A/N: Happy New Year, Dear Readers. I hope you had a safe and relaxing holiday break. Thanks so much to for sticking with me. I appreciate all of those who just started reading this. Thanks for the reviews; they give me life. Okay, let's see what's going on with our OTP. Picking up where we left off.


Michonne's POV

"Drop the gun!" Rick says as I instinctively hold my hands up. Deanna keeps her eyes on me. They are determined and steely, much like Rick's. I cannot focus on that realization right now because if she is anything like her surrogate son, I am not long for this world.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" she asks calmly, while not looking at him. "She's a Fed, Rick. Why are you protecting her?"

"I know she is," he admits, and I feel my stomach drop lower.

Now her eyes find his as the dubious glare sets in before she says, "What are you saying?"

"Please," says Rick as he steps closer to her, and makes sure I am secure behind his form. "I know who she is. So just put that pistol away and I'll explain everything."

I close my eyes a moment, half expecting Deanna to shoot us both. When she doesn't, I chance a peek. Surprisingly, the stern-faced woman lowers her antique weapon and stares at Rick with interest.

"Go on," she says, before glaring at me. "Explain. And it better be good."

…..

Rick's POV

I can't tell if Deanna is upset with me right now. She's staring just past me, not making eye contact. Her face is blank. She is processing everything I've just told her. Michonne is sitting quietly at my side. The silence in this room is so heavy. I can feel the tension in Michonne's body; she is keeping her breaths slow and even, but the way she is gripping my hand is telling: She is as uncertain as I am. I don't speak; I only wait. Knowing Deanna for this long as told me that most things run on her time. She really does need time to process this newfound information.

I rub my thumb over Michonne's to comfort her. She has been through enough. When this is over, I only want her to be happy. My own happiness doesn't even matter, so long as she is safe and far from this place and these people I associate with.

"Why didn't you tell me you made the deal?" Deanna finally asks. I meet her gaze and inhale deeply.

"I didn't want to get you mixed up in everything," I say earnestly.

"I love you, Rick," she offered. "Everything that is going on with you has an impact on me."

"I didn't want to bring you under scrutiny," I admit. "It was best that you didn't know what was happening."

"You don't have to protect me," she replies. "I don't need protecting. But, you. Rick, I could have helped you."

"You can help me, now," I say as I lean forward. "I need answers. I need to know where my father is. You can help me with that, please."

She clasps her hands together and brings them under her chin. She is contemplating what I am asking of her, yet again. She inhales and then glances down at the top of her desk. After a moment, she looks at Michonne, then at me, and says, "I'll find him."

"Thank you," I say with relief.

"You leave it with me," she offers. "Stay tonight, and in the morning I will tell you everything I know I about your father's whereabouts."

I nod my head before saying, "We'll be there. Thank you."

I wait for her to let me know she is done and we are allowed to leave; she nods her head and leans back in her chair. She's much more relaxed now than she was earlier when she had a gun pointed at us.

"You're welcome," she offers. "Please fetch Spencer; I need to speak to you both privately."

"I will," I say while I stand and ready myself to leave. Michonne stands beside me, holding my hand, but she does not move when I do.

"Deanna?" she says.

"Yes, Michonne," she answers.

"Can I make an appointment to see you tomorrow?"

I glance between them. Deanna eyes Michonne.

"Meet me tomorrow for breakfast," she offers.

"Thank you," says Michonne, before looking at me and saying, "You wait here; I'll go get Spence."

…..

Michonne's POV

I walk hurriedly in search of Spencer. I am a little shaken, but I am okay. It wasn't the first time I had a gun pointed at me; probably won't be the last. I don't hold it against Deanna. I would do the same thing if I was in her position. I would do anything to protect Rick. That's why I need to meet with this woman alone: I need her help, we need her help.

…..

Rick's POV

Spencer joined us maybe ten minutes after Michonne went to get him. I am presently thinking what Michonne could possibly need to talk to Deanna about. I don't think there will be any kind of trouble between them; we're all on the same page. Either way, I won't let anything bad happen to Michonne; I just won't.

"You've had so much hurt in your life," Deanna says gently, speaking to me and interrupting my train of thought. "It hasn't been easy for me to watch your suffering, especially when I know I've done so much damage myself."

