Author's Note: Here's chapter eight…otherwise known as the fluff chapter. :)

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

8 – Christmas in New York

It was a while before Michonne's dizziness wore off. Her hands slightly shook as she poured three cups of hot chocolate. Carl gleefully accepted his mug and Rick met her halfway, taking his out of her hand and giving her a peck on the lips. He stroked her cheek with his thumb and grinned at her.

"It feels so good seeing you again," he said in his husky twang.

"How…when…why didn't you tell me?" she asked. In bits, her speech returned to her.

"We wanted to surprise you!" Carl mumbled over his mug's rim. When he lowered it, he revealed a whipped cream mustache.

"I thought I was going to spend Christmas on my couch with my cat," croaked Michonne. She glanced to the bookshelf ten feet away. "No offense, P."

The furry grump meowed his indignation then leapt off his shelf and out of view.

"I couldn't go another day. I know it's what you wanted," said Rick. "But I haven't stopped thinking about you."

His words tugged on her heartstrings and produced a small smile on her face. Even with the distance and absence, as always, his truth reflected hers.

"Me too," Michonne whispered. Then she broke into a laugh and happy tears gleamed in her eyes not for the first time that evening. She continued, "I was about to come home and buy a ticket to Georgia…"

"Too late," Rick chuckled. "Looks like we beat you to it."

"Yeah, Michonne, guess what?" Carl asked, swinging his legs back-and-forth off her barstool. "Coming here was my first airplane ride ever—I had the window and didn't even get sick. And they gave everybody free soda and pretzels."

"Did they?" she asked as she glanced to the boy. "Did you save me some?"

The two got a good laugh out of watching him squirm as he tried to figure out a way to break the bad news; he'd eaten every last crumb.

"We have to start celebrating!" said Michonne. The clock on the wall caught her attention. "Make the most of it this Christmas—how long are you here for?"

"Only three days—I told dad we need to be here like…a month," Carl said.

"Somebody has school in a few days," said Rick.

Michonne snickered. Bursting with sudden energy and giddiness, she surprised Rick with a kiss and then left the kitchen to grab her coat.

"C'mon, we're going to celebrate Christmas New York style," she said, slipping the berry hued peacoat on. "We're in my neck of the woods this time."

Rick and his son shared a glance and a grin.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "Carl, you heard the lady—she's running the show this year."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

By the time they stepped onto the street outside, night had fallen. The glittering city lights, more prominent as the night wore on, shaped Carl into a mute. Too stunned to do anything more than gawk as they walked the streets, the ten-year-old's head spun in every direction possible. Rick and Michonne were a pace behind him, their bodies flush against one another, his arm swathed over her shoulders.

First stop was dinner. Michonne led them to a charming German restaurant decked wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling with Christmas décor. Any corner one turned to, thick wreaths and leafy garland hung, festooned with velvet bows and poinsettias. Classic Christmas carols were played live by a small quartet setup on a podium, the light tunes lulling anyone in the restaurant into a beholden, sort of mellowed state of mind.

"This place is pretty awesome," said Carl. Again, out of curiosity and stun, his head swiveled around.

"The food is really good here too. Even Scrooge himself would be put into the Christmas spirit after coming here," said Michonne.

"The music's relaxing," said Rick. He tore his eyes off the quartet and to Michonne. "It's almost like some sorta lullaby…putting me to sleep..."

She grabbed his hand from across the table. She giggled, "don't you dare go to sleep in the restaurant."

Carl laughed too. "That would be so funny, dad."

"What?" Rick blushed, looking between the two. "I didn't say I was gonna fall asleep—just that, uh, it's relaxing."

"Uh huh," Michonne said, quirking a single brow. "I'm keeping my eyes on you."

"He fell asleep on the plane—snored the whole way," Carl clapped a hand over his mouth to block another laugh.

"Carl," Rick trailed off. He cleared his throat and picked up the menu to hide behind. "How about we order some food? I'm starving."

The two friends exchanged one last amused glance then picked up their menus too. The waiter, dressed in lederhosen garb, greeted them soon after for their order. It was as Rick looked up and caught a glimpse of Michonne, eyes set down at the menu with a pure glow circling her even in the ambiently-lit candlelight, that a smile was born onto his lips.

She waited until the waiter collected their menus and walked off before she asked, "what?"

"Nothing," he said. But he kept smiling. "I've missed you is all."

"Me too!" Carl piped up. "Michonne, you've missed a bunch of stuff."

"I bet…tell me," she said. "I can't believe you're in fifth grade now."

"Next year he's off to middle school," said Rick.

"Pretty big deal," Carl said proudly. "Me and Patrick will be in the same school as Lenny."

"Everything always comes back to Lenny." Rick shook his head.

"Dad, he's one of the coolest kids in the seventh grade."

