A/N:

LOL I have to mention, I saw your comments about Rick's shooting, and it's funny b/c I had this next scene in my outline and debated on whether or not to include it. But oh well!

I can only say: I did get extremely excited about making The Kid a badass, and I may have done that at the expense of our hero. Won't happen again. I look at every chapter as a class in storytelling, and your feedback is very, very important. Thank you. Lesson learned. Onward!

back against that wall of ours

with the strength of a will and a cause

you have proved to be

a real human being

and a real hero

-'A Real Hero', College

"Fishing, huh?" Michonne's lips quirked into a smile.

She listened to her son's somewhat bored voice over the phone, enormous relief flooding her from head to toe. He was bored and alive and still safe.

Andre paused to shrug probably, knowing him. "Yeah. Spencer's teaching me. Sorry - Agent Monroe. Anyway, it's something to do."

"Where's your aunt?" Michonne frowned, not really comfortable with Andre being out on a lake without Sabine. "Are you wearing a life jacket?" Andre could swim, but Michonne was on edge.

"Yes ma'am she made me put one on. She's watching, from that big deck thing." Andre confirmed, and His mother was relieved again. Then he added with amusement: "But I'll bet she's really flirting with that other agent, Mike. He looks like he could be on 'Law and Order'..."

Michonne suppressed a snort at her sister's expense. With all her nagging, it seemed her brittle older sister had caught whatever was in the summer heat. As long as Sabine was keeping an eye on Andre and he was safe with a federal agent, she wouldn't complain. Yet. "Well, she's...earned it, probably, kiddo."

Andre paused again, and when he spoke next, he asked: "Where's Rick? Are you with him? Can I say hey?"

She was floored, and touched, at Andre's enthusiasm. She was also not surprised that he'd picked up on how much his mother liked their neighbor (and visa versa). So this must mean he approved. He was excited. Michonne didn't want to wonder how long that would last.

She didn't want to think about how Andre's affection toward her, his trust in her, could turn once he found out about his father. With everything happening...with this morning's terrifying revelation that Negan knew about their son...she could no longer deny to herself that Andre would find out the truth eventually. She hoped it could come from her. But there was no knowing when, or how, it would finally all come to light.

Michonne felt like time had simultaneously stopped and accelerated. It had only been a couple of days, but almost everything she had carefully set in place to ensure her and her child's freedom had unraveled in the blink of an eye.

She tried not to let this realization crush her. "Rick's around, but he's working. I'll tell him you said hey, okay?"

"Okay." Andre sounded disappointed but he brightened again seconds later. "I love you, Ma. I gotta go. Spencer says I need to concentrate if I wanna catch something worth my time, whatever that means."

Michonne chuckled, wiping away errant tears. "Okay, go catch a big one. I love you, too, peanut. Stay safe. I'll see you soon...I promise."

She felt that hollow ache in her stomach again when she heard him hang up the call.

Michonne pressed her phone into her palm, biting her thumb nail, staring through the blinds at the cluster of hospital buildings and the street below. What the hell was she gonna do now?

"Michonne."

At the sound of his voice, Michonne turned to find Rick standing in the doorway to the examination room. He was gazing at her intensely, as usual, his fingers flexing at his sides.

"Everythin' okay?"

"Yeah. Andre says hey. He's fishing."

She paused as he softened hearing the news, and she couldn't resist the pull of him. The sight of him strong and stoic in the doorway. Those deep blue eyes sparkling and those plush, pink lips pursed in concentration. The sunlight cascading faintly through the blinds bathed him in warm light that seemed to reveal every inch of him to her. He just wanted to make sure she was okay. It was written all over him, in his eyes and body language, and in his voice when he spoke. It was foreign to her, and surreal. But so, so attractive. She needed to be close to him.

Their agreement to just go wherever their mutual feelings for each other took them had unleashed something inside of Michonne that had been dormant and silent for a long time. Acting on it now felt like the most natural thing in the world, and she didn't think she could help giving in to that pull if she tried.

When she reached Rick, Michonne gave in to every emotion she'd been feeling since that kid attacked her. The fight, the worry, the desperation to get away from him. It all rushed through her at once as she wrapped her hands around his neck and leaned against him.

