Chapter 3
Always Accountable

"Please stop staring at me like that."

Rick smiled at the sound of his son's groggy voice as he came to from another nap, unable to contain his relief that his son would live to see another day. He'd been awake for a full 4 hours, and Rick simply couldn't get enough of the sight of him. "I'm never gonna stop staring at you, son." He cupped the side of his face that wasn't injured, his thumb rubbing at the kid's chin. "You scared the shit outta me."

"I'm sorry," he said, glancing downward with the one eye he had left.

"Don't ever be sorry," Rick shot back, releasing his grip. "Not for coming back."

"It all feels like a blur," he mumbled. His head was pounding, and he wasn't even sure he was fully awake, but he continued to talk. "But I know that I went about a lot of things the wrong way and put us both in danger."

He frowned at Carl's assessment of the situation, especially when he was the one that felt as though he'd put everyone in danger. "Carl, this had nothing to do with you."

"No, it did," he said, attempting to sit up in his bed so that he could talk to his father straight. "I… I told you it was okay with Ron, and it wasn't. Because I thought I could handle him. And I couldn't."

"I know that," Rick nodded. He rested his hand over Carl's as he looked up at him, catching his ice blue stare. "Of course I knew that. It's my job to know that."

"So when I said it was okay..."

"If walkers hadn't been trying to get into the house, that would've been a bigger conversation, but I knew it wasn't as okay as you wanted to make it seem. It was obvious you two had been fighting."

"He hates us both," he mused sadly. "And I don't know what's gonna happen now that his whole family is gone."

Rick wasn't sure how to say that Ron was gone now, too. To add more death on top of all the destruction that had plagued them. To temper their good with more bad. "Carl..."

He scanned his dad's face for signs of why his voice had lowered the way it did, and then he realized... "What happened to him?"

"After he shot you, it was just…" Rick bit the inside of his cheek as he recalled the gruesome scene. "It was like a reflex. Michonne and I both. I pointed my gun, but she had already taken him out with her sword."

"Shit," Carl sighed, resting his head against his pillow as he stared up at the ceiling.

"I know."

"He was nice," he said. "He welcomed me here, no questions asked, y'know?"

"I do know," Rick whispered, rubbing at his own forehead. "I remember."

"He just, he was sad. He was angry. Like the way I was after Mom died."

"That was how you saw it?"

"I think that's why I tried so hard to be patient with him," he nodded. "I got it." Carl realized then that it was a good thing the kid he shot from Woodbury didn't have the same kind of family he did. Or he could've been dead like Ron. "That sucks."

"It does," Rick agreed. His thoughts brought him to Jessie and her boys, how he said he could protect them. But when it came down to it, it was his own family that came first, and he never made that clear to her. When she asked if he would save anybody else, the clear answer was yes, and he proved it in spades when shit hit the fan, and the only thing that mattered to him was that Carl and Judith, and that Michonne was by his side. He exhaled heavily as he replayed the events of the day before; how he let her die so his kids could live.

"You okay, Dad?"

He smiled at his son, not wanting him to feel his sadness. "I'm fine," he promised, rubbing his thumb along Carl's hand. "I'm more than fine now."

"I know you liked Jessie," he submitted to the conversation cautiously. "As more than just a friend, I mean."

"Yeah," he nodded.

"So you must be sad about it."

"What happened to her was sad." He cleared his throat, feeling more sad for the fact that he didn't feel anything about her death. He didn't feel especially bothered by it. No brokenness, no missing pieces. Perhaps because he had been feeling that way anyway. Or because she never evoked much in him in the first place, other than escape. Once he realized there was no way out, he was left with very little connection to Jessie. He never quite let her in, and so, it was much easier to let her go. "I wish it hadn't gone the way it did. But I don't know if I knew her long enough or well enough to dwell on it."

Carl nodded thoughtfully, hoping that meant his father wouldn't devolve back into being batshit crazy like he had been when his mom died. Maybe, since he was okay, his dad would be, too. "Where's Mom?" he wondered, deciding he wanted a change of subject.

Rick narrowed his eyes at the question, trying to gauge whether his kid was being facetious or if he was genuinely confused. Perhaps the pain medication had jumbled his memories. He hoped. He wasn't sure how they would handle anything worse than that. "Excuse me?"

