AN: Apologies for the lateness of this update, but February was a rough month for me. This chapter isn't exactly where I wanted it to be, but if I had waited any longer for the words to come, it might not have gotten done. Thank you so much for the review and follows-I am seriously behind on responding, but they are so appreciated! Hope to have the next update for you sooner than this!

Chapter 7

The Christening

April 2005

"Welcome to twenty-five!"

Michonne picked up the lychee martini the waiter had just delivered to their table, and held it out in front of Rosita who, despite a belated birthday dinner with her best friend at her favorite sushi restaurant in Atlanta, appeared to be in a less than celebratory mood. Michonne pointedly raised her glass a little higher after being left hanging for a few seconds before Rosita reluctantly picked up her drink and clinked it against hers.

"Cheers, Rosita."

"Cheers," she returned through clenched teeth before bringing it to her pouty lips.

"Don't say it like that. I'm happy I get to celebrate with you, even if you're not."

"You're just here for the christening."

"No, I'm here for you."

Rosita tilted her head to one side, skeptically.

"...and Baby Rhee," Michonne admitted.

Rosita finally grinned. Truth, even if it wasn't pretty, was always appreciated. Bullshit never was. "Whatever," she sighed. "I'm not sure what there is to celebrate about twenty-five anyway. It feels like we've peaked, and it's all downhill from here."

Michonne nearly spit out her drink. If this was the peak, she had absolutely nothing to look forward to. If anything, after a shit few years, she felt like she was finally on the up. A graduate degree was within reach and her fellowship application was off and under review. She knew better than to take anything for granted, but she had to believe that if she was happy in her career, that love and happiness and everything else would fall into place. And even if it didn't, she would still be OK.

"Thirty is right around the corner," Rosita carried on. "That shit's scary."

"Have you ever considered that thirty may be the beginning and not the end of life?" Michonne swirled the skewered lychees in her glass then took another sip while Rosita narrowed her eyes in warning from across the table. She was always weary of Michonne using her "psychology" on her. That's not was this was, though, it was just a gut feeling based on life as she knew it so far. And a very sincere hope that the next decade would be better than this one had been to her. "How's the new job going, by the way?"

Rosita brightened up with the change of topic, sitting a little straighter in her chair and leaning in with interest. She had recently gone from being a corporate translator to providing translation services to the reporters at CNN.

"I mean, it's a huge upgrade from sitting in a cubicle. We're heading to Colombia to do a story on their recent economic resurgence next week."

"That is so exciting," Michonne sighed. She had the travel bug lately thanks to all the research she had been doing in preparation for the fellowship. "Do you get any downtime to explore?"

"We usually get at least a free afternoon or evening, but we're pretty much on the clock the whole time we're down there."

"Cool co-workers at least?"

Rosita nodded before quickly popping a piece of edamame in her mouth, and suddenly becoming interested with the going-on's in the large fish tank in the center of the restaurant. Finding her quietness all too suspicious, Michonne knew there had to be a story there.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," she said innocently.

"No, you don't get to pull that with me," Michonne warned.

Rosita rolled her eyes, but relented. "There's this guy...he's an anchor. Spencer Monroe."

Michonne cooed with interest. "Would I know him?"

"Uh no," Rosita laughed. "Not unless you watch on weekends at 4 AM. He's a total trust fund baby which is probably how he got the job. Mom's a congresswoman."

"I was gonna say, that name sounds like he's either old money or a soap opera character."

"Well, he kinda looks like he belongs on Days of Our Lives instead of the news…"

Michonne's eyes widened, as she imagined how handsome he must be considering that the people who populated daytime dramas were hired more for their looks than their acting abilities.

"It's not a good thing," Rosita was quick to clarify. "I learned early on never to trust a guy who's too good looking. Usually they're lacking something else...like character. Anyway, he started coming around my desk, trying to make small talk and telling me these cheesy jokes." Her face twisted in disgust at just the mention of them. "Then he asked me out to dinner after happy hour one night, and it was...nice," she decided. "Like not bad, not amazing. And then we hooked up one night, and it was…"

"Nice?" Michonne guessed.

"Yeah," she laughed. "And it drives me fucking crazy because he's not that special, but for some reason, I can't stop thinking about him."

"You like him." It was a natural assumption based on what she was hearing.

"No," she said, holding up a wagging finger. "I don't know that yet."