Spencer sits in silence, and I meet his mother's gaze.

"You've been nothin' but kind to me from day one," I say sincerely, wondering what she could possibly be referring to.

"I could have given you a different life," she says shakily. I see the tears welling in her eyes as her lip begins to tremble. "You didn't stand a chance..."

"That ain't on you," I reassure her. "Every shitty thing that's happened in my life is somehow connected to Daddy Gene. You're not to blame for any of it."

She takes a deep breath, and then closes her eyes, before saying, "No, Rick. I am to blame. I have something I need to tell the both of you."

She takes a seat, looking defeated. I have never seen her like this before. Though small in stature, she has always been an overwhelmingly large character. She has never paled in anyone's presence. I grow worried.

"What're you talkin' about?" I ask, suddenly concerned.

"I should have told you this years ago," she says with a slight tremble in her tone.

"Deanna? What is it?" I press.

"I'm...I'm so sorry, honey," she stammers. "I'm your…I'm your mother."

My heart sinks as I search her eyes for any hint that this is a cruel joke. I find only sincerity and truth in them.

"You're my son, mine and Gene's," she offers in explanation. "I gave you to him."

I can't speak. I try to reply but the words escape me. I can see her lips moving, but the loud ringing in my ears drowns out what she is saying. I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes a moment. Spencer has already moved to leave the room. The slamming of the door shakes me from my daze.

"Rick?" she asks, reaching for my hand. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Don't!" I yell, snatching my hand away from hers as I stand.

"Rick, please..." she begs as I storm out of the room.

…..

Michonne's POV

Rick stalks into the room. It startles me slightly. He begins to pace; his hands are threaded through his hair, fingers intertwined. He is trembling. I have never seen him like this. Tears fill his beautiful eyes; the clear blue irises framed by the redness of rage.

I'm can feel the anger radiating from his body. It's like a searing heat that encapsulates his form. He always embodies extremes: Heat and cold; mercy and severity; love and hate. Now, as he paces in front of me, all of those clashing degrees of emotion and existence that dwell inside of him scream to get out.

I stay seated on the bed and gently say, "Rick?"

...

Rick's POV

Just her soft voice whispering my name inches me away from exploding. I stop my pacing and throw her a tired look.

"Rick," she says once more. "What happened?"

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and then tell her. I tell her about Deanna's revelation and how I feel betrayed. How my father kept it from me; how she kept it from me. How I'm fucking angry and I don't want to be. How everyone I have every trusted and loved has let me down.

"Come here," she urges softly, gesturing with her hand. I go to her and take up a seat beside her on the bed. She shifts closer, presses a kiss to my temple, and then leans her head on my shoulder. My heart rate slows when she wraps her arm around my back.

"I'm sorry they lied to you," she offers. "Family can be...complicated."

"They're fucked up," I reply.

"They are," she agrees. "Deanna shouldn't've kept it from you. But, I get why she did it."

"To protect me?" I scoff, sounding harsher than I meant to.

"No," she says firmly. "If she wanted to protect you, she'd have taken you away from having anything to do with this life. She most likely kept it from you to believe her own lies; to keep her story straight so she could do what she needed to do. I get it. She kept it from you to believe that handing you over to that man was best for you. But it wasn't; it was what was best for her. And, Rick, that's okay."

"You think it's okay that she lied to me all this time?"

"No," she answers. "It's okay that she even had the choice. It wasn't the best choice, but she still had the opportunity to see you grow up."

I listen to what she is saying.

"She was still there for you, in her own way. In the only way she thought she could be. It was fucked up that you found out this way, and yes, you should be angry at her, but please don't dwell on it. Please move forward from it. She loves you, Rick, and that's what matters."

I feel the straining in my throat ease, and the tightness in my chest fall away. Her words make sense. They soothe me. I feel calmer when Michonne is near. I don't know how I will cope when all this is over and they send me away from her. I sigh. We sit in silence a while. I know she is right.

I take hold of her hand then bring it to my lips to kiss.

"Thank you," I whisper. "For always being an anchor for me."

She strokes my hair and says, "Always."

