A/N: Thank you all for the kind reviews and direct messages. My editing of this chapter turned into an almost total rewrite. It became somewhat overwhelming so I had to step away from it for a few weeks. The chapter is extremely long, the longest I've ever posted, but I wanted this final chapter to be very thorough. I really hope you enjoy...

Chapter 10 – A Place Called Home

She turned on the faucet, bent over the basin, and splashed water on her face; rinsing away the remnants of tears and makeup. There was, however, no amount of water that could rinse away the pang of guilt that presently resided in her heart.

Raising her head from the sink, standing straight up, she pulled a paper towel from the roll sitting on the counter next to the sink. I'm glad that Daryl at least invested in paper towels, the thought made the corners of her mouth turn up slightly as she patted her face.

Shaking her head at the memory of the words she'd said a few minutes earlier. I don't wish I was dead, was the next thought that scurried through her brain as she took another disposable hand towel. She sat the roll back on the counter.

"I shouldn't've said that," her voice was soft and gravelly. She scrutinized the nearly unrecognizable reflection staring back at her. But it's more than what people will think, or of losing respect. It's so much more than that. The thought sent an unwelcome chill down her spine.

"That was seriously dramatic, Michonne," she sardonically chuckled at the woman looking back at her.

"Poor Rick. I'm sure you freaked him out, Counselor," she admonished the crestfallen reflection, and then shook her head grasping the sink with both hands before lowering her head again. Talking through her worries had been her mode of operating since grade school. After a few seconds her whispered declaration wafted into the air…

"I never want you to think that I don't want you," she placed her hand on her stomach and rubbed gently. Her eyes glanced downward before drifting back up to the mirror, "I love your dad…more than you could ever know," it was both an admission and an apology. There was a familiar flush rising in her face, No more crying, Michonne. You need to get back out there. He's probably going crazy.

Turning away from the mirror, she ran her hands down the front of her blouse and glanced up to the ceiling. There was a small spider making its way across the wall. I'd be happy to exchange lives with you at the moment. Her laughter filled the intimate space as she turned around.

"I do want you little one. I do. I swear. I've wanted to be a mother forever," she breathed, wiping away the tears that insisted on falling, "and you'll never have a better father than Rick…it's just…there's a lot that you don't know. I mean…I'm not married to your father. I'm married to someone else," it was a plea of understanding that she whispered. Her unborn child the clergy - the empty restroom her confessional.

"You'll be living proof of two people who not only didn't honor their vows…but people who also recklessly ruined the lives of others," the words were barely audible. As much as she hated to think of a child that she created with Rick as being a problem, truthfully…that's what you are. Guilt prevented her from saying the words out loud. You'll always be the living proof of infidelity. Her hand again rested on her flat abdomen.

"Guess that won't be flat for too much longer." A quiet dry laugh filled the tiny restroom. She looked in the mirror. The smile on her face didn't reach her eyes, and the laugh didn't reach her spirit.

"Your dad is amazing though," her voice was low and husky. A sound that was somewhere between a groan and a laugh accompanied the wide smile spread across her face at the thought of him.

Ricks attitude had not completely surprised her. They had spoken at length of having a life together. They had every intention of divorcing their spouses and finding peace in a marriage that they both believed was their destiny. But not like this.

"He never even considered that you might be Mike's. Never for a moment thought that you weren't his," with that declaration, she breathed deep. Guess it makes sense. She peered into the mirror which had a good amount of paint covering its edges. He knows that Mike and I haven't had sex for months. But still. He never even considered...I mean…not even for a moment. He knows my heart so well…

The vision of her well-defined man in his Sheriff's Deputy uniform, that fits him so well it should be a sin just for him to walk around in public, the most beautiful azure eyes, and strong hands, flashed in her mind's eye – she grinned. Damn the man is beautiful.

"From the moment your dad and I met…I was a goner. Who could blame me?" she laughed lightly at the rhetorical question that was more of a stated assertion. There was more joy and less sadness in this laugh.

Eyeing her reflection in the discolored glass, "He and I were meant to be together. I wasn't exaggerating when I said he's amazing. I'm just…really sorry that you'll be caught up in all our mess." Those words – the apology – though offering no definitive answer, were the last words of apology she'd offer, to anyone…I'm through with being sorry. I'm through with feeling sorry for myself. You're mine…and your dads little baby. Her hand mindlessly landed on her stomach.

It was time to stop hiding in the bathroom. It was time to face this head on. After tossing the crumpled paper into the receptacle, glancing at her mildly swollen makeup-free face in the mirror, she grasped the door handle, "Time to face the music, whatever that music might be."

The words were quietly exhaled as she re-entered the bar. Her eyes adjusted to the room which seemed even dimmer than usual. Rick, Daryl, Shane and Carol were standing by the bar having a heated discussion which was masked by the hum of the air conditioner.

x - x -x - x

She smiled, looking the retired detective in the eyes, "Mr. Greene, before you make your decision, please listen with an open-heart," her voice was softly adamant. The determination etched on her face left no room for doubt that this was more of a demand than a request.

The room suddenly seemed smaller than its actual square footage. Hotter too. He gingerly yanked at his collar…

"I can listen with and open mind, as well as an open heart, Mrs. Stevens," Hershel assured, sitting back in his chair, and undoing the top button on his shirt. His eyes remained focused on the expectant mom in front of him. Though he could hear a few whispered words from the others in the room, his eye contact on the woman in front of him did not waver.

Michonne nodded at his reply to her request. Rick squeezed her shoulders.

"I'm not here to judge you. I am no longer a man of the law…though I will always be a man who follows the law. I'm a private investigator who answers to my clients," the older man said. The implication buried in his words were clear to all in the room.

Rick felt his wife shift in his arms. Her body instantly became tense and stiff as her mood quickly changed. He peripherally saw the gentle smile drop from her face.

"I understand what you're sayin'…" Rick acknowledged, rubbing Michonne's belly-bump. He raised her hand to his mouth and lightly kissed it before continuing, "So you're plannin'…"

"You're plannin' on tellin' Lori?!" Shane asked and reprimanded, cutting Rick off mid-sentence.

All eyes landed on the deputy who was sitting on the couch with his knee anxiously bouncing. His hands were balled, and his lips drawn back in a snarl.

"Shane," Rick snapped. He'd spent the better part of his adult life reeling in his friends temper. Always attempting to stamp down the – act first – think third – type of behavior that generally landed Sheriff's Deputy Walsh in hot water.

"Naw man. I'm just askin'," he looked from his friend to the older investigator, "I mean, she's the one who hired 'em. We need'ta know. Ain't no tellin' what Lori'll do," the snarl became more pronounced as his words were said to Rick; his eyes however didn't leave Hershel's.