"Where's Michonne?" he said, thinking he was repeating himself. "Should I not ask that?"

He let out a light sigh of relief, affectionately rubbing his cheek again. "You said 'Mom' the first time."

"Did I?" he asked, scrunching up his nose.

"You did."

"Well you knew what I meant."

Rick could only chuckle as he stood from his seat to pull his walkie-talkie from his belt. "I'll tell her to come on down when she has a minute," he offered. "You want anything from the house?"

Carl only shook his head. He just wanted to see his friend.

"All right," he said. He gave him a small look of concern, but decided not to pry as he pressed the button to talk. "Michonne," he called softly, trying to avoid startling her, "you there?"

After a few seconds and some static, her voice came back through. "I'm here," she answered, sounding rushed. "What's wrong?"

He grinned at the fact that she was always at the ready. And that for once, absolutely nothing was wrong. "Nothin'," he assured her. "Carl was just wondering when you were comin' back."

"Oh. Well I can come back now if he wants."

"I think we'd both like that."

"Why does it sound like you're smiling," she asked skeptically. "What are you up to, Rick?"

He chuckled at her distrust of him, and the fact that she could so easily detect the happiness in his voice. "What could I possibly be up to, Michonne?"

"I don't know. I just know you sound weird."

"Well get down here and find out for yourself."

"All right," she conceded, and it sounded as though she were smiling herself. "Gimme a few minutes."

"We'll be here," he finished. He finally looked back at Carl as their conversation ended, oblivious to the fact that his son had been staring at him the entire time. "What?"

"Were you just flirting with Michonne?"

"...No," he frowned.

"You totally were," Carl grinned at him, watching in amusement as his dad began to blush. "Now that Jessie is gone, you're gonna give it a try with Michonne again?"

"Again?" he laughed, his eyebrows raised in surprise. That information was brand new to him. "When did I supposedly try the first time?"

"Well I don't know if you tried back at the prison. I think it was probably too close to Mom. But I know why you wanted her to stick around, Dad."

"You just know everything, huh?"

"Carol says I know too much for my own good."

"Yeah, well, she's right." He retrieved Carl's empty cup from his table, gently brushing his head before turning for the kitchen. "I'll let you believe what you want about that. But now that Jessie is gone, my focus will be where it should be. On you and Judith. On making Alexandria a home, like we had at the prison."

Carl was glad to hear that, because it meant his dad and Michonne might finally end up the way they were supposed to. That maybe, with a little more time, they would figure out what he'd known all along. Even if it meant he would have to go back to farming. He watched for a moment as his dad moved around the kitchen, and even though the infirmary wasn't their actual home, it still felt so familiar to him.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?" Rick distractedly replied as he retrieved water from the fridge.

"Do you think Judith will be scared of me?"

He couldn't help but stop what he was doing, nearly feeling thrown to the floor by the question. He swallowed hard and gripped the edge of the counter as he gazed over to his son. "Is that why you didn't ask to see her?"

He looked down in shame, not wanting to see the disappointment on his dad's face. "I don't want her to see me like this," he admitted quietly.

"Carl..."

"I know she'll have to eventually. I just... not yet. Not today."

"Your sister knows you, Carl. She loves you."

"I know," he nodded.

"Then why-"

"I just don't want her to cry when she sees me," he insisted, still staring down at his hands. "I can deal with a lot. Losing Mom, missing an eye. All right. But I don't know if I'm ready to deal with that yet."

Rick nodded back understandingly. He appreciated his honesty, even if it broke his heart to hear it. "Okay," he agreed. "All right."


Meanwhile, Michonne had done her best to keep her promise, forcing herself out of bed, as well as a much-needed nap, just a few minutes after Rick had summoned her. She wasn't going to keep Carl waiting. So she arrived to the infirmary, toting Judith, along with a change of clothes for Carl, and she walked inside, finding that it was not some elaborate trap – Carl, and more notably, Rick, were really and truly laughing. The sound was so rare and so pure, it made her smile before they even came into view.

"What are you two in here giggling about?" she greeted the duo. She couldn't help but notice that both of their faces fell the second they turned to her. "What?"

"Um," Rick stood from his seat, attempting to block Carl from Judith's view. "Hey."

