As Michonne stepped out of the shower, the doorbell rang. She wrapped a towel around her damp body and hurried to answer it, knowing that Rosita (who was both a late riser and a heavy sleeper) would never hear the door. Her stomach fluttered with butterflies when she wondered whether it could be Rick. The previous evening's events were fresh in her mind, and she had been planning to walk over to his house to speak with him as soon as she was showered and ready. However, it was the younger Grimes standing at her door, silhouetted against the carnation pink light of early dawn. She smiled in greeting at him as she pulled open the door. "Good morning, Carl."

The young man looked slightly embarrassed at the sight of her in a towel. He dropped his gaze to the wooden planks of the porch's floor and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Sorry, I guess maybe I'm too early?"

She shook her head. "No, not at all. You're welcome here any time. Come on in and have a seat while I get dressed. Have you had breakfast?" When he answered negatively, she said, "I don't have a lot of choices, but how about some pop-tarts?"

"Seriously?" his face broke into a wide grin. "Dad never lets me eat those."

"Well, they're hardly the breakfast of champions, but knock yourself out," she chuckled. "And there's boxed almond milk in the fridge. Maybe that would it balance out." He started eagerly tearing open a package of wild cherry pop-tarts as she walked back to her room. Once she was dressed, she rejoined him in the kitchen. "So, did you just come by to visit, or was something on your mind?"

Carl swallowed the last mouthful of his sugary breakfast. "I was hoping we could get in some more target practice this morning, like we did yesterday?"

She asked, smiling, "You want this to be a regular thing?"

"I could obviously use it," he admitted ruefully.

She put her hand on his shoulder consolingly. "Sure, let's do it. I was planning to come over anyways."

"Yeah?" he asked. "To see me or my dad?"

She felt her face redden as she admitted, "Your dad."

"Good. He's been terrible the last few days since you moved out. He's always either staring off into space or snapping at people over nothing. So, uhm... can I ask why you moved out? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he caveated quickly. "It's just that when I asked Dad, he said he didn't want to discuss it."

"We'll talk about it as we walk," she promised, nodding her head towards the front door.

As they strode through the grass, still wet with morning dew, she said, "Your dad is very special to me. He's my best friend. And sometimes... sometimes friends become more than friends, you know?"

Carl nodded. "I kind of figured you guys were together or something. After I woke up, I asked Dad if you were his girlfriend."

Surprised, she raised her eyebrows at him. "Yeah? What did he say?"

"He said he didn't know," Carl shrugged. "But he also said he wanted you to be."

They turned onto the avenue that connected her street with Rick and Carl's. "Yeah," Michonne said, biting her bottom lip. "Thing was, I was so used to us being friends that I didn't see it as quickly as he did."

"See what?"

She hesitated, thinking of the right words. "That we should be more." They walked on in silence for a few moments before she added, "I was afraid that if things went wrong, maybe we wouldn't be friends anymore. I felt like it was safer to stay where we were at."

"That doesn't explain why you moved," Carl pointed out as they turned onto his street.

"Well... we argued," she admitted. "And I thought your dad wanted me to go. But I think now that I might have misunderstood him."

"I know that couldn't have been what he wanted. I told you what he's been like. So what made you realize he didn't really want you to move out?"

She cringed a little as she remembered the situation with Rosita. She wasn't about to share information on that with Carl. "Honestly? I'd rather not share that."

"That's okay," he replied, nodding his head. "I understand."

She smiled, admiring the person he was growing to be. Reaching over to giving him a side hug as they approached his house, she said, "Thanks for respecting that."

Carl opened the side gate and led them around to the backyard. "So what's going to happen now? Are you and my dad going to get together? Are you going to move back in?"

As she walked to the back fence and began setting up the targets, she admitted, "I'm not sure. After our lesson, I'll talk with your dad, and we'll work it out. Do you want me to come back and live with you guys?"

He pulled his silenced pistol from its holster and fiddled with the chamber for a moment before confessing, "I'm sorry I don't remember you, Michonne. Dad says we were good friends and went through a lot together. Hopefully, that stuff will start coming back to me sometime soon. But you're really cool and nice, and it made my dad happy when you were around. So... yeah, I want you to come back. Definitely."

She felt tears spring up at his words. Swallowing hard to keep them back, she replied, "Thanks, Carl. That means a lot to me."

Michonne didn't have to wait until the end of the lesson to see Rick. Only a few minutes later, he emerged from the back door off the kitchen and strode through the yard towards her. "I need to speak with you," he said in a low voice.

After not talking with him for over three days, she found the intensity of his gaze a little overwhelming. Dropping her eyes, she responded, "Sure. Of course." She turned to Carl. "We'll finish the lesson soon, okay?" He nodded understandingly.

Rick led her into the kitchen. "Look, I know things are rough between us right now," he began. "But we have some business to discuss." When she realized he wasn't trying to start a conversation about them, she straightened her posture and crossed her arms over her chest.

"What's going on?" she asked, leveling her gaze to meet his.

"Daryl spotted a spy outside the fence last night. Guy had binoculars and seemed to be checking out our defenses. Could be nothing; a random passerby making his way through the woods who got understandably curious. But he could be part of a group... a group that's going to come back and try to get in here."

She shook her head. "He got away, huh?"

"He did," Rick admitted bitterly. "Daryl couldn't track him in the dead of night, but he wants to set out in a few minutes now that the sun is up. Maybe he can pick up his trail. Thing is, we don't know how many this guy's got with him. It might be trouble." He paused a moment, then softened his tone. "I could use your help out there."

She didn't hesitate. "Yes, of course I'll go."

He gave her a small smile. "Good. That's a relief after... I just didn't know if you'd want to."

At that moment, Daryl strode into the kitchen, his crossbow slung across his back. He nodded to her in greeting. "Michonne. Good to see you."

"You too, Daryl," she returned warmly.

"So we're good?" he asked Rick. "Y'all about ready to head out?"

"Yeah," Rick affirmed. "Just give us a minute, and we'll go." Daryl nodded, grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the island, and headed towards the living room. Rick sighed and turned back to her. "Run back to your house and get your sword, whatever else you need. We could be gone overnight. Meet us back here as soon as you're ready."

As he turned to walk away, she said softly, "Rosita told me what happened last night, Rick." He froze, then turned silently to face her. "I know we don't have time right now," she continued. "But when we can, I think we should talk. About us."

He nodded, his expression even. "Yeah. We should." As he walked away, Michonne turned toward the back door. Her lesson with Carl was going to have to wait.