Chapter 21
It's All Wrong, But It's Alright (Part 2)

It was the last Friday of April and Michonne and Carl had taken to the fancy AMC dine-in theater near Rick's house for their Avengers adventure, both of them figuring it would be a light, fun outing for their long-awaited reunion. And on the way there, it had been – Carl was excited to finally tell Michonne what he'd been up to for the past several months, including his play and his trips. Michonne listened with glee, adoring the way he told stories with the detail of a grown up, but with the passion of a child. In turn, she told him about how she'd been thinking of getting a new car and wondered if he had any suggestions. It had all gone so well.

The ride home, however, was turning out to be just about the opposite. It was a beautiful 75-degree day in Nashville, but inside Michonne's car, things were downright dreary. Carl was silent, staring straight out of the window to his right as Michonne drove him home. She glanced at him via her rearview mirror, hoping she hadn't somehow broken Rick's child with this film. The only thing worse would've been if Captain America had disappeared at the end of the movie, too.

"Carl?" she called out to him cautiously. When his head snapped on her direction, he seemed a little less dismayed, which was a relief. Maybe he was just contemplative. "You okay?"

He let out a long, heavy sigh. "Yeah," he said sadly. "I guess I just wasn't ready for that. I thought the sad stuff would be in the next movie."

Michonne nodded. Even she hadn't been expecting something so heavy out of a Marvel joint. The entire packed theater felt like it was on mute for the last fifteen minutes of the movie. "What part did you lose it?" she asked him.

"Definitely at, 'Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good.'"

She laughed knowingly, and she noticed he smiled back. "Yeah," she exhaled, too. She didn't have a fraction of the affection he did for these characters, and even she felt it. "But you wanna know what I think?"

"Yeah," he said, hoping she'd be able to free him from this misery.

"I think this is all part of the plan, and they're all gonna be fine."

Carl lit up – briefly – as he stared at the back of Michonne's head. "You do?"

"I do," she assured him. "Remember, Dr. Strange said this was the only way. And the Time stone can reverse all of this, can't it?"

"I guess so. If all the stones aren't destroyed after that snap," he mumbled flatly.

"It'd be nice if we could rewind stuff at the movies like it's on DVR, wouldn't it?" she said.

"Oh my god, I kept wanting to do that," he agreed excitedly. "I kept lifting my candy like it was the remote."

Michonne giggled at him, grateful to see he'd cheered up a bit. She would have a lot to answer for if she brought a perfectly happy child back to his father sulking. "So besides the ending, how did you like the movie?" she said. .

"It was good," Carl nodded, back to his typical cool, calm collectedness. "I'm excited for the next part because Tony and Steve will have to be together again."

"Oh yeah, probably so," she granted.

"And I think it's gonna be kinda weird at first because of what happened," he said. "But you know what? In the end, I bet they're gonna be closer than they ever were."

Michonne smiled. He was so insightful. And it was so strange to hear such wisdom come from that little face. Then again, kids were so much smarter than most adults gave them credit for anyway. It was one of the reasons she'd looked forward to being a mother – getting to know some little person, seeing the world through his eyes, learning and growing with him. As they got closer to Rick's building, she wanted to make sure Carl knew how much she appreciated this outing and the privilege of hanging out with him for a little while. "Hey, thanks for letting me go to the movies with you," she declared seriously. "I know you were worried about my level of Marvel expertise going in, so hopefully I didn't embarrass you too much."

Carl chuckled. "I thought you were gonna ask way more questions than you did," he said. "Were you confused at all?"

"A little," she admitted, laughing too. "I was able to put most of it together, but I really didn't understand Dr. Strange's powers."

"Nobody does," he shook his head. "He's basically a wizard."

"Mm. I think it's on Netflix now, maybe I'll give it a try over the weekend," she suggested, slowing down once she reached Rick's block, looking for places to park. She missed the days of spending the night there with Rick – and not just because she was already dreading the long drive home back to Gatlinburg. "Let me know if you see any spaces," she said to Carl, scanning her side of the street.

"Dad is parked on the street, so you can just take his space in the garage," Carl proposed.

"I'm... not gonna do that," she chuckled again, eventually finding a spot near the corner. "You know you can't just give away your dad's stuff like that."