"Forget Lenny, I think you're cooler," said Michonne. "Plus, you like art…so bonus points."

Carl chuckled. "That's true…I've gotten better! Right, dad? I helped paint a mural at school."

"He did. He was one of six students chosen."

"Wow, impressive. You'll have to make me something else sometime," said Michonne.

"I saw the cat on your bookshelf—can't believe you kept it!"

"Are you kidding? I told you it's my favorite. Picasso thought it was a real cat at first—he wouldn't go ten feet near it," she said as the father and son gave off a laugh.

"P was jealous," Carl said. "Wish I had a cat."

"Carl, I told you we'd talk about a pet if you make honor roll."

"I'll tell you what," said Michonne. She dropped her volume a couple notches. "We'll share P, okay? You can be his co-owner."

"Really? Cool! But how's that gonna work?"

Michonne smirked to Rick. She said, "oh, we'll figure something out."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The long dinner left them full enough their pace was sluggish as they indulged in some Christmas shopping. They stopped in front of shop window after shop window to admire the pristinely decorated displays, sometimes heading inside and other times appreciating from afar. Somewhere along a particularly glitzy shop window, mannequins arranged in a festive party celebration, they decided they would go into the next big department store and separate.

"We'll separate and meet back here in forty minutes," said Rick after checking his watch. He pulled out his wallet and handed Carl his shopping allowance. "Nobody peeks—that way it's a surprise when we open our presents."

Michonne and Carl gave a unified nod. The three shook on it, a combo of silly grins and giggles interspersed as they turned and set off in three different directions. Michonne threw a couple glances over her shoulder to double and triple check neither followed her. When she was certain they were nowhere in proximity, she followed the signs to the arts and crafts department.

She browsed every aisle in search of something eye-catching. Employees stocking shelves and other last-minute shoppers weaved in and out the aisles at a much more frenzied speed. She was confident she'd know the gift for Carl when she'd see it. The last aisle in the arts and crafts section was full of paints, brushes easels, and other similar supplies.

Her brown eyes went wide as she reached out and picked up what she knew instantly was the perfect gift for the ten-year-old. It was fortunate that there was a checkout lane between arts and crafts and the home living area, because within five minutes, she thanked the cashier and slid the shopping bag onto her wrist.

She moved on, past home living and the furniture department, and tilted her head upward to read the signs. A figure moving not far off, in the corner of her eye walking in a bow-legged stride, caught her attention. She smirked and crossed her arms as his eyes stumbled onto hers. She waltzed over.

"Rick Grimes," she said slowly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were following me."

His features elongated with surprise, like someone caught red-handed. He said, "well, to that I'd say…maybe it was you who was following me."

She tossed back her head with an airy laugh. "You are so full of it."

"Am I?" he asked. Then he worked in a grin and stepped closer. The gap between them was almost nonexistent. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Firstly, her face flushed as she stared into his unblinking, albeit playful eyes. Secondly, the heat embarked on a fast journey throughout, in her heart and belly as burning desire, and down to her core, between her legs where she felt a sudden needy ache. Last of all, she smirked, as she closed the space further, and ran a finger along his jawline.

"You'll have to wait and find out," she told him. Her lips grazed his, teasing him with the delight of a kiss before she backed off.

When she turned and walked away, her smirk only thrived. Though she didn't have eyes in the back of her head, she was certain she'd affected him in much the same way he'd affected her. Maybe worse. She knew as she strutted away, his gaze was on her, likely with breath caught and his jeans a little tight.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The forty minutes were up before they knew it. They met where they'd began, on the ground floor by the escalators. Carl tried to peek at the collection of bags, but gave up when he realized neither adult would budge. Michonne suggested they check out the Christmas market by Central Park. By the time she finished her sentence, Carl had already whooped the air in agreement.

"Christmas market it is," chuckled Rick.

The walk was merely a couple blocks. Even from afar, they could make out the lights shone into the night sky and the music hitting the same airwaves. They rounded the last corner and their feet halted on their own.

A winter wonderland awaited them in shimmered silvers and cool blues.

Everything about the scene was like some sort of artic Christmas. At their feet spread in a blanket was the soft, sugary snow. Above their heads, the lights were stars. Diamond-shaped and twinkling, they blinked in and out of view between the delicate crystalized blue ornaments and baubles which hung. Most eye-catching of all, though, was the giant twenty-foot-tall snow speckled tree. Its porcelain angel at the very top stood with a grace that drew anyone into its calming after effect.

Rick's arm slipped about her waist and his hand on Carl's shoulder tightened in a squeeze. Together, the three lingered as a family would, with their eyes roaming over the wonderous scene. An intrinsic elation flowed through Michonne's veins as she stood by their sides. It culminated in a racking tremor down her spine. She was too overcome to do anything but relish in the reality that was so contenting it was unfathomable.