"Rosita," Michonne chided, shaking her head.

"Don't even," she spat back. "How's Rick?"

Just like that, the tables had turned. Michonne assumed the nonchalant act now, taking a sip of her martini first, in no great rush to answer. "Fine, I guess. You've probably talked to him more recently than I have."

"Have I?" Rosita asked skeptically. "I thought you two were keeping in touch now."

"Yeah, a little bit."

"Does he know you're here?"

"He knows I'll be in town, but he doesn't know my flight times like you do."

Rosita picked up her drink and leaned back in her chair. "So what else do you two talk about?"

"Life," she shrugged. "Just like I would with you…"

"So he knows that you and Siddiq are officially over?"

Michonne shook her head no.

"But surely he knows about that good looking investment banker named Mike you went out on a few dates with."

"Which isn't going anywhere, by the way," Michonne updated her. "So no."

"Mmm," Rosita nodded. "That's what I thought. So you don't really talk to him about everything," she concluded.

Perhaps it was working alongside reporters that had sharpened her investigative skills or it was just her own natural bullshit detector, but Rosita was on to her. Real friends would have no problems talking about anything and everything with each other, but she and Rick definitely had limits. Certain topics that they could never casually broach given their ex status, like dating other people. She often wondered if they could ever actually be friends, or would remain in this limbo status of friendly exes.

"Of course not. But he knows about school and stuff, and I know he's sending off his application next week. That's the kind of stuff we text about."

"Wait, talk or text?"

"Text," she laughed, as if it was the silliest question. "I don't call him up at random times all, Hey girl, what's up? Please," she scoffed.

"So could you, like, text him to come out and join us?" she asked, not so innocently.

"Yeah."

"Then do it."

"But we're hanging out," Michonne protested.

"I adore Grimey, though. It would make my birthday complete."

Michonne couldn't keep hold back her laugh. "Please, Rosita."

"Do it," she pressed, nodding toward the cell phone sitting on the table.

Michonne stared at her friend for a moment, then sighed. If she was being one hundred percent real, the minute she stepped foot in Atlanta, there was this strong urge to see him. Like just knowing she was breathing the same air as him made her skin buzz with excitement. The only way to describe it was a crush. A crush on your ex-boyfriend if there was such a thing.

"Fine." She picked up her phone, flipped it open, and began to type, saying the words out loud as she did. "Hey, Rosita and I are out having drinks. Wanna join?"

She flashed the screen for evidence and hit send, then placed it on the table between them and grabbed another piece of edamame. Not to sound like the worst best friend in the world, but God she really hoped he could come.

They both looked down when the phone dinged no more than two seconds later. Michonne opened the new message, holding it out for both to read.

Hey! I would, but I'm working late tonight. Sorry.

She had to make sure the sinking disappointment didn't show on her face. "No problem," she typed back.

No sooner had she sent it, another new message popped up on her screen.

Can we catch up tomorrow night?

She looked up at Rosita who had just finished reading the message and was already mocking her heart eyes. So busted, but she didn't even care. She shrugged to ask permission, and Rosita shrugged back, punting the decision back to her.

"Sure," she typed back.

See ya then. Tell Rosie I say hi.

"Tell Grimey I say hey."

"Should I include that evil little smirk on your face?" Michonne teased, causing her friend to laugh and shake her head.

"She says Hey Grimey," she typed.

Have fun ladies. :)

Michonne grinned back at the screen, then slipped her phone shut and pushed it aside. She didn't know how on earth she was going to sleep tonight knowing that she was going to see him in the morning, and the afternoon, and the evening, and maybe the—

"Look at you. All smiley and shit."

"Whatever." She brushed her off with a wave of her hand. "So we're on for drinks tomorrow. Maybe Spencer can come with."

"Oh no, we already have plans," Rosita informed her. "Guess it's just you two."

Michonne's eyes widened in disbelief. "You planned a date when you knew I would be in town?"

"You always end up hanging out with Grimey anyways," she defended, "why would I think this time would be different?"

Michonne was left shaking her head as she reached for her drink, but she was glad this time wouldn't be different.


Rosita and Michonne, all dressed in their Sunday best despite it being a Saturday morning, walked up the steps of The First Presbyterian Church of Athens, and entered through the imposing oak doors. Rosita pulled at the collar of her pink sweater and Michonne fanned her face with her hand. Rosita always seemed to get a little tense and twitchy when they stepped foot inside a church. It's not that Rosita was a bad girl at all, she just wasn't a good girl. At least not as good as her devoutly Catholic mother, aunts, and all of the nuns of her parochial school past would have wanted her to be, and she could never quite shake the guilt.