"He would be okay with it," Carl insisted. "He was gonna add you to the list, but then you guys broke up."

Michonne frowned, though her focus on trying to parallel park didn't allow her to truly take heed of what he was saying. "I should've asked your dad if you needed to get dinner," she mumbled to herself, realizing it was almost 7:00 as she turned off the car. "Are you hungry?" she asked, turning back to him.

Carl shrugged. "A little, but not really."

"When you get upstairs, you let him know that you had macaroni and cheese and some popcorn," she instructed. "How many of those gummy bears did you have?"

"Not a lot," he said, passing her the box for her to inspect.

The two of them piled out of the car and headed into Rick's upscale building, where Michonne was flooded with memories of the short time she spent coming there. Reminded of much she loved this place – its openness and brightness. Coming to this place was what made her want to restart her life.

She buzzed Rick's apartment, despite knowing he hadn't changed the code. She thought about how she had all this access to his homes, how he'd really trusted her right from the start. He answered as she was lost in her musings, and it took her a moment to remember why she was there. "Oh, hey, I'm sending him up," she said to the intercom.

"Are you gonna come up?" he replied.

"No... I've got a long drive back," she said. "You guys enjoy your night."

"Michonne," Carl interjected in a whisper, disappointed to hear her answer. "Please stay."

She looked at that little pleading face, unsure how she was supposed to resist. But this outing wasn't supposed to be another excuse to see Rick. Every time she was with him, she only felt more… things.

"Stay," Rick said on the other end of the conversation. "I made dinner."

"Oh… kay," she reluctantly agreed, surprised by the invitation. He was probably only doing so because Carl had asked, but after their last dinner, even that was generous. Their relationship was so awkward, navigating it in front of the kid wouldn't be easy.

Still, Michonne led Carl through the lobby and to the elevators, where they waited for it to come and whisk them upstairs. As they did, Carl stared at Michonne inquisitively. "What did my dad do?" he wondered, sounding almost worried by it.

Michonne cocked her head, baffled by the random question. "What?" she smiled uneasily.

"What did my dad do to make you break up?" he repeated. "Why don't you wanna stay?"

"He didn't do anything," she assured him, chuckling in another attempt to hide her discomfort. "I just... didn't know you guys wanted to hang out. I was planning to head back home."

"You can spend the night," he said as the elevator arrived.

Michonne laughed at the way he kept offering up his father's amenities without consulting him. "It's fine," she grinned at him. Rick came to her dinner when she asked; the least she could do was come to his.

When they arrived to his apartment, Michonne paused, for just a moment, as the memories continued to seize her. Remembering the first and last times she'd stepped into this magnificent home. It was as though she'd spent years there instead of a matter of weeks. It didn't even make sense, the effect this relationship still had on her.

"Something smells good," Carl commented as they continued inside.

He was right about that, though Michonne couldn't quite make out the aroma. And before she had the chance, Rick's neighbor, Sherry, came strolling out of the kitchen with a Ziploc bag in hand, startling both her and Carl.

"Oh, hey there," Sherry greeted them, but mostly Michonne, with a big smile as she flipped her bangs from her face. "Long time, no see."

"I know," Michonne nodded, plastering an equally cheerful grin on her face. "How have you been?" She noticed Rick appear in the threshold of the kitchen, seemingly watching their exchange as Carl approached him.

"I'm good, I'm good," she nodded. "Not so great with the meal planning," she joked, holding up the bag of eggs she'd borrowed from Rick, "but besides that…"

"It happens to the best of us," Michonne assured her with a shrug.

"Eh. Rick always seems to be prepared," Sherry noted, turning back to him.

"That's true," she replied, raising an amused eyebrow at him. "Sometimes, he just seems a little too good to be true, doesn't he?"

"Ain't that the truth," she agreed with a laugh.

Michonne was officially out of things to say to this woman she'd only met in passing maybe twice. She wasn't entirely sure Sherry even knew her name. "Well," she said, "it's really good to see you, girl. This was a nice little surprise."

"Yeah, yeah, same here," Sherry nodded enthusiastically. "Don't be a stranger."

The two women finished their conversation with polite smiles, Sherry going on her way, while Michonne continued toward the kitchen, where Rick seemed to be waiting for her. "Hey," she greeted him casually, for the second time that day.