There's that mad-dogging, "You know Deputy," Hershel said softly, his light eyes staring back at the challenging set of dark eyes trained on him, "It was my meeting with you that first made me consider that there may possibly be more to the accident than what appeared on paper…"

"Bullshit!" Shane barked the compound expletive that appeared to be his go-to retort.

Hershel chuckled at the younger man, "You see, every good man who has a good friend – a true blue, stand in front of the firing squad together, kinda friend – can recognize that in others. A friend that'll do whatever they have to do…even skirting the law…if they have to. I saw that in you," he chuckled, "I've been lucky enough to have a friend like that for my entire adult life. He'd do anything for me…" a smile forced itself onto his face as he thought about Dale. His friend of over half a century had thrown himself on many a metaphorical grenade with him, and for him.

"That didn't give nothin' away," Shane countered, the words popping angrily from his mouth.

"You said that…" the modestly-brilliant detective reached into his pocket, pulled out his weathered notebook, and flipped through the pages, "He ain't that kinda man, you said" he spoke low and clear, looking back at the flustered deputy, "and I got the feeling that you were talking about the present as well as the past. Once it was obvious that you were the kinda man who'd stand in the fire for his best friend…I just needed to figure out why all the subterfuge."

The wind was knocked out of Shane's sail. His hands unclenched, and his snarl softened. He cleared his throat. No words followed. Hershel inwardly grinned at the look of unwanted humility on the deputy's face. The expression was out of place on the face of a man who undoubtedly prided himself on his cockiness.

As silence consumed the room, Hershel took the time to thumb through his notebook before directing his attention back on the couple that he'd gone there to meet. The couple that painstakingly faked their death two years ago.

Hershel looked up from his notepad, regarding the couple, "Actually…"

Michonne interrupted, "It was selfish. It was a selfish thought and a selfish need. The idea of re-writing something that's already been stapled, three-hole punched, and placed into a binder. It was a selfish need to want to change history. But that's what we wanted. Unlike most people who wish to right the wrongs of their life, someone or something in its infinite wisdom had given us the opportunity to do just that…" she breathed as her quiet utterance overtook the room. Rick began to rub her back while she took a breath…

She gazed around the room at the faces of those giving her their full attention. With the exception of Andre's intermittent babbling and the soft jazz coming from a speaker in the corner behind Carol, the room was quiet. Throughout her career she'd argued more cases than she could remember, this is the most important argument I'll ever make, she exhaled as the transient thought retreated.

Her eyes, again, focused on the investigator, "What are the chances of falling in love with a man who has a good friend whose business has no cameras anywhere in sight? Of having a Dental Forensic Scientist as a friend…or having a longtime friend who works with the Medical Examiner's Office?" She wiped her hand across her forehead and let out a quiet joyless chuckle at the rhetorical question…

"…Probably the same chances of falling in love with a Sheriff's Deputy that has a best friend who can redirect files…" she continued.

"Chonne," Daryl interrupted, "You don't need to be tellin' him all that." His voice was low and measured. His pleading scowl went from the speaker to her husband whose legs she was still half-sitting in.

"He's right," Shane added; also looking to Rick for assistance.

"If I'm gonna tell it, then I'm gonna tell it all," she said to the others in the room. Not directly responding to Daryl or Shane.

"Why, Baby?" Rick asked quietly, giving her a careful nudge so that she would turn her head towards him.

The new Mrs. Stevens twisted to face her husband, "Because we had to tell a lot of lies to get here. We had to build a life with our kids out of lies," she breathed deep shaking her head, "I just don't want this one to start life with any more lies than she has to..." she rested her hand gently on her stomach.

"…There's already so many things that we can't tell them…so when there's a chance to be honest, I wanna be. We've lived like outlaws since Carl and Andre were born. We don't even have their pictures on the wall. I…I just want to…" her breathing quickened for a moment before finding its regular pace, "…not be so worried all the time." She glanced down at her stomach and softly rolled her hands down its swell.

Rick kissed her cheek. There were several aspects about her personality that he'd learned over the past two years. Along with being passionate about everything from food to politics, she was extremely headstrong. Once her mind set on something, there was no changing it. A dog with a bone would be an understated analogy when it came to her tenaciousness. He found that out when they went shopping for household and baby items after getting to California. Several salespeople found out the exact same thing.

"Okay, sweetheart. I'm sorry," his voice was low as he acquiesced; again resting his hands on top of hers and directing his attention back towards the older man.

"I appreciate your honesty," Hershel broke into the private conversation, "I wanna assure you that yours was not an easy trail to follow. You all did a remarkable job of covering your tracks," his lips imperceptibly turned up at the irony in his humble assertion.

"Didn't stop you from figuring everything out in a few weeks time," Carol voiced the obvious contradiction in his words.

The investigator turned his head towards the no-nonsense silver haired dentist, "Well, Dr. Peletier. I had a hunch that I followed. Can't say that others would."

"So, you're just that good," Merle scoffed at the retired detective.

The corners of the investigators mouth lifted into a gentle smirk. One of his brows rose as he stared back at the trucker. Hershel allowed his facial expression to humbly answer the stated question. He twisted his head back in the direction of the couple.

"I won't pretend to be anything other than what I am," Michonne continued, "I made a lot of mistakes in my life, maybe now is where I have to own up to them…"

"Micho…Melody," Sasha, still struggling with the proper name usage, piped in from across the room."

"No, Sasha, let me finish," she said, not taking her eyes off of the white haired gentleman observing her…

"…I wanted to walk out of my life…not just because I fell in love with Rick, and not just because of our children, it was honestly never my life. I loved my parents…like most people I wanted to please them. So I did what they wanted. I was good at what I did because I always felt that I needed to prove something to everyone. I needed to make my parents proud. I married Mike because my parents liked him and I always wanted to do the right thing. It wasn't until I met Rick that I realized everything I ever thought…everything was a lie…"

"That's not true," Sasha said shaking her head, "I was a part of your life. It wasn't a lie."

"Sash…"

"No. Now you let me finish," she pointed her index finger to her chest to emphasize the directive. The room was still as the staring brown eyed duel of the two best friends ensued. Their non-verbal confrontation lasted only seconds before Sasha powered on…

"You were never really happy, I knew that. Bob and I talked about it a lot…but don't say your life was a lie. I was a part of that life with you, and it wasn't a lie.

"That's not what I meant, Sasha," Michonne challenged.

"I know what you meant. That's fine. But I'm not gonna let you write off everything you did…everything that you created as a lie. I was a part of that life…"

"Sasha—"

"I've accepted that Bob and I weren't a part of all the planning…" she waved her hand almost dismissively around the room.