Michonne's sudden hot flash had nothing to do with the Lord, though. It was just plain old nerves and the Georgia humidity. She quickly scanned the church and spotted the Greene and Rhee families up front along with Denise and Tara, the appointed godparents, chatting with the priest. And then she saw two familiar faces standing off to the side of activities. Finally. She tugged on Rosita's arm and they made their way over. As they neared, Rick tapped Eugene's arm to point them out, then waved.

"You look like Elvis," Rosita snarked once they were within hearing distance.

In his all white three piece suit, it was a toss up between Colonel Sanders or the King, but Eugene's dark brown pompadour up top, mullet in the back hairstyle pushed him in that direction.

He grinned proudly, "Why thank you, thank you very much, pretty lady."

Rosita huffed out an amused laugh at his response, but Michonne had already locked eyes with Rick's baby blues.

"Hey," he greeted with decidedly less flare, but oh so much style.

"Hey you."

"You look really nice."

She smiled shyly as she looked down at the flowy, mint green sundress she had bought just for the occasion, giving the skirt a little twirl.

"Thanks." She looked up at him with his fitted navy blue suit, jacket open with a white dress shirt underneath it. "So do you. I know how much you hate wearing suits, but you wear them well."

He rolled his eyes, looking embarrassed, as he pulled at the collar. That might have been a little much first thing in the morning. He did start it, though.

"Rick and Michonne!"

As proud Grandpa Greene approached the two of them, she glanced behind her to see that Rosita and Eugene had already slipped into the pew to take their seats, leaving she and Rick on their own.

"Doc Greene!" Michonne exclaimed warmly, despite internally freaking out, as she gave him a hug.

"Good morning, sir," Rick nodded, settling on a firm handshake.

"What a treat to see the two of ya again," he grinned. "All dressed and such on this fine morning."

Michonne nervously glanced up at Rick, wondering if her guilt-addled mind was playing tricks on her. He had meant dressed up, of course, right? Not dressed, period. As in naked. She was truly never going to be able to act normal around Doc Greene again. Rick glanced down at her and furrowed his brow slightly.

"Well, we wouldn't have missed this for the world," he informed Hershel.

"You comin' back to our place for lunch afterwards? The missus is making her famous chicken salad sandwiches and we got our first batch of strawberries early this year, so we're havin' strawberry rhubarb pie for dessert."

Rick glanced down at Michonne again since it was her turn to answer, but her words were trapped behind her tight grin.

"Sounds delicious," he said on their behalf after a delay.

"You know it will be. Well, excuse me, got to get back to my seat. We're due to be startin' up soon."

Rick nodded and waved him goodbye, then tugged on Michonne's arm to lead her to their seats. "What is your deal?" he whispered once they sat down.

"I still can't look him in the eye," she whispered back, "now that I know that he knows."

He groaned and threw his hands up in the air. "You've got to get over that."

Rosita craned her head around Rick upon hearing their conversation. "What exactly did you two do in that barn?" she asked.

"We are in a church," Michonne whispered harshly.

Rosita shrugged her shoulder while Rick tried to stifle a laugh. "Grimey?"

"I'll never tell," he answered as he stared ahead toward the altar.

Just then, the organ started to play and the congregation all rose to their feet. Michonne glanced over at her best friend who was still looking her way with a smirk, then picked up a hymnal and lifted it to hide her face.


Michonne settled Clementine into the bend of her arm, and adjusted the little white blanket she was swaddled in, then took a moment to appreciate the precious little thing in her arms. Face all soft and squishy, eyes closed, little lips formed into a small pout. It was, without a doubt, one of the sweetest things she had ever seen. The fact that her friends had done this blew her mind. Maggie and Glenn were parents.

"You're a pro," Maggie observed from the chair beside her in her parent's living room.

Michonne looked up and grinned proudly. "I was an in-demand babysitter back in the day."

"You should share some of your knowledge with Uncle Rick, then," Maggie none to subtly suggested as she winked at him where he sat beside Michonne on the couch. "He always claims he doesn't know what he's doing when we ask him to babysit."

"Because I don't," he defended.