"How was the movie?" he asked. So far, he'd gotten only a one-word review from Carl.

"Devastating," she answered simply, looking to Carl for confirmation. "Right?"

The eight-year-old shook his head just thinking about it. "You won't have to worry about seeing this one seven times, Dad," he said. "My heart can't take it."

Rick laughed at his dramatic response and ruffled his hair. "Well that's a relief," he said. "You should take your stuff upstairs and get washed up for dinner," he directed him, pointing to his backpack still sitting on the dining table. "It's just about ready."

Michonne and Rick watched him dutifully scamper off, leaving the two of them alone, Michonne eyeing her friend as he went to his crockpot concoction. "What's for dinner?" she wondered, inching toward him and the pot to see what was inside.

He glanced at her, taking note of the way she was dressed, in her striped silky blouse and jeans and Tory Burch flats – she looked like all the moms at school. He chuckled to himself before answering, "Pulled pork tacos." He turned and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he observed her, waiting for her to say what she really wanted to say.

"Carnitas," she nodded, impressed. She went to the sink to wash her hands, but could feel him watching her the way she'd been him just a few seconds prior. "What?" she smirked.

"She just needed to borrow some eggs," he submitted.

"I didn't say anything," she laughed.

"You didn't say anything with your mouth," he retorted, smirking back. "It's in your eyes.

"Oh, right," Michonne said, still smiling as she dried her hands. "Maybe you just know as well as I do that I was right about her wanting you."

"I didn't say that…"

"Yeah, well. It's in your eyes," she joked. "'Can I borrow some eggs?'" she said, imitating Sherry's nondescript white-girl voice. "That's the oldest trick in the book." She concentrated on laying the dishtowel over the sink – as if it took so much effort – knowing Rick still had his eyes on her. "I'm surprised I never tried it."

"Probably because you never needed to," he commented quietly.

Michonne looked back at him, their eyes locking briefly before hers averted to the floor. He was so attractive, it was hard to look at him sometimes. She still wasn't sure how he managed to make jeans and a simple black button-down the sexiest thing in the world. "I guess that's true," she admitted, brushing a stray loc behind her ear.

"You wanna hear somethin' funny?" he asked.

"You know I wanna hear it even if it isn't funny," she replied.

He sighed, unsure how to even say it – she would be the first person he even told about it. But he'd been wanting to share it with her. He wanted to share everything with her. "I went on a date," he revealed, his eyes nervously staying on her as he waited for her response.

She cracked a smile, on the verge of laughing, but she wasn't quite sure why she found it funny. Maybe it was a pained smile, but the sting was too fresh for her to recognize it as such. "With Sherry?" she asked.

"No," he frowned as if the notion were ridiculous. His voice went quieter as he said, "Carl's old teacher. The one I told you about."

"The one who asked you out?" Michonne grinned, genuinely amused by that. He'd previously described the teacher as an Alicia Keys type, and she couldn't at all picture Rick with someone like that. "Really?"

"Yeah," he blushed, bashfully scratching at the curls at his nape.

"How'd it go?"

"To be honest, I don't know," he chuckled. "It was nothin' special, but I don't think my heart was in it either."

"Mm."

"And I kinda felt… used by the end of the night?" he shrugged, uncertain he was using the right word. " I mean, she offered to go Dutch, but she'd already told me the place was out of her budget, so… I dunno what I was supposed to do with that."

"She told you that?" Michonne asked.

"Yeah," he nodded. He was relieved that she found it as strange as he did. "And then she asked to come home with me, and... I don't know," he sighed. "I woke up the next day and realized she probably just wanted sex in the first place."

"Oh." His statement took her by surprise, and she nearly stumbled as she remembered just what it was like to have sex with Rick Grimes; her body temperature rising in response. After having the experience herself, she couldn't exactly blame the girl. "Well, I mean... that is what people... do."

He eyed her, trying not to think of all the things he and Michonne used to... do. It was a long, awkward journey to get there, but it had sure as hell been worth it. "I guess that's true."

"I take it you… didn't then," she asked cautiously. It wasn't her business of course, but if he didn't want her to know, if he didn't want to have this conversation, he wouldn't have mentioned it.