My breathing has returned to normal. I turn my head to kiss her atop hers. I order my thoughts and proceed to ask her something that was raging inside my mind not very long ago.

"Do you think things would've been different for me if Deanna had've kept me?" I ask. Michonne lifts her head from where it is resting and looks at me.

"I don't know," she replies, giving my hand a squeeze. "That doesn't matter now. We can't let the what-ifs rule how we live our lives now. Choices have been made, by everyone, and you are who you are. That's what I've always admired about you, Rick. You never shied away from who you are, faults and all. You embraced it. It's what I love about you. It's something that won't ever change."

I give her a little smile as I let her words sink in.

"We all have our faults, all of us," she adds. "And we have each other when no one else does. Deanna has your back, regardless of the choices she made. You should go and talk to her and let her explain."

I nod my head in agreement; I should speak to her.

…..

I don't say anything as I stand in the doorway of her study. She is sitting in near darkness, nursing a glass of whiskey. Her eyes are red and she looks tired. I step inside and she gives me an apologetic yet weak smile.

"I'm so sorry, Rick. Are you ready to talk?" she asks softly.

I nod my head and say, "Yeah, I'm ready to listen."

"Okay," she says as I close the door and take a seat across the desk from her. She exhales loudly and finishes her drink, before pouring me one, and topping her glass again.

"I was young and stupid," she starts. "We both were. But your father was married and I wasn't, so I handed you over to him. My family didn't approve of my situation. They sent me away while I was pregnant with you. I knew they wouldn't let me keep you. I thought it was for the best for your father to take you and raise you. At least I knew where you'd be."

"He made my mother raise another woman's baby?" I ask, disgusted in him.

"Yes," she answers. "He is a persuasive man, as you know. Things turned out the way he wanted; he got what he wanted."

"He always has," I offer. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Gene didn't want me to," she offers. "He wanted to keep living the lie. But I just can't do it anymore. Gene's gone, and you will be, too. There's no point in keeping the lie if everyone it revolves around has left me. I'm sorry it had to be this way, Rick; I never meant to hurt you."

We grow quiet; I sip from my drink, then say, "I understand. We do what we have to do. But…Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Yes," she replies.

"Did you ever want me? Did you ever wish you'd have kept me?" I ask, and a lump forms in my throat; I hate that I am feeling anything right now. I avert my gaze.

"Every time I looked at you," she says softly, her voice cracking slightly. "But I made my choice, right or wrong; that doesn't mean I didn't love you, honey."

I glance up and I see the sincerity in her eyes, and my heart aches for her.

"Can you forgive me?" she asks quietly.

"I already have," I reply in earnest.

"I'm sorry."

"Me, too."

…..

It's drawing close to midnight. I need some fresh air before I return to the room Michonne and I are sharing. I have a slight headache and an unsteady mind. Once my anger and confusion passed because of my conversation with Deanna, my mother, I am outwardly calm. I do my best to push it all deep down.

Yet, there is still this place inside of me that mourns what I have missed: A mother in my life. The woman whom I thought was my mother is a faint memory - someone I didn't even know, not really. Someone I never had the chance to know.

It's like that with Deanna, to be honest. While I knew her growing up, there were so many missed opportunities between us. Though I have processed what she told me, and have forgiven her for giving me away, I understand why. What I don't understand is this dull aching in my chest because of everything that might have been. It's something I cannot afford to be feeling right now: Repentance.

Michonne's words echo in my head about what-ifs. She is right; we can't focus on that. However, when I spot Spencer standing near the front garden, it vaguely registers that we had missed opportunities as well. After sighing loudly, I light up a cigarette and walk toward him. He jumps when he feels my presence, then turns his head.

"Got another one of those?" he asks.

I extend the packet out to him. He takes a smoke and I hold the lighter for him. We stare out over the estate in silence. It occurs to me that I have lost two brothers in my life: Jeff, taken too soon, and Spencer, who I never got the chance to embrace as family.

"It's kind of funny," he says, finally.

I take another pull and then ask, "What's that?"

