"No!" Michonne said, wagging a finger at Rick. "You can not be trusted!" She used the slippery lather coating her body to her advantage, escaping his grip and playfully darting out of reach in the large, walk-in shower of his en-suite bathroom.
"Come on," he laughed, stalking toward her and trapping her against the tile with a hand on the wall on either side of her. "Just stand right there." He trailed a finger down her belly, making her shiver.
"No. I told you when I got in here, I don't want to get my hair wet. Rinse off, and meet me in bed in five minutes. We don't have a lot of time." She stepped around him, exiting the stall and wrapping a towel around her body while he watched her with a grin that betrayed all of his intentions.
"I'll be there in two," he called after her as she quickly dried off and climbed into the disheveled bed.
It was Rick's first day back at work after his surgery and he was already running late, but that was his problem. Now that he was fully healed, she wasn't going to complain if he wanted to make up for lost time. She had missed this.
She lay on her belly, bending her knees just so, and crossing her legs at the ankle, then she propped her head on her hand and practiced her sexiest pout. She heard the water shut off, and moments later he appeared in the doorway, the same cocky smile on his face.
He strode toward her in three quick steps, grabbing her ankles and yanking her toward the edge of the bed as she squealed, her enticing pose ruined. She forgave him in an instant as his fingers plunged into her and she let out an altogether different noise. He was standing between her legs, now hanging off the bed, and his other hand was on the small of her back, pressing her into the mattress, and pinning under his relentless ministrations.
"Oh my God," she moaned into the duvet.
"We don't have a lot of time," he repeated her, his fingers taking a short cut he had learned long ago. This was not a scenic route opportunity.
"I don't...I'm gonna...Rick…" She clutched the sheets as her hips lifted off of the bed and she trembled around his hand. That had to be a record.
She could hear him chuckling behind her as she moaned loudly. Before she could even catch her breath, she felt his wet fingers dig into her hip as he steadied her to take more of him.
"You ready?" he asked. Her eyes were still clenched shut and she couldn't find the energy to answer him. "'Chonne…" She still didn't answer. "You'd better be."
…
Rick finished the last button on his uniform shirt, yawning as he tucked it into his pants. He was chiding himself for expelling a significant amount of energy before he was even fully dressed for his first day back, but it was worth it.
"So, I'll be home around six," he said, moving on to his belt. Michonne was pinning her locs up in the stand-up mirror on the back of his closet, dressed in a tight, red, wrap dress that had him wishing he was pulling his belt off instead of on. "You want me to grab something for dinner on my way home since you'll be in the office today?"
He watched her face fall in the mirror and he paused his buckling to question her with his eyes. "The thing is," she said. "I have an early meeting tomorrow."
"Ok. What does that have to do with dinner?"
She put the last pin in her hair and turned toward him, her posture deflating. "I was thinking...with you going back to work and all...maybe I should go back to my apartment tonight."
It's was Rick's turn to deflate. He'd known in the back of his head that she would eventually have to go home. Even though this was the first day he was cleared to return to duty, he had been self-sufficient for days- clear check-up, no pain meds, physical activity was definitely back to normal. Neither one of them had mentioned it though, and he had let himself get used to her being a fixture in his home, despite a not-so-distant conversation where they'd decided otherwise. He cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his head, trying not to look as disappointed as he was. "Yea, I guess if you have to be in early. With the drive and all…"
"Right," she said, her eyes flitting to the floor.
"But...I don't have to be in until eleven tomorrow," he offered. "I could come there tonight, help you unpack."
Her smile quickly returned, causing his to grow. "Ok. Let's have dinner out then. Bring a change of clothes and we can meet at Bruno's."
He took the few steps needed to gather her into his arms and kiss her, careful not to disturb her makeup. "It's been awhile since I've slept in your ridiculously expensive sheets."