Her exclusion from the planning of the fake death was an unspoken point of contention between the two women for months after they reunited in California. As planned, Carol contacted Sasha under the guise of business related to Michael Anthony's campaign…

"Hi Ms. Williams. I'm Carol Peletier. We met at the Anthony Campaign Headquarters Office a little while back. Um, do you have a minute? I have something to tell you that you may not believe at first…however, let me assure you that it's probably one of the most important things you'll ever hear. It will change your life forever."

"…But that life…that life that you had before, was no more of a lie than this…than this one was is…" her voice quivered. Bob rubbed his wife's leg as she wiped away the few tears on her face.

"It's just two different lives. Two different realities. This one suits you better that's all," Carol softly interjected, piggy backing on Sasha's words; her head ping-ponging between the two women.

Michonne and Sasha kept their eyes on each other. Everyone else in the room faded far into the background. The years of their intimate sister-friend relationship clearly evident. They'd been through every high and low point of their lives together. No hurdle ever made them stumble as long as they stuck together.

"The life you have now is the life that I believe you were meant to have," the determined coyly haired woman continued, "but I'm not gonna let you just discount the one you had before. I was there. I was a witness to it. You helped people. You made a difference in people's lives for the better. You were a good friend to everyone who ever needed you. That's not something that needs to be rewritten or forgotten." Her words dead ended. The remainder of what she needed to say was conveyed with her eyes.

The room was silent. Everyone watched the longtime friends again communicate without words. They both wiped away tears while their husbands tended to them with light squeezes and soft caresses.

Michonne ended the stand-off, "I'm sorry Sash…I…"

"Don't be sorry. Just…I don't want you to change history. Rewrite the future, not the past," Bob rubbed her leg as she offered a soft smile to her ride-or-die, "Okay?"

"Y-yeah…Okay."

"Ahem," Hershel cleared his throat rather loudly, breaking the mildly consuming tension in the room, "I appreciate everyone's honesty and candor."

Everyone's attention was again directed towards the visitor.

"You know Mrs. Stevens," he gave her the same fatherly look that he gave to his own daughters, "More than one thing can be true," the wise detective told her.

That's exactly what Professor Rovia used to say. The thought of her favorite law professor brought a lingering smile to her face, "I know," she said.

x - x - x - x

It didn't take long before a simple offhanded statement became an active goal. Their initial meeting on the side of the road gave Rick an idea. They could use a similar scenario as the set up to stage their death. There were many facets to the plan. If there was ever a time where the stars needed to align, now would be that time.

Once both Rick and Michonne resigned themselves to this being the only answer to their problem – short of ruining everyone's lives – everything began to fall into place. It was a serendipitous.

"If we really want to do this it should be in three months. Dr. Jenkins goes on vacation on March 12th." Carol turned and looked at Michonne, her eyes dropping to her friend's stomach, and then back up to her eyes, "we probably won't have much more time than that before you start to show," the women's eyes connected. Rick reached over and touched his lover's hand.

The softness of Carol's expression, and the kindness in her eyes, brought a small smile to Michonne's face. She nodded a silent response to the very direct, no nonsense woman.

"Okay," Shane said, "then let's work out the timeline."

The first night that they worked on the plan was almost like planning a party. As serious and sobering as the situation was, they still managed to have a few laughs.

"This is some wild shit," Shane had remarked on their second day of planning, which garnered a five minute laugh-o-rama.

"A lot of this is gonna be dependent on your friend Glenn," Rick said, "do you think that he's really gonna be willing to do this?" The question had come up a few other times and her answer never changed.

"He'll do it. Without question."

Michonne and in Glenn did not speak often. Their bond didn't need daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly assurance. They had an unspoken agreement; a whispered secret between friends. She never asked him for anything, but at the same time, she knew that he'd do anything for her. Since their interactions were both infrequent and done in quasi-secrecy, there was no record of their connection. No documented evidence of their relationship. It was the perfect plan.

"I think that there should be another plan just in case the good doctor is not willing to do this. It means puttin' his entire livelihood at risk," Shane's brows lifted as he directed the comment to Rick.

"Yeah, but once she asks him, he'll know what this is about. Will he be able to keep his mouth closed?" They all took note of Daryl's stated warning. Their eyes all casually drifted in the direction of the mildly flustered attorney.

"Even if he doesn't agree to do it, I know, with everything in me, that he would never tell what he knows to anybody." As the words left her mouth she took a deep breath. I know Glenn. Our friendship may seem strange to most people, probably to most of you…but I know him. The thought was clear and steadfast as the look of skepticism on the faces of everyone on the room was pervasive.

"I'm sure. Trust me." she affirmed, turning to look into Rick's eyes.

Glenn wouldn't hurt her. He never said the actual words, but her young Korean friend loved her unconditionally. It was a certainty that she knew from the depths of her heart. Theirs was a sibling love sans any hint of a shared blood lineage. She had become his real world big sister, just as he had become her little brother. His concern about blowback from the use of his last name was the only thing that kept them from being closer.

"I'll pick up a couple of throwaway phones. You can give him a call on that," Rick said.

"Thank you for trusting me," she softly stated with both her words, and large smile that reached her eyes; crinkling them at the corners. If this was the first true test of their ability to believe and trust in one another, he'd just passed the test with flying colors.

"What about Merle?" Carol asked, directing everyone's attention to Daryl, "Do you think he'll do it? A lot of what we're planning is gonna be dependent on him."

"Yeah, he'll do it. Anytime he can stick it to the man…whoever the man is…he'll do it."

"I hope so," Shane interjected, "once we get, uh, the appropriate corpses from Michonne's doctor friend, he's gonna need him to put the tattoo on the Rick body as quick as possible."

The unidentified bodies would be taken from the morgue and placed in Daryl's deep freezer. Their wedding bands would be placed on the fingers before being frozen. They would later be positioned in the front seat of Rick's squad car where their second death would be a fiery one.

Merle picked up several skills during his time in the various White Separatists' groups he'd been a part of in his previous life. Most of the talents fell into the useless category; like making cool hand shadow animals. Learning the many facets of tattoo artistry, and how to duplicate an uncomplicated design, were a few talents that fell into the very useful category.

"It's the most powerful tool on your tool belt, Merle. As long as you can sling that ink properly, you'll always eat," his old mentor Chuck assured him.

"You think he'll be okay with, um, doing that?" Michonne asked Daryl.

She had not yet met the trucker. Truth be known, she wasn't really looking forward to the introduction. Rick had informed her of his past, and a big part of her believed that a tiger can't change its stripes. You can slap a coat of paint over them, but underneath the fresh paint, still lay the same unchanged stripes.

Time and loyalty would prove her initial thoughts and assumptions to be utterly false.

"He'll do it. Probably been waitin' his whole backwards life for somethin' like this. I'll call 'em tomorrow. Tell 'em-ta come by."

