Maggie stared like a woman who'd seen a ghost.

Beth continued to walk forward, tears in her eyes. As she got closer, her arms opened.

Maggie nearly fell off her chair in her effort to get to her sister, running at her to close the space between them.

The others in the group gaped as the girl who'd been missing from their group for months was suddenly found. Maggie wrapped her arms around her sister and called her name over and over again. Both women cried, grasping on to each other as if someone would try to pull them apart.

Maggie and Beth collapsed to the ground in a sobbing pile, Maggie repeatedly petting and kissing her sister's hair, while Beth laughed and cried almost simultaneously. Maggie was on her knees, as she held Beth who was sitting on the ground, close to her.

"I'm so sorry," Maggie managed to choke out as she buried her face into her little sister's hair. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd survived. I'm sorry I gave up. I thought you'd died. I am so, so sorry Beth. I love you so much. Please forgive me."

Beth didn't speak a word as she hugged her sister tighter and sobbed.

Glenn dropped to the ground and embraced his wife and sister-in-law at the same time, helping them to stay upright before they ended up lying in the grass. Daryl ran to Beth as well, leaning down to embrace her. He pressed a kiss to her hair, and she reached up and patted his cheek with a smile on her face.

"You're here," Daryl laughed. "I knew you were a tough son of a bitch."

The rest of the group were close behind, standing, staring, and crying, with hands clasped over their mouths as they studied Beth in disbelief.

Abraham, Eugene, Enid, and Father Gabriel looked on at the scene rather puzzled, as did the Alexandrians who gaped, unsure of what was going on.

After a minute or so, Glenn and Daryl helped Maggie and Beth to their feet, despite the fact that they were still clinging to each other.

"Here, here, sit down," Glenn directed, pulling out a chair for Maggie, as Daryl quickly did the same for Beth.

"Beth…" Maggie whispered through her tears. "How did you get here? How are you… When?"

"Maggie," Beth whispered, still clinging to her sister.

"How did you get all the way here?" Maggie asked. She pulled her head away from her sister's so she could look into her eyes. Beth stared back, and Maggie could see healed scratches and blotches on her youthful, once blemishless face. Maggie held Beth's cheeks with her palms, and studied the cuts.

"Oh Bethy. What happened to you?" she asked.

Beth burst into tears once again and buried her face into her sister's chest.

The group was attracting a lot of curious stares, and one of the Alexandrian women came over and kindly passed a handful of napkins to Glenn, who nodded gratefully before passing it to Maggie and Beth so they could wipe their wet faces.

"Hey, let's take her to our house where we can talk in private," Glenn said.

Maggie and Beth didn't respond to him, but the rest of the group agreed and began cleaning up their area. They made a small protective circle around the women who were still visibly upset, and took their leave from the gathering without another word, leaving the stunned Alexandrians to gossip and speculate about what just happened.

"I've been here for a couple weeks," Beth explained once they'd all settled on the sofas and floor of their new house, her voice hoarse from the crying she'd done. Maggie was seated next to her on the couch, their hands entwined reassuringly.

"Deanna was nice enough to take me in. Her people wrapped up my wounds and fed me, they were the nicest group of people I'd encountered since we all got separated."

"You got here from Georgia all by yourself?" Maggie asked.

"No. I was with Daryl at first," Beth said, her eyes searching the area for Daryl's who was watching her from across the room. "I was running from walkers and then… I was in a truck. I didn't know what happened, but I had wounds on my hip and legs. I think they hit me with their truck. They told me they found me, but they were liars."

She stared forwards, not looking at anyone in particular as she remembered the events that led to her arrival in Alexandria.

"I woke up in the back of a truck with a few other girls. The girls were trying to treat me. It was dark, I didn't know what was happening. I quickly realized they were all part of a cult. They believed they were the only survivors left on Earth. They were the chosen. And it was their job to repopulate the earth with the chosen, or some bullshit like that."

Beth narrowed her eyes as she reminisced.

"There were four guys and ten women so…there was polygamy going on. And every time they found someone alive, someone who was one of the chosen, they added them to the group. They wanted to marry me off as soon as I healed up. It was crazy, but I had to stay with them because I was injured, and I didnt think I could go far. I tried to get them to go back and look for Daryl but they said if he was meant to find us he would."

Beth laughed and shook her head.