Michonne immediately picked up on the odd behavior, and walked towards Carl. "What happened," she demanded, ignoring Rick's advance. "Are you okay?"

"Michonne, I-" Carl began to protest her bringing Judith any closer, but he stopped mid-sentence when his baby sister's little hands reached out for him. He felt his eye begin to water, and a slight stinging on the other side of his head that he disregarded to take her into his arms. "Hey, Jude," he sniffled.

The baby cooed happily as she was transferred from Michonne to her big brother, pulling at his hair once it was within reach. She loved his hair. "Car," she burbled in an adorable attempt to say his name.

Rick looked on in happy relief, while Michonne remained confused. "What the hell is wrong," she repeated, worried that no one had said anything yet.

"I was scared," Carl revealed, wiping at his eye as Judith balanced herself in his lap, still reaching for his long locks. "That she would be scared of me."

"Judith has stared in the face of walkers. Not to mention, your dad's beard," she joked, glancing at Rick just in time to see him playfully roll his eyes. "She's not gonna be scared of you in some bandage."

"I guess you're right," he smiled shyly.

Michonne pulled up her usual chair, right next to Rick's, and she took her seat; she noticed that he had water, his pills, and some ice chips were nearby. "In all seriousness, how are you feeling?"

"My head is killing me," he had to admit, though he had been trying to ignore it. "And it's a little hot in here."

"It's hot everywhere," Rick inserted as he felt Carl's forehead. "For some reason, I thought summer would be less brutal up north."

"I think it's worse," she shook her head. "I had to take a cold shower before I laid down for my nap."

Rick quirked an eyebrow at her admission, given that he generally employed cold showers for a very different reason. "Yeah, I'm sure it was just because it's hot out."

"You should give it a try sometime," she smirked, well aware of what his sarcastic tone was implying. "It's very refreshing."

"I can imagine."

"That is one thing I definitely don't miss about the prison," Carl cut in, completely ignorant to the innuendo being thrown around. "Cold water with random clumps of mud every now and then."

"You mean you didn't like your mud baths?" Michonne smiled at him, amused. "So spoiled."

"Well, I do have it good," he said, glancing back and forth between his dad, his sister, and Michonne. "Even when it's bad."

Rick stared at his son, moved by the way he managed to still look on the bright side, even when he had only one eye to see it with. He must have gotten that from Michonne, because it was something he perpetually struggled with himself. The two of them, the eternal optimists. He wondered if Judith would end up being more like him, a little bit darker, harder. He let out a sigh as he observed his children together. "So now that you know Judy doesn't think you're a monster, is there anything else you want from home?"

"Comic books?" Michonne submitted. "Or we can bring the laptop over so you can watch movies."

"I dunno," he shrugged. "I guess you can bring Prisoner of Azkaban from my dresser. I had been reading it to Judith the past few nights before bed."

"Got it," she winked, loving that he read to his sister. "I brought you a change of clothes, by the way. Just in case that t-shirt was starting to get old."

He chuckled as he glanced down at the giant shirt he was draped in. "You mean my hospital gown?"

"Yeah, that," she grinned. "Just in case."

"Okay. But just because you're bringing me stuff doesn't mean you guys get to leave me here alone all the time."

"We'll be here," Rick promised for himself and Michonne. "We're here as long as you want us."

"We'll take turns," Michonne agreed, softly rubbing his lower leg from where she sat. "If that's okay with you."

"I'm good with that."

Rick smiled at their arrangement, also patting his son's torso before standing to retrieve Judith. "Has she eaten?" he looked to Michonne.

She nodded, readjusting the infant's sundress as he sat back down with her. "Carol said she'd given her some macaroni just before we left."

"Macaroni?" Carl piped up excitedly. "Was there any more?"

"Sorry, kiddo. I honestly don't know."

"Oh yeah, I forgot how much you hate Carol's cooking."

Rick glanced at Michonne, surprised to hear the news. Suddenly, the optimist didn't sound so optimistic anymore. "Really now?"

"That's not..." She jokingly glared at Carl and looked back at Rick innocently. "I don't know what he's talking about."

"You literally said you hate all her casseroles."

"Carl!"

"And those cookies."

Rick laughed heartily, while Judith giggled along with him. "So do you really like my oatmeal, or is that a giant rouse, too?"