When she tilted her chin upward for a look at Rick, he sensed her gaze and smiled down at her. Her eyes closed knowingly as he gave her a sweet kiss on the mouth.

"I love you," he whispered on parting.

"Dad, more hot chocolate!" Carl exclaimed. He jumped up and down and twisted around in hopes they shared his excitement.

Rick chuckled. "Aren't you all hot chocolate'd out?"

"Dad, you can never have too much hot chocolate," the ten-year-old said.

Michonne giggled when Rick deferred to her for her opinion. She said, "he's right. Is there such a thing?"

"Alright…one more," said Rick. "For real this time."

Carl ran ahead to the hot chocolate stand, joining the line of other cocoa enthusiasts. Rick and Michonne followed lazily, fingers laced in a handhold.

"So, are you going to agree to ice skating?" Michonne asked. Her lips spread into a grin with brown eyes alight.

"How about I watch you two go?"

"Hmmm…how about no?" She tapped a finger against her chin. "I seem to remember a certain someone forcing me to shoot a rifle."

Rick's cheeks, pink from the cold, blushed deeper. He stammered, "yeah…but…uh, that was different."

"Oh? Tell me. How?"

"Learning to shoot is…it's a skill you need."

"Oh, c'mon!" She released an airy laugh. "How about the sledding? Is that a life skill too?"

"Alright, alright, we'll ice skate," he said in his gritty voice as they joined the line. "But you two can't laugh when I end up on the floor."

"But, dad, that's the fun part!" Carl squeaked.

The three walked away from the hot chocolate stand a couple minutes later with their hands cupped around the warm styrofoam. Carl again managed a mustache, this time of pure chocolate lined above his top lip. Rick and Michonne glanced at one another with amusement.

"What?" he asked. His gullible eyes were wide. "Hey! Do I have something on my face?"

They wandered along the massive park for a long while afterward. Rick and Michonne in a stroll. Carl in an animated ball, running to various mounds of snow to leap over or roll around in. They did nothing but chat as they watched him in the glory of all his endless energy.

"I'm still in shock you're here," she said. "I think I almost passed out."

"I know—I felt you shaking in my arms. Me and Carl…we knew we couldn't go to the cabin this year."

Her brows rose questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"It wouldn't've been Christmas without you," he answered. "Christmas is wherever the three of us are together."

Michonne stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. Though she said nothing, she looked him in the eye with a pleased smile on her face.

Rick couldn't keep away his grin and head tilt. He asked, "what?"

"You always know just what to say. You know that, right?"

"I'm a wise man, Michonne," he said with a gruff chuckle. "You're a lucky woman."

"Oh, shut up," she collapsed into a laugh as she shook her head. "You just can't help yourself, huh? The cockiness runs in your blood."

"When it comes to you? You're right—I'll never be able to help myself." He reeled her in with his arms for a kiss. "C'mon, let's get to it. Let's go ice skating."

Michonne broke free of his grip so that she could cheer and clap her hands into the air. She called after Carl, "Carl, it's a miracle—your dad just agreed to ice skating!"

Carl stood up from the snow hill he sat in and did one of his spins, legs kicked and arms pumped.

"Let's go," he said breathily. "Before dad changes his mind—this is gonna be too funny!"

"I'm gonna prove you wrong. I've been practicing," Rick said as they changed direction. "You're gonna be surprised."

Michonne giggled and said, "oh, I can't wait for this."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

When they made it home about two hours later, Carl insisted on running to the bedroom to wrap his presents in secret. Rick asked him if he needed any help with the wrapping paper, but the boy shook his head side-to-side.

"Dad, I'm almost eleven," he said confidently. "I got this."

A lopsided grin unraveled on Rick's lips. He held up his hands and said, "Alright, alright…do your thing. It's all you, buddy."

Carl collected his shopping bags and dashed into the next room. The door shut and almost immediately, the snip of scissors and tear of paper could be heard.

"I'm interested to see how this turns out," Rick said as he joined Michonne in the kitchen.

"I don't blame him. He's just trying to keep his gifts a secret—somebody is nosy," Michonne said.

Rick stopped mid-step, both surprised and amused. He said, "Me? You're talking about me?"

Michonne snickered but then coyly smirked and shrugged as if wordlessly signaling he'd just have to live in mystery. He finished his stride in the kitchen, pulling her to him by the hips. Between quick, stolen kisses any words he spoke came out in a lower, gruffer register she could only think of as sexy.

"You gonna tell me what you're getting me for Christmas?" He kissed her again.

"You're just going to have to wait and find out." She gripped his chin between her index finger and thumb, and this time it was her turn to kiss him. "Now, help me get started on these cookies, will you? Can you grab me the eggs?"

"Yes, ma'am. I like it when you take charge." Rick winked teasingly, letting go of her to open the fridge.