"It's funny, they weren't as desperate to add men to their group as they were women. They drove all day, and at night the men would go off into the woods with whichever wife had a turn with them. I was grateful I was hurt so they'd leave me alone. To make a long story short, I escaped with another girl. We had a lucky break and took the opportunity to run. We had no idea where we were. We survived on the road for a few weeks, just the two of us. I didn't know how to get back to you, Daryl, or the prison. So we just went forward. Aaron and Eric found us. We were half starved by then, full of ticks, and my friend, Tara, she was sick. She died a week after we made it here. Some kind of flu that Pete couldn't treat. I was just glad she didn't die out there. Lying in the dirt, covered in flies and mosquitoes… she died in a clean bed, with food in her belly, and I couldn't have asked for more."

"Oh Bethy," Maggie said, pulling Beth's head to rest on her shoulder. Beth pulled away after a few seconds.

"Is this all that's left of our group? Bob, and Tyrese, and Rick and the others, they're all gone?"

"Bob and Tyrese were killed," Sasha said softly, "but Rick is in the infirmary. A woman we met on the road, Michonne, was injured, so Rick is with her."

"And Judith, oh you've grown so much since I last saw you," Beth said, reaching her arms out to Judith who Carl was holding. Carl passed his sister to her long time babysitter, and the small girl relaxed in Beth's arms to her surprise. Beth smiled proudly that Judith still remembered her even through their separation of months.

"And there's so many new people in the group now," Beth said, looking around.

"They're friends," Maggie confirmed. "Our family just grew a little. That's all."

A few days later

"One, two, three," Carl counted. On three Michonne pulled herself up to a standing position, and grasped Carl's arm to steady herself.

"Good," he encouraged, "let's go for a little walk."

Michonne allowed Carl to lead her out of the infirmary bed, through the adjoining room, and onto the infirmary's porch. She was getting better with walking. As her wound healed it hurt her abdominal muscles less for her to sit upright and stand, but when walking it helped her to have someone or something to lean on. She was still in a lot of pain, more than she let on to Carl and Rick.

Rick had been watching her like a hawk, and as much as she loved the man, she needed a break from his overprotective gaze. He had barely left her side since they'd arrived a few days ago, and she had finally convinced him to leave her room and check out the houses that the rest of the family had settled into.

She'd also encouraged him to take a nap while he was at it, but she wasn't sure he'd comply. He'd only left because Carl had insisted on staying with her. And Michonne was looking forward to the day that she healed up enough to be alone with her thoughts for more than five minutes, but she knew with her slowly growing baby belly on the way, that wouldn't be for a very, very long time.

Carl helped Michonne gently lower herself into one of the rocking chairs that lined the infirmary's porch.

She made a few grimaces on her way down, but once she was settled into the chair she was fine. She glanced around at the bustling community ahead of her. She hadn't gotten the chance to explore like everyone else had, but she was beginning to get used to seeing strangers walking up and down the streets without her body immediately going on red alert.

"So how is it out there?" Michonne asked Carl. "What do you think of the people? Are they nice? Strange? Shady?"

Carl let out a breath as he thought.

"They seem… nice. A little clueless. Enid and I got invited over to this kid's house, Mikey, and it was so weird. He said his dad has a pool table in the garage and his dad is real strict about it, so he bragged to us that sometimes he sneaks down there and uses it when his dad is at work. And he was boasting that he saw a walker once when he snuck onto the look out platform at night. Enid and I had to hold back our laughs."

Carl shook his head in disgust. "It's like they live in a different world. Like that shit…"

He looked up at Michonne when he cursed, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Like any of that stuff would impress anyone. I bet if I told them half the things I'd been through they'd think I was a badass."

Michonne laughed. "You are a badass. But you know that already. You don't have to prove it to them."

"Well, now that Beth has given her stamp of approval on this place I'm not so suspicious, but I'm not letting my guard down."

Michonne nodded at Carl, and then spotted a young boy as he walked his dog around the lake in the middle of the community. The normality of that simple action was unnerving, and she understood the strangeness that Carl was speaking of.

"So have you and my dad thought of any names yet?" Carl asked Michonne.

A rush of blood surged to Michonne's cheeks. She knew Rick had told Carl about the pregnancy, but she and Carl hadn't spoken about it. Her healing injuries and infection had taken precedent.

"Uh… no, we haven't," Michonne said, her hand absently resting on her belly. "It's too early to tell if it's a boy or a girl. And…" she sighed a bit, and allowed her eyes to fall on Carl's who was listening intently. "Pete said we don't know if the baby will make it. I was injured really badly and it may have affected the baby. So…" She shrugged simply and glanced back at the lake.

