A/N: So yeah, you guys are awesome. I just love hearing you guys' thoughts, particularly about Carol because they crack me up. blackwomanwriter and Bizzie106, I'm so, so glad you picked up what I was trying to relay about Rick's trauma and how lost he is without Michonne. Which is, of course, by his own design, but he's just not in the space to realize that yet. LadyLuckAJ, Michonne doesn't know about Andrew because no one's told her! Lori's death is kind of something everyone avoids (which is why Rick is where he is now), so she never knew exactly how Lori died. Maybe Carl will tell her one of these days! And to the Guest that asked about updates, I don't want to promise this, but at least once a week is probably a good bet, lol. My house is being renovated right now, so I'm a bit of a mess as of late, but don't worry, I will not leave you hanging!

Lots of show stuff that you already know at the top of this chapter. I tried to make it quick and add some spin, but it's essentially a bunch of stuff you've already seen, so I apologize in advance if it's boring! Haha. And I got a wee bit carried away writing the flashback, so this is just… long. But I hope you enjoy! -Ash


Chapter 7
"Don't even poke that bear."

Present day.

Michonne and Rosita had just caught up to Sasha, who seemed to be on a rampage outside the gates, and were trying to talk her back in when they came across a fairly large group of walkers wandering through the woods. Sasha began her assault immediately, but the other two hesitated to engage.

"We've gotta get outta here," Rosita proclaimed nervously. They could handle the small herd in its current state, but it wouldn't take much for that to change.

Still, Sasha was adamant that she belonged out there, hunting walkers. She was tired of playing defense. "Oh, you do," she replied almost excitedly. "I don't."

Michonne wasn't sure what to do. She was out there without her sword, and had only a handgun as protection. She felt somewhat out of her element, and she couldn't quite figure out why. For all intents and purposes, she was much more used to being out there than anywhere else. Whether it was on the road alone, or with Andrea, or with Rick and the rest of the group, she had learned to thrive out there, but it seemed that being in Alexandria had taken away some of her edge. She was starting to let herself forget.

As she moved to stand beside Sasha and raise her gun, the sharpshooter turned back to her with disdain. "I don't need your help," she shook her head.

Michonne was very clear that she was doing this for herself. "This isn't for you."

Together, the three of them sprung into action, massacring the small horde, one at a time. Rosita with her knife, Sasha with her sniper rifle, Michonne with her Beretta. They took care of them with a fair amount of ease, if not a bit loudly. But as they got down to the last remaining corpse, Sasha found herself being wrestled to the ground after running out of ammo. Michonne was the one to dispatch the walker, much to Sasha's dismay.

"I had it!" she sneered at Michonne. She then slapped away her outstretched hand, offering to assist her up from the ground. "I don't need your help."

Michonne didn't reply, because she knew Sasha was going through something that words wouldn't be able to talk her out of. She was already gone after Bob and Tyreese. The pressure was only mounting at that point. So she let her glare at her and yell at her, because that was what she needed to do.

"I told you to go," Sasha went on angrily. She glanced at Rosita, but her focus mostly stayed on Michonne and her happy little existence inside those walls. She was certain Michonne could never understand what she was going through. "You? You can't do anything. It worked out for you," her voice was breaking as she spoke. "Don't you see that? You can't help me," she shook her head, her eyes watering. "Nobody…"

Michonne's expression immediately softened, understanding that their friend wasn't just angry. Losing Bob and Ty, at practically the same time, she felt as though she was alone. She was sad. She was broken, and Michonne honestly didn't have the first clue how to fix it.


Michonne took her time heading back inside the gates of Alexandria. She was in no rush to go back to Rick and whatever nonsense he was up to for the day. But also, Sasha's words had managed to haunt her, and she found herself really contemplating what she'd said. It worked out for you. While Sasha didn't explicitly state it, Michonne knew she was referring to Rick. She was under the impression, like most, that a happy ending was on the horizon for them. Now that they'd found Alexandria, and were living together, they could simply pick up where they left off at the prison. And Michonne understood why that was the assumption, because it had been at the back of her mind, too. They could be happy at Alexandria, like they were in Georgia. They could make lives there.

