He had tossed Sleipnir's reins to Carl and had immediately bounded up the stairs to his rooms. Richard had wanted to tell her that they had indeed found the Saxon bastards and had taken them all unawares. When he had found that Michonne was not in his solar, he had assumed she would be in her own rooms. He had burst into Michonne's chambers only to find Sasha there.

"Where is she?" He had asked.

Richard shook his head. He should've sensed something was wrong. It had been written all over Sasha's face, but he had been so eager to see Michonne.

When Sasha had looked at him, her large eyes filled with pain, his mind had finally registered that something was not right.

"What is it... where is she?" He had bellowed.

Sasha jumped. Richard never raised his voice. She could not seem to get the words out. Fearing the worst, Richard charged her. Grabbing her by the arms, he drew the woman up and searched her eyes.

"Sasha, tell me where she is!"

The torture she heard in his voice was what snapped her out of it.

"She is gone!" Sasha cried.

"She is gone where? She is hurt?"

"No, she is not hurt. She has been taken from us, Richard." Sasha spat.

She proceeded to tell him an extraordinary story by which he learned that Michonne was not from their time, but a futuristic one. Even for Sasha, it was strange. But he trusted her in all things.

It explained how he had found Michonne in the snow and how there were no tracks and no others with her. Richard remembered thinking she had appeared from thin air...he had not known then how close to the truth he had been.

Sasha's story of time travel explained why Michonne was so different. Everything from her appearance, to her dialect... how advanced her culture was.

Everything was coming together.

Why had she not told him? At first Richard was hurt that she had kept such a big secret from him. But in all honesty, what could she have done? She was in a strange place, she'd had to assimilate to life there... how would she inform a stranger that she was from another time?

Richard did understand. And he did not think it possible, but he loved her even more. She had come to them and had bravely lived among a strange people. She had protected them and had saved him and his people from certain death.

She was an extraordinary woman, and Richard was sure he would never find another like her.

Right then and there on the balcony, overlooking the keep, Richard promised his love and allegiance to her. It devastated him that he would never gaze upon her lovely face again. He had pledged his love to her, and he would honour that. He was no longer concerned with lands, betrothals and marriages of convenience.

In Michonne he had found a love which quite literally had transcended time. He would always hold her in his heart. She would forever remain his lover, friend and wife even if they had never made it to the altar.

She would remain his until his time here in this world was done.

Michonne wondered along the quiet streets. She had finally dragged herself out of bed, and out of the little cottage. It had been two months since she'd come back. She had allowed herself time to grieve and after the couple days in the hotel, she decided she wasn't ready to return to the States.

So she had found a quaint little cottage to rent, which had reminded her so much of Sasha's small house. Michonne supposed she had chosen to stay in Berwick upon Tweed to remain close to Richard. In some ways, it comforted her to be in his land.

Michonne's first night in the cottage had been a quiet one. She no longer came undone at the thought of Richard. Of course she was still in shambles, but she had already cried so much, she didn't think she could ever weep again.

When she unpacked her bags, the book she'd read on Northumberland history had slid out of her baggage. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Michonne leafed through the book when a thought occurred to her.

Nearly trembling, she flipped to the pages to where the book spoke of Negan's betrayal. It didn't occur to her until now that Richard may not have survived. She had just assumed that because he had been warned, he had found the Saxons and had dealt with them.

But what if he was killed anyway?

"I promise I will jump off a cliff." She muttered as she searched the pages.

Shaking, she found the passages of Richard's story and read them. Michonne shrieked and fell back against the bed when she read that Richard had almost been betrayed, and that the staged Saxon coup had been subverted.

"HE DID IT!" Michonne squealed.

She read on to find that sources were unsure of how Richard learned of the plot. It only stated that there was a myth that a sorcerer lived among the kinsmen. The tale went that she had had a vision and had ridden on horseback to stop Lord Richard and his men.

The sorcerer was attributed to having saved the entire clan.

When the author said that such a tale was "obviously" farfetched and nothing more than superstitious conjecture, Michonne did something she hadn't done in a long while. She laughed. She went on to read that Negan had been executed for his treachery. Lady Lorraine, fearing the same fate as Negan, had ended her life by drinking poison. Michonne shuddered. As much as she disliked the two, she had never wanted to see them killed... especially so violently.

As for Richard, he never married and never begot an heir. She knew in her soul that he'd never married because of her. One of the last times they'd spoken, he had asked her to marry him.

Richard was the kind of man who didn't take marriage lightly. If he said something, he meant it. And apparently he really, really meant it. She didn't think it was possible, but more tears trickled down her face. She was touched that he had never taken another, but it was all so sad. Michonne hated to imagine a life in which Richard had never found any happiness.