"So you don't want to get your hopes up?" Carl finished.

"Yea. I guess that's it," Michonne admitted. "I mean, I'm happy. I really am. But I don't think I could handle it if I allowed myself to get really excited and then it doesn't happen."

Carl studied Michonne thoughtfully.

"When will you know if the baby will be okay?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. There's still a high risk until I get out of my first trimester I guess. So another month maybe."

Carl nodded and then unexpectedly reached out and patted Michonne's hand.

"I get it. When I found out my mom was pregnant with Judith I was really happy. I thought it would be cool to have a little brother or sister, and teach them stuff. I thought maybe my mom and dad would get back together and everything would be okay again. But I never imagined my little sister would kill my mom."

Michonne took in a sharp breath when Carl spoke those words.

"I mean, I know she didn't kill her. It wasn't Judith's fault. But if my mom hadn't gotten pregnant with Judith she'd probably still be alive now. And I got my hopes up thinking about how our family would get better, and for a long time it only got worse. But now, thinking back, I'm still sad that my mom died, but it did get better. Because even though I lost my mom, I gained another one. And our family still loves each other. And my dad is happy, and my sister is happy, and now I'm gonna have another sibling. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I think things get better in the long run. And it's okay if you don't want to get your hopes up, but I think the baby will be okay. I want to hope that it will."

Michonne was speechless. She should've expected the maturity and thoughtfulness that she knew Carl had, but he always seemed to surprise her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she carefully opened her arms, cautious not to move too quickly and hurt her side.

Carl stood and wrapped his arms around Michonne, rubbing her back.

"Carlita might be a good name for a girl," Michonne joked into Carl's shoulder.

Carl laughed and let her go, returning to his seat. "Carlo for a boy," he suggested.

They sat on the steps, discussing additional baby names for a few minutes, when Michonne spotted Pete walking towards the infirmary. He had a strange lilt to his step that she couldn't quite place. And his eyes seemed a little glazed over. When he made it to the infirmary's steps he stared at them for a few seconds longer than necessary, and then made his way up them, leaning on the railing more than he should.

Michonne could immediately tell he was off. When he got to the top of the steps he paused in front of them, swaying slightly on his feet.

"Hey Pete," she said, a hint of concern in her voice. "Are you okay?"

"Yea, yea," he said, wiping a small amount of sweat from his forehead. "It's just been a rough morning, y'know? How are you feeling today?"

"I'm good, just getting some fresh air."

"Yea. Yea, that's great," Pete responded absentmindedly, not even looking at them. He took a step towards the door and stumbled before finding his balance. "I'm just gonna… go tidy up in there. When you're done out here, it's time to take those stitches out. And then you can… get out of here."

"Really?" Carl asked. "You think she's healed enough to leave today?"

"Your blood pressure and temperature have stayed steady for a few days. Besides pain manage… management… and not moving around too much, you should be good. Just come inside when... you're ready."

Michonne was concerned by the slurring in Pete's voice, he sounded like he was having trouble getting out certain words.

"Pete, are you sure you're alright? You seem a little unsteady," Michonne commented. He either didn't hear her or ignored her, and made his way into the infirmary.

Carl turned and gave Michonne a look. Both had noticed Pete's strange behavior.

"Do you think I should let my dad know Pete's letting you leave?"

"No," Michonne said, her voice showing some excitement at the prospect of leaving the infirmary for the first time in days. "After the stitches are out, we'll just walk over to the house and surprise him. As long as I have you to help me, I can make the walk."

A few minutes later, Michonne sat on an exam table with her abdomen exposed, as Pete prepared to cut her stitches.

"Are you sure you're okay Pete? You seem… flushed."

"Yea I'm good. I'm great. I had a fight with the wife this morning, that's all. I'm just a little upset."

"Okay…" Michonne said, watching as Pete cut at the bandages that circled her abdomen. "Can I ask what it was about?"

She honestly didn't care much about the domestic squabble between Pete and his wife, but she wanted to assess his state of mind.

"She's just always nagging, you know? Nothing is enough for her. I'm never good enough."

Pete's hands began to shake slightly as he cut at Michonne's bandage.

"She just pisses me off sometimes. Always… bitching about the kids, and my work schedule, and what I do with my free time."