Rick enclosed her in a protective embrace, remaining silent as she cried it out.

He had suspected what happened to her would hit her suddenly, and it wasn't surprising to see that finally talking to her son had done it.

"You wanna get outta here?" He asked her softly when her tears finally eased off, his lips brushing her cheek.

Michonne nodded against his shoulder. "God yes."

Without hesitation, Rick stepped back and took Michonne by the hand, not bothered in the slightest to get her clear of this hospital. The morning's events made him hate them even more, of that he was certain.

Tobin and Aaron were waiting for them as Rick and Michonne made their way out of the room. They all waited while Michonne gave Maggie a tight hug and promised to call her and Sasha later. "You keep your eye on her. Or so help me…" Maggie commanded to all three men, her arms crossed. The relative cheerfulness of her peach nurse's uniform contradicted her serious expression.

Rick simply gave her a firm nod and waited for Michonne to join his side again.

In the elevator, Aaron dutifully took watch of the floor numbers while Michonne stayed closed to Rick.

Tobin turned his head, standing on Rick's other side, his chin beginning to bruise from the kick to the face he'd taken earlier. "That won't happen again, Mr. Grimes. Miss Williamson. You have my word."

"Call me Rick. And he was no regular kid off the street." The ex cop countered, meeting Tobin's gaze man to man. "He was skilled. Fast. He was prepared for a fight. I was lucky to get a clean shot with him dartin' around like that, and even then..." Rick winced, remembering that kick to the throat.

"You think we can find out more about him? Maybe something could lead us to some answers." Michonne spoke up, her slender, cool fingers snugly interlaced with Rick's strong, warm ones.

Rick and Tobin regarded her as the elevator dinged on the first floor, where the triage area for the Emergency Care ward lay.

"No harm in doin' some digging." He answered as they made it out into the parking garage. "I've already got a man inside, like I said. I'll give him a call once we get you home."

Michonne felt her stomach lurch, and she tugged on his hand, getting him to slow his steps. Tobin and Aaron broke off to retrieve their vehicle, parked a few spaces down from Rick's truck. Their eyes scanned the area as they went, leaving Rick and Michonne alone by the passenger side door of the Bronco.

She shook her head at him as he stepped up to her. He frowned, gazing down into her pensive eyes. "I don't want to go back there right now, Rick."

Rick's crystal blues flickered across her face. He wanted to give her what she needed - but he didn't think she needed to be trying to run from her emotions right now. Still, he also couldn't bring himself to impose his will on her so callously without at least hearing her out.

"It'll drive me crazy if I go back there right now, you know?"

He listened, thinking of the duffle bag in her closet and the secret in her trunk.

Rick didn't want to let her out of his sight. Taking her home seemed just as dangerous as having her out in the open, however. He had work to do but he was also feeling riled up and affected by what had just occurred, himself.

His gaze slipped to Michonne's lips, his hand still gripping hers firmly.

"Alright." He relented, giving her a soft, sweet kiss, an idea forming in his head. He backed up and opened the door for her. "Get in. Gimme a minute."

Michonne nodded gratefully, a small, relieved smile gracing her shapely lips as she moved to do what he asked. His blue eyes followed her as she climbed in and he closed the door behind her. Michonne watched through the rear view mirror as Rick jogged over to the F.B.I. unit where Aaron and Tobin had pulled up behind them.

He knocked on the window and Aaron rolled it down. It was also his turn to drive. Rick leaned in a little, leveling with the two gentlemen. "Change of plans. Miss Williamson doesn't wanna go back to her house just yet."

Aaron and Tobin exchanged glances. "I'm...not sure that's advised, sir." Aaron responded seriously.

Rick nodded, appreciating his dutifulness. "Me, either. But I had an idea."

"What's that, Rick?" Tobin asked, curious.

He offered them a slow grin. "What d'you boys say we go shoot up shome shit?"

Yet again, the two stoic agents exchanged looks. "We're in." Tobin confirmed, his gaze returning to Rick's appreciatively.

Rick nodded and gave the side of the car a couple of knocks. "Good. I know just the place. Follow me."