"Remember not to talk about it over the phone."

"I ain't no dummy doctor," he glared at Carol.

"Nobody said you were. It's just a reminder Mr. Dixon," she returned his glared; including a half-smile to her poker face. It was the closest they generally came to flirting.

The remainder of the planning session was like that of a strategy meeting for a college chess tournament. If this happens, then we do that. If that happens, then we do this. They all agreed to meet back the following week to better flesh out the plan. By the time the deputy walked the attorney to her car, they'd drawn up a sketchy outline for their untimely death - and their new life.

"Are you sure that this is what you want? It's not too late to change your mind," he kept his eyes on her as the words left his mouth.

"I can't say that I am really ready for this. I don't know if this is a dream or if it's a nightmare," she told him honestly as he stroked her cheek. He leaned closer to her and lightly kissed her lips.

"We haven't done anything yet. There's always divorce," Rick said, slightly tilting his head and plastering a somewhat sincere smile on his face.

"I know there is. Maybe this is the coward's way out. I can admit that. But I think this is the best option."

"You're not a coward. I don't wanna hear you say that. You've been brave your whole life. You've worked for others your whole life. And what we're about to do now is anything but cowardly." He pressed himself firmly against her and walked forward until the backs of her legs bumped the car. He took her into his arms. "There's nothing wrong with wanting a new life," he said quietly into her ear. The spicy scent of his cologne ignited a flurry of electrical currents down to her nether regions, "I love you so much, Rick…more than I thought was possible." He held her tighter.

"I love you too, baby." His desire for her was now apparent. He attempted to adjust his stance as his restrained erection pressed into her midsection. It's been more than two weeks. Now's not the time, but god I miss being inside of you. They'll be plenty of time for that. Stop thinking like a horny teen, Rick. He shrugged off the thought and kissed her cheek.

They stood quietly as the soft breeze of the night blew by. She drew her head back and scrutinized his face.

"I'm surprised that this seems so…" she hesitated for a moment; watching a smile illuminate his face, "I don't know…It seems so easy for you. You keep asking me how I feel, but you're going to be walking away from your entire life too. How is it so easy for you?"

He backed away from her and ran his hand through his hair.

"I've been phoning in my life for a lot of years. I've done what's been expected of me from the time I was in elementary school. I became a Sheriff's Deputy because that's what my dad did. I married Lori because that's what was expected of me. It wasn't until I met you that I realized everything I had done up until that point was for other people…" They smiled at each other. His story was nearly identical to hers.

"It's amazing how alike we are," she said, reaching out and touching his face.

"You're my world Michonne. I can't imagine a life without you," he laughed, shaking and bowing his head.

"What's funny," she smacked his arm.

"It's just that, well, you know how I am about gushy sappy movies. That sounded like a line from one of those Lifetime movies you like."

"I guess it did," she laughed.

"But it's true. I'd give up everything for you. For our baby. Our family...a hundred times if I could."

She stopped laughing. The fire in his blue eyes set her heart a flutter. He stepped closer to her, not breaking eye contact.

"The truth is that, I'd be fine with a divorce. I don't wanna hurt Lori. I really don't. She doesn't deserve that." He stopped; staring past her into the open darkness of the night.

She squinted and tilted her head slightly, "What is it Rick? Tell me."

"Just thinkin' about my daddy," he chuckled; surveying the landscape a very distant past, "he always used to say…Son, don't try to grow anything fresh from earth that's been scorched. Even if something grows, eventually the remnants of that scorched earth will be evident in what blooms," he mimicked his father's voice by lowering the intonation in his voice a few octaves.

"Your dad sounds like he was pretty smart."

"Yeah he was," he brought his eyes back to hers, "Guess maybe I'm a little more conflicted than I thought."

"Sounds like it," she said offering a little smile, "that makes me kinda happy. At least I know we're feeling the same way."

"We are. I don't want us to start our life, and our baby's life, in a world where we've left scorched earth behind us. This might not be the best solution, but at least it means a fresh start…for all of us."

He leaned in and kissed her lips, "I really do like the idea of starting fresh," he whispered over her lips.

"Me too," her agreement was coupled with a soft touch to his face. The warmth of his breath, tinged with the scent of his previously consumed brew, washed over her.

"Are you sure?" He asked, ever mindful of her facial expression.

"I ache for you Rick. You're the part of my heart that's been missing my whole life. So yes. I'm sure. I wasn't before. But I am now," her brown eyes twinkled; rivaling the twinkling stars above them, "so stop asking."

She gave him the once-over before directing a discerning leer and a small pout his way.

"You are so cute," his kissed her pouting lips.

"I don't know if this will work," his smile was less pronounced, "but the idea of being with you, not just one day a week, is all I can think of. Waking up with you every day. Holding you every day. And all the things we'll do every day," he slipped his hand down her back and rubbed her addicting rounded rear.

"You are so bad," she smacked his hand.

"And you love it. Stop actin' like you don't," he squeezed the jean clad flesh.

"What am I gonna do with you?"

"Marry me."

The words left his mouth before he realized what he said. Dammit, what did I say? That's not how I wanted to ask you. He ran his hands over his face and made an attempt at an apologetic smile.

"Um, huh…What did…" she stammered; studying him.

"That's not how I wanted to do that. It…well, it just dawned on me that we're plannin' a life together. A family together. And I never asked you to be my wife. I shouldn't've assumed that you'd want to be…"

Her lips were on his before he could finish.

"Can I take that as a yes?" He mumbled, attempting to momentarily break out of the lip lock.

"Yes," she kissed him again, "Yes you can. I will definitely marry you."

"That's what we're gonna do. As soon as we get settled," his tone was low and slightly rough.

"Really?"

"Yes. I'm not sure what name we'll be usin'. Hopefully Shane finds us somethin' good."

"I like Madonna, Beyoncé, Cher…" she grinned, beholding his gaze.

"Okay. I see a pattern here. We'll see what we can do," he let out a soft raspy chuckle.

Shane had already begun a very low-key search of both death and birth records, using FBI software that King County Sheriff's Department had access to. Deputy Walsh spent so much time assigned to desk duty, courtesy of his regular run-ins with IAB, that he'd become incredibly adept at computer archive research.

"I just wanna be your wife…I don't care what my n-name is…" she was suddenly overwrought at the thought of not hiding or sneaking around, I'll be your wife. Tears noiselessly fell down her face.

"I know beautiful," he leaned forward to better see her eyes, "I intend to spend the rest of my life taking care of you and our baby."

"Okay," she sniffled.

"Um, don't get all excited. Did I mention that I'd like four kids?" He grinned; hoping to make her smile.