He shook his head, sobering from their levity. "No," he confirmed.

Michonne nodded. She couldn't pretend she wasn't relieved. Rick was technically free to do what he wanted, but it would be hard to sit through dinner with him, knowing he'd been with someone else recently. All while recognizing that it wasn't healthy to feel so territorial over him. She still had so much work to do.

"Are you glad I didn't?" he asked, seeming to read her mind.

"Yes," she answered, nearly inaudibly; biting her bottom lip as she stared at him. God, this dinner was a bad idea. All of it was a bad idea. Just eat your food and go, she said to herself.

Rick nodded, appreciating her candor. Before he could respond in kind, Carl was on his way downstairs, having washed his hands and face and exchanged his school shoes for slippers. He thought surely dinner would be on the table by the time he returned, but it seemed his dad and Michonne were just standing there. "Hey, Dad? Is it okay if Michonne stays over tonight?"

Michonne's eyes went wide at the question and she sighed, embarrassed. Though it was funny that Carl was asking for her stay as if she were his friend instead of Rick's. Then again, maybe that would end up being the case. "Carl, I'm fine getting home," she promised him.

"That drive is so long, Michonne."

Rick kept his eyes on her as he moved around her to collect plates from the cabinet. "You should stay," he asserted coolly.

She was surprised, again, by the offer – the ease of it, especially. "Rick, you don't have to…" She shook her head, knowing how tense he'd been the last time they were together. Just eat your food and go.

"You can get a hotel if you really want to, but I wouldn't feel comfortable with you driving back so late," he said.

"You did the same thing just a few weeks ago," she reminded him.

"Yeah, and it was a terrible, arduous drive in the dark, which is why I don't want you to do it."

She smiled at him appreciatively. She could've easily left now and been home by 11:00 with the time change. But he seemed to want whatever this was, likely just for Carl, so she would at least consider it. "We'll see," she said. "We should eat."

"Dad, what time is it?" Carl wondered as he popped a grape into his mouth.

Rick glanced at his watch and then at Michonne before answering, "It's a little after eight." He eyed his son, curious as to why he was asking; wondering if he had some other trick up his sleeve for himself and Michonne.

"Oh man, it's too late to call Enid now," he said, slumping in his chair. "I need to know how she's doing after the movie."

"Oh yeah," Rick acknowledged, looking over to Michonne again. "Enid's a big Spider-Man fan."

"So I've heard," she grinned tiredly. She was so full from their delicious dinner, she was practically falling asleep at the table, but she didn't want the night to end. They'd been having such a good time with their carnitas and easy conversation. As it turned out, Carl was the perfect buffer between them, distracting her from that unending pang inside her that made her wish they could go back to this. She didn't just love these two people, but she genuinely liked them. Spending time with them was fun. She'd watched the video of Carl in his school play and swelled with pride watching this charismatic kid light up the stage unlike anyone else. She'd gotten to see pictures of him in Los Angeles and Tijuana and he was finally able to give her the French comic book he'd gotten for her in Paris. They talked Avengers – of course – and Rick's next big job, which would send him to Seattle the following week; and she told them all about her research project receiving the grant they needed, and how she'd be heading to southern Africa and Haiti over the summer, sparking a dialogue about the place her parents called home. It was a simple, quiet, nice evening, and she wanted it to stay just like this.

"Is it too late to call her, Dad?"

"Yes," Rick answered with raised eyebrows. "You should be takin' a bath and gettin' ready for bed yourself."

"Dad," Carl started to whine. "It's Friday."

"And you haven't done any homework, so you're already ahead of the curve," he reminded him, taking a yogurt-covered grape for himself. "You can call her in the morning."

"But Mom is taking us to see it tomorrow," he contested. "There's not gonna be any point by then."

"Imagine that," Rick teased him; though thanks to his good mood, it didn't take long for him to surrender. "Go get my phone off the kitchen table," he directed him. "You can have five minutes if her parents say it's all right."

Michonne watched their exchange like it was a TV show – she was always enthralled when she got to watch Rick be a parent, the way he struck the balance between being firm and fun. She couldn't help but wonder what kind of mother she would've been. Her mind involuntarily recalled what Negan spoke of in their last therapy session – how he wrote to their child, vividly imagined being a father. She supposed these kinds of thoughts would never fully fade, but god, she wished they would.