Not long after that, the bedroom door opened and out walked Carl. He carried the gifts in his arms, looking proud as he delivered them to the tree. Though there were clear wrinkles in the paper, overall the wrap job was decent. At his ankles, Picasso slunk along with him.

"You all done there, Santa?" Rick asked, chuckling.

"Yep!" Carl's blue eyes brightened as soon as he headed for the kitchen and spotted the baking pan and ingredients. "Oh, man…are we making cookies? What kind?"

"Gingerbread."

"Woohoo, my favorite!"

"I know. I remember from last year." Michonne smiled.

Carl rubbed his hands together as he nosily joined Michonne and Rick behind the counter. He said, "Can I help? Can I decorate my own gingerbread man? Ooh, no…ginger robot!"

"Sure, we'll all decorate," Rick answered, ruffling Carl's bangs. "Actually, tell you what? How about a contest? Whoever makes the best gingerbread man—or robot—wins?"

"I see what you're doing—trying to save face after falling flat on your face ice skating," Michonne pointed out.

"That's right. Besides, this is fairer."

"Um, no it isn't. Dad, I'm way better at art and stuff than you, sooo…" Carl said.

"We'll see. We'll take a vote and whoever we agree on gets full bragging rights rest of the holiday," Rick explained. "Deal?"

The three came to an agreement as they went to work in the kitchen, mixing ingredients and shaping the dough on the baking sheet once formed. After that the trays went into the oven and it became a waiting game as they settled in the living room. Pillows on the floor, they sat and turned on the television for a Christmas movie.

"Let's watch that Home Alone movie you told me about back in King's County," said Rick.

"How have you never seen it? It's a classic," Michonne said, shocked.

"I prolly have…while I was asleep," he joked. "Either way, that sounded interesting."

"No way, let's watch Nightmare before Christmas…Halloween and Christmas," Carl said. "Can't beat it."

"How about A Christmas Carol? Christmas isn't Christmas without it," Michonne suggested.

Both Rick and Carl gave that one a thumbs down. It took them a couple more minutes of discussion before they finally settled on a movie. The compromise reached was A Christmas Story, but only if Rick stayed awake to the end. He shook his head with slight doubt as he grinned and promised he'd do his best.

Halfway through the movie, the spiced yet sweet scent wafted through every inch of the apartment. Carl followed Michonne into the kitchen, almost salivating at the mouth. The shapely gingerbread men were ready to be pulled, but were not ready to be touched. She explained to Carl they needed time to cool off, then they would be able to decorate.

The ten-year-old nodded in understanding and counted down the minutes. Michonne let him set another timer, so that it'd go off the second it was decorating time. They went into the living room to check on Rick, who surprised them by being awake.

"I told you…I can watch a whole movie," he said as the credits slipped on screen. "I stayed up the whole time."

"I dunno," Carl said suspiciously. "Dad, we were in the kitchen for like ten minutes."

"Enough time for a cat nap," Michonne teased.

"I may have closed my eyes here and there," he said.

"That doesn't surprise me. C'mon, cookies are ready."

They set up the kitchen counter, island included, to be a complete station for decorating. There were bowls of M&M's and jelly beans, icing tubes, peppermint candy canes, and many other goodies. Cookies divided evenly, they each went to work on their best gingerbread cookie creation.

More than once did Michonne catch Rick stealing a glimpse of hers. She raised her eyebrows at him as she huddled over her cookies to shield them. Knowing he was caught, he'd simply chuckle and return his attention onto his gingerbread.

In the end, once they made their reveals, the vote was an easy one. While Rick and Michonne opted for more traditional renditions of gingerbread men, decorating their cookies as Santa Clause and his elves, Carl took a cleverer deviation. He pointed to the three cookies he'd decorated and launched into explanation.

"The gingerbread man is dad," he said. "See the little red and blue boxes on his chest? That's supposed to be one of dad's flannel shirts. And the red thing on his head is a Santa hat. I tried to get his beard too, but it sorta smudged. Then there's the gingerbread woman—that's you, Michonne—and I gave you a big smile 'cuz you're always making us happy. And you always wear nice clothes so I made you a little purse out of M&M's."

Rick and Michonne looked at each other, the boy's explanation a warm pull on their heartstrings.

"And then there's the really cool part," Carl went on. He picked up the smaller gingerbread cookie, chortling excitedly. "This one's me…see that gray square on my arm and my red eyes? I'm half-Carl, half-Cyborg—first ever robot gingerbread boy."

The small sentimental moment transitioned into a humored one. The two gave in to another laugh as Carl blabbed away about the special powers he had as a cyborg gingerbread boy hybrid, and how he was the first and only of his kind.

"Yeah, but are you gonna eat him?" Rick asked jokingly.

Carl's eyes bulged. "I didn't think about that. I don't know if I can—dad, he'll be extinct."

