of pity?"

I frown at her, confused by the question. "What?"

"Did you ask me to come with you guys tonight because you feel sorry for me? Because of what I told you last night?"

"No," I chuckle nervously. "Are you kidding?"

"I'm just making sure." She turns her body so that we're sitting side by side now, watching Carl watch the water. "I don't need a pity party."

"If there's anything I know about you, it's that."

She gives me an understanding nod. "After that hug last night, I wasn't sure what you thought of me."

"I can't give you a hug?"

"No, it's just that… you never have before," she sighs. "I figured you might have started to look at me differently."

"Maybe I did," I confess quietly, looking over to gauge her reaction. She looks scared by my admission. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No," she shakes her head adamantly, but her face says she's anything but sure of her response. "No, it's not bad. I just… I don't want things to change between us."

"Not even for the better?"

"Depends on your definition of 'better.'"

She offers a bashful smile and I can feel my heart begin to race. That smile, man. I can't help but study the curve of her lips, and it makes me wonder what they feel like. I've wondered it plenty of times, actually, in these small, quiet moments we've been having recently. Now might be the perfect time to just throw my thoughts out there and let the chips fall where they may, but… we've had a good evening, and quite honestly, I'm too nervous to do or say anything that might ruin it. So I let the moment pass and continue to watch Carl watch the water.

She does the same.