He was smiling when he got into the Bronco, to Michonne's pleasant surprise. She watched him buckle in and start the truck up, noticing that her favorite radio station was still on when he turned up the music a little. He still hadn't said anything when he backed out and led Tobin and Aaron around the bend and out of the parking garage.

"What's that look? Where are we going?" She asked softly, wanting to kiss him.

Rick's salt and pepper stubble shined in the sunlight as he glanced over at her with an affectionate gleam in his eyes. "We're goin' to let off some steam, like you wanted to earlier. Now's as good a time as any."

Michonne felt that hollow ache in her stomach melt to an exhilarated hum as she watched her handsome, fascinating neighbor maneuver his truck through traffic. A short while later, they were pulling into the parking lot of the Quick Shot Gun Range, a few clicks from downtown.

She did kiss him before they climbed out of the Bronco, already feeling better.

The stress of her grim reality turned into boiling determination as they walked into the dim, cool establishment, followed closely by Tobin and Aaron.

There were rows and rows of guns of all types on display on the walls, and bullets and other, smaller weapons in display cases on all sides. Along with certificates and press writeups and photos of famous NRA members. There was a promo for the Marines playing on mute on a flat screen television mounted on the wall above the customer service counter.

Michonne walked around, feeling a heavy sense of home settle in her bones as she ran her fingers along the glass counter tops. Rick eyed her for a beat before stepping up to the counter to buy them all an hour in the target range. The clerk at the desk also eyed the tall drink of shapely chocolate milkshake in the tight, high-waisted denim jeans and white tank top.

Rick glared at him until he ripped his gaze from Michonne's lovely, Atlanta-fed backside and rung up his total for bullets and two rows in the range. Though he didn't utter a word as he handed over his credit card, his jaw clenched, his eyes clearly said 'she's mine.'

Twenty minutes later, Rick was watching Michonne shoot in the seventh row. The sound of firing boomed and echoed all around them, dulled by their bright orange ear plugs. The burning metallic smell of gun smoke and bullet residue filled his nose but he kept his focus on Michonne. She stood with her right leg slightly jutted, her back straight, her graceful shoulders glistening with a light sheen of sweat as she aimed and shot a small but powerful, army-gold Springfield. He saw her bullets puncturing holes around and inside the second and third rings of the target. He couldn't take his eyes off of her as she paused to reload, then took aim again.

Michonne saw the face of the kid behind that ugly, twisted mask as she fired over and over again until her gun clicked. The holes were getting closer and closer to the bull's eye.

Rick tried not to let the sight of Michonne's skills and incredible body manifest in his jeans. Aaron and Tobin switched places as Tobin finished emptying his clip. They had both taken their suit jackets off and rolled their sleeves up, their brows sweating.

Tobin was limping but he looked satisfied as he nodded appreciatively in Rick's direction again. Aaron started firing as Michonne turned to face Rick. He gave her an impressed smile. "Good aim." He told her, stepping forward to take his turn. "I like your follow through, too."

Michonne smirked, finally feeling confident in herself for the first time in a hot second.

"Thanks." She took her time letting him by, her eyes drifting downward to unabashedly catalog his lean muscles through his cream button-down. His tanned forearms were also lightly dusted with perspiration from their couple of rounds of target practice so far.

She looked up at his lips again as he sauntered around her, his Python gripped firmly in his strong hand at his side. She was eager to watch him shoot again, so Michonne released him from her gaze and stepped back, crossing her arms. Rick gave her a small smirk and turned to take his stance at the firing post.

Something she'd noticed right away - and immediately liked - was that he fired with one hand, usually with his head tilted slightly to aim better. The cut of his lean body mesmerized her as he fired the big gun at the target slowly and purposefully. He got what he was aiming for almost every time, his jaw clenched with steely focus. His last shot hit dead center, and Rick relaxed again, pulling his pistol back with satisfaction.

Michonne had been right. That had felt good. Even as a deputy, he tried not to fire his weapon very often. These days, however, he found himself willing to shoot - and shoot to kill - if he had to. For Michonne. Carol was right...she was 'a dame to kill for'.

She gave him slow, impressed applause. Rick turned to see her brown eyes sparkling. He stood reloading for a moment, another unignorable idea forming in his head. He got the bullets loaded and spun the chamber closed again with a heavy, metallic click.

