Rick slowly opened his eyes, letting in the small amount of light that peeked out from the curtains. His body still hurt, and he had quite the headache, but he didn't feel like he was on death's doorstep anymore. Rick was just glad to still be alive. He needed to be there for his children. Rick's heart dropped as he remembered. He had no idea where Judith or anyone else in his group was. Rick let out a long exhale, stress hitting him more than it had in a long time. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but he knew that it was important to get on his feet and look for anyone in his group right away.

Rick sat up slowly, groaning and closing his eyes at the aches he felt in his body. His muscles were sore, he felt bruised, the thigh that was grazed by a bullet was hurting, and his ribs were fucking killing him. He inhaled a shaky breath, let it out and opened his eyes. He looked at the table in front of him and saw some kind of sword resting on it. Rick's eyebrows furrowed, trying to remember whether that was there or not when he and Carl stumbled into the house. He would have remembered a sword just resting there, even in the state he was in. Rick's confusion quickly turned into awareness. He looked around him and was shocked to find a feminine figure lying on the couch near his.

He withdrew his Colt Python from the holster and walked slowly towards the body, concerned about Carl's whereabouts and confused as to who this person was and why she was here. He towered over the sleeping body that was starting to stir and slowly raised his arm, pointing it right between the intruder's eyes.

"Who the fuck are you?" Rick hissed harshly, pressing the gun to her head harder when she tried to sit up. The woman looked at him fiercely, her dark eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed. When she didn't answer, Rick nudged the gun harder. "Where is my son?" he almost yelled.

"Listen, asshole," Michonne seethed, "your son is perfectly fine, and I've been here trying to help him take care of you." She was absolutely pissed at the nerve of this guy. She could understand his reaction, but she was too mad to give him any excuses and she had just woken up. "Get your gun out of my face." Her voice was calm, but her eyes were full of unbridled emotion.

Rick tilted his head and stared at her, trying to intimidate her in his broken state, but she didn't give in. They were stuck in an intense stare down, his stormy blues on her expressive browns, until they heard noise on the steps.

"Dad?" Carl stood at the bottom of the steps, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Rick looked over at him, relieved to see that he was alright. He looked back at the woman, narrowed his eyes at her, and slowly walked towards his son, still feeling the effects of the beating his body took. Rick looked over Carl making sure he wasn't hurt, and then raised his eyebrow at his son.

"You gonna tell me who that is and what she's doin' here?" Rick asked, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer from Carl. He glanced over at her to make sure she wasn't going to try anything, but she was still seated on the couch, arms folded in annoyance.

"I went to look for some supplies and I saw her and she helped me out," Carl said, giving a very abridged version of his first meeting with Michonne.

"Carl, you know shouldn't have gone out there by yourself. It's dangerous."

"I'm not a kid. I can take care of myself, and I did. I got food and water, I secured the house, and I met Michonne and she helped bandage you up." Carl didn't want to go into detail as to how he and Michonne crossed paths, knowing that would completely obliterate his argument.

Rick regarded his son closely, before turning to face the woman, Michonne. "You got a camp?" he asked, wondering if there were more people that he needed to worry about.

"No."

"How'd you know we were here?"

"Like Carl said, he saw me. He went into the house I slept in, I wasn't paying attention, and he snuck up on me. I told him we could help each other out, and now here we are."

"And I'm just supposed to believe you?"

"If I was going to do something, I would have done it while you were unconscious."

Rick didn't like her answer, but she was right. If she were really going to try to kill him or Carl, she probably wouldn't have waited for him to regain consciousness. Despite bandaging him up and helping Carl, Rick was still wary of her. He wasn't very trusting when it came to strangers, and the fight at the prison certainly didn't help.

"Well, I'm awake now, so you can go. Thanks for the help."

"Yeah, you're awake, but you can barely move," she said, pointing out how bad of a shape he was in. "If something happened, Carl would basically be fending for himself. I know you lost people; I can help you find them. It'll be much easier with three people instead of two. You need me." Michonne didn't like that she was indirectly begging this man to let her stay, but the thought of being out there again by herself trumped that feeling. The fact that there were probably more of them out there, an actual group, made her want to stay even more. The last time she had been with a group was at the refugee camp, and even though things didn't work out, she felt like she was doing something there.

