Michonne collapsed to her knees as the blood-curdling scream rang out over the gun fire. Get Up. Her will screamed inside. Get Up! Michonne never imagined that the flexibility and balance she learned through years of disciplined practice would save her life so directly. Her attacker made the fatal flaw of shifting her balance of gravity into pinning Michonne further over the half wall. A quick kick to the knee and it was over, or rather that worthless bitch was over.

"Rick," she whispered, but her face was so swollen that only the "ic" made a sound. She could hear the gunfire in all directions. More would be coming for her soon. Get Up! Michonne slumped forward until she was on all-fours. Gravity now pressing down against her ribs made her inhale sharply. Move. Her head hung down. Blood began to pool in the bruises on her face. The pressure was excruciating, but she was unable to lift her head with her strangled neck. She would have to endure.

Slowly, one hitched breath at a time she crawled Right arm, move. Left leg, move. The palms of her gloved hands dragged against the rough floor. Left arm, move. Right leg, move. She made it to the doorway which lead inside. "Agggh," she wailed as she labored over the tall threshold. Her ribs throbbed in pain from the contact with the hard surfaces. She almost passed out there on the attic floor. But then she heard strange new sounds, like horses and growling. The sounds were more chaotic, not just gunfire. This was good. Get up!

She continued to crawl across the floor of the room for what felt like an eternity. She barely opened her right eye, choosing to cross in darkness, indeed blacking out periodically. She definitely had a concussion. We're the ones who live. She thought to herself over and over if she could focus on that then perhaps she wouldn't slip into a coma. Then, all was quiet. She could hear gun fire near the front of the community but not close by anymore. It was over. With all remaining energy, she shifted her weight to one hip to fold her body into a sitting position against a wall. The pressure in her face and chest eased just the slightest. She would have to wait here for Rick, she bargained. He would come for her of that she was certain because We're the ones who win.

Rick sat on the stool next to Michonne's convalescent bed. His head tilted back resting against the door casing. His eyes slowly fluttered open and closed as a gentle breeze from the cracked open window lulled his thoughts. It was a good night for a breeze, but he also wanted to be able to listen for any new trouble that might arrive.

Drowsy-eyed or not, sleep evaded him. He wanted Michonne's hand in his, but he knew keeping her forearm hostage for hours on end wasn't comfortable for her. His left hand caressed her shoulder and rested there on her warm skin, underneath her soft hair.

Eric came into the room, a cup of chipped ice in his hand. Rick startled. Eric smiled and handed the cup to Rick. "Here, for Michonne." Rick nodded with gratitude. Eric continued, "I've had some experience with this lately. Chipped ice. My specialty." He looked at Michonne sleeping and back at Rick.

"Aaron is lucky to have you."

Eric smiled and exhaled, "It's not luck, just love."

"Oh, I know. I also know it is harder to sit at their side with a cup of ice than it is to be lyin in that bed. Aaron is lucky."

Eric shook his head to keep from blushing at the sincere complement. He could see why Aaron could not stop volunteering to go. Rick had a way of making everyone's contribution, no matter how small, feel essential. He walked over to Rosita's bed to check on her water supply and medication.

"Rick, if you want to go rest for a few hours, I can sit here with them."

"Nah, Judith's at Hilltop. Michonne's here. There's no where I could sleep without 'em. I'm fine here."

"Well, at least let me get you a better chair."

Rick started to protest again but as he shifted positions his stiff left side seized in pain. He abruptly sucked air through his teeth and looked up to see Eric not taking no for an answer.

"Yeah, tha'd be good." As Eric exited, Rick stood up to move the stool to an out of the way spot. He had to admit to himself it was pretty damned uncomfortable. Michonne rustled under her blanket. Her face grimaced as she started to wake. Rick quickly returned and crouched at her side.

"Hey," he whispered in her right ear, "I'm right here. I got ice. Want some?" The grimace on her face faded. He loved that he could bring her comfort, it was a skill he had learned in this new world. And now he could be here for the bravest person he'd ever known, doing this together.

Rick took out a chip and rubbed it softly against her lips. Michonne parted her lips and accepted the chip to suck on and sooth her parched throat. She flashed a small half smile before drifting back to sleep.

Eric reentered the room with a cushioned chair. He paused to observe this small moment of Rick Grimes, a man he perceived could never be still, squatting by the bed of his partner. He wasn't sure why he needed to see this, but in this moment, he finally had empathy for Rick and the choices he made.

Eric cleared his throat to make his presence known and placed the chair down. Before exiting he said, "Aaron will be by in the morning with some food for everyone. I hope spaghetti for breakfast sounds okay."

"Sounds perfect."

Rick placed his new waiting chair next to the bed. This time, toward the foot of her bed facing her. He took her right hand in his and exhaled. Now, he could try to take a nap.