"Shut up," she chuckled, poking him in his thigh. "And you were not supposed to tell anyone that I said that," she directed to Carl. "How you just gonna sell me out like that?"

He shrugged feigning ignorance, an enormous smile taking over his young face. "I felt like Dad needed to know."

"And I feel like you're being messy."

"I mean, what if, like, he decides to bring over some food while you're here one day? He should know that you would rather eat your fingernails than Carol's spring cleaning casserole."

"I'm gonna get you," she promised, trying to suppress her smile as Rick and Judy continued to laugh at their exchange. And it hit her then, in that exact moment, with the four of them grinning from ear to ear, that this was what she hoped her life would be. People to love. People that loved her back. And she knew she had that in a very general sense, and it included Carol and Daryl and Maggie and Glenn. She cared for them deeply, and knew it was mutual. But it was something very different than what she shared with the Grimes'. The way they laughed together, the way they cried together. She was reminded of Deanna asking her what she wanted, and finally, the picture was beginning to come together in her mind. It looked like this.

"I guess I'm gonna have to be careful what I tell you from now on," Rick noted, shaking his head at Carl. "That was brutal."

"Right?" Michonne exclaimed. "Just put me on blast."

"I'm really just looking out for you, Michonne. I don't want you to have to eat your nails."

She nodded, understanding that he was going to continue firing shots at her the more she protested. "Just remember this when you want somebody to bring you something and I'm the only one home. Because I'm gonna remember it."

"I already know you wouldn't deprive an injured child of your love and care."

"You think you know that."

"Well how about if I tell you one of my dad's secrets? Would that make us even?"

"Now hold on a minute," Rick immediately interjected. He was all right with Michonne being the target, but he wasn't sure he was ready for whatever beans Carl had to spill. His son had a pretty big arsenal on him. "How'd I get dragged into this?"

"I'm just making it fair, Dad."

"I'm pretty sure I know all your dad's secrets already," Michonne said, glancing Rick's way as she contemplated the deal. "But sure. Try me."

"My dad doesn't want you to know this, so I don't think you do."

Rick narrowed his eyes at his son, wondering if he was going where he thought with this. "Carl..."

Michonne was more intrigued than ever when she saw that Rick was practically squirming in his seat. "Well what is it?"

"So you remember when we went back to our hometown last year for the weapons run?" Carl asked.

"Yeah..."

"And I'm sure you remember how we were up at Morgan's place, and you took some of his food."

"Yeah..." Michonne's voice got lower as she realized where this was headed.

"Carl," Rick called out to him again.

"Well that night Morgan got here, he was at our house for a while. We were talking about random stuff, and out of nowhere, he asked me if I took his protein bar," Carl went on, despite his father's ongoing protests. "And I said no, and he left it at that. So then he asks my dad, and he says no, and he left it at that. I mean, it seemed like it was done; everything was fine. I figured maybe he would ask you about it and you could just say no, too. But my dad..." He shook his head disappointedly as he pointed to his father, "he brought it back up after it was over, and he told Morgan that if any of his food was missing, you were the one that took it."

"Carl!"

"Rick!" Michonne rolled her head and her eyes in his direction, in disbelief that he'd tattled on her. "Seriously?"

Rick nervously bit his lip while it was his turn to glare at his son. "Okay," he nodded guiltily. "Yeah. I did that."

"You're a snitch!"

"Hold on," he tried to rebut, knowing he had no defense for himself. "I was just... I - I wanted him to trust me."

"He already trusted you!" She harshly punched him in the thigh again, and this time, Judith followed suit. "And you stood there like a mute when he asked me about that stupid protein bar. You're a fucking snitch, and you're raising your son to be one, too."

"Now wait a minute," Carl inserted, "I was just putting the truth out there."

"Spoken like a true snitch," Michonne quipped. "Let the record show, Judith and I were at home minding our own business when you called me down here."

"Well you've successfully turned her against me," Rick joked as his daughter continued to pound at his leg, "so I'd say we're about even."

"Oh, you think we're even?" she grinned mockingly at the two of them. "That's really cute."

Carl had raised his hand to protest, but the front door opened, filling the room with more heat and sunlight, and all four of them, turned to the sound. They expected to find Denise, coming to do her routine check in on Carl, but much to everyone's surprise, it was Enid.