"Those sheets are worth every penny, but be careful what you wish for," she smirked, pulling away to search out the bag she would use to take all of her stuff back with her. "Remember how much you hate the traffic noise at my place?"
Rick sucked in a sharp breath and pretended to be re-thinking the offer. "That's true. It is like sleeping on the freeway. You'll just have to make sure I'm exhausted enough to sleep through it."
She rolled her eyes at him in jest, then proceeded to move around his room, gathering her toiletries. "I'll see what I can do."
…
After helping Michonne load her car with all of the things that had made his house feel warm and full over the last three weeks, Rick kissed her goodbye and made the short drive to the station. Having barely enough time to finish his travel mug of coffee before arriving, he took a moment to calculate where Michonne would be on the highway back to her house. She'd still have over three quarters of the way to go, he realized with a sigh, and began to feel guilty. She'd have to leave before sunrise to get to her meeting the next day if she left from his house like he had selfishly wanted to ask her to do.
When he pushed through the double glass doors of the station, Shane was the first person he saw. He greeted Rick with a big smile and a fake-out jab to his abdomen that, despite his healing, had him flinching away with a yelp. Shane laughed heartily at Rick's scowl, falling into step with him as they made their way to Rick's desk.
"Back in the saddle," he said. "Grimes and Walsh ride again. Did you miss me?"
"I've seen you every week." Rick ignored Shane's antics and familiarized himself with the happenings of all of his regular customers while he was away. Driving after suspensions, a DUI; he had missed very little in this quiet little town while he was recuperating.
"How's Michonne?"
"She's fine." He set down the report and took his mug over to the coffee maker for a top off before they set out on patrol.
"Ya'll have a fight or something?" His expression turned dour and Rick wondered when he and Michonne started affecting Shane's moods.
"No. Why do you ask that?"
"You're pouting."
"Pouting?"
"Brooding, sulking, whatever you want to call it. Your face is all mopey. Haven't seen it like that since before you two met, except that one fight y'all had."
Rick scratched at the back of his head, clearing his throat and (he hoped) the dark cloud hanging over his head. He was feeling a little mopey, but he didn't need Shane ribbing him for over this, and that fight was certainly not something he wanted to rehash. Especially when he had half a mind to revive it by begging Michonne to stay this morning.
Technically it had been he who had put the final brakes on the whole idea of living together, but he knew as soon as he said it that it was a preemptive strike. Ultimately, his brain had convinced his heart that it was better to be overly cautious with something as important as what he had with Michonne. The problem was that the two months following that fight had somehow been their best yet, making the outcome ironic and almost torturous. Between the fake sick day turned long weekend that they'd taken to explore the pleasure of making up, to Michonne playing nursemaid during his recovery, they'd spent more time living together since their fight about not living together than they would have if she had just said yes and started the long process of renting out her apartment.
"I'm fine," he assured Shane getting more irritated at the situation by the minute. "Just a little sore still."
Shane nodded, accepting his lame excuse and they climbed into their squad car. After a few quiet moments in the passenger seat though, Shane started in again. "You gonna sit there silent all day acting like I'm your chauffeur?" he asked with a slight whine. "I've been driving around with Leon while you were gone. Least you could do is entertain me with a little conversation now that you're back. You watch the game last night?"
"Nah, 'Chonne's got me reading this book. I was caught up in it- forgot it was on."
Shane snickered.
"What are you twelve? You're gonna give me a hard time for being literate?"
"It ain't that, although missing the Hawks is pretty lame."
"Then what?"
"You're not telling me something. I believe you didn't have a fight 'cause your asshole-meter is only hitting around seventy percent, so what is it? You still on light duty in the bedroom? Not getting it in like you used to?"
"Clean bill of health," Rick said, innocuously batting away the speculation.
"I'm gonna keep guessing and you're not gonna like it."