"I see the way you take care of that damn dog," Maggie argued. "Based on that alone, I would trust you with my kid for a few hours."

Michonne looked up at him, trying to stifle her laugh since she was the one holding the sleeping baby.

"I've never really been around kids before, especially not one this small," he said with a nod toward Clementine. "I know nothing about holding them or feeding them or what they can and can't do."

"Well, I think people make it out to be more difficult than it really is," Michonne said before looking to Maggie for back up. "Don't you think?"

The new mom grinned and hemmed for a moment. "Depends on how you mean."

"OK, so lack of sleep and crying are a given, but feeding schedules? Sleeping schedules?"

"All negotiable," Maggie agreed. "Strict schedules and perfect plans went out the window after about two weeks."

"And all the different devices and carriers and toys just seem so ridiculous," Michonne went on, thinking of how often she saw families loading up their minivans with enough stuff you'd think they were going on vacation and not just to dinner.

Maggie hesitated. "Well…"

"I just feel like it shouldn't be that complicated," Michonne explained. "Put the baby in a sling, throw a bottle and a few diapers in your purse, and off you go."

"In that purse?" Maggie peered down at the small straw clutch on the couch beside her.

Michonne glanced down at it and shook her head. "No, like a tote."

"Mmm," Maggie nodded. "I suppose you never really know until you try…"


Rick looked back and forth between the two women, keeping his mouth shut since the only thing he knew was that he didn't have a damn clue enough about any of this to have an opinion.

Michonne cocked her head to one side and grinned. "Are you challenging me?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind going out on a date tonight," Maggie shrugged. "Would you babe?" she called out to Glenn who was off in the kitchen with Denise and Tara.

"Would I what?" he asked.

"Want to go out on a date tonight?"

He looked at his wife, then his friends, and finally his baby, unsure of how to answer. "Sure?"

"Ooh, Denise and Tara!" Maggie exclaimed, like it had just dawned on her. "You should come, too."

Rick arched a brow and glanced at Michonne who had now gone quiet as she realized the trap she had just walked into. He had a whole night planned for them, and it didn't involve babies.

"We haven't gotten to go out like we used to in months since they always sit for us," Maggie went on, just laying on the guilt.

"Well, I sort of have plans tonight," Michonne shared.

"Oh?" Maggie asked.

"We were going to grab drinks," she explained, nudging him for back up. Before he could answer, though, Maggie was already on it.

"Well, that's no problem. Just throw Clem in a sling, and go, right? You can teach him the ropes."

By this point, Glenn had wandered into the living room to get a better idea of what exactly what his wife was up to because they all knew she was up to something now. The only question was whether it was purely selfish motives or if there was more to it.

"Um," Rick cleared his throat and put his finger in the air, requesting permission to speak. "Can you even bring a baby to a bar?"

"Rick," she laughed, "you can do whatever the hell you want in this town."

Michonne, still gently and deftly bouncing the sleeping baby in her arms, looked up at him. "What do you think?" she asked quietly.

He hesitated. For his own admittedly selfish reasons, he wanted Michonne all to himself tonight. He'd been waiting months to see her again, and he wasn't thrilled with having to share her attention with Baby Clem. With the way Michonne had been doting on her all day, he knew he didn't have a chance.

"It will be fun," Maggie promised. "Like the most challenging drinking game you've ever played."

"I'm not gonna drink while I'm watching your baby," he protested in horror.

Maggie and Glenn shared a look and a laugh at his well-meaning naivete.

"You can have a beer," Glenn assured him, still chuckling. "It's one of my favorite things to do; chill out on the couch with Clem in one hand and a beer in the other."

"Like you and Dolly," Michonne pointed out with a gentle nudge to his shoulder.

Rick looked at his friends and then Michonne, all of whom were staring at him and seemed to think this was a good idea which he didn't at all.

"I...uh," he stammered, glancing down at Michonne who was still looking at him with her big brown eyes, clearly wanting him to say yes. He shook his head helplessly. "I suppose we can grab dinner instead...if you think you've got this."

"I know I do," she said confidently.

"OK, then," he relented.

"OK," she said with a smile.

"Well thanks Uncle Rick and Aunt Michonne," Maggie exclaimed, pulling their attention back to her. "I'm excited, babe," she said, looking up at her husband.

"Me too," Glenn agreed. "That was really cool for you guys to offer."