"You wanna try him out?" He drawled as the other shooters around them kept on, leaning back on his feet, challenging her. Damn, he looked sexy holding that gun.

"You serious?" Michonne raised an eyebrow as his words registered, her heartbeat quickening at the exciting prospect of firing his Python. She watched him lift his hand holding the pistol up to her, offering it. He was serious.

"Come on. I know you're not shy." He tilted his head at her, looking nothing but fuckable as he drew her toward him again with his moonstone tractor beams. She rolled her eyes at him, but she came without another word.

Michonne took the Python from him, its weight and heat feeling even more intimidating than the first time she held it. And empowering.

Rick felt himself getting excited as he stepped aside for her at the firing post. He stood close to her, reaching up to help her aim properly. She felt his warm, strong fingers wrapping around hers, his muscular arm raising with hers as he adjusted the target sight for her. His other hand landed gently on her hip so he could turn her slightly to the side. She felt his breath sending electrified eddies of sensation along her neck and shoulders as he practically molded himself to her, showing her how he fired by helping her place her feet properly.

Swallowing down a fierce surge of arousal for their proximity, her scent, and how alluring she was, Rick tried to concentrate on getting her ready and letting her do her thing. But he couldn't help his focus also zeroing in on the perspiration making her practically glow...the fiery determination in her mesmerizing eyes as she squinted through the target sight in his .357 Magnum...her cleavage rising and falling from the valley of her tanktop. He gazed at her gorgeous profile, and those beautiful lips, hardening inside his jeans.

He squeezed her hip as his bulge brushed against her backside, tilting his head to see more of her face.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

Michonne found her breathing going shallow and her nipples sprouting to attention as Rick leaned in closer and tightened his grip on her hand, pressing the hammer spur back. When he spoke next, in a low, husky drawl, Michonne fought off the urge to grind her ass into what she knew was an oncoming hard-on. She forced herself to concentrate on what he was telling her.

"Now just breathe and fire. The Colt'll take care of the rest."

He stepped back, almost reluctantly, and watched. She felt his intense gaze on her as she did exactly as he instructed. She breathed, and she fired. Growing more and more confident - and angry - with each shot.

BOOM. The kid's mask.

BOOM. Negan's smug, grinning face.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. Click.

Rick watched Michonne lower her arm with a renewed wave of attraction to her that hit him like one of those kill shots she'd just fired. Then his gaze zeroed in on the target paper as it came reeling toward them. The head and half the right shoulder were practically torn to shreds from six, angry bullets.

Damn. She looked good with his gun. And she was a good shot. He considered it a done deal.

The more he discovered about Michonne, the harder he fell.

Though still serious and vigilant, the two F.B.I. agents were noticeably perkier when they exited the place and got into their vehicle again.

Rick sat in his front seat in the parking lot now, torn. He'd just gotten a text from Morgan. The reclusive polymath was ready for him. He had to go to work. The pit stop at the Quick Shot had felt damned good (so had seeing her fire his Python), but it hadn't resolved the fact that he still didn't want to leave Michonne. In fact, it had only made that feeling worse.

"Rick?"

He looked over to see her gazing at him, still glowing from the shooting and getting to handle his big, sexy gun. Unable to stop herself, Michonne unlatched her seatbelt and began climbing across the seats toward him. Rick remained silent, frowning in surprise as she opened her legs and straddled him in the roomy, worn-in driver's seat, bending her knees so she could settle into his lap.

His hands immediately left the steering wheel and they roamed along her shapely thighs to latch onto her backside from underneath it. Even folded up in his lap with the steering wheel at her back, she was as graceful as a crane or a bird of prey - and he was her lunch.

Michonne sighed and leaned forward, her breasts pressing against his chest in the warm front seat of the Bronco. She kissed his pink lips, losing herself in his scent and strong grip. Rick's abdomen tightened and he clutched at her, exhaling sharply against her soft skin as he remembered how sexy she looked eviscerating the head of that target with his pistol. Their tongues danced as she sank herself further in his lap, seeking out his bulge.

"Take me with you." She whispered as she took kisses from him softly, slowly, instantly arousing him. "Please?"