Rick dragged a hand over his face, peering at Shane's mischievous eyes. He glanced at the clock; he was only thirty minutes into his shift and the car offered no escape routes. He might as well just get it over with. "She's heading back to her place tonight," he explained. "I liked having her there full time, but we aren't doing that yet, so I packed her stuff into her car this morning and she's going back to the city."
To his credit, Shane did not immediately laugh or tease about the situation. Instead, he let out a thoughtful "huh", and made a few turns on their usual route before he spoke again. "And you don't want to ask her to stay because of what happened last time?" he asked.
"Right."
"Did you give her any indication you were unhappy with the prospect of her leaving?" he asked. "Or did you do your typical Mr. Agreeable act and start packing up her stuff?"
"I didn't pout, as you so kindly put it, if that's what you mean?"
"That's exactly what I mean," Shane smiled. "Women like to see a little emotion, some feelings they can over-analyze and dwell on. She probably took one look at your hands on your hips and your agreeable nod and thought you were ready to have your space back."
Rick replayed the moment in his head. He thought his suggestion of following her home was enough to let her know he didn't want to be without her, but Michonne was big on body language. She was always relaying anecdotes about cases she was working where someone smiled the wrong way or scratched at their chin while they were telling a story, thus laying all of their secrets bare. When she had suggested going back to her place, he had looked pretty much exactly as Shane had described- acquiescent, unbothered. He tipped his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes. His stitches started to ache from the friction of the seatbelt and he could feel Shane's eyes boring a hole into his profile. He hated when Shane was right.
"Are you thinking of ways to thank me for my sage advice? Cause we're about to need gas and I never turn down a chocolate cruller from that bakery across the street."
Rick glanced across the console at Shane's middle. "Maybe you oughta," he smirked.
"Oh, coffee too?" Shane replied, not missing a beat. "You're too kind, brother."
"Yeah, yeah," he said as Shane pulled beside a gas pump and Rick jumped out to hit the donut shop. "I'll be right back."
…
"Well look who it is!" Sasha jumped out of her seat at their favorite coffee shop when Michonne swung through the door. "I missed you!"
"I missed you too," Michonne replied, leaning in to embrace her friend. They had a standing coffee and pastry lunch date on Monday mornings and Michonne had missed the last three since she'd been working from Rick's house and only driving in for client meetings. "Did you order for me?" She smiled brightly at the raspberry filled croissant and twenty-ounce coffee that sat at the place setting across from Sasha.
"I did. I knew you'd be in a rush."
Michonne slid into the chair and took a long sip of her beverage. "Thank you."
"So Rick is back to work today, huh? Glad he is better. That was kind of scary."
"Yes he is, and it was. I still feel awful for dragging him around all night on the verge of an acute medical emergency."
"You hardly could have known."
"You knew," she said, remembering Sasha's keen eye on him over dinner.
"Yes, but I'm trained and trust me, for someone with a ticking time bomb inside them, he was covering it well. I thought he was just green with jealousy over Jay."
"Don't remind me," Michonne laughed. "I really put him through the wringer that night."
"He made it. Are you still staying there? I was surprised to get your text about resuming our healthy lunch tradition." Sasha bit into a large Boston Creme Donut and smirked.
"I've been there since he came home from the hospital, but…"
"But what?"
"I'm going home after work tonight."
"Uh oh."
"No, no. It's nothing like that. I have a meeting and it just makes sense. Rick is staying over. I just...I guess I'm kind of sad."
Sasha put down her pastry and leaned back in her chair, looking at Michonne pensively. "Sad because you want to stay?"
"I think so." She let the confession out so quietly she barely heard her own voice. "It feels like when we left to go home after Maggie's bachelorette party-"
"Girl's weekend…"
"Right, whatever it was. It feels like I've been on vacation and now I have to go back to the real world where things are unnecessarily complicated."
"You two have been doing fine in the real world. Great, actually. Sickeningly, annoyingly adorable actually."
"I know..." she trailed off, unable to fully articulate the somberness that had settled over her, but Sasha seemed to figure it out anyway.