"N-no. Y-you didn't mention t-that," tears shone in her eyes as she stammered out the handful of words.

"Well I do. So, until I can spend every day taking care of you, I just want you to take care of yourself, and our little baby…" he placed his hand on her stomach before continuing…

"…Thank you for our baby. I swear I'm gonna take care of you both." She placed her hand on top of his.

"I know you will. And I'm gonna take care of you too."

The ensuing week was wrought with a flurry of activity. Both Rick and Michonne began the process of carefully cataloging what they owned and what they would be leaving behind. It was Carol's idea to begin making copies of photos that they wanted to have. "…That way you can have the pictures you want without taking the original."

They both also began setting aside cash that wouldn't be missed. With Lori primarily at her parent's house, and Mike in the nation's capital, the tasks aimed at their larger goal, was relatively easy to accomplish.

There were more than half a dozen cars in the parking lot of Dix Tri Fecta on the crisp winter night. A closed sign hung on the door of the bar. A 'We'll be back soon' sign was on the large garage door which sat next to the bar.

Inside the small tavern, the group of law abiding citizens was gathered. The skilled professionals sat around the table and laid out a plan that involved breaking over a dozen laws.

Rick had the nondescript cell phone delivered to Michonne's office via FedEx days after the initial conversation. It was delivered in her name from the King County Sheriff's Department. She worked closely with the department, so no one thought twice when it was received by her assistant.

She took a deep breath before calling Glenn; rolling over and over in her mind what she would say – what he might say. Acutely aware that she couldn't say too much over the phone.

"Glenn, it's Michonne, I need your help." He didn't hesitate in response, which was simply, "Tell me where and when and I'll be there."

x - x - x - x

"Ma-ma," Andre's uttered whine from the couch broke the ensuing silence in the room following his mother's candid words. He was squirming in Bob's lap.

"M a m a…" the toddler repeated his request, stretching out the word while reaching in the direction of his mother.

"It's okay Dre Dre," Bob assured the fussy baby; glancing at Rick and Michonne with an apologetic half-smile as he bounced his leg.

The summoned mom stepped away from her husband and ambled quickly towards the couch. Andre jumped into her arms as she came to a stop in front of him.

"Andre, you can't jump on mama like that," Sasha softly admonished the baby as she stood and stroked his hair.

Andre replied by gripping his mother tighter. He pressed his face against her neck before burying it in her ample bosom and transferring a good amount of chocolate icing to her top. Rick strode over to the small gathering.

"He probably has a little tummy ache from all the goodies he's been sitting over here eating," Michonne said, looking past the baby in her arms. She cocked her eyebrow with a playful glare directed at her best friend's husband.

"Sorry," Bob said, throwing his hands up in surrender, "the kid likes his cake…what can I say!?" He shrugged his shoulders and offered a goofy grin.

"It's okay," the wobbly mom smiled at him, "he just needed his mama."

"Sweetheart, let me have 'em. You have to stop carryin' them around," Rick instructed, attempting to take the child in question into his arms.

"Rick…" it came out as part whine, part frustration. Andre's grip steeled.

"Don't Rick me. You can't keep carryin' them around." His head cocked to the side, ignoring her glare. He also ignored the side-eyed glare his son gave him.

"And don't you give me that look either young man," he both acknowledged and ignored his son's scrunched face while assertively taking him from his mother's arms. The baby begrudgingly went to his father. His glaringly sour facial expression caused his parents to giggle.

"You are certainly your mother's child," Rick said; brushing his son's hair back with his hand and kissing his forehead.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She tilted her head and stared at him wide-eyed.

"The boy's as stubborn as you. Always sayin' No," Merle added from where he sat near the kitchen door. The words were leaving his mouth as he began his trek deeper into the living room where everyone, except the detective, was now congregating.

"That's cuz he knows you're a dumbass," Daryl mumbled.

"Stop using those words around him Daryl. He's smart. I don't want the first words he starts saying to be bad words," Carol admonished with her narrowed eyes burning a hole into the bar owner.

"That ain't his first words anyway. Both he and Carl say No all the time. That's our thing," Merle's point was made when he took Andre's hand…

"No," the toddler said smacking at the teamsters fingers before shaking his head.

The room erupted in laughter.

"Hey little guy. I guarantee you...I'm gonna be yours and your brother's best and most favorite uncle when you get older," Merle looked in the baby's eyes as the laughter died down; a corner of his mouth lifted, "Imma let you hang out and have the fun that these prudes won't." The toddler waved his hands and giggled at the adults.

"Uh, these prudes are standing right here. Stop promising my baby crazy things," Michonne grimaced at the trucker.

"You know you love me."

"That may or may not be the case. I shant confirm either way," the ex-counselor grinned, "it still doesn't change what I said."

"That's right Merle. You're not comin' anywhere near my boys with your bad habits. Plus, I'd feel bad if my wife killed you," Rick said, switching Andre to his other arm, "for teachin' them your inappropriate ways."

"Rick's right," Glenn said, "You have horrible habits."

"What?" Merle twisted his head to face the young doctor, "Didn't I stop callin' you Chinaman? Gimme some credit," he huffed with a smirk; his own facial calling card.

"Whatever, Merle," the young doctor shook his head. He sucked in a breath.

The trucker was willfully and actively ignorant. He prided himself on being ignorant, just like Shane prided himself on being cocky. He was the epitome of the uncle that you hide in the basement when people come to visit because you know he's going to say something completely inappropriate. He drove them all so crazy that sometimes they just wanted to scream for mercy. Then, the dust would settle, and they realized that not only did they love the man; they didn't want a world without his honest, but completely politically-incorrect, type of integrity.

"Merle's an idiot," Shane rightly alleged with a stoic face that could hold a mountain of secrets, "but you suck as a babysitter, dude. Look at my little nephew's face," he scoffed at Bob.

"Said by the same guy whose curse words sent little Carl off crying," Bob shot back.

"Neither one of you will win a babysitter award," Carol said. They all looked over at the grey-haired woman who didn't crack a smile, yet everyone began to laugh. The laughter led to a debate about whose babysitting prowess was best.

A few minutes into the debate Sophia padded into the room with Carl in her arms.

"Ma ma," Carl said clear and loud as his parents came into view. Michonne outstretched her arms…

"Come to mama, baby."

"No," Sasha stood, "You come to Auntie Sasha. Your mommy can't keep holding you." She said with a wink at Rick, and a disapproving shake of the head at the expectant mom.

x - x - x - x

It was just over one month into the planning.

"…I think California is the best place," Glenn said as the discussion had become heated with disagreements and suggestions. The places currently on the table for Rick and Michonne to settle down in were Canada, Mexico, California, or the Bahamas.