"Hey," she greeted the smiling foursome, a bit taken aback by all their happy faces. "I… didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's all right," Rick waved her in. "We're just bein' silly."

"I just wanted to see how Carl was doing," she said, tentatively stepping farther into the room. "I heard he was awake, so I thought I'd see if he wanted some company."

Carl was unable to contain his smile as he took in the sight of his friend. Once the herd had taken over everything outside the gates, he had resigned himself to never seeing her again. "I didn't know you were back."

"I came back with Glenn." She smiled timidly at Judith as she passed where Rick and Michonne were sitting. "We finally got inside the gates last night."

"In the middle of the herd?"

"Most of it was gone by midnight," she shrugged. "Daryl's group came back with a shit ton of ammo. Like RPGs and stuff. I wish you could've seen it."

He chuckled, though he was a bit jealous he'd missed what had to be an epic end to the herd. "Sounds like Call of Duty."

"I mean, pretty much. It was insane." Enid's eyes darted to the floor when she realized how redundant it was to say that to Carl when he was the one amongst all the survivors to pay the biggest price. "But you already know that..."

"Carl, we're gonna head home," Rick declared before the kids got too deep into their discussion. It was clear Carl didn't need him much at the moment. He placed his walkie at Carl's side, lightly squeezing his shoulder, while Judith attempted to reach for him again, too. "You call down there if you need anything, all right?"

"Okay, Dad."

Michonne stood to leave as well, holding Carl's hand as she moved into the spot Rick occupied to give the teenager a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'll bring you some macaroni when I come back," she winked.

He smiled at her joke, watching as she and his dad and sister disappeared from the room. He felt his face tingling as he switched his focus back to Enid. "It's so weird, I have one eye, but I'm seeing two of you right now."

She frowned in concern, unable to stop staring at the right side of his face, covered in gauze. "Should I go find that doctor?"

"It'll go away," he shook his head. "She says it's my brain just trying to reformat what it knows."

"Does it hurt?"

"It's like a dull headache for the most part. Sometimes a shooting pain, but it's not too bad. I know it could be worse."

"Only you would be able to find the bright side in this," she rolled her eyes. She threw off her backpack and walked around the bed to claim the seat Rick had been sitting in. "I brought you my iPod, but I didn't get a chance to charge it."

"Well thanks for nothing," he teased.

"Mikey said he wanted you to have his DSi while you're in here," she added, pulling the handheld game from her bag. "I brought cards. Some Chronicles of Narnia. A pen and some paper." She was piling all of the named items onto his bed faster than he could catch them. "I wasn't sure how long you were gonna be here, so I just brought everything."

Carl sat there stupefied, but grateful that she had gone to all this trouble for him. "Thank you," he nodded, catching a ziplock bag of pretzels that she'd thrown at him. "I don't know when I'm getting out either, but my dad thinks it'll be at least a week."

"A week in bed? That sucks."

"And then I have to relearn a bunch of stuff, like how to shoot. It's gonna be a long way back to normal."

"It's been eight months for me, and I'm still waiting for things to be 'normal' again. It's not gonna happen."

He quickly decided to relent, not wanting to argue about it. "I guess it just depends on your definition of normal."

"Guess so." Taking a look around the large room, she sat back in her chair and used the edge of Carl's bed as a footrest. "You mind if I ask you something personal?"

"It'd be a welcome change from me asking you all the questions," he smirked. He was sorting through all his new loot as he waited for her to speak. "Shoot."

"So I know Rick is your real dad, but all the other people you came here with... Do they tell you what to do, too?"

"Umm. What?" he laughed, confused by the question.

"I mean, if they told you to... I dunno, stay in the house," she suggested, staring at him intently. "Would you listen?"

"I guess." He continued chuckling nervously, unsure of what she was getting at.

She could tell he didn't understand, and it was irritating her that she couldn't express herself better. She rolled her eyes as she tried rephrasing her question. "I guess I'm asking what it's like to have this new family. Like, do you think of them as your aunts and uncles? More parents? What's it like?"