"It could be dangerous, Michonne…" Rick grunted, frowning hard, trying not to rip her tank top off and kiss his way down to one of her breasts to suck on for his lunch.

"Not with you." She countered, moving her hips against his slightly, causing him to swallow and pull her into him. He wanted to fuck her. Right now. He didn't care who might be watching. She wasn't making it easy for him to resist the urge at all. "And I can help. You're going to see a guy about guns? I know guns, baby, remember?" She continued, her nipples still hard and sensitive underneath the thin white cotton. She kept going as she watched his eyes darken with lust. "I don't want to be shut inside my house alone all day again. I'm dangerous when I'm left alone while I'm scared, Rick."

Rick felt like he was going to break his jaw when Michonne ground her hips gain, stroking his length to hard steel, trapped between her thighs and imprisoned in his jeans.

"So you're either going to have to fuck it out of me right here in this truck..." He almost lost it when she licked his fuzzy chin and pressed her hard nipples into his chest. His dick twitched under her weight, practically bouncing her in his lap. He was getting harder and harder from her voice alone. Finally, she eased up, leaning back to stare into his prismatic blues again, a wicked gleam in her deep browns. "Or you're going to have to take me with you. Okay?"

He glared at her for a beat, powerless, his jaw still jagged as stone. Then he leaned forward, gripping her ass harder in his big hands and taking another slow kiss from her delicious lips.

He sucked on them for a few indulgent turns before growling against her mouth: "Okay. If you promise not to wander off again. Told you, I'm not lettin' you outta my sight."

"Promise." She readily agreed when he kneaded her flesh with his fingers, grinding her against him in retaliation for her teasing. She hissed and her panties grew damp while Rick covered her with soft, damp kisses along her neck and collarbone, causing her to ache for his dick.

"Now get your sexy ass behind a seat belt, before I fuck you anyway."

She smiled against his lips, kissing him again before doing as he'd huskily commanded. She had a mind to call his bluff (she was so wet for him it was ridiculous) but she didn't want to give Aaron and Tobin any more of a show than they'd probably already caught.

Rick watched her glide from his lap back into her own seat, riled up again but trying to contain it.

He allowed his pursed, thoroughly worked lips to slide up into a crooked grin as he continued to glare at Michonne with a mixture of amusement, adoration, and lust. He was still sore in the chest and throat, still angry with Negan and every man with a mind to hurt her or Andre - but he was also still utterly enamored with her.

He shook his head slightly at her as she buckled in and straightened herself up. She was gorgeous, fierce, sexy, and nothin' but trouble.

Rick started up the Bronco, turning on the AC to drive away his erection with practiced nonchalance, and got them out of the parking lot onto the road. The F.B.I. vehicle followed them easily as Rick headed for Greenbriar, and The Bullet Man, Morgan Jones.

"You do know guns. I could tell that as soon as we got in there." He remarked, remembering how confident and cool she looked handling the guns (and his) at the range. He tried to concentrate on the road instead of stealing looks at her every chance he could now. He was talking partially because what she'd said had sparked an instant intrigue, and partially to distract himself from his overwhelming attraction to her. "I remember you mentionin' your dad was the one who taught you how to shoot. He was in the army, right?"

Michonne reached over and turned up her radio station again, just enough to feel the music without it disturbing their conversation. She was also trying to push aside her need for Rick, still hyper aware of his sturdy, stoic presence beside her.

"Yeah. My dad kind of took me under his wing. And when I was with Negan…" she sighed hard, running a hand through her locs to get them out of her face so the AC could dry the sticky perspiration still clinging to her skin. "Well, it was kind of an obsession for him. Us, I guess I should say." She shrugged, remembering her past as if it was a bad taste in her mouth. "We collected. We always carried."

Rick did glance over at her with a mixture of grim empathy and righteous anger as she continued recounting details about her old life. Michonne scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"He bought me this ridiculous little handgun to keep in my purses." Her eyes darkened as Rick's Bronco smoothly maneuvered traffic through town. "But I never used one on him, like I should have so many times over all those years…"

"Did you love him?" Rick couldn't help the question from slipping from his lips. He concentrated on the road, trying not to make her feel like he was prying. "You don't have to answer."