"I'm taking over a small practice there. It's near the border should it be necessary for them to leave the country in a hurry. I put an offer down on a house. There's one on the same block that I can make an offer on too. The seller is motivated, so I think they'll accept the offer and escrow will close quickly. Which means they…" he waved his hand in the direction of his longtime friend and her beau, "won't have to worry about a place to live. Michonne can work with me in my back office...taking care of all my accounting. That's one of the jobs she had in college…"

The doctor made his argument. Yep, I remember you telling me that, he smiled at the thought, turning to offer Michonne a very toothy grin. His eyes glinting with satisfaction. That's right. I know you better, and way longer than anyone else in this room. He was by no means a boastful man, but his chest did puff out just the slightest bit at his presumed besting of all the men in the room.

"…I think it's the best option," the insistent doctor let out a long breath at the end of his summation.

"Alright. I give up. The doc has a point," Shane finally relented. His vote was for Canada. It was, however, hard to argue with ready-made housing 3,000 miles from Georgia, and yet still in the country.

"Good," Daryl said, "glad that shit is settled."

The conversation continued with everyone adding their own specialized piece of the puzzle. Smaller exchanges within the larger group dynamic popped up.

Merle insisted that Glenn's family was from the huge 'continent' of China. That tidbit of misinformation led to an impromptu Geography 101 lesson taught by Dr. Rhee.

Shane and Daryl got into a debate about the makings of a 'primo' god father. Rick was forced to moderate, concluding that both men were wrong and had no clue what they were talking about.

"Carol," Michonne called across the table to the older woman.

Carol walked to where the soon-to-be 'deceased' Michonne Anthony stood.

"Yes, sweetie," the grey-haired Odonatologist said.

"All of this started so fast. It's been like a steamroller," Michonne chuckled softly, "and I never really had a chance to thank you for everything..."

"There's no thanks necessary."

"I appreciate that. You've been amazing…beyond amazing," she reached over and squeezed her new friend's slender shoulder.

"It has been something, hasn't it?" Her bluish-green eyes sparkled.

"Yes it has," Michonne's face brightened as she agreed, "I just…had a question."

"What's your question little mama?" her unrehearsed, genuine smile swept over the newly expectant woman.

"Why…why are you doing this? I mean you're risking so much. I know that you were good friends with Daryl, and that you're friends with Rick…and that we've become friends. I really consider you one of the best friends that I've ever had...even though I've only known you for a few months now. But why?"

Carol didn't answer right away. There was no singular answer to the question. For seconds upon second she didn't answer – until she did. Just one word...

"Because." She said emphatically. That was it. No words or complete sentences followed the one word answer. To the attorney, like most in her profession, words were a powerful tool. She waited a moment, and when the one word stood in the air by itself, she had to ask.

"What does that mean; Because?"

Carol blew out a soft breath. She squeezed her eyes shut, before slowly opening them; adding a faint smile.

"Because…" her hands rested on her lithe hips, "Because I like Rick a lot. Because I like you a lot. Because I think that you're a sweet lady. Because you and Rick are good together. Because the idea of a child being born out of nothing but deep love and true sacrifice makes me smile, while also making me sad that my daughter wasn't." She breathed…

"…Because I don't want your child to ever be looked at as some kinda mistake. Because I've lived through the nightmare of a brutal marriage and I think that Congressman Anthony can do a lot for women whose shoes I walked in. Because I agree with you that his career would probably be ruined if news of your situation became public, which would be a tragedy. Because I think that whenever possible, love should win out over and beyond everything. Because even if I haven't known you a long time; You, Rick, Daryl and Shane are my family…and except for Sophia…I've never had a real one," a flush crept up her face. Her light eyes faintly watered...

"…So my friend, the reason is…Because."

"Okay everybody, let's get back to it," Shane mandated in his military trained style, while walking back towards the table. He carried a tray with six bottles of beer and one glass of orange juice.

Michonne reached over and embraced her friend. They held one another for only moments. A friendship born out of secrecy had now been solidified in love. Both women softly sniffled as they tightly held each other.

"Thank you for your friendship, Carol. I feel truly blessed and honored to know you…and to call you family." Michonne said quietly in her friend's ear before releasing the embrace. Carol gave a quick shoulder squeeze and wink before stepping back, "I feel the same."

"Okay people," Shane the Drill Sergeant began, "Now that we have an actual destination, we can make plans for that. Getting there might be a problem though."

"No its not," Merle interjected, "I know y'all only really wanted me for my artistic abilities. And as a witness," he smirked, referring to the tattoo and car accident, "but I do monthly trips to sunny Southern California…"

"You can drive them there," Glenn excitedly interrupted.

"Hold on there, Kimosabe. Aren't you just the little Energizer bunny," Merle said, chuckling at his own witticism, "But Yeah, I think I can."

"Can you check to see if you have trips in March or April?" Rick asked.

"Yep. Pretty sure that I do though," he thought for a second, "and even if I'm not on the schedule, I'll switch with whoever is. No one really likes doin' that long haul. They know I'll do it cuz I like topping' off in Vegas," he smirked. The lasciviousness in his facial expression leaving no question about what was currently on his mind.

Ignoring the obvious and inappropriate expression, "You'll be required to be here for the Coroner's Inquest, which should occur within one week after the accident, and then you should be fine to leave," Glenn informed them all.

"Get one of those trucks that have a cab big enough for four…I'm goin' with y'all. It'll be right after Rick's accident," Shane said; using air quotes around the word accident, "so takin' a week or two off won't raise any red flags." It wasn't a completely altruistic offer. There was a hot mama in Texas that he wasn't averse to looking up as they passed through The Lone Star State.

"Also," Merle plastered a smug grin on his face, "I have an old buddy that owns a club between Orange County and San Diego County. He's always lookin' for honest fellas to do bouncer type stuff. It's cash under the table. Sure he'd love your country ass," his grin widened in the direction of the deputy in question.

Disregarding the last portion of the trucker's words, Rick nodded, "That'll work. Never thought of bein' a bouncer…but I'll take it."

Everyone was quiet. They glanced around at the others. Various sized slips of paper with scribbled notes, reports, and outlines, were strewn across the table. Crickets sang their nighttime songs in the distance. The appliances hummed their existence within the walls of the sealed bar. Quiet breaths were released.

"Sounds like we have a plan."

x - x - x - x

The seasoned and tested investigator watched the small group gathered on the other side of the room. A cool breeze wafted through the area. He breathed in the fresh air. The four walls that, only minutes earlier seemed airless, now felt open.

First Do No Harm, were the words that popped into his head. Not the creed of an investigator, or a police detective for that matter, he let out a quiet breath as he smiled, but still, Do No Harm Hershel Greene…Investigator Extraordinaire, his laugh grew a little louder.