"All of my life, I looked up to you," he admits. "I wanted to be like you. First, when you were a cop, and then when you took over for your old man. I've always admired you, like someone would admire an older brother. I guess I even felt that, I dunno, envy someone might feel toward a sibling. Mom always favored you, guess we know why."

"Yeah, well, she mustn't've favored me over you that much," I say, somewhat amazed by his openness. "She gave me away."

"She resented me," he proffers, finally. I say nothing in response.

We grow quiet again. The air is calm, but filled with sadness. It floats all around us. We've each had pitiful lives in our own way. A lot of it was to do with our parents; the rest was our own doing.

I finish the cigarette, and then face Spencer, before saying, "If you don't want to keep workin' for me, I understand. Probably best to stay away considering what's coming."

"What's coming?" he asks, straightening his posture.

"The end times," I reply ominously, albeit somewhat jokingly. "Can't you feel it? Nothin' lasts, Monroe. You'd do well to get as far away from us as you can. Empires fall; best to not be found in the rubble."

With that, I walk away and leave my brother standing out in the darkness on his own.

…..

Michonne's POV

We arranged to catch up in the secluded area that adjoins the main dining room. She is already waiting for me when I arrive, seated near the far wall.

"Good morning," she says. I greet her in return. One of her staff enters, pours me coffee, and asks what I would like from the kitchen.

"Just some dry toast, please," I say, as I don't have much of an appetite this morning. Deanna notices.

"Not very hungry, dear?" she asks.

"No, ma'am," I reply.

"Well then," she says. "Let's get down to business."

She offers no apology for pointing her gun at me; I do not require, nor would I accept one. I don't blame her for protecting Rick.

"I wanted to ask you something," I start. The attendant returns with my breakfast. We take a moment of pause. When we are alone again, I continue.

"It's about Rick," I say.

"Go on," she urges.

"You understand his situation?"

"The situation he is in, or what's to come after the DOJ is done using him?"

"After," I offer.

"After they're all done patting themselves on the back and stroking each other's dicks? After they lock him away for the rest of his life? Left to rot?"

"Yes," I murmur, suddenly feeling guilty.

"I have come to terms with what it means for Rick," she continues. "I understand."

I nod my head. Everything she says is true. Rick will waste away in prison. He will have a target on him for a number of reasons: Rival outfits seeking to hurt him; his history as a law enforcement officer; for turning State's evidence. While I know he can take care of himself out here, prison is a completely different story.

"Are you in a position to help him?" I query.

"Are you?" she snaps. "It's your fault he's was arrested, after all."

"I was doing my job," I retort. "He knows that. I'm not going to explain myself to anyone else but Rick."

She raises an eyebrow at me, then says, "Playing the blame game isn't going to help him."

"What will help him?" I ask, getting back to the reason I am meeting with her. "I know you have a lot of reach, Deanna. I know you're a powerful woman. Is there anything you can do?"

"He has his own legal team…"

"That's not what I mean," I say, growing frustrated. I need to be more straightforward with her. "His father left the country, undetected. He's been living in exile for years now. I don't know if you helped him with that, but if you do the same for Rick, it would mean everything."

She sits and looks contemplative a moment, and then asks, "Is this what he wants?"

"He...he's accepted his fate," I admit. "But I know he would want to if he had the chance."

"And what do you want, Michonne?"

"I want him to be free," I say softly.

"And you're willing to go against your job? Against the Bureau? You're willing to throw it all away, your whole life, for Rick?"

I remain silent briefly, stare her dead in the eyes, and say, "Yes. Anything for him. Without Rick, nothing else matters."

She gives me an unreadable look, then says, "So this is more for you than it is for him? You want him to stay in your life, so you're willing to have him become an international fugitive?"

"I love him," I say, as if that statement is any kind of explanation. "But this is not for me; it's for him. He's had everything taken from him; everything. He's not a saint, and he doesn't deserve it, he's the first to admit that, but I won't be just another person who takes from him anymore."

She eyes me curiously, as I place my hand over my abdomen.

"I won't keep this child, his child, from him," I admit quietly. "So will you help us or not?"


A/N: Well, it's all happening! Hats off to those who had some amazing conjecture. I don't think anyone will guess what's to come. I'll shut up now! Thanks for reading. I hope to hear your thoughts.