But something strange happened when they arrived, and all of those expectations seemed to just drift away. Nothing ever felt quite right between them once she told him that she wanted to 'sign the papers.' Rick seemed to want something else entirely, be it anarchy, or a married woman. Maybe he felt like he needed a project, or a conquest. She couldn't tell, and at that point, was tired of trying to figure out. She could make her peace with being just friends with Rick. The hard part was realizing even that was a questionable prospect at the moment.

As she made her way down her block, back towards her house, she could see Rick standing in the threshold of Jessie's garage. They both looked distraught, which was quite a change of pace from all their ridiculous smiles at one another. It wasn't until Michonne got closer that she could hear what was actually being said.

"He's hitting you," Rick stoically declared as Jessie glared back at him. "He's hurting you. It has to stop."

It was clear that she was embarrassed that he had discovered her awful secret. She needed for Rick to not see her as a victim. She was tired of being seen that way. "It will," she nodded.

"How?"

"There are things in his life that happened-."

"I don't… care," he shook his head. A bad past didn't excuse Pete from being an asshole. By that logic, everyone in his family would've been an awful person.

"Look, it was like this before, and he got help. I helped him, and things were good. I can fix it."

"No you can't," he sighed. "But I can."

"No, what can you do?" She was shaking her head now as she walked towards him. She couldn't handle someone coming in trying to be her knight in shining armor, not if he couldn't keep that promise. "You gonna put him in jail? You're only gonna make things worse."

"If it's gotten worse, it means he's killed you. That's what's next. And I'm not gonna let that happen." He couldn't. Not again. He needed to fix it this time.

Jessie stared at him sadly, her eyes fixated on the desperation in his. "Why do you care?" When he didn't answer, she continued to press him for one. "Why is this so important to you? Now? You've made it, you have a home for your kids. Rick, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to help."

"I don't know that," she shot back, confused about where this was going. From both her end and his. "I'm married," she had to remind him and herself. "I can take care of myself. We have to take care of ourselves."

Rick only stood there blankly as she coldly shut her garage in his face. He felt rejected, but even worse, useless. If he couldn't help her, if he couldn't fix this, then what was his purpose? What good was he if he couldn't make this right either?

Defeated, he began to make his way back towards his house, but was met with the sight of these people – these fucking Alexandrians – and their inane daily routines of walking dogs, and reading books, and chatting away like the world hadn't ended out there. Like the world hadn't ended in there. Pete Anderson was going to kill his wife and everyone, including Jessie, was acting like everything was okay. Things were not okay.

He tried to stop himself, tried to compose himself and just go home, but he couldn't. He needed to fix this. He charged into Jessie's house to tell her as much, and found her standing at her mantle, crying.

"What are you doing?" she asked, annoyed with him for not taking no for an answer.

"You know, Sam asked for a gun to protect you."

Jessie could feel her heart breaking and her tears came harder. Not only did he know about her weakness, but he also knew that she had broken her kids in this mess. "You shouldn't be here."

"Jessie, in here, you can't see it, but it's the same. It's the same as out there. We have food and roofs over our head, but you don't get to just live. You don't get to put it off, or wish it away, Jessie. If you don't fight, you die." He gazed at her, seeing her helplessness and found all of his failures staring back at him. Noah… Tyreese… Beth… Hershel... Lori. "I don't want you to die." He saw a chance at redemption. "I can help you. I can keep you and your boys safe. I can." He saw his old life standing there, and he felt like he was scratching at it, trying to get back into it, and she wouldn't let him. "All you have to do is say 'yes.'"

Her hazel eyes met his blues and she felt her resolve waning. Maybe he could be her knight. "Would you do this for someone else?" she asked, the waver in her voice begging him to say no. "Would you do this for anyone?"

He didn't know how to answer that. He knew the answer, but he also didn't know how to stand there and tell this woman the truth when she needed to hear that she was special. So he looked her in the eye and lied. "No."

"Yes."


After hearing more than enough of Rick's garage conversation with Jessie, Michonne walked back into her home to find Carol sitting in their living room, quietly writing at the kitchen table. She appeared busy, and Michonne had a shift to prepare for, so she didn't make time stop and chat. She simply sent her a passing "Hello" on her way towards the staircase.