She closed the book and looked at the cover. She ran her hands over the words and the rough spine. A griffin, the symbol of the book's publishing company.

"How ironic." she snorted, remembering the griffins Richard had had carved on the beams in the great hall.

On a whim, she grabbed her laptop and Googled "griffins." What she found pained her. This couldn't be coincidence. Was it fate? The griffin was described as a mythological creature with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle. It was considered the king of creatures and was known for guarding treasures.

But it was the next sentence that was Michonne's undoing.

"Griffins not only mated for life, but also, if either partner died, then the other would continue throughout the rest of its life alone, never to search for a new mate."

Michonne was more affected by that one sentence than she could stand. Closing her eyes, she had covered her mouth and sobbed. Apparently she hadn't been out of tears.

Right then and there, she made a pact with herself and the love of her life.

"I promise it will only be you, Richard. There will never be another." She had whispered to no one in particular. She gave herself a few more moments of sadness. "Enough of this. I need to get outta here," Michonne finally said. She walked to the bathroom and cleaned up.

Michonne anxiously ventured out into the real world in an attempt to divert her mind from haunting thoughts of Richard. She bit her trembling lips and desperately fought the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Maybe this was a mistake. She thought. She had to keep pushing, she couldn't hide forever. So, with effort, Michonne walked toward a bakery when she saw a small antique shop a few doors down.

Part of her wanted to go just to satisfy her curiosity, but the other part of her felt like the few extra steps to the shop were more like a mile. She dragged her leaden feet to the door of the antique store and walked in.

The musky smell of timeworn bric-a-brac greeted her. Michonne thought maybe she was better off at the bakery. Just when she was about to turn and leave, a small man who looked as hoary as his goods made his way toward Michonne.

He motioned for her to come in and asked if he could be of help.

Michonne told him she was only browsing and the man was delighted to be speaking with an American. He had many questions, and thankfully, after a few moments, the telephone rang, sending the old shopkeeper off.

Even though the old man was very sweet, Michonne wasn't in the mood to keep up with polite conversation. She was about to use the distraction as a chance to make her exit when she stopped.

There it was.

The gold box that had sent her on a journey was sitting there behind a glass casement like an ordinary trinket.

Michonne approached the glass and felt her heart soar when the box began to glow. She tripped over her own feet in her angst to get to the shopkeeper who had just hung up the phone.

Giddy with delight, she motioned the old man over to the casement and told him she wanted to buy the box. He began to launch into a story about how he'd come by the ornament as she reached into her purse and dumped a wad of money onto the counter.

When the box had been packaged in a paper bag, Michonne said her farewells and practically ran back to the cottage. Once there, she locked the doors and pulled all the blinds. Taking a deep breath, she removed the gold box and set it down on the bed. She stared at it with all kinds of thoughts running through her mind.

What if it didn't work this time? Or what if it worked but she ended up in another place this time? What if she went to the right place but Richard didn't remember her? Or worse, what if Richard wasn't alive... what if he'd died in battle?

This was crazy!

Wasn't this what she had wanted, no yearned for the last few weeks?! Hadn't she been depressed at the thought of never seeing Richard again? Now she had a wonderful opportunity to go back to him and she was hesitating.

Michonne stopped pacing and stared at the box once more.

She had a thought.

Grabbing her duffel bag, she emptied its contents. Then, running around the cottage, she grabbed everything she could. She tossed in makeup, lotion, deodorant, shampoo, her laptop, her iPod, a blanket and pillow, her digital camera, magazines, the book about Northumberland, food, and her hair products. She'd be damned if she solely had to rely on their oils.

She emptied her purse of all its money and quickly scribbled a note for the cottage owner.

Michonne dragged the bulging bag with her and sat cross legged on the bed. She took a deep breath and uttered a short prayer.

"Please God, let this work... I need him."

She gingerly picked up the box and flipped the clasp up. The music still had the ability to make the hairs on Michonne's arms stand up.

The loud crack of thunder made her jump... She forgot about that part.

In a daze, she listened as the eerie voice spoke. This time there was no poem, there was no speech. The words were simple and music to Michonne's ears.

"Welcome, dear Michonne. He awaits you."

Nobody needed to tell her who "he" was.

She watched as the box shifted, when the pyramid pointed at her, she closed her eyes at the familiar bolt of lightning that invaded the quiet cottage. Michonne steeled herself and prepared to go home. Home, a place that she never knew she needed to be. She did a silent prayer for Shane, telling him that she would always love him and that she would come back to visit his grave one day. He was all she had until she met Richard.