"Oh," he sighed. "I mean, I guess I'd say Michonne is most like my mom. She takes care of me the most besides my dad. Carol is like an aunt," he shrugged. "She watches Judith a lot, mostly when I'm in class." He laughed as he tried to think of a title for Daryl. "I guess Daryl's like my cool uncle. I dunno. And… I think Glenn and Maggie are like my older brother and sister. They don't tell me what to do, but they look out for me."

She nodded, her gaze blank and fixated on the laces of her boots. "So you'd say Maggie and Glenn are cool?"

"Yeah, they're pretty awesome."

"And do you like having a new mom?"

"It's... yeah." He shrugged again, struggling to put his complicated feelings into words. "It's a little weird because it's not like my dad and Michonne are together or anything. So she's not my stepmom. But it's cool having that person that cares about the big things and the little things. She makes sure I don't get killed, of course, but... she makes sure that I have a life, too. She's the reason we even came to Alexandria," he smiled once more as he recalled how adamant she was against his dad. "I wasn't doing so great after my mom died," he intimated. "My dad wasn't either. There was a lot of stuff going on, but we met Michonne right when we needed to. And things have only gotten better since then. So yeah, I'd say I like it."

She accepted his answer thoughtfully, almost envying his ability to see things the way he did. He lost his mom not too long before she'd lost her parents, but he wasn't bitter. He wasn't sad. Not like her. And maybe it was because he still had a family. "I'm thinking about moving in next door to you," she casually declared, her gaze flitting up to Carl to see his reaction. "With Maggie and Glenn."

He looked up from fidgeting with the wire of his notepad, stunned by her revelation. "Really?"

"Maybe," she mumbled. "It's gotta be better than being at Olivia's. Having someone who gives a shit."

"Well Glenn and Maggie definitely give a shit."

"So you think it's a good idea?"

"I think it's a great idea. You said you were an orphan. Now you've got two really great people wanting to look after you." He nodded, happy for her; happy that maybe she wouldn't be so sad any more. "You're almost as lucky as I am."

She smiled in a rare display of genuine contentment. "Shut up."


Later that night, a few hours after the sun had disappeared for the day, and everyone had settled in for the evening - including Carl, still at the infirmary with Enid - Michonne found herself sitting at the kitchen table with the plans Deanna had given her the morning before. The future, as it were. She had only glanced at them briefly before everything went to hell, but figured she should take a serious look before they began rebuilding. Assess their supplies, put names to tasks, and get the Safe Zone on the road to recovery.

She had begun scribbling her notes, and had gotten a bit lost in her work when she heard footsteps behind her. She knew it was Rick. He wasn't wearing his boots, but she knew that walk well. Felt that electric current. "Hey," she sent back to him, not looking up from her work.

He walked in to join her, pulling out the seat adjacent to her. "What are you doin'?"

She smirked as she got a whiff of his clean scent, then glanced up at him, seeing his curls pushed off of his face. He looked like some kind of ad for jeans, standing there in his white tee and Levi's, wet hair and bare feet. "Cold shower?" she guessed.

"It's hot as hell in this house," he conceded, smiling as he sat down.

"Uh huh." Michonne did have to admit the heat was still pretty uncomfortable, considering it was nearly 11:00 pm. She had already exchanged her day clothes for pajamas, which she typically reserved for her bedroom only. "I'm sure that was the only reason."

"Well you're sittin' here half naked, so I'd say my reasoning is pretty damn sound."

"Half naked? I'm wearing a shirt and shorts."

"A sleeveless shirt and shorts that are actual underwear," he noted, knocking her knee with his own. "That's a lot of skin." Rick's eyes zeroed in on her lips for a second, but his gaze was pulled downward to her tits, as it was clear she wasn't wearing a bra, and it was nearly impossible to look away. "Not that I'm complaining," he added, finally finding her face again.

"Of course," she smiled, having noticed his eager stare. She crossed her legs, trying not to allow his wandering eyes to make her any hotter than she already was. "Well, to answer your question, I was expanding these plans Deanna gave us."

"Expanding?" he repeated, glancing at the blueprint spread across the table. "On what?"

"You never looked at these, did you?"

"I didn't have a chance before..." He trailed off as he realized he was making excuses. "No."