The bandage had now fallen away, and Pete reached for the scissors to cut at the stitches, his hands still shaking.

"She must think I'm sitting around at the infirmary, doing nothing all day, y'know? When I get home and tell her I'm tired and I don't wanna talk, she starts her whining and her… bitching."

Michonne watched Pete's shaking hand as he reached for her stomach to cut out the first of the stitches.

"Hey!" Michonne said, grabbing on to Pete's hand. "Maybe you should take a second to calm down. You're shaking."

"I'm… calm," Pete muttered. He reached for her again with the scissors. "Let me just cut the stitches so you can leave."

"Pete," Michonne said calmly as she finally realized what was going on. "You're not coming anywhere near me with that scissor. How much did you have to drink today?"

"Shit, I barely had anything. I know how to handle my liquor. It's none of your damn business anyway."

"It's my business when you're coming at me with a scissor and shaky hands, slurring your words, and obviously drunk."

"I'm fine. You sound like my wife."

"Well if she told you you were drunk she was stating the obvious. You're not going to touch anything on me when you can barely hold a scissor," Michonne stated, carefully pushing herself upwards and preparing to pull down her shirt to cover the wound.

"I said I'm fine! Look, just stay fucking still and let me do my damn job!" Pete huffed, becoming agitated. He quickly reached for Michonne, and before she could move away snipped one of the stitches, but the scissor didn't cut through the stitch all the way, and his quick motion pulled on the stitch, ripping the opening and causing Michonne to bleed.

"Ow!" she screamed loudly, grabbing her stomach with one hand, while pushing Pete away with the other.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry. Let me see…" Pete said, but angry and in pain, Michonne kicked him in the leg, causing him to stumble into the chair next to her bed. Carl, who was in the waiting room heard the commotion and knocked on the door.

"Michonne? Are you alright?"

When she didn't immediately answer, Carl cracked the door and saw Pete rubbing his leg where he'd been kicked, and Michonne sitting on the exam table, holding her abdomen. When he noticed a small amount of blood on her hand, Carl knew something had happened.

"I'm sorry, that only happened because you didn't stay still," Pete shouted.

Carl ran to Michonne's side, staring at her pulled stitch before turning and glaring at Pete.

"What did he do?" Carl growled, and it was the first time that Michonne realized that Carl's voice was beginning to change. The low timber that resonated in it made him sound more like a man than a young teen.

Pete noted how much his eyes looked like his father, and his expression of barely restrained anger reminded him of Rick's rage.

"I didn't do anything wrong. I was cutting the stitches and the scissor got caught. Right? Go on, tell the kid what happened. It was just an accident."

"I told you not to touch me."

"What did he do to you?" Carl asked, his eyes narrowing.

"It doesn't matter," Michonne said, pushing herself to her feet. "I'm leaving. You're drunk, and you're not gonna touch me again. Carl, where's my clothes?"

Carl, still glaring at Pete, gestured to the bag of clothing next to Michonne's bed.

"Get out of my room," Michonne demanded to Pete as she made her way to her bag, bending carefully as she leaned down to lift one side of the bag. Carl helped her, lifting the other strap so she could put the bag on the bed.

"Hey. I… I hope you don't think I did anything. I'm not drunk. I mean, I'm just a little buzzed but it doesn't affect my work at all. I… I hope you're not blowing this out of proportion. Going around spreading rumors about things that didn't happen. You're new here. It's not gonna be good if you misinterpret things."

"She said GET OUT!" Carl roared, taking a step towards Pete. Although the man was significantly taller than Carl, the look on Carl's face convinced Pete this wasn't a conversation he wanted to pursue. He took a few steps backwards towards the door.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," Pete muttered, before leaving the room.

Carl guarded the door to Michonne's room, as she struggled to put her clothing on for the first time in days. The pain in her abdomen increased as she slid her pants up her leg, but she breathed through it and pulled the pants up as far as she dared, not bothering to fasten her jeans. She slid her tank top over her head, and slowly pulled it down her chest, grimacing as she did. She had to get out of here, she refused to stay while Pete was drunk.

Michonne carefully made her way to her door, where Carl was waiting for her and actively scowling at Pete.

Pete had sat down at a desk with his chin propped up with both hands. He looked up when Michonne entered the room.

Carl wrapped his arm around hers and escorted her to the front door. When she got there she paused and looked back at Pete.

"Thank you for saving my life. I appreciate it. I do. But you're drunk,

and a drunk doctor is dangerous to everyone."

