It always came down to food.
Even at the prison, before the road, before Alexandria, hunger was their constant enemy. It kept Rick on guard, kept him on his knees, elbow deep in soil and weeds, coaxing sustenance out of the ground. It kept him inside the fences; it kept him from going on runs with Michonne.
Those times were blessedly over, the prison laying in ashes, those months on the road a distant nightmare. Their new reality was one of war, the battle to live free. It was one he didn't mind fighting at all, one he was proud to fight for his children and wife, for his people. Still, man could not live on dehydrated macaroni and chili alone and though the Saviors could no longer steal from them, they made the road an even more dangerous place to be.
Which is how Rick found himself on his hands and knees again, soil beneath his fingernails, moving saplings with cautious precision from the borrowed Hilltop pots to the freshly-tilled field near the south wall.
Though he missed the company of Hershel terribly, The view was better this time, of that he was certain. Stationed before him, kneeling in the soft earth was his wife. Her long mahogany locs were pulled back from her face, tucked neatly in a knot atop her head. The sun left a sheen of perspiration on her dark skin, despite the chill of the autumn air. She tucked the fabric around the tomato plant gently, insulating it against the early frost. Virginia winters came earlier and much colder than the ones they all were used to.
Her task complete, she exhaled, resting on her haunches. Rick watched her stretch, her arms coming up in a graceful arc over her head. He smiled at the sight, happy that she could move without the pain and stiffness she'd suffered the last few weeks. For a moment, he forgot the war, forgot Negan and Jadis, forgot his hunger.
She felt his eyes on her and turned, her full lips pulling up at the corners.
"Rick," Aaron's voice cracked through the tranquility of the moment.
Rick spun around, his annoyance melting as he laid eyes on what Aaron had brought with him.
"They're finally ripe," he extended his hand. Rick accepted the gift eagerly, his mouth watering already. Michonne's eyes lit up similarly. She offered Aaron a bright smile that their friend easily returned. He was gone as quickly as he came, leaving his present behind him.
Rick stood up, navigating his way through rows of covered plants and saplings, only pausing to offer Michonne a hand. He led them both beyond the borders of the miniature farm, settling down again against the wall. He could feel the cold metal through the leather of his jacket, but it ceased to matter when Michonne sat between his legs, leaning her warm body against his chest.
Her nimble fingers peeled the fruit carefully, the citrusy smell perfuming the air around them. Grinning brightly, she offered him a wedge, pushing the piece between his lips before taking one for herself.
"It's as good as I remember," Michonne let out a contented sigh, relaxing into him.
"It's better," Rick stole a kiss in-between bites, the tart taste of the grapefruit flavoring his lips.
The rumbling of his stomach interrupted them. Michonne laughed, the light sound dancing out across the field. She commenced to feeding him, breaking off another wedge.
"Eat," she encouraged, taking another bite herself.
Rick happily complied.