Michonne turned to watch his profile shift and sway under the roaming sunlight as clouds periodically blocked it from view. "I did, in the beginning. I would've done anything for him."

Rick didn't say anything, processing the information while allowing her to get things off her chest without a bunch of meaningless input from him. She took a deep breath and turned back to watch the scenery.

"I'll make you a deal, Rick." She began, her tone more confident this time. "I'll help you with your case since you're helping me with mine." She was watching the cars around them move along, changing lanes and going wherever. None the wiser about her current predicament. "I love Carol, and I trust her with my life - but I can't just sit around in my house and wait. That's not me. She knows it's not." Michonne turned back to give him an amused look. "I'll bet she told you to babysit me, didn't she? Make sure I don't do anything 'stupid'? Like running?"

Rick frowned, taking his eyes off the road again as they slowed down for a red traffic light.

"She asked for my help findin' out who else is comin' after you, and why. But she didn't have to." He reached over and took her hand. "I'm not doin' it for her. I'm doin' for you, Michonne. I'd do it whether anyone asked me to or not."

He wanted to tell her. That he planned on taking his time getting to know her after this. That now they'd started, he didn't want to stop, not for any foreseeable future that he could come up with. But it was way too soon to lay something like that on her. Now wasn't the time and this wasn't the situation. He was determined to make it the right situation, however, as soon as he could. First, that meant seeing her clear of danger.

Michonne gazed at him, feeling herself comforted and so charmed by him that she hoped he would stick around for a while. A long, long while. She didn't know now if she could face all this without him. Not without completely succumbing to the dark, desperate whims of her old self.

Carol had barely managed to stop her from doing something drastic the last time she faced Negan's terrorism.

"So let me help you." She insisted, squeezing his hand as the light changed and they got moving again. "Tell me about your case. Come on, I wanna help."

Rick had to take his eyes off of her as they got onto Langford Parkway, which would carry them to Greenbriar.

He was silent, feeling dubious for a moment. He didn't want to get her mixed up in any more dangerous, complicated situations than she was already in. But also - there was his need to keep his eyes on her, to keep her within his reach.

He sighed, gripping the wheel with one hand as he reached over and popped the glove compartment. Amy's files were inside, along with some of his notes on his separate investigation so far. Michonne frowned curiously, reaching over to remove them from the compartment.

She slid them into her lap and opened the top folder, greeted with Amy's yearbook picture.

"Amy Jones. She's been missing for a little over a year. I got the case a couple of days ago." Rick began as Michonne flipped through the file. She read the initial report on her disappearance. It was disturbing to say the least. Michonne fought off a chill as Rick continued: "Her sister Andrea, she's a lawyer - she thinks this was no ordinary sex trade. I think she's right. The way Amy was taken. It doesn't add up."

He glanced over at Michonne as she looked at the photographs he'd taken of the personal items found in Amy's car. Along with the screen grab of the black, shadowy monster truck streaking by a traffic cam, and the strange bullet holes he'd captured up close.

"In fact, I think it's a coverup."

Michonne listened, examining the bullet holes. She had never seen anything like them before. Rick prepared to deliver his heaviest piece of information, watching for her reaction as much as he could while still keeping an eye on the road.

"But that's not even the complicated part."

She looked up at him, tearing her eyes from the fascinating photos to latch onto his pensive expression.

"What's the complicated part?"

His jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the wheel. "The plates I spotted on that truck belonged to one of the victims of the case I was workin' on back in King County. Rosita Espinosa."

Michonne let this information sink in. Wow. He was right - it was complicated. She determined to help him. She needed to.

The Bronco rolled smoothly along the expressway, the music humming and vibing in the speakers as she felt empathy and a kindred purpose well up inside her for him. He was such a lone wolf. Such a dark, troubled soul. But he was also sweet, and open, and good. Someone to trust. To believe in.

Someone who needed her as much as she needed him.

"I'm sorry, Rick…" She offered, reaching over to caress his hand affectionately.

"It's okay." He gave her hand a squeeze across the steering wheel. "I'm just glad you're in my truck right now." His lips folded up into a sad, but warm smile. "I don't usually have company while I'm workin'. It's...nice." He wanted to add 'because it's you' but he didn't know how she would take that.