"What are you gonna do when you get there, Daddy? What do you plan on telling them?" Maggie asked, "And I'm not sure if it's safe for you to go by yourself. We don't know what these people will do when they know they've been found out. If you're right, and I assume that you are, then that means that they're pretty good at pulling off murder…whether it's real or not. You've already given a report to Mrs. Grimes. What's the point?"

"I need to look in their faces. I need to understand why they did this. I've never met them, but I don't believe that they would hurt anyone unless they had to." He took note of his daughter's skeptical expression, "It's doubtful that I have many cases left in my future. I'm okay with that because I've done some good work in my time. I have no regrets. This Grimes Anthony case is probably one of my last, and I have to know the truth. It's something that I need to do."

"What'll you do once you look in their faces?"

"I don't rightly know. When the time comes…I'm sure I will."

He stood and took a few steps towards the small crowd, "Uh, excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Stevens," his voice was not loud, but strong enough to rise above the chorus of voices.

Everyone turned to the temporarily forgotten uninvited kindly gumshoe.

"I'm gonna be on my way. Thank you very much for your hospitality," he informed the group - no hidden meaning or agenda implied.

Rick handed Andre to Carol and took his wife's hand. They hastily strode closer to the investigator.

"What happens now?" The former Sheriff's Deputy, current part-time bouncer, asked the older man. He gently caressed his lady loves hand.

"I told you when I got here that I was not here to judge. Truth is that maybe I have judged you all," his eyes drifted away from the couple and scoped the group behind them. They all stared at him with numerous questions in their eyes. Carl was squirming in Sasha's arms while she bounced him on her hip. Andre was playing with a little toy in Carol's arms; no longer interested in the adult shenanigans.

"I came here...maybe more to satisfy the desire I had to know that I was right, than anything else. I think its human nature. The need to prove you're right," he chuckled to himself, "I didn't have a plan when I walked through your front door. I didn't know what I'd find. Who I'd find. But, after meeting both of your exes, seeing the kind of people they are...good folks, both of 'em. Suppose I just needed to know."

"You said that you judged us," Michonne began, "What do you mean? What was your judgment?" The former attorney inquired.

Hershel's light eyes softened while he looked into her face, "Mrs. Stevens, it is my judgment that no good can come from my passing this information on to the authorities. Or anyone else for that matter," he chuckled for a few short seconds, "while I was watching you and your family, the only thing I could think was, 'First do no harm.' It's not actually my mantra, but maybe it should be. I think that if we all started each day with those thoughts in mind, this would be a better and more compassionate world..."

His eyes drifted over to both toddlers being held by their aunts.

"...I don't believe that there is anyone that would benefit from knowing that Rick Grimes and Michonne Anthony faked their deaths. Not only would it ruin careers," he glanced quickly at those in the room, and then back to the woman in front of him," but it would undoubtedly ruin the lives of those you left behind. With the exception of the poor deer that got injured, I don't see a lot of collateral damage here."

"We hated havin' to break that deer's legs," Shane confessed.

"We did it carefully though," the somewhat sorrowful Dr. Rhee added, "It wasn't brutal or barbaric. I put him under anesthesia and even gave him medication so he wouldn't feel the pain as much." Hurting the deer caused them enormous amounts of guilt – nearly as much as planning and flawlessly executing of a slew of felonies.

"I have no doubt Dr. Rhee," Hershel nodded, "I don't see a group of sadists or heartless individuals in front of me..." He looked back into the faces of both Rick and Michonne.

"...What I see are people who put their livelihoods and their freedom on the line for their friends...uh, excuse me, for their family…and a couple who gave up everything for love. Those aren't the kinds of people that would brutally injure animals. Of that I'm certain."

"We ain't," Daryl exclaimed quietly; an affirmation to himself as his eyes landed on a fidgeting Carl.

"That's my judgment," the retired detective said, "My judgment is to do no harm. Do no harm to you or to the people you left behind. I don't believe that you deserve it, and I'm certain that they don't." There was a subtle amount of opinion in his final words.

"How...how are they?" Michonne asked; a measured amount of emotion welling in her voice.

Rick was understanding when it came to his wife's inability to completely walk away from her past life. Carol kept her informed about what was going on with Michael Anthony's campaign. However, she really didn't know much more than what was in the papers and online. He was very popular with his constituents and a shoe in to win his upcoming reelection. Sasha knew him on a personal level, but always felt too guilty to call him – she hated to pretend. Michonne rarely asked.

"Congressman Anthony is doing very well. It looks like he'll be getting married soon. I believe that he's happy. He's a good man. You seem to be pretty adept at choosing good men."

The ex Mrs. Anthony's eyes quickly welled with years. She released Rick's hand and wiped her face.

"I'm so happy for him," her voice was low, "you may not believe me...but I always loved Mike. I always will. We were good friends once upon a time. I've always wanted him to be happy. I just don't believe that happiness was ever meant to be with me...or mines was ever meant..." she took a deep breath and the flood of tears, the release of joy and pain and relief that she'd been holding for nearly two years, poured down her face.

"I want him to be happy," she whimpered, turning to face her husband, "It's only f-fair."

Rick rubbed her back, "It is…it's the right thing. Don't cry sweetheart," he implored. She bowed her head and lightly sobbed into her hands.

"Daryl grabbed the box of facial tissues sitting near the end table walked to his friend; handing her a tissue. She took the offering and wiped her face.

"I don't mean to blubber," she said through bubbling sentiment as all eyes watched her, "I'm just so thankful to know that he's okay. I can finally move on without always feeling so guilty."

"You can young lady," Hershel assured the emotional woman baring herself before him, "he misses you, but he's fine."

"Th-thank you," she mumbled through the deluge of unwavering emotion. Rick stroked her arm and kissed the back of her hand as she wiped her face.

"No…Mama...mama..." Carl's squirming turned verbal when he saw his mother crying. Sasha held him tighter as he attempted to jump from her arms. His frustration at not being able to use his new walking skills to go to his mother was visibly evident. His personality was an even blend of the uncompromisingly determined nature of both his parents. Sasha could barely keep him in her arms.

"Mama…" he repeated.

Carl's piercing cry caught the attention of the younger twin. Andre looked up from his exceedingly important toy truck. He glanced at his brother as the wail picked up steam. Following his brother's line of sight his eyes landed on his mother as she gingerly wept.

"Ma-ma," he cried, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth like his mother did when she pouted. His arms outstretched in the direction of his parents; squirming to be released from Carol's strong grip.

"Let's take them into the bedroom, Carol," Sasha said. Carol nodded as the boys continued to call for their mother.

"Your mama's okay," the silver haired Auntie assured the fretful toddler, and then kissed his temple, "C'mon cutie-patootie, let's go to your room and watch your favorite movie."