They eventually moved into the living room again, gingerbread and milk in hand, to watch another Christmas flick. As Michonne sat alongside the father and son and enjoyed the festive film, every so often she'd have an almost out-of-body experience where she stopped and soaked up the moment for what it was. The lightness in her heart which spread to every limb that left her swelling with love and adoration for the two.

As if on the same wavelength, Rick gave her a smile, put his arm around her to draw her in closer, and returned his gaze to the screen.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The movie rounded down to the final few minutes, but Carl drifted off into a hibernating sleep. He sat slumped on the sofa with a cookie in hand and a milk mustache. Michonne took the cookie out his hand and Rick picked him up as they turned the sofa into a bed. The final touch was covering him with a blanket. Out cold, Carl rolled over and snuggled into a pillow, mouth agape.

Michonne pressed a finger to her lips and grabbed his hand. The two held in a snicker as they slipped away.

Rick quietly pressed the door to a close. Michonne waited for him. For the moment he turned around and looked to her, she smiled with a radiance that left him visibly awestruck. The blue in his eyes embellished, as if in that moment the rest of the world dissipated, gone completely dim, and she was the only light in view.

He stepped to her, cradled her face in his hands, and kissed her with a distinct slowness. In a way which expressed utmost appreciation for her mere existence in his life. She couldn't help but giggle against his lips as they moved backward, deeper into the room. It was out of disbelief, a breathless giddiness that she was in his arms at last, after so long without.

Her fingers worked on their own accord, as they deftly untucked and unbuttoned his shirt and then moved on to glide through his wavy curls. His lips on hers were persistent. What started as a slow, indebted pace shifted into a desperate and fervent need as his affection shook her to her core with its intensity.

Every touch of his, however light, whether by lips or by hand, transcended anything in her life which had ever come before it. She was intoxicated and dizzied by him, to the point where she was putty in his hands as his mouth devoured her and he stripped away her clothing, piece by piece.

Bare, they collapsed onto the bed in a tangle. The sloppy fall left them pulling apart. They stifled their laughter as they did their best to keep as quiet as possible. Their lips met once more in an open-mouthed kiss that launched her into orbit all over again, and her hands moved off instinct as they slid down his hardened chest and stomach, finally to their destination. His arousal was thick and heavy, undeniable as she stroked him.

His touch was fire on her skin. His lips blazed a path down her throat to her pert breasts. He took one into his mouth and his tongue was agony as it rolled over her nipple. She was helpless. Opened to his ministrations as his heat melted her into the pillows and she moaned, enflamed by him in every sense of the word.

Even in the silence, as they kept their moans born in their throats as low as possible, he couldn't stop himself from speaking her name. His words came out in a guttural, almost primal grunt, as his hands and lips worked over her like she was some sort of artful masterpiece he couldn't appreciate fast enough.

When his length pushed into her, there was a pause which stretched on for them to savor becoming one. His eyes opened, piercing blue in the dark, and he watched the pleasure flicker across her beautiful face as he slowly began to move. Her walls embraced him, gripping him with every deepened stroke. Her mouth fell open, overwhelmed by how intensely he fulfilled her.

In every way, in ways she'd never imagined. She distantly knew it then, in her haze of mounting rhapsodic ecstasy, as she looked into his eyes, she could never let go again. There was no other future which awaited her but with him—somehow, they'd find a way.

Their hearts were wild, beating fast but in sync. Each thrust brought them closer to the ultimate bliss they chased after, mounting until an absolute, all-time peak was reached. She felt it swell inside her, blossoming from her depths, overwhelming her 'til her heart and every other part of her was fit to burst.

The liminal sound imposed upon them brought them to express their highs in other, more creative ways. She reached her pinnacle first, head tossed back and body arched as she pulsed around his thick length, and the floodgates opened. Until she was crying. Tears of euphoria slipped down the swell of her cheeks, and Rick was there to kiss each one which fell away.

How her body could feel so heavy, weighted down by the pleasure he inflicted upon her but yet feel so light, freed into an endless infinity which left her floating lost in time and space, she did not know. But in that moment, as she let go and gave in to him, she was incoherent. She did not know a single thing but total elation, not even her name.

Rick came soon after, his seed hot in its spread inside her. He collapsed into her and rested his head on her breasts, and she felt his strong limbs shake. Only then, as intelligible thought returned to her in bits and pieces, did she know his experience mirrored hers. She brushed his wet curls out of his face and smiled down at him as he fought for his breath.

Not long after that, he rolled over and took her into his arms, and they drifted off to sleep…

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Michonne swam in warmth when she stirred. Her breaths came out slow, easy as her vision cleared and her first sight of the day was that of Rick's sleeping face. She was struck by him, at a loss for how one man could be the puzzle piece she'd searched so long for in her life. Suddenly, everything made sense. The long and difficult road she'd traveled down brought her to its conclusion, to a brighter, happier place. Somewhere she was meant to be all along.