"I… I know. It's just been a rough morning and I got carried away. Please dont tell Deanna."

"Look. I don't know if this is a one time thing for you, or if this is a habit, but you cannot see patients today. You are done. Got it? Let Denise take over or something. If I find out you kept working while you were wasted I'll tell Deanna."

"Okay. Okay. I'll go home right now. Thank you Michonne. Thanks so much."

Michonne rolled her eyes, and not wanting to continue the conversation any further, and she left the infirmary on Carl's arm.

The three block walk to the home that their group was staying in was difficult for Michonne, but Carl patiently supported her until they arrived.

***can08writer***

"I'll kill him," Rick growled as he paced back and forth in front of Michonne who was seated on their bed. She sighed and leaned back on the bed, resting her weight on her palms.

"He didn't hurt me on purpose," she said softly.

Rick spun around to glance at her and she spoke louder. "I'm not defending him. He's an asshole for coming to the infirmary drunk. But he didn't do any major damage."

"He opened your stitches."

"Believe me, I know," Michonne said with a wince. "But besides that, I'm okay. And I'm home. And I'm getting better. And we have lots to celebrate."

Rick sighed and sat next to her on the bed, wrapping his arm carefully around her waist. "We do. And for that simple fact I won't break his jaw. But if he ever touches you again, I swear…"

"Rick, he's gonna have to. He's the only real doctor here. Who do you think is gonna deliver our baby? Let's not make an enemy here."

Rick sighed again and looked into Michonne's eyes. As much as he wanted to punch Pete for hurting Michonne even more than she already had been hurt, she was right.

"Fine. But I think we should let Deanna handle him."

"Let's just wait on that. Okay?" she asked.

Rick looked into her big brown eyes and saw the exhaustion there. She'd expended a lot of energy walking from the infirmary, and once she'd come home, Maggie was kind enough to cut the stitches that Pete had attempted earlier. He'd just helped her upstairs to the room he'd been sharing with Judith, and he could see the toll all that movement had on her.

"C'mon. Let me get you out of those clothes and in the bed."

"No," Michonne said, resting a hand on his chest. "I want a bath. A real one, not a sponge bath. That is what I need right now."

"Okay," he said, standing. "I'll get on it."

Rick disappeared into the bathroom connected to their bedroom and she could hear the water running. She still couldn't believe they had arrived somewhere where clean water was plentiful and they could make almost unlimited noise without having to worry. It still felt like a dream.

While Rick prepared her bath, Michonne kicked off her shoes, and used her feet to remove her socks. She tried to shimmy out of her pants, but the movement was too much. Her still healing abdominal muscles rebelled from the maneuvering, and she realized she'd just have to wait for Rick to help her. She ran her palm over the area where her tiny baby was growing larger every day.

"Are you still okay in there?" she whispered to it. "You've survived so much already, I know you're a little fighter. I know you'll be okay. I believe it. I can't wait to meet you. Your daddy and I, we're so excited. And you have a big brother, and a big sister who are waiting to see you. And you have lots of aunts and uncles who will love to spoil you. You're gonna have a good life, little one. I promise you that. Okay?"

A slight movement startled Michonne. She looked up to see Rick watching her from the doorway of the bathroom with a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry to interrupt the two of you, but your bath is ready."

Michonne smiled and held out her hand. Rick slowly pulled her up from the mattress, and supported her as they made their way into the bathroom. She was surprised when she saw candles lit around the tub.

"You romantic you," she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

"So I've been told," he smiled and planted a kiss on her forehead. He carefully undressed her, pulling down her jeans and panties and helping her step out of them so she didn't have to bend. He then rolled her shirt up and over her head, his eyes automatically being drawn to the wound on her abdomen. Anger once again welled up inside him. Anger towards Jocelyn for almost killing her, but also anger towards Pete for hurting her with his irresponsibility.

When she was naked, he ran his fingers down her side, carefully avoiding the area that was still sensitive.

"How are you feeling? Do you need another dose of painkillers?"

"No. I just want to sit in the water. It'll help," she reassured him. Michonne allowed her eyes to scan the bathroom and noticed something disturbing.

"There are no windows in here," she said softly. She let out a chuckle. "I promised myself I'd never take a bath in a windowless bathroom again after the way we met."

Rick smiled and wrapped his arms around her. "I promise if two random men try to kick the door down in the middle of your bath I'll protect you."