"So are you two going to re-open the living together conversation?"
Michonne took another long sip of her coffee and contemplated the question she had hoped Sasha would voice for her. "I don't know. He didn't mention it when I suggested I go back, and the way we left it, the ball is in his court."
"Oh come on," Sasha said, waving a dismissive hand at her.
Michonne wasn't expecting that response and her face scrunched in question.
"The ball has literally always been in your court, Michonne. From the second you two met. This is what your entire fight was about. He's been waiting for you to shoot that damn ball since the beach."
"But I did!" she defended, remembering when she had summoned every ounce of courage she had ever had and was promptly shut down. "I told him I wanted to, after all of that, and he said-"
"He didn't say no; don't reinvent history."
"He did."
"No. He told you he would ask you again when you'd had more time to think about it. What that meant was 'I'm hurt and scared and I need a minute.' It didn't mean no."
Michonne nodded, tearing off another piece of her croissant and popping it in her mouth. "So you think I should bring it up again?"
"I think you should make sure his minute is over, and if it is, let him know you're still ready when he is."
"And how do I know when his minute is over?"
"You'll figure it out."
…
Rick pulled up to the restaurant just past seven o'clock, tired and just a little sore from his first day back. At least he was only doing eight hour shifts to start, rather than his usual twelve. Otherwise he'd really be feeling it, and he would also still be sitting in a squad car with Shane, instead of walking down the street to meet Michonne.
He'd changed into a pair of jeans and an old Braves t-shirt that he knew Michonne liked on him before he left the station. He had a feeling she would end up stealing it to sleep in, like she usually did when he wore it, but that was part of the appeal. He could take it home with him afterward and keep it smelling like her until she came back. He was feeling more dejected by the minute at the idea of their little interlude of playing house coming to an end. Shane was right, he did play down his sadness over her leaving, but even though a lot had happened since then, the last time he'd tried to broach the subject of them living together was still too raw and painful.
He reached the door to Bruno's, the cozy bar and grill where they'd had drinks the night before he was rushed to the E.R. He'd wanted to make a joke when she'd suggested it- ask her if she was trying to put him back in the hospital as a way to keep this thing going- but she still had some weird guilt over the whole thing, so he decided not to press any buttons.
They saw each other at the same time, her standing at the bar and him pushing his way through the happy hour crowd. She kissed him hard when he finally reached her, and he suddenly didn't feel so worn.
"How was your first day back?" she asked, running her hands up and down his chest, while he circled her waist with his arms.
"It was good. Shane was so happy to be done with Leon, he was only half as annoying as usual."
She laughed, sliding onto a bar stool and gesturing for him to take the one beside her. "That must have been nice. So nothing strenuous?"
"Lotta sitting on my ass."
"Good. I like to hear about days like that. Besides, you need to put back on some of the weight you lost over the last month." She poked at his stomach playfully. "I hope you had lots of donuts while you were sitting on your ass."
"You can't resist the donut jokes, can you?" he sighed, flagging the bartender and secretly wishing it was her friend Jay so he could make another show of their coupledom. "Sasha told me about pastry Mondays, so don't try to project your bad habits on to me."
She giggled at him, the straw from her cocktail caught between her teeth and his heart sank again.
"So, we unpacking when we get back to your place? Or you wanna rent a movie or something?"
"I've got a ton of laundry," she sighed. Rick had a vision of the last time he'd done a load of laundry, Michonne's lacy little thongs mixed in with his socks and t-shirts, and he took a long swig of the beer that had been delivered, trying to mask his frown.
"A movie and laundry it is," he said. "I can fold."
"No you can't," she grinned.
"Fine. I can entertain you with my witty commentary while you fold."
"That sounds more likely." She offered him a smile, before picking up the menu and scanning it. "I'm glad you're here," she said, her eyes still on the food choices. "I wasn't ready to sleep alone."