"Michonne," Carol called after her.

With a light sigh, she turned from the steps and went to greet her housemate. "You need something?"

"I was just going to say that I have to run out for a couple of minutes, and Judith is upstairs asleep. I'm not sure where Carl or Rick are, but could you keep an eye on her until I get back?"

Michonne couldn't help but wonder what her mysterious errand entailed, but she'd learned from Rick that there was no point in asking. "Of course."

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," she said, turning back for the stairs. "Judy's not just your responsibility."

"I didn't mean to make it sound like she's mine," she said, hoping she hadn't offended her friend. "I just know you have to head to work."

"It's fine, Carol."

"Hey," she called for her again, standing from her chair this time to follow after her. She didn't miss the way Michonne turned as if completely exasperated with her. "Are we okay?"

"Why wouldn't we be?" Michonne shook her head nonchalantly. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at Carol and this so-called act she'd been putting on for her and everyone else at Alexandria. She was over it. "If you're looking for Rick, you can find him at Jessie's."

"Is that what this is about?"

"Is that what what's about?"

"I'm really sorry that this is happening," she returned sympathetically.

Michonne was scowling at her now, wondering just what it was she was pretending to apologize for. If anything, she should be sorry for implying that she was sitting around pining for Rick. "You don't need to be." With that, she turned to head upstairs, relieved when she heard the sound of her roommate leaving the house. Carol and Rick were officially on her last nerve.

She threw on her constable uniform as she headed into Rick's room to quickly check on Judith and make sure she was still asleep. The mere sight of her lightened Michonne's entire mood immediately, causing her to smile. She was so innocent, so peaceful. She reached down to run her fingers through the infant's soft hair, but the sound of glass breaking outside managed to snatch her attention away.

It was quickly followed by yelling, and her first thought was that walkers had somehow made it inside the walls. She hastily pulled Judith from her crib and headed downstairs to grab her sword, where the yelling got louder, and she could see people running down the street. Nicholas, Glenn, Rosita, Tobin. No one had weapons, they were just running. Finally, she went to the window to see just what they were running toward, and the image of Rick fighting with Pete came into view.

Michonne took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she tried to calm Judith's cries, realizing she'd snatched her out of her sleep for absolutely no reason. "I know, baby girl. I'm sorry," she whispered. She swayed in circles with her, but never took her eyes off of the spectacle outside. "The fuck are you doing, Rick," she muttered under her breath.

She watched the two of them wrestle one another, Pete choking Rick, Rick punching back. Jessie tried to intervene, and Michonne cringed in horror when Pete hit her so hard, she fell to the ground. Rick was right about one thing – the guy was an asshole. She'd overheard the allegation that Pete was abusing his wife, and she felt a little bad for thinking Rick only disliked him because he wanted Jessie. He was obviously a bad guy, and something needed to be done. But whatever Rick was doing wasn't going to help.

Still, she was going to stay there with Judith while they fought like idiots and let the chips fall where they may. But she saw Carl try to pull his dad out of the melee, only for Rick to push him away in a manner very similar to Pete. And as much as she understood he probably did so for Carl's protection, it alerted her to the fact that the two of them looked exactly alike out there. To the naked eye, Rick, covered in blood, trying to squeeze the life out of Pete was no different than the abusive husband trying to hold onto his family.

She made a beeline out of the house, still trying to calm Judith as she headed for Maggie's, as she seemed to be the only person not standing out there being unhelpful. She was thankful when her friend answered the door instantly.

"Hey, I was just about to come see you," she greeted her friend as cheerfully as she could. "I had-."

"Hey," Michonne cut her off hurriedly, already passing over Judith. "Can you take her for a few minutes?"

Maggie accepted the crying baby into her arms, but couldn't help but notice Michonne's obvious urgency. "What's goin' on?"

"I honestly don't know," she answered, turning back towards the commotion of the fight. "But Rick and Pete are about to kill each other and I need to get over there."

"Okay, go," she nodded, pulling Judith inside. "Go."