Michonne smirked and shook her head at the man she'd come to love and trust over anyone else. She couldn't believe she'd almost killed him at first sight, and now she was happily carrying his child.

"Your bath is getting cold. C'mon," he said, guiding her to the tub. She carefully stepped in, and Rick helped her slowly recline into a sitting position, even though she released a few moans as her abdomen bent. When she was seated she stretched out her legs and sank below the water.

"Is the temperature okay?" Rick asked before sitting on the edge of the tub.

"It's perfect," Michonne sighed, closing her eyes contentedly.

Rick took a washcloth and dipped it in the water, and then added soap to it.

"Just relax," he murmured, before gathering up her locs and resting them on one of her shoulders. He ran the washcloth down the smooth, dark skin of her back, watching as the suds slid slowly across her skin. He glided the cloth around her shoulders to the front of her chest, and cleaned her skin there, allowing the natural curve of her body to direct the flow of suds as they ran down her front.

Michonne released a soft sigh as Rick maneuvered the washcloth across her breasts, and he couldn't help but notice how they pebbled at his touch. He chewed his lip, but continued to her arms, gently rubbing and massaging them as the washcloth cleaned them.

Michonne allowed her head to fall back against the wall of the tub as Rick cleaned her. She felt completely relaxed and safe with him.

Once Rick finished with her upper body, he gently pulled one of her legs out of the water and propped it on the side of the tub. Michonne's eyes opened as Rick ran the washcloth up and down her thighs. She felt her arousal stir within her. It had been so long since they'd last been together. She missed the feel of him inside her, and she knew he missed it too.

"Rick…" she hissed softly.

"Yea," he answered, keeping his eyes on his task. He was now rubbing her foot and toes, allowing the suds to seep between them.

"I want you," she admitted softly.

He froze for a moment, distracted from his duty. His eyes ran up her body before meeting hers. He placed the washcloth on the side of the tub and leaned towards her, pressing his lips against hers. He kissed her gently but passionately, gripping her head while caressing her face.

"I always want you," he whispered, "but you still need to heal. When you're better, I'll be here. Maybe another week would be enough time for your muscles to heal."

Michonne released a frustrated sigh.

"At least now we have our own bedroom. We wanted some privacy and we have it," Rick said, resuming his cleaning of Michonne's other leg. He worked his way down to her feet and massaged her arches. She released a moan of pleasure and he froze.

"You keep making those noises and it's gonna get a hell of a lot harder for me to wait a week."

Michonne chuckled and opened her eyes. "Sorry, that just feels so good. Thank you for being patient." She tried to change the subject.

"So what's the plan now? We try to acclimate to this community? Get jobs? Blend in?"

"I guess," Rick said. "Everyone's been interviewed so far except for you, but no one's been assigned a job. Beth told me it was a while until Deanna gave her a job as an assistant teacher at the school. Maybe they're cautious, which is good."

"I still can't believe they have so many resources. How do they keep the water running? The electricity going? No one here seems to be starving, so their runs must have a good haul. And Carl was telling me that the kids brag about seeing walkers, so they obviously have never been in too much danger from them. How have they been this lucky for so long?"

"I don't know," Rick said, putting the washcloth down and resting his elbows on his knees. "I checked out their defenses and they have a watchtower a block away with no one in it. They only have security on the front gate, it leaves the walls around the rest of the community unguarded. The wall is good, but if it's not improved people will get through. And everyone needs to have weapon training. They can't afford to have people who are just civilians here."

Michonne nodded in agreement. "Did you mention this to Deanna?"

"Not yet," Rick said.

"I think you should. Or, I can when I have my interview."

"No, I'll do it," Rick said.

"I haven't seen too much of her, but from what I've seen she seems genuine. Transparent. Very naive, but honest. I think she'll listen."

"Mmm," Rick grumbled. "And what if they won't listen?"

"Let's try to talk to them first. If they don't want to listen then we'll deal with that when or if it comes."

When Rick didn't respond, Michonne placed a wet hand on his arm and slowly caressed him until he looked at her again.

"No matter what, we'll be okay. We can take care of ourselves, and we can teach them how to too. This is an opportunity for us to have the life we've always wanted. We have to try to teach them how to be safe. We can do this Rick."

Rick nodded and placed a kiss to Michonne's hand.

"C'mon, let's get you dried up," he suggested.