Michonne turned the papers so that he could read them right side up, and then scooted her chair over so that they were side by side. They were so close, their thighs were touching and she could smell the toothpaste on his breath. She couldn't help but notice that he didn't move to give her more space, even though he could've. She expected him to. And given how hot it was, he probably should've. They simply remained that way. Close.

"So here's what Deanna had written," she pointed to the penciled writing in various spaces on the page. "Given we expand the wall, it would be perfect for a giant farm. Like what you and Hershel had at the prison."

He nodded, smiling at the thought of Hershel. And then, at the scent of Michonne's hair. Like almond or coconuts or something equally delicious. But he shook it away to continue studying the plans before he could get too distracted. He could see where she'd drawn up a church, a new armory, a daycare. A full community was on those pages. "You really think we can do all this?"

She passed him her notes, where she had started to expound on a timeline. "I imagine it'll take at least a year. Maybe longer since winter is on the horizon. It gets colder here a lot sooner, so..."

He nodded, skimming her notes and terrible handwriting. "Now that I know you were a writer, I just want you to know that your handwriting is inexcusable."

"Fuck you," she grinned. She grabbed her pen and began to write directly on the map while he went on examining her notes.

"I really can't read your writing, Michonne. What does this even say?"

"It very clearly says, 'jail,' Rick."

He stared at the word for a moment longer and shook his head. "Maybe you just write too fast. You oughta try slowin' down."

"Yes, Daddy," she replied sarcastically, and then immediately regretted it. It came out much more flirtatious than she intended. "Don't reply to that."

"I wasn't going to," he smirked, licking his lips as he resumed his reading. "This says, what? 'Expansion'?"

She leaned in to get a better look at her script, squinting at the entire line. "Yes."

He stared, wondering if she actually did know what it said, but dismissed it as he watched her excitedly scrawl across the page. Her brain seemed to be moving faster than her hands possibly could, and it made sense why he was looking at chicken-scratch. She was excited. And in turn, he was excited for her. "What do those arrows mean?" he asked, noticing several of them surrounding the Monroe home, as well as Jessie's and Tobin's.

"Well, these are both empty now," she said, pointing to the Andersons' and the home across the street. "I don't know if Spencer will want to stay in his family home alone, and if he does, that's fine. But that gives us a lot more space to spread out if we want to."

"You want space?" he asked, hoping to hide the disappointment in his voice.

"Well not from you," she promised. "But we've got five adults in a four-bedroom house. Next door, there are seven of them."

"Because we wanted to be close…"

"And now, we don't need to be. We don't have to be on top of each other." Michonne pointed to another empty home, just beside Aaron and Eric's. It had belonged to David and Betsy, and it was hard not to think of what he'd said to her the day he died. How he reminded her of herself. She let out a quick breath to compose her rampant thoughts before going on. "You, me, and the kids," she proposed. "We could all have our own rooms." She then pointed to Tobin's old house, crossways from their current home. "Glenn, Maggie, maybe Tara decides to stay with them. They're gonna need space with their new baby."

Rick had never even considered that he could have more space. He certainly didn't need it. But he couldn't say it wouldn't be nice. As much as he loved his kids, as much as he was thankful for what he did have, a room of his own would have been ideal. For a variety of reasons. "The four of us, huh?"

"For now. If you want." She pushed her chair back from the table, using his shoulder for leverage as she stood. "At least, until you decide to get another girlfriend."

"That's very funny," he returned, biting his bottom lip as he watched her stroll those long legs of hers towards the kitchen. "She wasn't my girlfriend."

Michonne didn't reply to him, but silently went about finding a glass. She was pulling the ice tray from the freezer when Rick appeared in the threshold of the kitchen. "You want some water?"

"She wasn't my girlfriend," he repeated.

She nodded, watching as he leaned against the doorframe, and she inhaled sharply at the sight. She rolled her eyes, hating how sexy he was without even trying. "You said you didn't know what it was, but you're clear it wasn't that."

"It was just... an attraction." He rested his head against the wall too, wishing he had a better answer for it. "Some flirting here and there. A kiss the other night. But nothing serious."

She went to the sink, her fingers resting on the head of the faucet as she felt a weight lift off of her shoulders. She wasn't jealous. She didn't think she was, anyway. But the thought of Rick being with someone else had managed to rub her the wrong way. Perhaps because she wasn't sure where that left her. "So you never..."