"Yeah," Rick huffed out a dryly at his friend's obliviousness.

Michonne leaned into his side and placed her lips close to his ear. "It'll be fine," she whispered. "We'll still have fun."

It was probably a good thing that they had a chaperone tonight because who knows what kind of trouble they would have gotten into otherwise.


"Watch your step," he cautioned.

He reached out and cupped her elbow with his hand as he pointed out the step up from the parking lot to the curb. With the baby hanging in front of her in some kind of stretch fabric sling that he still didn't trust despite having personally checked the integrity of the knots a few times, and both of her arms cradling the baby, he couldn't help but exercise extra caution on her behalf.

"Rick, I've got it."

"I know, but-"

She cleared the curb successfully then stopped and turned to him with a smile. "Relax."

He exhaled and nodded, knowing that she was right. It was going to be a long night for both of them if he kept this up, and he was with one the greatest babysitters ever to have played the game the way she told it.

"Hey, Officer Grimes."

They both looked up at the tall, slender woman with long, wavy brown hair who was dressed in a pair of low rise flared jeans and a cropped white, lacy tank top that exposed her pale midriff, waving in their direction as she entered the restaurant with a group of girlfriends.

Of all the times and places...Rick lifted his hand and waved back. "Oh hey, Lori."

She smiled back, her gaze lingering for just a moment longer, before she walked through the front entrance, and he could feel the heat of Michonne's stare on his cheek.

"Officer Grimes," she snickered, bringing his attention back to her. "That's still so weird to me."

"It's been almost three years," he reminded her.

"I know. Just sayin'...is she an ex or future girlfriend?"

"Neither." He sighed and shook his head, then looked down at Clem who was awake, but quiet and content in her sling, then back at Michonne. "You sure you're up for this?"

"Yes," she answered emphatically. "...but maybe see if we can get a table by the door."

He chuckled at her small, but comforting display of doubt. "So we can make a quick escape if this one throws a fit?"

"Exactly," she grinned. "I'm good, but she's a wild card."

He let out a laugh at her honest admission as they resumed walking. He opened the front door, and ushered them in then joined her at the hostess stand where a young woman, likely an underclassmen at their alma mater, welcomed them.

"Table for three, or two, rather," he supposed, glancing down at his party. Michonne shrugged. "Two and a baby," he decided.

The hostess was grinning, already with two menus in hand and ready to bring them to their table, before he had even finished.

"Do you need a high chair?" she asked.

He looked down to Michonne, deferring to her judgment.

"No, thanks," she answered.

The hostess nodded and motioned toward a booth along the window, and not too far from the door, that was just a few steps away.

"This one right here, OK?" she asked.

"It's perfect," Michonne said.

She set down two menus, one on each side, then wished them a good dinner and walked away. Michonne slid into one side of the booth, taking extra care to shield the baby's head against the edge of the table while Rick stood at attention, ready to help if needed. Once she was settled in, he went ahead and slid in right next to her which caused her eyes to widen.

"Figured it'd be easier if we need to switch off," he explained given the look on her face.

She grinned and nodded as it was, of course, the sensible thing to do. She knew it was a mistake to read too much into his choice to sit right beside her, but that didn't mean that she wasn't allowed to enjoy his closeness anyway.

She took a moment to look around the restaurant, a barbecue joint in an old, brick warehouse at the edge of town that brimmed with the smell of smoke and sweetness. There was a busy bar in the back, and tables upfront for those who were simply there for dinner. It was a favorite for all kinds of people: locals, college students, out of towners who had heard of its well-earned reputation. And it was definitely a favorite of hers back in college. She couldn't count how many times she and Rick had sat side by side in this or one of the other booths lining the walls, sharing drinks and food, on impromptu weeknight or Sunday afternoon dates.

"I've missed this place," she sighed. "They have every kind of food imaginable in the city, but there is no good barbecue."

"Is that right?"

"Yep. Of course they think they do, but-" She just shook her head because she knew better.

Sweet Clem began to fuss a little, and she was sure it wasn't because she was trying to voice her opinion on the matter. She hushed her and reached into her purse to pull out the bottle which felt cool in her hand, and unlocked a memory that had long been buried.

"Oh shit," she hissed. "I think you're supposed to warm the bottle before you give it to the baby."

"Uh…" Rick stared back at her dumbly for a moment. "You want me to see if they can microwave it?" he offered as it was the first thing that came to mind.