Michonne did just that, turning just in time to see Rick pull a gun on everyone. It wasn't his normal .357, so she knew it must have been one he'd been saving for a rainy day. And by god, it was pouring in that moment. She stopped in her tracks and watched him for a bit as she thought through her next move. She watched him rant and rave about how weak the Alexandrians were, how Deanna was ruining things. She considered trying to talk him down, but she wasn't sure her words could do anything at that point. They didn't do anything but argue anymore, and the last thing she wanted to do was antagonize him in this state.

He looked scary. She'd seen Rick covered in blood a few times, and never batted an eye. There was always a good reason behind it, and she was usually standing behind him covered in blood too. But this? This was different. Even if his words made sense, his actions were irrational, and she was certain he hadn't given a bit of thought to the fact that Carl was standing behind him watching. That these people didn't know him, and an outburst like this could get them all kicked out. He wasn't thinking at all, and that was what angered her more than anything.

She wasn't going to let him ruin this. Not for his kids, and not for himself. So as he continued to yell about fighting and dying, she calmly ran up to him with her fists balled up and delivered the hardest blow she could, effectively knocking him the fuck out.


4 months ago.

Michonne let out a silent but tired exhale as she fell back against Rick's legs, attempting to recover from her multiple orgasms in the previous twenty minutes. She had given him the ride of his life, wanting to leave him with a substantial going away present before she left for another two weeks. But it was Rick and his magical fingers on her clit that had her on the verge of exploding, over and over again. It was the best sex they'd had all month, only made hotter by the need to stay quiet in the cellblock. They way he stuck his tongue in her mouth to keep her from moaning only served to turn her on even more.

"Fuck," Rick quietly sighed as well, still holding onto her legs on either side of him.

"Fuck," she repeated with a smile, understanding the exact sentiment he was expressing. The sex between them was simply sublime. "I if I have to leave, I'm really glad it's on that note."

He closed his eyes and began to softly rub at her right leg with his left thumb. "You don't have to leave, you know."

"I do," she said, pulling herself up to look at him. "You know I do."

"It was worth a shot."

"I'd say you've gotten enough shots in for one night," she winked, finally dismounting from his lap to do some quick cleanup.

He watched in a daze as she moved around her cell in all her naked glory. Her back glistening with the sheen of her sweat; her tits bouncing as she stooped down to the floor and back up again; the slight jiggle of her ass as she stepped into a pair of panties before approaching her bed. He had a mind to fuck her again right then and there.

"Big spoon or little spoon," she asked, standing over him.

"I'm always the big spoon," he retorted matter-of-factly as he grabbed his boxers from the floor and slid toward the wall so she could climb in.

"I can name two instances off the top of my head where that's not true."

"You mean those instances where you changed our positions after we fell asleep?"

"That is neither here nor there." With a smile, she fell into her bed, and more specifically, into Rick's arms, letting his embrace warm her from the chill of the prison. With her back against his chest, nothing else in the world really mattered.

Rick felt similarly, and really hated the idea of them sleeping alone again for however long she would be gone. He had gotten so used to their sleepovers – even the ones where they kept their clothes on. It always felt odd when she left. "I think you're gonna find him this time," he declared quietly as his eyes fell closed. "I can feel it."

She smirked at the assertion, but hoped he was right more than anything. She was tired of this fight. But she couldn't give up, knowing she was fighting for. She would never be able to make a life with Rick if she was always looking over her shoulder for the Governor. And she had decided that a life with Rick was something she really did want. "We should sleep," she answered in a whisper, running her fingers along his forearm. "I leave early."

"Which is exactly why we shouldn't go to sleep. Why waste our last moments together ignoring each other?"

"Rick, I'm not staying up all night talking about pizza, or airplanes, or whatever random thing is on your mind tonight."

"You're tryin' to insult me, but I know it's only because you don't wanna leave me."

"You need help," she chuckled, shaking her head against their pillow.

"But seriously, I'm gonna find a way to implement Pizza Friday."

"I mean, we've got Spaghetti Tuesday, so…"

"So I can tell everyone I've got your support on this?"