He nodded, his head swimming with the possible ways that comment could segue into a 'why don't you just stay?' conversation, but he stifled that with a sip of beer too. "What do you feel like?" he asked instead, looking over her shoulder at the menu.
"Probably a salad," she said, "since it was pastry Monday."
"I was thinking nachos. I need the calories, right?"
She sighed loudly as if he were twisting her arm and he watched with amusement as she feigned annoyance. "Fine. I'll share them with you."
"That was hard."
"I'm here for you, Rick."
"You always are."
…
Michonne led the way across the parking lot of her building with Rick following behind. He was carrying his overnight bag and the suitcase she had used to pack up a good portion of the clothes and toiletries that she had been keeping at his house for the past three weeks. She'd left a few things there; she still had the drawer, so she might as well use it. It was mostly just the stuff she needed for work that she brought home. Her meeting was in eleven hours and she didn't want to be digging through her closet's second string line up in the early morning. She'd left her favorite pajamas, a few of her hair products, and the book she was reading. She'd be back there in a couple of days when the weekend rolled around; she wasn't sure why she felt like she was being shipped off to summer camp.
She reached the door, pausing to gather the piles of mail that had accumulated while she was gone and stuff them under her arm. Then she fingered the correct key on her chain and bent to stick it in the knob, when she stopped short, taking a step back.
"What's the matter?" Rick asked, when she almost backed into him.
"The door," she said, "It's open." She heard her suitcase fall to the ground, and Rick's hand clamped down on her shoulder, pulling her away from the door. He swapped places so he was standing in front of her, and she watched him inspect it himself, before turning her around and marching her back to their cars, parked side by side.
"Get in and wait here," he said, opening the door to his truck. She climbed in, and he went around to the driver's side, reaching across the seat into the center console, and pulled out his gun.
"Rick!" she whispered, her pulse ticking up at the cloud that had settled over his face. "Do you think someone is inside?"
"Stay here, Michonne." He tossed her the car keys and shut the door without another word.
Michonne watched him stalk toward the door, both hands on his gun, the barrel pointed at the ground as he crept. She fingered through her purse, her eyes never leaving him, until she found her phone, holding it at the ready in case she needed to call for help. Her heart was in her throat as she watched him push open the door with his foot, before disappearing inside.
Six excruciatingly long minutes later, he came back out and she finally pulled in a breath large enough to fill her lungs. He stashed his gun in the back of his jeans, exchanging it for his phone as he crossed the pavement toward the car. He was already speaking to someone when she opened the truck door to greet him. He put an arm around her, pulling her into his chest while he recited her address, offered a few more yes's and no's, then hung up the call.
"It's all clear," he said, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. "But you had a break-in. There's some stuff missing. The place is a mess."
She could feel tears start to burn her eyes, not at the state of her apartment, but at the incident in general, and she started to tremble. Rick's cop face quickly softened and he began fussing over the drops from her eyes, wiping them away with his thumbs. "Shhh," Rick said, pulling her under his arm. "It's just stuff, Michonne. You're ok."
"I know." She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. "I'm sorry."
She was shaking in his arms, picturing someone inside her space. How long had it been like that? What if she had been home? She needed to get it together. She took a deep breath and felt his fingers tip her chin upward so she could look at him. Her thoughts were running a mile a minute, but Rick was steady and calm.
"Don't be sorry. It's a lot. Let's just go through and look at what's missing. The police are on their way and they're going to want to know."
She looked up at him, suddenly terrified to move.
"No one is in there," he assured her, easing her out of the truck with a hand around her waist.
Rick squeezed her hand as he led her through the door, still ajar. He was careful not to touch the knob, but he pointed at it as he walked her in. "You said the lock was sticking," he said. "Looks like they didn't have to try too hard to get it open." She took her own look as they passed, noting the lack of damage. They'd just waltzed right in. When she took another step past him, and finally saw the state of her apartment, she couldn't help her reaction. Her hands flew to her mouth and she froze, every hair on her body standing on end.