"I don't think you're supposed to do that."

"OK...get a cup of hot water?" he suggested while she looked back at him with uncertainty. "You know what? Joe, the bartender, has kids," he remembered. "I'll ask him."

"Good idea."

He took the bottle from her and set off across the restaurant, and politely, but firmly worked his way through the crowd up at the bar then waived down the bartender who quickly responded and made his way over. Rick leaned into the bar on one side and Joe on the other, they exchanged a few words, then a laugh, and that's when Rick brought the bottle up from his side and set it on the bar. The bartender grabbed it and disappeared for a moment, leaving Rick to casually lean against the bar in his white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and navy blue suit pants.

Michonne found herself smiling because it was just such a Rick thing to do. He didn't have all the answers, but that never stopped him. He was the guy you could count on for pretty much anything; he'd just roll up his sleeves, and figure it out. It was admirable, sweet...sexy.

She watched the woman they had seen outside slide into the empty space next time him, stealing his attention away from the television monitor he had been watching. She smiled and giggled, and, of course, he smiled back. She leaned in and whispered something into his ear, to which he laughed, though not genuinely in Michonne's opinion, and yes, she knew him well enough to be bold enough to make that call. Joe returned, interrupting their conversation, and Rick nodded goodbye then started back to their table while the brunette's eyes followed him and then landed on her own for a minute.

It was bold, to say the least, to talk to a man that way when he was clearly here with another woman and a baby, no less. And sure, he was still a single guy, but did she even know or care? On principle alone, it vexed her, so, not one to be intimidated or bothered, Michonne simply smiled back. It was a nice, but direct way of acknowledging the woman's stare, and the message was apparently received, as the brunette gave a faint smile back then turned away.

Michonne's smile grew wider as Rick approached the table, proudly holding a huge beer mug with the bottle bobbing up and down in what she assumed was hot water.

"Genius."

He set the contraption on the table and slid back into his seat next to her, his thigh meeting hers as he did. The warmth climbed straight up into her cheeks.

"I went ahead and ordered since I was up there. Your usual OK?"

"Um, yeah," she grinned. Why was he like this? It's not that she thought he would forget, but it was still sweet that he remembered. "So I know a man with a baby is attractive to some women, but damn."

His cheeks went pink as he laughed uncomfortably, realizing that she had witnessed that entire exchange. "It's not the baby."

"Is it your very blue eyes then?" she teased.

He shook his head. "It's the badge."

She was officially intrigued. "Go on."

"Some of the guys call them badge bunnies. Basically women who have a thing for guys with badges," he explained.

"Holy shit." She looked over at the group of women camped out at the bar, and shook her head, then jokingly shielded Clem's eyes from such behavior. It wasn't the kind of influence she wanted her honorary niece getting at such a young, tender age. "For the record, I liked you before you had a badge," she informed him. "Like before you even knew you wanted one."

"I know," he laughed.

"God," she breathed out, shaking her head again. "If you have this kind of game as a sheriff's deputy, just imagine what it's going to be like when you're FBI."

"Yeah, you know me, 'Chonne," he scoffed. "I'm only in it for the ladies."

The image was so absurd, she couldn't even conjure it in her mind. "I can't," she laughed. "Stop."

When she smiled, he smiled. When she laughed, he laughed. Having fun together regardless of the circumstances was something that came easily for them from the start, and it hadn't seemed to change. It still felt as good as it ever had, maybe better now considering what they had gone through.

"You think it's ready?" he asked with a nod toward the bottle.

"Shake some into the inside of your wrist and find out," she suggested.

He playfully groaned, but dutifully took the bottle and shook some onto his wrist, then stared at it, unsure of what he was even checking form.

"You want warm, not hot or cold," she giggled.

"Then I think we're good, but why don't you check?"

"I trust you," she grinned. "Now take her and feed her."

He protested with a small pout.

"You're supposed to be learning!" she reminded him.

She extracted Clem from the sling, giving her a quick kiss on the nose and cooing her name as she did, then placed her in the bend of his right arm and watched as he correctly kept her head upright before offering the bottle which she took to like a champ. He looked up with proud grin and she nodded her approval. Uncle Rick was getting the hang of it.

"Hey there!" the waitress interrupted. "I've got two beers and a basket of fried pickles to get you started."

"Oh yes." Michonne's eyes lit up at the sight of her favorite snack and she pointed toward the center of the table. "Right here."