Rick stared at her and wondered how much Carl told her. She made a good point, though; having another person would help. More than he wanted to admit. He didn't like the thought of someone he didn't know being so close to his child, but he couldn't deny that Carl was still safe, even after they were together without Rick's knowledge. He sighed and rubbed the beard that was becoming thicker than he ever remembered it being.

"Dad," Carl called softly. Rick looked at his son and watched as Carl nodded his head, telling him that it was okay to let her stay. Carl already felt like they could trust her. Besides, he liked her, even in the short amount of time they knew each other. It also helped that Michonne covered his ass with the story she told his father. If Rick found out that she snuck up on him, he'd never get his father to see him as the man he was becoming.

Rick faced Michonne again, letting his eyes rest on her so that he could size her up. She still hadn't made any sudden moves, and he didn't get a bad feeling about her. Even though he hadn't carried his badge for a while, his cop instincts didn't abandon him, and he was still confident in his ability to read people. He made his way to her, invading her personal space, and holstered his gun.

"Stand up," he said gruffly.

"I already told you-"

"Stand up and hold your arms out," he said, cutting her off. Michonne let out a heavy sigh, trying not to let him frustrate her further, and did as he asked. She understood his caution; he needed to make sure he and his son would be safe. She respected it, even. Besides, she was the one asking him to take a complete stranger in. The least she could do was let him deem whether or not she was considered a danger to him and Carl on his own terms.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Rick asked her while patting her down, trying to make sure that she didn't have any weapons on her.

"I don't know. Too many to count." Michonne was confused by the seemingly random question, but she went along with it anyway.

"Turn around," Rick said as he finished checking her front for weapons. She turned carefully, and Rick noticed how… shapely she was. He shifted his train of thought after letting his eyes linger for only a second. "How many people have you killed?" he asked, resuming his questioning and search for possible concealed weapons on her.

"Four," Michonne said after a pause. Rick finished patting her down and she turned around to face him again. He looked at her before he spoke again.

"Why?"

Michonne was hoping he wouldn't ask that. "One was some random guy who tried to kill me while I was traveling. The other three… I had my reasons." Michonne wouldn't elaborate further.

Rick stared at her curiously, wondering what she was refusing to tell him. He figured it was probably something personal since she told him about killing someone who was trying to harm her. She most likely lost people, and he knew what that was like all too well. He decided not to push for now and nodded.

"Alright. You can stay. But if you try anything, I'll kill you," Rick said confidently, resting his hand on his holstered weapon.

"Fair enough." Michonne didn't mind that he threatened her. If anything, she was relieved that he did. She felt much better about being with someone who wasn't easily accepting of random strangers.

Rick grabbed Michonne's katana from the table and held it in front of him. "I'll keep this safe and sound for right now." Michonne wanted to argue, but she decided against it for the time being. Rick made his way towards Carl and patted his shoulder. "You go eat breakfast. I'm gonna go upstairs, get myself cleaned up a little bit. Holler if you need anything."

Carl rolled his eyes at his father's horrible attempt at trying to slyly let him know to yell if Michonne tried something. "I have a feeling I won't need to," Carl said, letting his dad know that he trusted Michonne. Rick watched Carl go to the kitchen before beginning his slow walk up the stairs.

"Thanks for letting me stay," Michonne said quickly before he left her sight. He nodded in acknowledgement and was about to start walking again, but stopped at her voice. "You didn't tell me your name," she said.

"Rick," he said, continuing his slow stride up the steps. "Rick Grimes."

A/N: Sorry for the three week absence! It was a combination of being busy and getting a little stuck with this chapter. Hopefully the next chapter will be up next week-ish, but no promises (because I'm terrible at writing when I need to write). I know now why some writers make sure they write a handful of chapters before posting. Lesson learned! I've also been writing another story (I know, I know), but I'm focusing more on this one. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed! xo