The two women, along with Sophia, padded pass the couple and headed down the short hall towards the bedrooms. They heard the door close and the wails slowly dissipate.

The investigator looked back at the expectant couple.

"Uh," Rick began once his wife was again calm, and her breathing back to normal.

"Mrs. Grimes is fine, too." Hershel anticipated the query which was obviously not an easy one for the man standing there, consoling his new wife, to ask. The investigator, who was also a husband, let him off the hook by answering the unasked question.

Shane did sporadic checks on Lori. He got most of his information from her parents because he hated lying to her face. He accepted the burden when he had to; believing that it was the penance he should rightly pay for his role in the ongoing deception.

Guilt over the deception was bore by more than just the couple who were presumed dead. The culpability was spread out like a blanket that covered them all. Watching the growing boys when they had their get-together's was the closest they all came to finding peace within the guilt.

"I met with her a few weeks ago to update her on my progress regarding this case. I informed her that all of the evidence we reviewed left no doubt that you and Mrs. Anthony were killed in the accident. She has no reason to believe that my words were not the absolute truth."

"It's my belief that she will now move on with her life. She has a man that she's involved with. Maybe now she'll open herself up to him - allow herself to have a life."

Rick watched the investigator as he spoke. He rubbed his wife's back. He listened to the soft murmurs of the other men in the room. His thoughts drifted back to the years of marriage he'd had with her. There were some good times. I hope that God will someday forgive me for what I did. Maybe one day I will, he undetectably ground his jaw.

He rarely spoke of Lori, just as Michonne rarely spoke of Mike. But of the two, Michonne was always more willing to speak of her husband of her first husband. He, however, refrained from mentioning his first wife.

Before Lori, he'd had other girlfriends. The one thing that he'd learned through the years was that no woman likes hearing about another woman. They absolutely don't want to know that you're thinking about another woman. He was pretty sure his his overly caring wife would understand, but now didn't seem like the right time to test that theory. So he kept most of his thoughts to himself.

"She's gonna be just fine," Hershel assured the ex-Sheriff's Deputy.

Thank God. I'm really happy for you Lori. I hope he makes you happy and treats you good. You should have all the happiness that you can find. I did. He could feel warmth rise in his face, his eyes turned red. He nodded his appreciation at the information; acknowledging that he'd heard without speaking. The unspoken Man Rule was clearly understood by the older man. Hershel returned the nod with his own.

"…And you can relax," Hershel said softly; directly to the woman who would forever more be Melody Stevens, "No one is coming."

He stepped closer to the couple and reached for the woman of the houses hand as she wiped away remnants of emotion. She took his hand.

"You have beautiful children," he continued, "It's a crime for you not to have their pictures on every wall in your home…and your parents should be up there with them."

He squeezed her hand, "Take care of yourself and your family."

"Won't you stay for some cake?" She kept his hand in hers, "Carol makes the best chocolate cake you'll ever taste. The boys turned a year old a couple of months ago. We waited until everyone could be here before we had their party."

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm gonna get these old bones back to the hotel so I can get ready to head back home."

"Are you sure?" Rick asked, "You're more than welcome to stay."

"Thank you. But I'm sure…" he surveyed the room. Balloons floated imperceptibly near the ceiling. Toys that he hadn't noticed before lay forgotten in every corner of the room. Playing cards from a defunct game were sitting on the coffee table. Crumpled wrapping paper and discarded paper plates were collected and stuffed into a large black garbage bag that sat at the end of the same table.

"…This is family time. So, I'll leave you to it," he released the expectant moms hand and turned towards the front of the house. Michonne and Rick walked him to the door while the men in the room watched.

"Love each other. Really love and respect one another. At the end of every long and short day…it's worth more than everything."

With that, the Georgia Septuagenarian crossed the threshold of the cozy house on Walker Ln., and strolled back into the extremely warm Southern California day. He smiled at the thought of the little rainbow family that he knew he would never see again.

x - x - x - x

One year later

The day was heating up. Even with the air conditioner doing its job, there was no denying the heat. Over the past few months the steadfast investigator had cut back on his time on the streets. Pounding the pavement was a young man's, or woman's, chore.

Noah was taking a more active role in the day-to-day goings on with the agency. Maggie was taking the lead on the new cases.

He had retired from the police department ten years ago. With not much of a break, he'd gone straight into being a private investigator; nearly eleven years now. Anette had been trying to convince him to retire yet again. This wouldn't be the forced retirement he'd been subjected to when he left the Atlanta Police Department. This would be his choice. He really did like the sound of that.

I'm seventy-two years old. It's probably time to step back and let the young'ins run this place, he smiled at the thought. There were a few things he had on his bucket list and he couldn't accomplish them if he continued working.

"Hey daddy," Beth said, opening his door and walking into his office with the days mail in her hand, "here's the mail. I'm gonna head out with Travis…unless you need me for somethin'. Maggie and Noah said they'd be in later," she informed him.

Such a little beauty, his thought bringing a huge smile to his face as he looked at his youngest child, "I don't need anything sweetheart. I'll be heading out shortly. Have fun with your little friend," he got a huge kick out of chiding his daughter about her boyfriend.

"Very funny," the blonde millennial rolled her eyes as she placed the mail on the desk in front of him. She walked around to the other side of the desk and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "See ya' later."

The twenty-something, part-time receptionist extraordinaire, always went through the mail before passing it along to her bosses; weeding out any bills, flyers, credit card offers and requests for assistance.

There were only a few pieces of correspondence. Sitting between the standard envelope sized letters was an envelope that immediately caught his attention. This is some kind of card. Maybe invitation. Surprised Bethy didn't open it. He picked up the square envelope. The addressee label was printed. There was no return address. He rifled through his desk for the letter opener.

A wallet sized photo fell out of the card once he removed it from the envelope. The lovely cursive writing on the inside of the card simply said, Thank you for your kindness. He smiled. There was no doubt in his mind who the card was from.

He picked up the photo. There were three children. He recognized the two little boys right away. He'd briefly met them a year earlier, Carl and Andre. They were older but looked exactly the same. Nestled between them was a small girl. Her complexion was darker than her brothers, like creamy mocha. The little curly haired beauty had her mother's nose, and eyes identical to her father's.

Hershel's eyes sparkled as he regarded the small picture in his hand. His mind drifted back to his brief time in the Stevens home. He smiled and slid the small photograph into his breast pocket – tapping it a couple of times. He stood and headed for the door. It was sure to be a scorcher of a day.

The Greene Investigation of the Grimes/Anthony accident is now closed.

A/N: Thank you so very much for taking the time to read my little detective story. I'm truly appreciative. Please let me know what you thought of the chapter and the story as a whole. God Bless :-)