"You've got my proxy," she grinned sleepily. She let her eyes fall closed, but was content to talk to him all night if he really wanted to. "You've just gotta find a cow."

"You think I can't?" he challenged her playfully. "Need I remind you that I've already corralled two horses and a pig?"

"No, no. The smell when you come in from outside is reminder enough."

He teasingly pinched the skin of her ribcage as he chuckled in response. "Watch yourself, or I'm gonna rescind my offer to teach you how to ride."

"Oh, okay," she answered, feigning indifference. "Like you've got anything better to do."

"I have several better things to do," he reminded her. "I'm feeding a prison full of people here."

"That is very important," she agreed.

His chuckle dissipated into comfortable silence, and he nuzzled his nose into her shoulder. He felt so unbelievably happy lying there with her. "You know, you and Daryl are the only ones here that understand why I had to step away from the whole leader thing. And I want you to know I appreciate you for it."

"I appreciate you for it," she returned quietly. "There's something very noble about knowing when you need a break."

"It just seems like a good time," he nodded. "We finally have some space to breathe. I like being able to concentrate on my kids."

"You deserve that." She continued to lazily run her fingers along his arm, playing with the hair there. "And if they don't understand that, forget them."

"That's a lot easier said than done, when I have someone like Carol looking at me like I'm losing my mind." The worst part about that was he was feeling more clearheaded than ever.

"Well… you said the two of you have always had issues, right?"

"We have..."

"Then don't spend too much time worrying about it," she advised. "She's still here. She loves you and trusts you. It may take her a while to catch up, but she'll come around."

He nodded against her back and let his eyes close as well. He didn't know if that was true of Carol, but Michonne was right that he didn't owe anyone any explanations. No one should have to apologize for how they chose to survive. "God, I'm gonna miss you."

"Stop saying that," she grinned sadly. She had that gnawing in the pit of her stomach, telling her she would miss him too, and she was trying to ignore it. "It's a couple of weeks."

"I know, but I just want you here. All the time."

"If I were actually here all the time, I guarantee you'd want me to leave."

"Yeah, that's probably true," he allowed with a sigh. "You are a bed hog."

She immediately elbowed him in the stomach, and turned her head back towards him to get his reaction.

"You're so violent," he groaned quietly.

"This is something you should know about me by now."

"I have to admit I don't like it so much when it's directed towards me."

"Yeah, I bet you don't," she quipped as she shifted in the bed to get more comfortable. She rested her cold feet against his leg, figuring he would flinch in response at the least, but he didn't react in the slightest. She really loved how comfortable he was with her. "Hey," she softly called back to him.

"Yes."

She pulled his wrist towards her face so that she could get a glimpse at his watch in the darkness. "So we've got about… four hours before I leave."

"Is there a reason you keep reminding me of this?"

"Because you're right." She threw the covers from both of their nearly naked bodies and hopped out of her bed spryly. "We shouldn't waste our time sleeping."

He sat up excitedly, hoping that meant she wanted to fuck again, but was confused when she began to put on clothes. "What… are we gonna do instead?"

"Get up," she instructed, throwing his jeans at him. "Let's go have breakfast."

"It's two in the morning, Michonne."

"Dinner?"

"I don't think we could consider it that either," he chuckled. Still, he did as told and quickly pulled on his pants and thermal undershirt.

"I'm trying to give you your Waffle House moment," she revealed, stepping into her slippers. "Don't ruin it."

With an amused grin, he followed her out of her cell and the two of them quietly made their way to the cafeteria, thankful that it was empty as usual at that time of night. "I always make it a point to eat at 'our' table," Rick commented casually as they continued into the kitchen. "Is that weird?"

"If it is, we're weird together, because I do the same," she giggled. She watched him disappear into the pantry and return a few seconds later with two canisters – one full of grits, the other containing bacon bits – and a can of milk. "Oh, are you taking over on this?"

"Yeah, my treat… if you don't mind," he smirked, placing his ingredients on the large empty counter in front of them. He then headed for their massive refrigerator and grabbed a tub of margarine and a pitcher of water. "While you're out there, maybe see if you can find a waffle iron."

"I'll see what I can do." She took it upon herself to hop up on the counter, out of his way, but close enough that she could see everything he was doing and carry on a conversation.