In his arms, she admired his peaceful state with unabashed greed. Her mind flittering away thoughts, she understood the difference between then and now. Back then, she'd loved. She was happy with things in her life, happy with Mike. But no matter how much a part of her would always cherish that time in her life, there was admittedly a window opened, a 'maybe' whispered in her ear whenever she'd thought of what was to come. It wasn't until now, as she envisioned the future and couldn't imagine one without him, she knew there was no window to be opened.

Not only did she love Rick—she was in love with him.

He woke, eyes squinted to pinholes, shooting her a sleepy smile. He turned his head, curls matted against the pillow, in search of the time.

It read back to him as 8:03 A.M.

"Breakfast? I'm starving," he mumbled.

She held back a snicker as she said, "like father like son."

"He has to get it from somewhere," he said. He sat up and stretched. "What were you smiling about?"

"Me?" The one-word question came out with a tinge of exaggerated naivety as she rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling.

"Yeah, you. You're always beautiful," he said. He twisted so that he positioned his body on his side, propped up by his elbow so that he could look down at her. "But you've got an extra halo effect going on this morning."

She shrugged, again of slightly feigned innocence. She said, "I'm just…happy."

"I've always wanted to see you like this," he said, voice low. "Just happy…just smiling…"

"I'm coming with you."

Rick's brow furrowed and he said, "what?"

"I can't say goodbye again," she went on. She met his eyes. "I love you too much to keep living without you. I'll…I'll move to King's County."

"No," he said firmly. "I don't want to do that to you. Not after what happened. We can find another way—another place. Start over just the three of us."

Michonne closed her eyes and smiled. She murmured, "I'd love that."

"We'll make it work. I know we will."

She knew it too, as sure as she knew her name.

They indulged in a cuddle sprinkled with kisses and caresses that resulted in more than just the sheets messed further, but Rick's wavy curls, too. Michonne was giggling as she ran her fingers through them when they heard a sound in the living room. Rick grabbed her wrist to pause their playful antics and he listened for a second.

"Somebody's up," he muttered.

She smiled, yanked her hand out his grasp and hopped to her feet. "Looks like it really is time for breakfast."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Christmas Eve Day was a lazy one. They made a big breakfast together and sat along the bar stools and spoiled themselves with food and laughter. Carl regaled them with the dream he'd had, where he claimed to have been some crimefighter tackling the New York streets with Picasso by his side.

"Is that true, P?" Michonne asked as she nibbled on toast. "Are you grumpy cat by day, heroic superhero by night?"

The cat parked underneath the stools merely meowed then clawed lightly at her foot.

Carl chuckled. "I'm gonna call that a 'yes'."

The clock tiptoed on noon by the time the trio were dressed and ready for some more holiday sightseeing. It was as they walked the busy streets in search of another Christmas market that they came across something even more celebratory. A mild-sized crowd gathered on the sidewalk's edges as a holiday parade came through.

"Oh man, I've never seen a parade live before!" Carl blurted out. He hurried to squeeze himself to the forefront.

"This is nice," said Rick as he watched a sleigh shaped float drift by. "This is something you'll never see in King's County."

"I didn't even know about this," Michonne confessed.

"There's no better surprise than a Christmas one, right? That's one thing we've learned so far," Rick asked. His grip on her waist tightened to a squeeze.

She eyed him questionably. "Why do I feel like you're covering something up?"

"What?"

"You know I see right through you? I'll never forget last year…you were reading me like a book, left and right figuring me out."

"Yeah?" He grinned.

"Yeah," she answered. "But guess what? I can read you too now, just as much. Maybe better. Spill."

"There's nothing to spill," he said. He gestured to the next float passing in front of them, a giant snowman with an equally giant carrot for a nose. "Would you look at that one?" he asked. "Might just be my new favorite."

Michonne's eyes narrowed, but she gave it a rest. Carl's laughter was too infectious to resist any longer, and in a second she stood right behind him laughing, too.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The pale sun set outside when they walked through the door to Michonne's apartment. Carl dropped to the floor and tugged his jacket and boots off. Rick carried the grocery bags to the kitchen counter. Michonne greeted Picasso with a quick neck scratch and then walked to the living room to clear the blinking number '4' from her voice machine.

"I'm about as excited as can be for this dinner," came Rick's voice as he unpacked the groceries. "All that walking we did today lets me know I'm not just going for seconds, I'm going for thirds."

An outline of a smile was on Michonne's lips as she listened to him and pressed the 'play' button on the machine. The first message was an unsurprising advertisement from Greater Living Health and Fitness club. The second recording was her mother, wishing her a Merry Christmas and rambling off about a big sale at Gorman's Department store. Third came Andrea, with Amy in the background, the two sisters calling to check in on her for the holiday. It was number four, the very last message, that took her by surprise.