Meanwhile, Carl went on to make his phone call. Rick kept his eyes on Michonne, because he couldn't keep his eyes off Michonne, as Carl talked to his friend on speaker, their eight-year-old joy filling the room. He wanted to ask if she'd decided to stay, but he didn't want to seem overzealous. He thought about it after their last get-together, that she'd invited him to her house because she wanted to be with him, and his response was this strange seesaw between pathetic and apathetic. So he was trying to do this one differently, even if only for his own sanity.

As the kids finished their call, Rick began pulling the dirty dishes toward him. "All right, bud. Say goodnight to Michonne," he instructed Carl. "I'll be up to run your bath in a sec."

Carl begrudgingly picked himself up from his seat and went to give his friend a hug. "Thanks again for coming today," he told her. "Next up is Ant-Man."

Michonne chuckled and did her best not to squeeze him as they embraced, for all the hugs they'd missed the last few months. "You sleep tight," she said, tousling his hair the way Rick often did. "I got the dishes," she told the elder Grimes with a wink. "You go on up."

Grateful for the reprieve, Rick led Carl upstairs, while Michonne took their plates to the kitchen, scraping the few remnants into the garbage disposal while snacking on frozen grapes. There was only enough pork left in the crockpot for maybe two tacos, so she wrapped up the leftovers for Rick, knowing he'd be on his own the next day. She was putting seran wrap over the pico de gallo when Rick reappeared.

"He wanted me to tell you that he may be gone before you wake up, so have a safe trip home," he announced for Carl.

Michonne smiled. "He's so thoughtful," she said.

"I appreciate you comin' all the way out here just for this," Rick replied. "It meant a lot to him."

She shrugged it off. "You used to come see me every weekend. You didn't seem to mind."

"Well… I always got somethin' worth comin' for," he retorted suggestively.

"Stop," she grinned, forcing herself to ignore the butterflies suddenly aflutter in her stomach. "This was worth coming for, too."

He knew that wasn't true, but he couldn't tell her how much he appreciated her driving four hours to see a movie she had no interest in, just for his son. "You can take my bed tonight," he told her – a show of said appreciation. Also a nudge for her to stick around. "I'm gonna crash with Carl."

Michonne frowned at his offer as she went to the sink to begin washing. "No," she said emphatically. "I'm fine on the couch."

"Please don't fight me on this," Rick said.

"Fine," she sighed, moving out of the way. "You wash. I'm gonna finish dessert."

He smirked as he went to assume duty over the dishes while she took the bowl of grapes and leaned against the opposite counter, watching him. "Reminds me of Thanksgiving," he commented.

Michonne nodded despite his back being turned to her, but she tried not to dwell too much on it or she'd burst into tears.

"Is it just me, or are things always better between us here?" he wondered out loud.

"I was just thinking about that," she said as she added her emptied bowl to the pile. "Maybe it's because you're more comfortable here."

"Oh, so it's just me then?" he asked, his tone a mixture of flirtatious and curious.

"I dunno." She smiled timidly, feeling her face growing warm as he looked back at her. She felt tipsy, and she hadn't had a drop all day. She let out a short exhale, looking around the large kitchen for a way to change the subject. "I'm surprised you have a crockpot," she declared randomly. "I don't even have one anymore."

He went to where Michonne stood beside it, giving the appliance a cursory glance. "You can have it."

"That's not what I meant," she grinned.

"No, I know, but you can," he said. "Think of it as a housewarming gift."

"Stop trying to give me things," she chuckled, shaking her head. He moved closer to her and she ignored every impulse in her body that said to take a step back. "You've given me enough." Her words came out in a mumble, too distracted by his lips to speak her piece with any certitude.

Rick gazed back at her, his mind swimming with all the highlights of their short history together. How she came to this place the first time, and they stood in this very spot, slow dancing, but rapidly falling. Did she remember that? Did she remember it the same way he did? He wanted to ask, and he opened his mouth to do so, but the way she was looking at him, those big, pleading eyes, they already told him that she did. And so, he took a small leap of faith – because he'd stopped taking leaps after she hurt him – and he cupped her face, her cheek so warm, he knew she was blushing under all her melanin. It seemed they'd both stopped breathing until he leaned in for a kiss, and suddenly, they were inhaling one another.