"Grits are Judith's favorite," he noted as he pulled a small pot from the collection near the stove. "Carl… I don't know whose kid he is sometimes. He doesn't like anything but waffles."

"He likes cereal," Michonne rolled her eyes knowingly. "It boggles my mind that he'd rather have cold, stale Frosted Flakes over a hot bowl of oatmeal."

"I told him the same thing. But I think his mother traumatized him with so many bad pancakes, he'd just rather have somethin' he can trust."

She chuckled in response, surprised to hear him speak so candidly about Lori. He did that sometimes, brought her up as if she were in the next room instead of the next life. And it never bothered her, but she always found herself pausing to make sure he didn't regret mentioning her. He seemed all right though, so she went with the flow. "Lori couldn't cook?"

"It was weird," he shook his head. "She made the best macaroni and cheese, and she had this recipe for smothered porkchops that made me forget my name, honestly. Pecan pie, Christmas ham… no problems. But let her get in the kitchen and try to fry an egg and it was a disaster."

"So I assume that means you made all the breakfasts back in the day."

"That would be a wrong assumption," he laughed. "Now you know why I have so much affection for Waffle House."

"You're so silly," she grinned, watching him get to work on their late night snack. It was so nice to sit there with him, sharing such a simple moment. It reminded her of when she first met Mike and she would sleep over at his apartment on a Friday night. They were practically married by the time everything fell apart, so she had forgotten what the beginning of a relationship felt like. Who knew she'd find herself there again after all this time?

"You want toast?"

She nodded back with a goofy grin on her face. "Yes, please."

He went back for the pantry and grabbed a loaf of their freshly baked bread that he knew he shouldn't have been using for some random meal. But Michonne deserved toast, and so she would have it. "You know Tyreese made this all by himself?"

She looked down at the loaf of bread he was slicing and then up at him, shaking her head. "It's cute that you believe that."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean Karen helped him," she revealed with raised eyebrows. "Apparently, she's been helping him a lot lately."

Rick stopped what he was doing to gaze up at Michonne, absorbing what she was truly implying. "Really?"

"Really," she smirked. "Maggie and I have had our eye on this for a while."

"On Tyreese and Karen?"

"And everyone else here," she giggled at herself proudly. "To be fair, Maggie is the one that knows everyone's business, and then she discusses with me because I'm good at keeping secrets."

"Except from me." Which he was glad for.

"Obviously."

"So how long has that been goin' on?"

"Not long at all," she confirmed, watching his hands do their work. "We're pretty sure it really just started this week, and they haven't even kissed yet, so…"

Rick laughed in amusement as he arranged their toast on a pan to go into the oven. "What else have you two busybodies found out?"

"Oh, let's see," she sighed, trying to think through their latest news. Michonne still didn't know a lot of the people from Woodbury, and she was fine with keeping it that way, but Maggie told all of their stories anyway. "Mrs. McLeod really likes Hershel, apparently."

"Well everyone knows that."

"Oh, excuse me then," she retorted, pretending to be offended. "We did have a theory that Daryl may have a thing for Sasha, but I think that's been debunked at this point."

"Daryl as in Dixon?" Rick chuckled. He'd had full understanding since Hershel's farm that he belonged to Carol and vice versa. "Don't even poke that bear," he advised.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, I can't imagine that's true."

She kicked her leg out towards him, her foot making contact with his hip. "What bear, Rick?"

"The bear that is Carol when it comes to Daryl."

"But they're not together. Are they?"

"I couldn't tell you," he replied sincerely. Whatever they were transcended titles. "But how would you feel if you heard I liked someone else?"

"I'd probably wanna stab you," she shot back jokingly. "No, I don't know. I'd probably be some combination of annoyed and disappointed."

"Really?"

"Of course I would," she frowned. "What, you think I'd be happy?"

"No, of course not. I just didn't expect you to be honest."

She kicked him again, harder this time, knocking him away from her and the stove altogether. "There's only one of us in this room that's never lied to the other, so…"

"That's cold, but that's fair," he surrendered with a smile. He momentarily left his watch at the stove and approached her, resting his hands on either of her thighs. He lifted his head to leave a quick kiss on her lips, biting softly at her bottom one as he pulled away. "Won't happen again."