"Michonne, honey…it's me…it's Stella," the recording played back to her. Mike's mother's voice was slow but also smooth, warmer than she remembered. "I know it's been so long, and the way things left off the last time I saw you, it's eaten away at me. I don't expect you to answer this call of mine, but I wanted to make it anyway—because I want you to know I do wish you a Merry Christmas from the bottom of my heart, and I…I want nothing but happiness for you. I've had a lot of time to think things through, and I'm not proud of what happened. Please know I am truly sorry and I have nothing but well wishes for you. You enjoy your holiday, alright? God bless."

The voice message horded her attention to the point where she didn't realize Rick walked up behind her. His hand on her arm as he checked on her brought her to jump. She turned around to face him, grateful for his presence. He brushed a loc behind her ear and his fingers slid down her cheek, and even before he spoke the question, she knew he was asking her if she were okay.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just…surprised. I didn't expect her to call me."

"It was nice of her, but if I'm honest…I haven't forgotten what they did to you," Rick said, voice edged with a protective undertone. "I don't want them hurting you again."

"You're right, I haven't forgotten either…" She threw a look over her shoulder at the phone. "A part of me feels like I should call her back. Then there's the other part…"

"It's your choice," said Rick. "I'm here for you either way."

She gave him a peck and then said, "I know…that's why I love you."

They walked into the kitchen and found Carl tying an apron around his back. Unfortunately, because it was an adult-sized apron, the length almost touched the floor on his shorter frame. Rick shook his head as he chuckled at the sight of his son.

"You gonna help us cook?"

"Yeah, why not?" Carl asked. "If we're gonna be a family…it'd be sorta…nice to be a family that cooks our big holiday dinner together…right? We're gonna be a family?"

Rick and Michonne looked at each other, listening to the pure and innocent hope laced in his voice, scribbled across his features and embedded in his blue eyes. They slowly came to smile.

"That's right," Rick answered. "We're a family."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Rick and Carl were in the living room watching television as Michonne finished up her shower and slipped on pajamas. The sound of their laughter leaking in through the closed door delivered such an unfiltered joy to her that it was a high in itself. She walked across her bedroom and sat down on the side of the bed beside the nightstand. Her hand wrapped around the landline phone and she dialed.

The line was picked up after two rings.

"Hello," said Stella.

"Stella," said Michonne hesitantly. "It's…me."

"Michonne? Oh, Michonne!" Stella's voice strengthened with delight. "Oh, honey, how are you? I am so glad you got my message. I didn't know if calling you would be right, but I could not lay my head in rest at night if I hadn't."

"I did hear your message." She paused, her finger wrapped in the phone cord. "I…I appreciate you taking the time to call."

"Oh, of course, honey. I've done a lot of thinking and it didn't sit well with me—none of it. You have to know that. Even if you and I cut ties, if we never speak to each other again, I just had to at least call and make amends," Stella explained. "It was very hard for me…very hard. It still is, but back then…I was so caught up in my own view of things I didn't take the time to consider others."

"Stella, I trusted your family…a lot," Michonne said with a renewed breath. "And it felt like you all turned your back on me. I was some stranger who was kicked to the curb and gossiped about. The…the things that were said were cruel."

"I know, honey, I know…I feel sick to my stomach thinking about it. I never agreed with it, but…I also didn't stop it. Which is worse. As Mike and J.J.'s mother, I should've put my foot down about it." Her voice crackled as she spoke.

"There's no changing the past. I think we can both agree about that," said Michonne calmly. "I think…the only thing to do now is move on, for both our sakes."

She listened to a sniffle on the other end, as if Stella gathered herself together again for speech. The mother said, "I can tell by listening to you, you have—it's in your voice how happy you are. And I wish I were as strong as you. I'm trying. God knows I am."

"Stella, you're as strong as I am. I know you are," she said. She stood up from the bed. "It's a process we're both going through, but they're very different. You can't compare where I'm at to where you are. You just have to let yourself go through it. Trust me, it's the only way. I wish you nothing but the best, and I'm happy you called. Have a Merry Christmas, okay?"

Michonne opened the bedroom door and found both father and son greeted her with bright eyes and happy smiles. The familiar bubbly feeling enveloped her as always, as she smiled in return and moved to take her place with them.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Carl swooped into the bedroom like a tornado Christmas morning. Rick and Michonne were nestled together, their slumber a thick one. Carl hopped onto the bed and his voice filled the otherwise still room as he proclaimed, "Dad, Michonne, dad! Guess what day it is—Christmas!"

Michonne lifted her head with a lethargic quality that served a direct contrast to Carl's spurts of energy. Rick didn't move a muscle, as if he hoped if he stayed still long enough he'd be afforded the chance to sleep longer. Carl refused to give up. He crashed down onto the bed, smackdab between the two and shook his father awake.