The couch cushions were thrown on the floor, her entertainment center had been thoroughly ransacked with cables spilling from the wall where her television used to be. All of the drawers and cabinets were open and torn through. It looked like a war zone. Rick sensed her crumbling again and stepped in front of her, bending so that they were face to face. He cupped her face, then tilted his head to the side, obviously confused by her emotional reaction. She was good in emergencies, someone who didn't get flustered easily, but here she was losing her cool and clinging to his shirt sleeves like a scared little girl.
"These things are usually random," he said, stroking her cheek as he spoke. "They took what they wanted and it's over."
She nodded, swallowing a few times to try to force down the lump in her throat that wanted to spill out in sobs. She didn't want to be here in the first place; that was the where her exasperation was coming from. She wanted to go back to Rick's and climb in his bed that felt more like home than hers now. She wanted to wake up before dawn to get to her meeting and happily chug an extra cup of coffee to make up for her early departure time. She looked at him, wondering if he felt the same way, like this was a big neon sign telling her to go home. He was stroking her skin like he was desperate for a way to make her feel better, and she thought about just telling him she couldn't stay here after this; asking him to take pity on her and whisk her away to safety. But the last thing she wanted to do was to guilt him into a major life decision.
She didn't get a chance to decide one way or another. A pair of uniformed officers appeared in the doorway then, announcing their presence with a loud knock on the open door, and Rick kissed her cheek and went to greet them, leaving all of her thoughts unsaid.
…
It was half past ten by the time the cops were finishing up at her apartment, and Michonne was both wired and exhausted at the same time. She was sitting on her bed, looking around at her clothes still hanging out of the drawers and strewn about the floor, while Rick stood in the living room, his hands on his hips and looking completely in control as he chatted with one of the officers who was still on scene. She'd given them a list of the missing items, then retreated to her bedroom with the intention of finally getting out of her dress and heels. Even the rooms where nothing had been taken looked like a tornado had been through them though, and the thought of someone going through her underwear drawer had her hesitant to strip out of her clothes. She rubbed at her burning eyes, feeling her mascara crumble beneath her fingers and probably smudge all over her face.
Rick and the officer disappeared out of her line of vision, and after a moment or two the door closed and the sound of his boots clomping toward her filled her ears. He fell heavily onto the mattress beside her, jostling her out of her numb staring.
"You ok?" he asked, running his hand up her back. She leaned into his touch, thankful again for the way he'd handled everything tonight, from checking out her apartment, to dealing with the police, she'd been useless and she knew it.
Rick was peering up at her with a concerned gaze, and she leaned back onto the mattress beside him and snuggled into his chest. "I'm just tired," she said. He reached his arm around her, so he could look at his watch.
"Let's go to bed. I can clean up some of this stuff tomorrow before I go in."
"What about the door?"
"It's locked. I checked it twice. No one is coming back here tonight, Michonne." He kissed the top of her head, then glanced behind him at the bedside table where he had set his gun, reminding her that she was well-protected with him beside her.
She wanted to fall asleep where they lay, but she couldn't settle her mind when she was surrounded by the chaos that was her room. She pulled to her feet, crossing the room to gather some of the clothes from the floor. She started to put them back in the drawer, but thought better of it, instead deciding to wash everything that had been touched by whomever was here.
"'Chonne, I'll do it tomorrow." He stood too, coming up behind her and tugging at her hips.
"I can't sleep in here like this," she said, waving an arm at the floor.
"Alright." Rick started gathering clothes too, tossing them in the hamper by the door. When they had finished with that task, he went to get a dustpan and broom from her kitchen, sweeping up some broken glass from the top of her dresser where a photo of her parents had been knocked down and smashed. When her bedroom was tidy enough, he closed the door, insisting that the rest wait until morning.