"It better fucking not."


Morning came to find Rick and Michonne had fallen asleep on the floor of the cafeteria kitchen. Her head rested comfortably against his shoulder, and they were surrounded by their empty breakfast plates. They could've and would've stayed that way forever if they hadn't been awoken by Beth's footsteps. She hadn't seen them, and immediately felt bad for interrupting their slumber.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered to Rick, who'd opened his eyes first. "I had no idea anyone was in here."

He only shook his head slightly, trying to avoid waking Michonne, too.

"I think Carl is lookin' for you," she went on, tiptoeing around to prepare a bottle for the youngest Grimes. "He brought Judith to me about twenty minutes ago."

Michonne wanted to pretend she was still be asleep, hoping to avoid the inevitable end of their night together, but from what she could hear from Beth, the moment was over. She reluctantly opened her eyes to the morning. "What time is it?" she asked Rick.

He raised his arm over her head to take a look at his watch. "Almost seven."

With a big sigh, she lifted her head from him and smiled at Beth. "Hey."

"Hey," Beth shot back nervously, unsure of what to make of the two of them on the kitchen floor. "I'll be outta your way in just a minute."

"No rush," she yawned. "I gotta get outta here."

"You're leavin'?"

"As soon as I hop in the shower," she nodded, pulling herself up from the floor. She turned to Rick, still sitting there, and offered him a wistful grin. "I guess I'll see you when I get back?"

He looked up in disbelief that this was going to be her goodbye. His gaze shot to Beth, wondering if she was the reason for her skittishness, then back at Michonne. He shook his head at her. "I'll head out with you."

Before the two of them left, Beth made sure to tell Michonne, "You be careful out there."

"I will," she promised, following Rick out of the door.

Once they were in the empty corridor, he softly grabbed her wrist to stop her before they could reach their cellblock again. He had been thinking about something since the night before, and he didn't want to let her leave without speaking on it.

"What's wrong?" she frowned.

"Nothin'," he smiled tiredly. "I just… I was wonderin' if you've figured out what this is yet?"

She knew he was referring to the two of them, and it was the last thing she wanted to discuss right before she left. If she said the wrong thing, it would be all she thought about out there on the road. Alone. Where she needed to be thinking about finding the Governor. "I've thought about it," she admitted with a smirk.

When she didn't go on, he leaned against the closest wall and stared at her intently. "You're not gonna tell me?"

She shook her head and chuckled. "Is it okay if we wait until I get back?"

Waiting that long for an answer sounded like actual torture to him. But he didn't want to put pressure on her, given how easy everything had been up to that point, so he just nodded in agreement. "All right…"

She took his hand into hers, attempting to pull him back towards the cellblock with her, but she stopped short when he wouldn't budge. "Rick, come on."

"Go on," he nodded his head towards the exit. "I'll see you when you get back."

"Are you all right?"

"I am." She hadn't let go of his hand, so he pulled her back towards him, playing with her fingertips as she drew nearer. "I just don't wanna watch you leave."

She sighed shakily, feeling a weird tugging at her heart as she thought about walking away. Leaving never felt like this before, and she knew exactly why. This time, when she left, she would be leaving her heart with him. "This isn't supposed to be this difficult."

"Well it's your own fault."

"Yeah, I guess it is," she chuckled sadly. Hesitantly, she pulled from his grasp and headed for the door. "Stay safe."

With his head down, truly refusing to watch her go, he listened as her footsteps got further away, feeling almost silly for how much hated this. But he felt so adrift when she wasn't there. She was his home now. "Hey," he called out to her before she reached the door to C Block. She turned back with a curious look on her face and he smiled at her shyly. "I love you."

Her eyes widened and she felt as though her breath had been taken away in that moment. The last thing she ever wanted was some emotional goodbye - they were hard enough as it was. But she could feel the tears already stinging the backs of her eyes, and they were going to come hard soon. She scrunched up her face to try and stop them, but a smile took over instead. "I love you, too."