"Carl…it's 6 A.M.," Michonne said, caught between a yawn and a snicker.

"We always get up early on Christmas! Dad!"

"I'm up…I'm up…" Rick murmured. Though his eyes remained closed.

"Does this mean I can open my first present? I'm gonna go open my first present!"

Just like that, the boy leapt off the bed and sprinted out the room as quickly as he'd arrived.

Rick sat up, one eye open. "I wake up at 4 A.M. every morning. Why the hell am I so tired all of a sudden?"

Michonne smirked as she kissed his cheek and got out of bed. She said, "because all this time you didn't have me around to wear you out."

In the living room about an hour later, after some breakfast, the three gathered around the tree for their gifts. To no one's surprise, Carl volunteered to go first. He grabbed the first box with his name scrawled across the top, and tore off the paper in one go. He gasped as he held up a skateboard.

"Dad!" he stuttered. "Dad, you got me a skateboard…oh, man…this is too crazy! Wait 'til I tell Patrick—"

"—remember, the rules. You've gotta wear your protective gear at all times, and you're not gonna try and copy Lenny, right?" Rick asked.

Carl nodded avidly. "I swear I won't—wow, this is too cool."

"Okay, Rick, you're turn," said Michonne. She reached under the tree and handed over a neatly wrapped gift in silver and red. She couldn't resist the way her voice grew higher in pitch as she said, "I wonder who that's from?"

Carl guffawed. "Better find out—open it, dad!"

Rick undid each corner of the wrapping paper and unveiled a luxury wallet made of fine calfskin leather. He grinned as he pulled it from its box.

"You're always complaining about your wallet being uncomfortable," said Michonne, shrugging. "The salesman at Gorman's said it's one of the finest ones they carry—imported from Italy."

Rick's 'thank you' came in the form of an affectionate kiss on the mouth. Carl mingled somewhere between being gleeful and grossed out by the sight. He didn't skip a beat letting them know as much either.

"I really like that you guys are together and stuff," he said. "But I've gotta admit…kissing looks kinda bleh."

Rick and Michonne both chuckled.

"Carl, I've told you, there's gonna come a day before you know it where you're gonna wanna kiss a girl you really like."

The ten-year-old shuddered and said, "doubt it. I like Sophia, but all I wanna do is maybe play tag and read comic books with her. Maybe sit next to her."

"You just wait and see," Rick said. He rounded on Michonne, the same grin still on his face, only now he angled his head sideways. He said, "your turn."

Rick and Carl looked identical in their delight as they watched her outstretch her hand for one of the presents. Her fingertips touched a rectangular shaped box wrapped in flashy blue paper when Rick cleared his throat. She looked over to him, puzzled.

"There's a different present I'd like to give you first…one I've been hanging onto for a few weeks now," he said, Georgian drawl more pronounced than ever. He withdrew from his pocket a small box and opened it to reveal an engagement ring. Taking her hand in his, amused by the sight of her eyes growing ever larger, he said, "Michonne, I need you in my life—our lives—from this point on 'til…'til death parts us. All I want is to be with you. No matter where we end up—New York, Georgia, hell Antarctica—none of it matters because Carl and you? You're my home. Marry me."

Much of what happened next was a complete blur, but Michonne vaguely remembered tears—lots and lots of happy tears, both on her face and Rick's—and she was pretty sure she shot forth into his arms. She did so with such a rush that they fell backward onto the floor, breaking out into laughter as Carl jumped to his feet and whooped his small fists in the air. Her body atop his, she grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him on the mouth until they were both left panting for air. Rick let out a chuckle as he reached up and wiped a few tears from her eyes.

"So…uhh…" he said slowly. "I'm thinking that's a yes, right?"

"YES!" Michonne cried in laughter. "Yes, yes, yes!"

"Best Christmas ever!" Carl cheered. In his spastic circle runs, he grabbed a hold of Picasso and hugged the struggling cat close to his chest. "Guess what, P? We're gonna be brothers!"

"You know what?" Rick said thoughtfully. "This is the best Christmas ever. Who woulda thought it'd be in New York?"

Michonne simply smiled, so far-reaching the warmth reached her brown eyes. She could do nothing but kiss him again and then again after that. Because any more words were unneeded. The profound happiness flourished in the room between the family of three and spoke volumes in itself.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone reading this story! I cannot say that enough, because it is always greatly appreciated to know people enjoy reading what I post. There is one chapter left, a short epilogue that will time jump into the future for our lovelies. I hope to have that posted within the next couple days.

Now that this story is virtually at an end, I have also made the decision to share another AU romantic drama I've written with a different variation of Richonne. I hope to have this story posted soon, so keep an eye out if you are interested.

In the meantime, thanks again for reading, and please leave me a review. Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR:)