"No," he shook his head, adamant in his answer. His left thumb involuntarily went to twisting his wedding ring around his finger as he stood there watching her. "Would it have bothered you if we had?"

She began to run the water, hoping it would drown out her thoughts. The ones screaming 'yes' at the back of her mind. "I don't know," she lied, filling up her glass.

"You sure about that?"

"I don't know what you want me to say here."

"Just the truth," he retorted, his eyes narrowing on her as he folded his arms over his chest. "I know we don't have any obligation to one another, but I don't know... I think I'll feel a certain way if and when you decide to date someone else."

She brought her glass from her lips and tilted her head, trying to read his expression. Trying to figure out if he meant what he was saying. "Really?"

"I think so," he nodded. "I mean, it's been us for a while now. You know? You, me, Carl, Judith. That's how we pulled up to these gates. It'll be weird when it's not like that anymore."

Michonne chuckled a bit contemptuously, because she could see that he didn't even realize he'd been doing that very thing with Jessie. That was what bothered her so much. She was okay if her latent attraction to him amounted to nothing. If the flirting didn't mean much to him, she could take that. But Rick was breaking up their family and wasn't going to even bother telling her. "So did you consider this when you were going around kissing Jessie?"

"I didn't think," he confessed. "Not the consequences for my kids or hers. Not what anyone else might think about it. Not really. I didn't consider the long term."

"You just wanted to escape," she recalled, rolling her eyes again. She took another sip of water and set her glass on the counter. She was no longer hot anymore, but felt rather cold, in fact.

"I know how it sounds," Rick proclaimed sincerely, moving into the kitchen, closer to where she stood. Too close to where she stood. "And I wanna be better," he said. "I see you with your optimism and all your plans for the future of this place. And Carl is... somehow, he's okay. I think he's gonna be okay. I just wanna be the father those kids deserve. I wanna lead this place the way these people deserve. I'm ready to be better."

She stared up at him, her fingers covering her mouth as she considered his declaration. The determined look in his eye said that he was begging her to believe him, and she knew she had to. And she did. "I'm glad to hear it," she replied, briefly resting her hand on his chest. He was breathing hard, she noticed. "Now you have to actually do it."

He nodded, closing his eyes as her touch melted from his chest. "We get to come back," he whispered for the second time that day.

She winced, feeling her eyes water; feeling simultaneously annoyed, hopeful, confused. She loved and hated how much of her own emotional state was wrapped up in this man. "Let's hope so," she said shortly, turning from the intimate scene to grab her glass.

"Michonne," he called after her before she could completely walk away from him.

She spun on her barefoot heel and faced him once more, waiting for him to speak.

"What are you gonna do?" he posed, leaning against the counter as he waited for her to answer.

"Excuse me?"

"You've got your plans for Alexandria. I've got my mission ahead of me." He had to actively stop himself from fiddling with his wedding ring again. "What about you? What does your future look like?"

She scoffed at the fact that she was being asked that question for the second time in two days. And now that she had a better idea of the answer, it was scaring the shit out of her. What if what she wanted didn't want her back? "I don't know," she lied once more. She stared at his feet in order to avoid his gaze.

"Michonne…"

She hated the way he said her name in that gruff drawl of his. "What?"

He had noticed that her tone was clipped, her body language completely the opposite of what it had been when they were sitting at the table. Now, she was retreating from him, maybe from the conversation. "Be honest."

"I just wanna be happy," she shook her head. "Whatever that means, however I have to get there… That's all."

He took her in one more time, from the top of her head, with her hair wrapped into its messy bun, down her lean, curvy frame until he reached her bare feet, noticing she had painted her toenails at some point in recent weeks. They were nearly the same color purple as her tank top, and it made him smile, because she had reached a level of comfort there that he hadn't yet. "Good for you." He nodded, happy for her; happy that maybe her goal wasn't so far out of reach. Maybe his wasn't either. "Now you have to actually do it."


A/N: Just want to say to everyone reading, I hope you have a Happy New Year! You guys have been instrumental in making 2015 what it was for me, and there aren't enough thanks to to express my full gratitude in return. But please know that I'm thankful. I wish the best imaginable 2016 to you ALL, and here's to a Richonne-filled new year. I love y'all. -Ashley