When she opened her eyes, she realized she was lying on her back. She groggily tried to sit up, but felt like she was being weighted down. It was the black duffel bag. The strap was over her shoulder.

Everything came back to her in a rush, and for a moment, Michonne was afraid to move. She was afraid she wasn't in 9th century Northumbria and she hadn't gone back to Richard.

But then she gazed up at the familiar rafters and her eyes widened.

Ripping the strap over her head, she sat up and found that she was in Richard's chambers. Her breathing accelerated as she unsteadily got to her feet.

Everything around the room was the same, but he was nowhere in sight. She gently placed her bag on the floor once she spotted him. He stood on the balcony, large, strong and solitary. She could guess his thoughts and knew he was thinking of her.

Tears were threatening to fall from her face, she was back where she belonged.

"Richard." She whispered as she moved toward him. She didn't want to startle him, but she also didn't truly believe she was seeing him. "Richard." she called a little louder.

Michonne saw him tense. But he didn't make a move to turn around... he was talking.

"Even now your voice still haunts me, woman. Would that I could have you here with me. I would cherish the sound of you, and I would slay the demons of hell to keep you near."

Michonne's hand flew to her heart at his earnest, quiet words.

"Richard." she called again softly. She now stood in the doorway of the balcony and waited for Richard to turn around.

She was afraid to move... to breathe.

When Richard finally did turn and beheld her, he stood there momentarily frozen.

"Hi." She whispered, tears streaming down her face.

He dropped to his knees, still speechless as she rushed to him. Richard's eyes filled with unshed tears. "Before Odin I swear you are my curse. Woman, tell me this is not a dream!"

Michonne pressed her forehead against his and cupped his face in her hands. "No, Richard. This isn't a dream. I'm here, I'm really back!"

He grabbed her and crushed her to him. The force of his embrace propelled Michonne forward sending them both toppling to the floor. Richard gazed down at her; all the love and affection he felt for her was apparent in his eyes.

"My sweet, beautiful woman," He murmured. "I love you. You will never leave my side again."

"I love you too, Richard," Michonne whispered. "I've missed you so much."

For a while, the two lay there on the floor of the balcony in a loving embrace. And when Richard could stand it no longer, he kissed her ever so tenderly, as if she might break. But Michonne wanted more. She pulled Richard to her, his touch instantly arousing her. The air between them immediately switched from sweet affection to raw heat.

The two made love where they were; their expression of love was more powerful, more intoxicating than ever before. And when they finished, Richard picked her up and moved her to his bed.

They made love the rest of the night with Richard holding Michonne near the entire time. He was still very afraid to let her go, afraid that she would once again disappear from his life. When she explained that only the box could send her back to the future, he abruptly got out of bed and dressed.

"Where are you going?" Michonne asked bewildered.

"We are going to be rid of that damned box. Come with me." He commanded.

Michonne scrambled to dress and Richard paused to watch her. She wore trousers with some sort of tunic and peculiar looking sandals. The way her trousers hugged her curve was unbecoming for a woman—he felt his cock begin to swell—Michonne was no ordinary woman.

Michonne looked down at herself. She hadn't realized how she must look to him. She wore fitted jeans, a white V-neck t-shirt—which showed off her cleavage—and some pink flip flops.

Judging from Richard's heated expression and the bulge in his trousers, she guessed he found her appealing. Unable to resist him and not wanting to resist, Michonne went to him and wrapped her arms around his big shoulders.

Except he wasn't quite as big as she remembered.

"You lost weight." She said, running her hands over his body.

"My appetite was among the great many things I had lost." Richard replied. He enjoyed the feel of her hands all over him. And such concern for his well-being never ceased to amaze him.

"Well I have to fatten you up again, sweetheart." Michonne promised.

"I look forward to it, woman. Now come... I shall not rest until we are rid of that box."

That night, Michonne was formally introduced to Sleipnir. Richard mounted the horse first, and then pulled Michonne up in front of him.

They rode through the forest, the gold box safely wrapped in many, many cloths, and tucked into a satchel. Neither of them wanted to chance touching the trinket.

When Richard had taken them deep enough into the woods, he dug a deep hole and inserted the box there. He proceeded to cover the hole, and smoothed the disturbed earth so that it would not call attention to itself.

Satisfied, he turned back to Michonne who sat on a large boulder.

"There," he said. "The box should not be disturbed in its present place."

"Good. I'm glad." Michonne replied. "Now please, my lord. Take me home and make love to me."

Richard drew her in his arms and rested his forehead on hers.

"Say it again." he requested softly.

"Make love to me?" She asked.

"No, the other."

"Take me home, baby." She giggled.

And Richard did just that.