A/N: Kind reminder that I have shifted some scenes about. I've kept the same basis but felt as though I wanted to focus to more zone in on Michonne and Rick.

"Carl get a blanket!" Rick shouted, nearly out of breath from carrying Michonne so far. Dead weight was not something he loved carrying about, although the zombie apocalypse had put his body to the test, he could only endure so much. "Beth! Water!" He huffed, "and a towel." Carl placed down the blanket in front of him and Rick kneeled down to rest Michonne on it. "Woah, woah, woah. Easy now."

Putting her Katana to rest - and secretly embarrassed at how the weight of it had seemed to slow him down whilst it seemed she carried it with such ease - he grabbed the bottle of water from Beth. Michonne shifted beneath him, bloodied and looking in and out of consciousness. Unscrewing the lid and pouring a slight amount over her chest, he watched her eyes flutter and gulped small enough so no one would notice the break in his breath.

Restless in her wake Rick hushed her, placing a shaking hand over her, a small part in the back of his mind bringing up all of his past feelings and making him afraid to touch her. But right now, she didn't look fragile, in this state, she looked hard and unbreakable, like a dark cloud filled day that showed no let up of rain.

Once her eyes fluttered open she didn't look at him, the frantic motion of them left him feeling confused and in a haze, almost forgetting where he was. Rick couldn't focus on the slickness of her chest from the water, but just making sure she didn't escape.

"Hey, hey, it's alright." He repeated over and over again, waiting until the rise of her chest lowered. "Who are you?" Rick asked, knowing the answer. But with all the eyes watching, he didn't want all the questions to follow after. He wasn't ready to relive the past in the form of answers.

As an answer to the question Michonne looked away from him and reached for her Katana, which Rick kicked away with frustration. He could feel himself becoming irritated with her difficulty already and had to remind himself that it was only his old emotions still angry from the closure he didn't recieve.

"We're not going to hurt you," he said, grabbing her arm and turning her over. Her lips pressed together as he stared at her and hardened his grip. Unlike before, he was in charge here, he had the future in his hands. "Unless you try something stupid first, alright? Wanna tell us your name?"

She raised herself up them, propped herself on one arm and stared at him, confused at the question. Michonne opened her mouth, "But you-" She whispered and was interrupted by an urgent Rick, an erratic look in his eyes. "You wanna tell us your name?" He whispered again. Slowly, but surely, she was getting the idea that no one here knew Rick, that no one knew who he had been or what he had grown to be. They must just have known him after this world fell apart. Staring at him, she saw everything she left behind. The blue eyes, the soft lips, the strong hands. She remembered it all and with an inward hiss, looked away from him, the lump in her throat not allowing her to say her name.

Standing up, Rick waited whilst everyone packed up their stuff. No words had been passed between them and the tension in the room was high, he could feel it and he was sure she could. They never broke their gaze, their past running through their minds and the sick twist of irony finally bringing them together after all this time, in such a situation that requires so much forgiveness but ruthlessness, tempted them both to break a sweat in the moment.

Pushing the Katana towards the sky Rick spoke to her, "We'll keep this safe and sound. Doors are all locked, you'll be safe here. We can treat that."

Still, Michonne didn't speak and Rick felt as though nothing was getting through to her. He understood though, with the way she was being treated, sat here tied to bars, unable to move. For the first time in forever, they had switched places. While he had been stuck in the prison of them, the constant reminders of who they were surrounding him every day he would get up to work and pass the school, she had been free. Now here he was, able to move about, able to leave her in a room and forget she was there, while she was stuck remembering that he was the one who saved her and brought her here. And although it nagged at him, to let her go and show her the prison, show her what he had made home, he couldn't. Not yet. Things still hurt. Lori still hurt. She still hurt.

"I didn't ask for your help." She finally said through gritted teeth.

"Doesn't matter. We can't let you leave here."

With that, Rick walked towards the open door that Daryl closed behind him and they both started their daily routine of checking around the prison.

"Didn't you feel that man?" Daryl questioned.

"What, Daryl?" Rick replied, rubbing a hand over his face.

"That tension. It was like you knew each other." Daryl jingled the keys in his hands, whistling a random tune that just didn't fit.

Rick didn't feel well enough to answer.

"Rick, what are we going to do with her?" Hershal asked, looking as Rick attempted to find good soil in the field. Rubbing the back of his head, Rick thought to himself about giving a sufficient answer. "Do you trust her?"

About to open his mouth, Rick closed it again, unsure of whether he did. He had trusted her. But the past didn't matter any more, it was the now, he couldn't carry on holding onto old grudges. He was different now. More assertive, more aware, he was in charge of the people that called this place a pit stop a home a base a camp a... whatever. Right now, he was more of a man that he felt he had been the first time he held Carl and that meant making sacrifices, that meant making decisions.

"I don't know her. So I don't trust her."

"Or are you just fuelled by your ego?" Hershal laughed and hopped over to him. "Listen Rick, from what you've told me, people don't get second chances like this. They wouldn't even get it in the normal world. You've got a kind heart. Use it. And your brain." Hershal tapped his chest before giving him a wrinkled old smile. As Hershal returned to the prison, Rick looked at the scenery in front of him, at the half dead zombies and the baking sun and he shook his head. How had she gotten here?

"We can tend to that wound for you, give you a little food and water and send you on your way." This was his heart speaking, allowing the comfort of things he knew were hard to find, food and water scarce but needed, he would give enough to have her survive until he was sure she could stand on her own two feet.