Once Rick had dried Michonne and helped her put on comfortable clothes, she noticed his appearance. His beard had grown to unimaginable lengths during their time on the road, and his hair was now shoulder length. When she'd first met him his beard was much shorter, but with the bruises and abrasions on his face she hadn't gotten a good idea of what he looked like. She realized that she'd never seen his face free from hair and injuries before.

"Sit," she commanded, pointing to the chair in their room.

"What? Why? I'm gonna help you into bed."

"Not yet. There's something I want to do for you," Michonne said. She gently pushed Rick towards the chair and she slowly worked her way back to the bathroom, holding on to the wall for support. She rummaged through the cabinets and was happy to find a scissor, a disposable razor, and shaving cream.

"Michonne, you shouldn't be standing this long," Rick called from the bedroom.

"I'm almost done," she called back. When she found what she needed she made her way back to him and placed the supplies on the end table next to his chair.

"You're gonna shave me?" he asked, amused.

"Your face is losing the war," she teased. "Now put your head back."

He did what she asked and she picked up the scissors. She ran her fingers through his long beard until she could feel the skin beneath. She then began cutting away chunks of hair. The hair fell down Rick's neck and chest in clumps, tickling as it fell. Michonne leaned closer as she maneuvered the scissor near his ears and jawline. It took ten minutes just to cut the hair down to a reasonable enough length to shave, and her abdominal muscles began to ache from their use.

Rick seemed to realize the strain on her body the same time she did.

"Okay, that's enough. I can shave the rest. You need to sit down," he commanded.

Michonne placed the scissor on the table and Rick prepared to stand, but she put her hand on his chest, holding him in place. She picked up the shaving cream and razor from the table, and held on to his shoulders before lifting one of her legs over his own and settling in his lap, facing him.

Rick's eyes widened at Michonne straddling him, and his hands automatically cupped her behind to hold her steady.

"See? I'm sitting," she purred in a sultry voice. "Now don't move."

She uncapped the shaving cream and spread it onto both of her palms before massaging it into Rick's cheeks and around his mouth. She had to admit she was having fun playing with his facial hair. Out of amusement she placed a dollop of shaving cream on his nose and chuckled at the result.

"You think that's funny huh?" he asked.

"Very."

He gave a defeated sigh and allowed her to place more shaving cream over his eyebrows and across his forehead.

"Now you look perfect," she giggled.

He squeezed her ass. "You're lucky you're cute enough to get away with this."

She smiled and gave him a peck on the lips, transferring shaving cream to her own nose.

"Poetic justice," Rick chuckled.

Michonne placed the shaving cream container on the table and held the razor to Rick's now white cheeks. Gently, she began to shave him, running the razor down his face and revealing smooth pink skin underneath. She worked in silence, and Rick watched her as she focused on her work. No one had ever shaved him before, and the act was almost as intimate as sex.

He pulled her closer, caressing her back as she started on the other side of his face.

"You're looking less and less like a caveman," she commented.

"I thought you liked my caveman look."

"I have to admit, you wear the feral look well, but the preppy, sexy, businessman look does you better."

"Mmm," he groaned, inadvertently shifting her onto his very hard dick. He knew nothing could come of this, but she was sitting in his lap, inches from his face, and his body didn't know how to behave.

"Down boy," she grinned.

"You're the one that plopped yourself here," he teased. "I can't control it if you do things to me."

Michonne smiled but finished up her work, successfully removing months of facial hair growth from Rick's face. She ran her fingers over his cheeks and rubbed her skin against his.

"I've never seen you like this before," she whispered. "You look handsome."

Rick leaned in and kissed her, reveling in the feel of her fingers against his face.

Soon, Michonne's side began aching badly and she knew it was time to lay down. Rick helped her into bed and tucked her in, before returning to the bathroom to wash off the remaining shaving cream.

"You did a good job," he called from the sink as he caressed his face. "Only some of my skin is missing."

He was expecting a laugh from her, but when he heard nothing he wiped his face and headed back into the room to find her fast asleep under the covers.

He smiled and shut the lights off. It was still early, and he wasn't very tired, but he needed to hold her in their own bed for the first time. He climbed in next to her and slowly wrapped himself around her, taking in her smell and feel. He looked at the clean bedroom that surrounded them and breathed out a small breath. If life could be like this every day, if he could live in a place where safety was the norm, and he could laugh and joke with Michonne without worrying about watch schedules and finding their next source of water, then he'd make it work. He'd do this for her, their children, and their new baby.