The basket had barely hit the table before she was reaching for one and popping it into her mouth despite knowing that the pickles inside would be steaming hot.

"Oh my god," she breathed out, trying to cool the bite in her mouth. "Mmm."

Before she had even swallowed it, she was reaching for another.

"There gonna be any left for me?" he teased.

She looked at him and rolled her eyes, then picked one up and lifted it up to his lips. One corner turned up in a curious grin as he looked at her, questioning whether she really meant to do what she was doing, to which she nodded.

"You've got your hands full. Here."

His eyes stayed on hers as he took the food between his teeth, his lips briefly brushing her fingers as he did. She grinned shyly and looked downward, and he did the same. It was the practical thing to do with his hands full and all, a nice gesture, even, but between the two of them, it was dangerous. Especially given how much she liked the feel of his lips...

"Look at you, Clem," he cooed, using the baby as a welcome distraction.

They both smiled and chuckled at the little girl nearing the end of her bottle.

"Chug, chug, chug," he chanted quietly, causing Michonne to throw her head back in laughter.

Soon after the bottle was finished, their entrees were delivered to the table. Burnt ends with fried okra and mashed potatoes for her and a half rack of ribs with mac and cheese for him. Michonne started on her food while he held the sleeping baby and tried to tackle his ribs with one hand which was nearly impossible, so they traded duties and continued to chat and laugh and eat for a good twenty or thirty minutes before she began to whine in Michonne's arms.

"It's like walking around with a bomb strapped to you," he quipped. "Never quite sure when it's going to go off."

"Why do I have a feeling you'd be more comfortable if that was the case?" she grinned.

"Because I would be," he answered truthfully. "I've had way more training with that."

She began to laugh again, something she had been doing a lot of tonight. She had always found him funny. He wasn't the type of guy to tell jokes, he just had a dry sense of humor, and the way in which he viewed the world around him never failed to amuse her, perhaps because it was so different from the way she saw things.

"Well, you're right, we should get out of here before she goes off because she will. Let me text Maggie and see what their deal is."

As she dug her phone out from under the four diapers and travel pack of wipes stuffed in her purse, he flagged down the waitress for the check. She simply texted the words Status Check and received a quick response.

"Decided to go see a movie," she read aloud. "Will text when we're done." She dropped her phone back into her purse and looked up at Rick. "What the hell?"

"We got played," he said, shaking his head.

"Yeah we did," she huffed out.

"I guess I can drop you off at Rosita's and just hope Clem will be OK with me until they come get her."

She tilted her head to one side and frowned. "I'm not gonna leave you alone with her. We can go back to your place and hang out."

Once the check was handled, he slipped out of the booth, waiting to offer her assistance which she didn't really need, but accepted anyway because, it was one more excuse to feel his skin on hers. He took her hand in his and wasn't quick to drop it as he walked beside her to the door then reached out to hold it open for her. He motioned for the family that was about the enter at the same time to go on through first. Once it was clear, she felt his hand on the small of her back to guide her through.

"Excuse me."

They looked back, thinking they must have dropped something in their exit. It was the little old lady, most likely grandma, that belonged to the family that had just passed, smiling back warmly at him.

"What a beautiful family you have, young man."

Rick glanced down at her, mouth slightly agape. Michonne could feel a hitch in her chest. What they must have looked like: him doting on her and little Clem, her unable to hide how much she was enjoying herself, him still smiling from their wonderful dinner. If it looked half as good as it felt, it must have been a beautiful image.

Rick's lips tightened and he nodded politely. "Thank you, ma'am."


Michonne finished up in the bathroom then walked out into the hallway, but slowed to a stop just before she entered the living room. She was out of his sightline, but she smiled to herself upon seeing him relaxed on his sofa with lazy Dolly content at his side, shoes kicked aside, feet propped on the coffee table, and little Clem laying on his chest, fascinated by the silly faces and soft sounds he was making for her benefit.

This was a scene from an idyllic home life. One she very well could have had with him. One she may still want in the future. She wasn't sure how that reconciled with the other visions she had for herself, though. Visions of traveling far and wide, of late nights and weekends writing journal articles and papers, and of long rewarding days working with adolescents in her counseling practice. If she wasn't sure what exactly she wanted for herself, how could she invite someone into her life. Even the most seemingly perfect man.