Michonne shook her head slowly, her empathy intensifying as the early afternoon sunlight danced across her gorgeous skin. "It must've felt pretty lonely trying to solve such a brutal case for so long without an arrest to show for it."

Rick swallowed, concentrating on the road. "Sometimes. I had my partner Shane and a whole sheriff's department backin' me up, but...I took the lead. I took the responsibility. I let everyone down."

His eyes narrowed and she could see him tensing, the memories of it probably assaulting him as he got into the lane for the exit they needed.

"Shane...is he the best friend you told me about? You mentioned him earlier. He was the one coaching Carl?"

Rick nodded. "That's him. I called him yesterday. He's not happy about it, but he's gonna help from his end back...back home."

Michonne wanted to kiss his face for the sadness clouding his expression now, but instead she took a deep breath and returned his nod. "Good. I'd love to meet him when this is all over with. But it looks like I'm your new partner for now, cowboy. So...Rosita…"

The ex deputy glanced over at his 'new partner', unable to help a small smile as he turned them off at their exit. Tobin and Aaron were close behind.

"What d'you wanna know, rookie?" He drawled, the clouds lifting from his eyes. She was glad to make him smile again after bringing up bad memories for him, at least a little.

"Well, don't serial killers have...sort of a modus operandi? You know, things about their victims that they obsess over? Is she anything like Amy?"

Rick raised an eyebrow, intrigued. And in truth, starting to feel the familiar buzz he used to get when he worked a case. And she was right - he found himself wanting to break out the old case files from before, shed light on the whole ugly mess all over again, after so long of it bringing him nothing but bitter memories.

He sat up in his seat, seeing where she was going with her line of questioning.

"That's the thing - there were up to a dozen girls taken, we think. All different except for a few common traits. Obvious stuff. Smart, accomplished, beautiful, young.

"Rosita was athletic; a camp counselor. She had a big family. Big personality. She had fight in her. The other girls came from all different backgrounds. Everythin' else is numbers."

It was all coming back to him as he spoke. How confusing it all was - nothing this guy did made sense.

At least, not the first time around.

"He killed them all?" Michonne frowned, thinking. She had a head for this already, he could tell.

They were cruising through the streets of Greenbriar, now, looking for Morgan's block.

"We didn't find them all, no. Only a few - three out of the eight he took in King County. Not in the order they were taken, either. The others just...disappeared."

"That's weird...what'd Shane think about that?"

Rick scoffed, remembering his old friend with a mixture of amusement and bitterness. "He thought the killer just had a hard-on for pretty young women, end o'story. 'All colors and stripes. A man likes what he likes. Even a crazy one,' he said."

Michonne suppressed an eye roll for Rick's sake, but couldn't help intoning: "He sounds like a real charmer."

Rick laughed outright this time as he finally turned onto Morgan's street. "Believe it or not, he always has been. Still is."

Michonne looked around, feeling a strong sense of nostalgia here. Greenbriar still seemed (mostly) intact, but her father had grown up near Sylvan Hills before it started to get gentrified and the old neighborhood was painted over for a new one. She remembered him driving her and Sabine through his old haunts sometimes when they were kids, showing them where he used to hang out, where he ran from bullies, played in the streets, got into trouble, got hounded and traumatized by cops.

She briefly wondered what kind of beat cop Rick would make. She couldn't picture him harassing young black kids without at least some kind of scruples to stay the kind of brutality Michonne had witnessed and heard described by her father. But then again, everyone's path was carved out for a reason. Maybe Rick wasn't meant to be a city cop on the prowl for 'thugs'. Maybe he was meant to be exactly where he was - at her side, trying to find a clear path out of darkness again.

Rick finally pulled up to a modest little house nestled among a row of other modest little houses. This one was the only one shaded by big trees on the block. The lawn was sparse but well kept. There were rusting, red iron chairs on the porch - the kind Michonne remembered her grandparents having back in the day.

Curtains covered all the windows. Two cars were in the driveway, but they looked like they hadn't been driven since the eighties - or seventies, even.

There was loud rap music thumping from a car parked in a driveway two doors down with all the doors and the trunk open. A few guys wearing their shirts over their heads to cool themselves off from the sweltering heat stood milling about the candy-painted car, smoking blunts, talking shit, and drinking while they washed and tended to their prize.