Michonne's fingers instinctively found his waist, holding onto him as his lips claimed hers. It was a surprise, but one she'd been yearning for, somewhere in the back of her mind. His kisses, from the very beginning, made her feel whole, no matter how briefly. They made her feel alive, the sensation of his tongue searching for hers, his beard against her cheek; the way he drank her in. His kisses cut her open and put her back together all in the same heady breath. She returned the kiss, sucking on his lips as he pulled her closer, his left hand squeezing her backside the way he always did. She smiled. There were those butterflies again – they'd replaced the ache.

As Michonne's back pressed against the counter and Rick against her, she could feel him untucking her shirt, his cool hands on her hot skin, wrapping around her waist, and she nearly melted. Nearly. But her brain took over for her heart, recognizing what they were doing – what she was doing, abandoning what little resolve she did have about this situation – and pulled out of their liplock. "What's happening," she said breathlessly, her lips tingling thanks to his. She lowered her head, trying not to look at him, because if she did, she'd fall right back in.

His hand still clinging to her face, Rick rested his head over hers. It was wrong, he knew, after what she'd asked of him, but he couldn't keep spending these evenings with her, pretending he wasn't losing his mind with every passing second that he couldn't touch her. He'd tried. He invited her up with the intention of genuinely trying to kindle a friendship. But it felt more like they were getting a divorce when he didn't even get to be married to her. "I don't wanna be your friend," he whispered, exhaling quietly once the words were out.

Michonne closed her eyes, allowing his scent to take over her. He smelled of scallions and sawdust and she had to hold back tears. "I don't either," she admitted in an even softer whisper, her fingers on his shirt, holding onto him, as if she was scared he'd slip away if she didn't. "But I don't wanna ruin this again." She sighed and the tears began to fall in streams down her cheeks.

"You won't," he said. "We won't."

"You don't know that," she sniffled. "I constantly feel like I'm one bad day away from destroying everything in my life. I know you don't know what that feels like, because you're perfect," she smiled sadly. She knew that wasn't necessarily true, but it often felt like he was. "But it weighs on me every time we've been together since…"

Rick nodded against her gently. He didn't know what that felt like, didn't have those demons, but he certainly understood being scared. "So then… what happens?" he wondered, his voice hoarse from the lump in his throat – probably full of all the things he wasn't saying.

"I don't know," Michonne admitted. "I thought friendship was the compromise, but maybe it's wrong of me to try to hold onto you. Maybe… maybe we need space." She swallowed hard, and she could hear Lucille in her head, screaming at her. Don't do this. But she could see Dr. Garvey applauding her. Good job. Set boundaries when you need to. It was a classic head versus heart battle – the healthy choice or the one that makes you happy. "I don't know," she repeated. She disentangled herself from his arms and suddenly, the room felt very cold.

Rick bit the inside of his cheek as he could hear Carl upstairs scurrying around. He waited until he settled before speaking again, her words ringing in his ears. "Space," he smirked sadly. They'd had space for almost four months now. How much could she need? "Negan, Sasha. Now me. You just… discard people, I guess."

Michonne swallowed visibly, her tears seeming endless. She wanted to believe he thought more of her than that, but then, she hadn't given him much more to go on. "That's fair," she nodded as she wiped her chin of her tears. "I'm sure that's what it seems like." She looked around the half-clean kitchen, remembering the joy she felt the first time she was there with him. The two of them dancing to Ella and Louis. Now it felt like the walls were crashing down around them. "I should go," she submitted, knowing she couldn't sleep there now. She probably wouldn't sleep at all.

"Michonne—"

"Thank you," she said pointedly, but sincerely, wanting him to know that she wasn't looking for a fight. "Today was the best day I've had in a while. I mean, you and Carl… you brought me back," she said, nodding slowly, as if she'd just realized it herself. "And I don't know where we go from here," she said again, still trying to grasp the concept for herself. "But I could never discard you." She turned to leave before any more tears could fall; before either of them could say or do something they might regret. She really should've just eaten her food and gone.