Without speaking, they both undressed, him down to his boxer shorts, and her swapping her dress for the t-shirt he had just taken off and a new pair of underwear from her suitcase. Rick climbed into bed first, holding the comforter open for her, but she hesitated.
"I have to brush my teeth," she said, glancing at the door and the dark hallway. "Will you come with me?"
He smiled, climbing back out of the bed, and dug through his overnight bag for his own toothbrush. When she had retrieved hers from her suitcase, they walked together down the hall and brushed their teeth together in silence. She thought again how odd it felt to be back here. Maybe it was that the place looked nothing like she left it, but it felt like they were staying in a hotel or at a friend's house instead of her home for the last few years. She shuffled a little closer to him, leaning on his shoulder as she brushed. She glanced at him in the mirror, wanting to ask him if he felt it too. She wanted to know if, like Sasha had said, his moment was over; if over the last few weeks they had entered a new one, but his eyes looked so tired. For his first day back, he'd had way too much drama. Now wasn't the time to start a conversation like that; not while they were still standing in the middle of such a chaotic night.
…
When they had both rinsed and dried, Rick climbed back into bed, holding his arms out for Michonne to settle in them. He studied the side of her face as she rested wearily on his chest. He'd never seen Michonne scared before, and it made him want to wrap her up in his arms and drive her back to his house where he could protect her.
Maybe this was some sort of sign; the final straw that would convince her to come back for good. His training told him that the likelihood of her actually being in danger by staying here was slim to none. It had been a random hit, a broken lock and a bunch of mail piling up to indicate no one was home. It would be unfair of him to suggest otherwise to convince her to move in, but this wasn't the only reason he wanted to open that discussion again.
The thought of her leaving had been breaking his heart slowly all day long. This was just the push he needed to stop being so afraid to broach the subject again. She had to feel it too; she was clutching at him like a lifeline, even as she attempted to fall asleep. She didn't want to go either and one of them was going to have to take the risk. They weren't in the same place as before; so much had happened.
"Michonne," he whispered, unable to go to sleep until he'd said what was on his mind.
"Yeah?"
He let out a long breath through his nose before continuing. "I think this was a freak thing," he said, his tone measured. "I don't think you're unsafe here." She nodded; he could tell she needed to hear that. "I can fix the lock for you. Make sure everything is secure. But…" She held him tighter. "It's not because I think you're not safe…I've just gotten used to you being with me. I know we already talked about this, I just figured...with everything that happened…"
She pulled away and his face fell, preparing himself for the look of unpleasant surprise he'd seen the last time. It didn't come, though. Her eyes were watering and he thought he caught a tiny quiver in her bottom lip.
"I've gotten used to it too," she said, wiping at her eye with the bottom of his t-shirt.
He pulled himself up to sit beside her. He response propelled him forward, and he suddenly couldn't get the words out fast enough. "It just seems sort of crazy to go back to being apart when we know how good it is to not be, right?"
"Right."
"And I don't want you here alone if you could be with me."
"I don't want to be here alone either. I want to be with you, Rick." He watched her body finally relax for the first time that night, her heartbeat evening out and her breaths getting deeper. "It's not because I'm scared," she said. "I wanted to even before this." She leaned in to kiss him and he let out a long sigh of relief.
"Alright then." He smiled with his lips still pressed to hers. "I'll help you get this place all cleaned up, and Michonne, I'll understand if you want to keep it. Rent it out instead of selling the place. I know you'd feel better if-"
She quieted him with another kiss, longer this time so there was no confusion. She pulled away, running her hands down to his shoulders and squeezing. "I'm not worried, Rick. I don't need any more excuses. You said you're never giving me up, right?"
"That's right," he smiled.
"Promise?"
"I promise. Forever."
"Then let's get started on forever."
He nodded and pulled in a breath that hitched in his throat, his eyes zeroing in on hers. "OK," he whispered. "Let's start right now."