They paused to watch the two unfamiliar cars pull up and park in front of The Bullet Man's little house.

They outright stared when Rick got out of his truck and opened the door to let Michonne out.

Rick noticed their audience and watched them watching Michonne get out of the Bronco. They weren't shy about appreciating her looks, or her...physical attributes. But they kept their distance. One of them, however, got curious. "Ay, homie - what y'all around here for? We don't know you."

"But we could get to know you. At least that fine ass little lady you got with you." Another one added appreciatively, licking his lips at Michonne across the distance. He looked her up and down but gave her a cordial nod after that. "W'on you come holla at us for a minute, sweetie? You don't need those white boys. We got you."

"We're here to see The Bullet Man." Rick spoke up as Michonne followed him up Morgan's chipped concrete walkway, nipping the long distance flirting in the bud. He let his arm swing a little wider so they could get a look at his holstered weapon. "Name's Rick. Morgan's expectin' me." He kept moving, trying to contain his irritation in front of Michonne.

Normally he would be just fine by himself, but with her around he was on guard. The guys were harmless enough though, and Michonne didn't seem to mind (she even gave them a little wave as she glided up the walkway after him), so he let well enough alone.

"Aiight - you can go see The Bullet Man, he's friendly with white folks." The guy with the lips answered (as though Rick had asked for permission) before turning his attention back to Michonne. "But when you done, tell shorty to come hang. I'll roll you one, miss. Free of charge. You fine as hell..."

Michonne chuckled. They reminded her of some of the boys that hung around her house when she was a kid, always trying to get her to come outside. Sabine would always snitch.

"No thanks. But I appreciate the offer. Enjoy your afternoon, guys."

Aron and Tobin got out of their car, standing at attention silently as Rick and Michonne made it up to the porch. The guys by the car laughed and cracked jokes at their stoic, no-nonsense demeanor (not intimidated in the slightest) and went back to washing their car.

Rick gave Michonne an appreciative gaze of his own as she joined him on the porch. She looked good enough to abandon this job and drag her to the back seat of his Bronco so he could carefully peel her tight jeans off and bury his face between her damp thighs.

He shook off his arousal and rang the doorbell. They stared at each other while they waited, Rick leaning slightly to the side, his eyes sparkling. Michonne standing in front of the door, her hands tucked casually in her back pockets - only drawing more attention to her ass, to Rick's frustration.

Finally, the door opened.

It was dark inside, but it smelled like incense and coffee. The man that greeted them was a slight, bespectacled black man with kind, though haunted eyes and a very soft-spoken southern accent.

"Yes? What can I do for you?" He frowned pleasantly at Michonne before his eyes landed on Rick.

Rick gave Morgan a respectful nod in greeting. "Hey, Morgan. This is Michonne. She's...with me. Today." Rick didn't quite know how to describe her to his reclusive friend. He wanted to say it - that Michonne was with him, but he wasn't sure he could claim her so confidently now that he had to say it out loud.

Michonne noticed Rick's shyness and found it endearing. She liked the sound of what he'd said. She let him off the hook, offering the man a warm smile. "Hi. It's nice to meet you...Bullet Man?"

Morgan scoffed quietly, his wise, gentle aura reaching out to her, soothing her almost instantly. She liked his kind eyes. "That's just a nickname that stuck. Please, call me Morgan. And come on in."

"Much obliged, Morgan. We won't take up too much of your time."

"Nonsense, Rick." Morgan waved him off and turned around to walk them in, leaving the door open for them to close themselves. "I've been workin' on our case. I've got somethin' to show you."

Michonne boldly reached out and took Rick's hand as they crossed the threshold. He glanced at her in surprise, but gripped her palm and slender fingers firmly.

"Yes…" she whispered, watching him with stars in her eyes as he closed the door and they followed Morgan into his house, hand in hand. "I'm with you."

Part II coming soon!
I broke this up because (SURPRISE) it got quite long. But there's more with Morgan, The Beast, The Master, Amy - and finally Carol, Daryl and Negan coming up next!

Your reviews this last round were fire! THANK YOU!

-Kendra