A week later, Rick and Michonne had gone back to their separate lives — temporarily, at least. They'd exchanged a few meaningless texts, as it was clear neither of them were ready to throw in the towel, but Rick being on the west coast for a few days gave them a good excuse to put everything on hold. To give themselves space.

And when he returned, he had a laundry list of things to catch up on, including meeting with his realtor one more time, as Lori and Shane had finally moved out of his house, and the new owners would be in by Memorial Day.

It was a hot, sunny Friday as Rick trudged up the driveway to his old abode, squinting at the place as he got closer. The first home he'd ever owned. It felt small, maybe compared to what he could afford now. It was hard to believe he shared this place with Lori; all the while believing they were going to spend forever together, even knowing she didn't love him as much as he did her. He was always so intense. In hindsight, he could see how that could be overwhelming. Not that it gave Lori license to cheat on him, but for someone like Michonne, he understood why she was apprehensive.

Just as he made it to the front door, the sound of a car pulling up turned him around. He expected it to be the realtor, Madison, but instead, it was Lori – speak of the devil – approaching in Shane's car. Rick let out a heavy sigh, steeling himself for their inevitable tension, but he painted on a pleasant face and went to greet her. "Hey. What are you doing here," he wondered, holding her hand as she stepped out of the SUV in all her 8-month-pregnant glory. She looked like she'd swallowed a watermelon whole.

Lori rolled her eyes at her own mistake before revealing what it was. "I packed a box full of Carl's old baby toys, but they're not at the new house, so I was hoping we left them here."

"You could've just called, you know," Rick said, escorting her up the short incline to the door. "I could've brought 'em by Sunday."

"I didn't even know you were gonna be here," she said, wiping the sweat that had already formed on her brow as she watched him unlock the door. "Why are you here?"

"Madison's on her way," he said. "Handin' over the keys today."

She nodded at his answer, too uncomfortable in her condition to feel sentimental about it all. "How was Seattle?"

"Wet," he said, letting her in ahead of him. He followed her inside, the two of them finding the empty home stuffy after just a few days without the air on.

"Jesus," Lori frowned at the nuisance of it all. "It's warmer in here than outside."

"You stay here," Rick offered, directing her to stand in the open doorway. "I'll go look for the toys."

She didn't have it in her to argue, so she nodded for him to go ahead, hoping for a breeze to blow through the foyer while Rick went off to look for the mysterious box. He started with the closets at the front of the house and worked his way back, recalling so many big and little moments in that place – moving in with the few pieces of furniture they had from their apartment; Carl's first big boy bed; him learning to read, and then his first day of school; their parents all coming into town when he graduated kindergarten, staying in their new home for the first time; the way Carl would go sit in their closet and draw his comic books for hours – he called it his studio. Rick smiled thinking about it all. And his smile fell when he started to remember the bad times – the fights and lack thereof, the silences, the dearth of anything resembling passion. It had been a long time since he called this place home, but it still gave him a strange wistfulness to be officially closing this chapter of his life.

Rick eventually found the box in question in Carl's old bathroom. One of those last minute things that got left behind, he guessed. Most of the toys would go to Lori and Shane's new baby now. Judith. Strangely enough, it didn't bother him anymore. He even chuckled to himself before heading back out to the front of the house, where Lori had made her way to the kitchen. She was leaning against the counter for support. "Are you all right?" he smirked.

"I'm miserable, but it's fine," she sighed. She lifted herself from the counter to see he'd found what she was looking for. "You're a lifesaver," she added thankfully.

"It's nothin'," he said. He came to join her, setting the box on the counter between them. "How much longer do you have?"

"Three more weeks," she exhaled again. "She's due the twenty-fifth."

He nodded, but his thoughts shifted to Michonne, knowing she had to deliver her son around this time in her pregnancy. "Well… I can't imagine what it must be like, but you're handling it like a champ."

"I'm just glad I don't have to go through the whole summer like this," she said, shaking her head. "I wouldn't make it."

"I'm sure you'd be fine," he offered kindly, leaving the two of them gazing at one another for longer than they had in years now. A rare moment of warmth between the exes, which only made way to awkwardness when it went on too long.

"Well," Lori was the first to say. "I should get outta here. It'll be time to pick up Carl soon."