Behind the strong voice that left him was a cowering one, one that he knew would ache at the sight of seeing her go. But, now he had a child... two in fact. With so much loss hanging in the air and with so much he had seen, it was too much to risk for something he had attempted - and nearly - buried a long time ago. The hard look on her face didn't move, neither did any muscle on her body as her hand held her bullet wound. She showed no sign of emotion or gratitude and it hurt to see the girl that had shone so bright, with 'thank you's' and delicate skin like this. It hurt because he was sure, in the reflection of the dim light, she could see the same change in him.

"But you're going to have to tell us how you found us, and why you were carrying the baby formula?" Now his brain took control, leadership qualities boomed, he had to find out just how she knew.

In the short moment she decided to speak, they conversed. A spring of hope lit up in the room as she mentioned an 'asian boy' and 'a pretty girl'. Rick could hear Hershal speak, but couldn't focus, asking his own questions on auto pilot and looking at the way she had changed. Her grown chest, her fuller lips, her locked hair. Michonne had always spoken about it, but he didn't believe she would have the guts to do it. It suited her better, he'd admit... actually, anything could suit her, her face could work with anything.

At the moment he saw anger raise through her, a stroke of his childish self started to cower and be afraid at the upset he was causing her. Feeling weak, he reached out, "Tell us where our people are now!" Rick grabbed her wound, squeezing it tight, blocking out her rage filled cry at him. It was what was needed at the moment.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" Michonne raged through gritted teeth and Rick stepped closer to the finger she pointed, watching her. Wanting to grab her hand, press it down to her side and tell her that he was sorry, it was what needed to happen and that it wouldn't happen again. He wanted to say that it hurt to hear, although it was his fault, and that it reminded him of the time she had wanted him to touch her more.

In a quick matter of seconds her and Daryl were in front of him, war about to start as Daryl pressed his crossbow right next to her face.

Feeling the pressure in the room, Rick raised his hand on top of the and pushed it down, trying to calm her. The rising of her chest gave away her every feeling, "Find him yourself!" She spat the word 'him' with so much venom he was sure the spit that flew would sizzle the cement floor.

Sharing a look, they didn't break eyes off each other as Rick stepped in the place Daryl's crossbow had been. "You came here for a reason." In all the hullabaloo, a part of Rick wished he could call it fate, but fate, the universe, the world had played tricks. His heart was not steady, neither was his mind, untasteful in its timing, the universe had given him what he wanted most at the wrong time.

Michonne's face seemed to soften, enough for her mouth to open and converse with him just enough for him to learn about the town and the governer just a little bit more. He cocked his head and stepped closer to her, entranced by her voice just a little bit more. It sounded so familiar, like an old song he hadn't listened to for years. Despite all that had unfolded in a mere hour or two, he found it settled him enough to open up just enough of him not to doubt her. '"We could slip our way through."' caught him off guard, making him lower his head and smirk just a little. The ease of which she used it, that word, 'we', inclusive, she had already wormed her way in here and he didn't want to correct her.

After Hershal had fixed her wounds and Rick had kissed the heads of his two children, he went down to her cell. The keys jingling in his hands as the nerves built up in his veins. Opening the cell, the dim light didn't allow for him to see much and his footsteps echoed a little bit more than he liked.

"Michonne?" He said, placing the water bottle near the opening of the door. "I bought you water." There was a certain softness in his voice that Michonne found. She stepped out from the shadows, arms crossed and the dim lighting exaggerating the plain look on her face.

"You don't know my name, remember?" She walked towards him, stopping just millimetres from him, then bending down to pick up the bottle. He held his breath as she stayed down there far too long before standing back up and walking away from him.

He didn't know what to say, except that she had no right to say things with so much spite, especially since she was the one that left him broken and bitter for a good portion of his earlier life.

"I never thought I'd see you again." He said.

"I'd never thought you hurt me."

"Don't, Michonne." There were things he didn't want to open in the middle of the night with his kids sleeping just blocks away, with his wife dead.

"I heard Carl, in all my daze? Is that your son? You had always said you wanted a Carl..."

"I said it once Michonne, you remember when."

She shifted then, the pressure on one leg too much. "Stop saying my name, you don't know it."

Rick ran a hand over his face and scratched his beard. "Thangs are different now." The silence recieved from Michonne acted as a reply. "I have to think of you differently. I have kids now."

"Kids?" Her voice sounded weaker, hurt even, but Rick didn't allow his walls to fall. Who he was now isn't what he was then and she had to see that. That he had grown fine without her there. But he found himself wanted to break down in front of her, there was a certain air between them that threatened to destroy all his walls and tell her about everything she had missed. About the days his mother had talked about her's and the parties and the kisses and how Shane never changed one bit and then how Shane changed, he wanted to talk about Lori, but the lump that formed in his throat wouldn't allow him to for a very long time. Then he wanted to talk about Carl and how that boy had seen things no boy should see, he wanted to take her hand and show her his new baby girl, who's eyes mirrored the sky and tell her just how much he had survived.

"Right now, to everyone else, we are strangers. We are Michonne. We are not the same two people who knew each other. Thangs have changed." He turned his back to her, grabbing the bars of the door. Attempting to compose himself before he went to lay in his bed and had to keep quiet enough not to wake Carl.

Rick closed the door and locked it, sighing heavily. Before he could turn, he heard footsteps and looked up at Michonne through the bars. "Rick." There was his name, in her mouth, sounding just the same. "I-" She looked at him, her eyes wide.

"I'm sorry I left you."