She shut her eyes and looked away, needing a moment to collect herself before she joined them. When she opened her eyes, they landed on the kitchen table and a thick stack of papers sitting in the middle, a reminder of the unfinished business in his life.

"Is this it?" she asked, pointing at the file. The bold print FBI on the cover page should have been enough to answer that.

"That's it," he said popping up from the couch. The sudden movement made Clem begin to fuss. "You can check it out if you want to," he said, instinctively rocking the babies in his arms as he joined her, "in fact, I wouldn't mind if you did. You're good at stuff like this."

She met his eyes and smiled then reached out to...she didn't know what exactly she was planning to do, so she smoothed her hand over Clem's back instead to help quiet her.

"I'd love to." She broke his gaze and picked up the file and sauntered over to the entertainment center where it seemed safer in the moment. "Maybe some music will help?"

"Sure."

She opened the door and flipped through the same tired CD's as Clem's fussing turned into full out crying behind her. Staying up to date on music had clearly fallen by the wayside since she'd left him. Under the cases, she found two blank CD's, their titles scribbled with black Sharpie.

"Denise's Mix #1?" she read out loud before flipping to the next one "...or #2?" She turned to him, grinning. "What is this?"

"Something she gave me a long time ago," he managed with a small laugh as he tried upped his efforts to restore the chill Clem they had enjoyed all evening.

"Is it good?"

He shook his head and made a face. "Not my thing."

"Well, I need to see for myself," she decided, turning to put one in the player.

"Just not #2," he cautioned. "It'll make the baby rage."

Her eyes widened with interest, tempting her to swipe it and take a listen to it later, but she headed his warning and put #1 in. She instantly recognized the opening chords of I Will Remember You, then skipped to the next song which was Tracy Chapman's Baby Can I Hold You Tonight, and then the next which was Foolish Games. By this point, she could clearly see the trend. This was a break-up mix, and an expertly curated one at that.

"This is so Denise," she laughed to herself. "Takes me back."

"Makes me wanna take a nap," Rick groused.

She threw a dirty look over her shoulder then skipped to the next song.

Once my lover, now my friend

What a cruel thing to pretend

What a cunning way to condescend

Once my lover, and now my friend

Fiona Apple. Shadowboxer. One of her favorites, and more achingly relevant now than ever. So cruel indeed.


Rick swayed along to the song as he watched Michonne from behind. Her head tilted up slightly, long locs cascading across her bare back onto her soft green dress. This song sounded vaguely familiar to him, something she'd listen to while studying or at least similar to the music she liked. She turned and narrowed her eyes on him, grinning as she closed the space between them.

"She likes dancing with you."

He looked down at the Clem, eyes shut and head burrowed into his chest. He hadn't even noticed that she had gone quiet as he was too focused on the woman in front of him. The woman he wanted to be close to again.

"Join us?" he asked.

Her smile fell and he was sure he had gone too far, but he couldn't help it. The unfiltered truth just came out. She looked down at his application, considering it for one of the longest moments of his life before she bent down and placed it on his coffee table then walked toward him, eyes down, never meeting his. He shifted Clem to one side and opened his free arm to her.

Oh, your gaze is dangerous

And you fill your space so sweet

If I let you get too close

You'll set your spell on me

Her cheek settled on his chest and her arm slipped under his and snaked up his back setting his skin ablaze. He clenched his eyes and let his head fall back, praying that she wouldn't dare to meet his eyes because if she did, he wasn't sure he could keep from kissing her. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to fight it anymore. Would he ever find this with anyone else?

"We make a good team," she murmured quietly against his chest. He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination or if there was a slight wistfulness in her voice. Maybe he was just projecting. He let his chin rest atop her head and smiled sadly.

"We really do. If all else fails, maybe we could go into business together."

He felt her shake with laughter in his arms. "Maybe."

So I'm a shadowboxer, baby

I wanna be ready for what you do

And I've been swinging around

At nothing I don't know

When you're going to make your move

"Is it just me," he started quietly, "or did you find yourself wondering if this is what it could have been like?"

She went still in his arms, and he was certain he really had said too much this time.

"It wasn't just you," she whispered finally. "...still could be, you know, once you settle down someday...with someone."

Her words sunk in and settled like a lead weight in the bottom of his stomach.

She was right, though, too much of his future was still too uncertain at this time to even begin to cast those future memories, even if there was still only one person he could see there.