"Right," Rick nodded back, glancing at his watch. Carl had been enjoying the new house all week, making for a good distraction from Michonne, which Rick was thankful for. If Carl asked about her while they were in this strange limbo, he would have to lie, and Rick hated lying to his son. "I'll see you Sunday then," he told Lori. He started to pick up the box to walk it to her car, but she stopped him.

"Also," she said carefully, worried already about how he'd respond, "...I know this isn't really my place, but I've been wantin' to mention this for a while now. And since Carl was with her last week, I thought maybe you had worked something out, but you still seem… sad," she acknowledged. "And I don't really know what happened, but I know you were happy with Michonne."

He sighed. Here we go, he thought. "Lori…"

"I'm not - I don't mean to be intrusive," she said. "I just want to say – to remind you, I guess – not to let what I did ruin what you could have with someone else."

Rick chuckled in disbelief at her lecturing him. After everything she'd done. "Believe it or not, everything isn't about you, you know."

Lori smiled tensely, rubbing her belly as she tried to find the words that would get her point across. She knew, coming from her, he would already be on the defensive. "I know," she nodded. "This has nothing to do with me, really. Except that it's you. And I know hurt – the kind of hurt that I put on you – it doesn't just disappear. It festers. It makes us scared to try again. And I know you, Rick," she said softly. "You wouldn't have let her meet Carl if it wasn't real to you. So whatever it is, I don't know if you got cold feet or what, but… if it's something fixable, I do hope you try to fix it."

He nodded again and he could feel his eyes beginning to water. She'd struck a nerve and he didn't know what to say. In part because he just didn't want to share his feelings with Lori, but he also just wished he could take her advice and go live happily ever after like she somehow managed to do. But how do you fix bad timing? How can you make someone ready to be in a relationship? You can't. "Thank you for the advice," he replied quietly.

He picked up the box and gestured for her to go ahead of him, patiently following behind as she waddled her way out to the car. He set the toys in her trunk, helped her back inside the vehicle, and waved her off, all while thinking about what she'd said. He never fought for Lori. One of the low points of their relationship was her pointing that out. He could've. Even after she cheated on him. It would've been a terrible idea for them to stay together, but he never even tried.

And then, when things fell apart between him and Michonne, he did get scared. She came back, and for that one weekend, it was good, but it wasn't the same. Because he wasn't the same. He was so worried he'd broken her by not being gentle enough or patient enough, he forgot to be himself. He forgot that she liked when he was honest. He'd pushed Michonne from day one because he saw someone worth fighting for. He saw a woman he wanted to be with – strong and smart and caring and trying so desperately to be better than her despair. But when she came back, all new and improved, he stopped saying what he wanted, and now, here they were.

He didn't know whether it was fixable, he really didn't. Maybe they were incompatible now that Michonne didn't need him. But after that kiss, he sure as hell didn't question whether she wanted him. So why was he pushing her away?

As he headed back inside to wait for Madison, he pulled his phone from his back pocket and decided to text her something meaningful. Not necessarily a push, but an opening. Maybe this was his version of a different street.

Friday 2:14 PM
I shouldn't have said what I said.
About you discarding people. You
were good to me, and especially to
Carl. Even when you weren't at your
best.

If we're meant to be together, we'll
figure it out. I'm not in a rush.

Back on the eastern coast of Tennessee, Michonne was just finishing up her own errands, including a pit stop at Food City on her way home. Glenn and Rosita were coming to visit for the weekend, and she wanted to get things done before they arrived.

She was scouring the intimate care aisle of the store when her phone buzzed more than once in her back pocket. She just knew it would be Glenn, informing her they were running late; but instead, it was a pair of texts from Rick that managed to instantly put her at so much ease in so few words. A hint of a smile even tugged at her lips as she stood there staring at the messages for too long. She believed him when he said they could figure it out. She wanted to call him, even though she hadn't a clue as to what she'd say. She just wanted, and maybe needed, to hear his voice.

But first, she forced herself to find what she was looking for. She'd been in this store so many times to purchase condoms, it was a bit of harsh irony that she needed this at all. But alas. Michonne picked up a pregnancy test, and then another, and then one more, just so she'd be sure. And with a heavy sigh and a silent prayer, she headed for the front of the store.