A/N: I appreciate the patience with story updates.

Enjoy Chapter 3 - Part 2!


Rick gripped the handle of his shovel with both hands and looked down at the grave he'd just dug. It was far from perfect, but this was his first time digging a grave. This wasn't anything he thought he'd ever have to do.

His eyes welled with tears. His breath came out shallow and ragged.

"We all have jobs to do."

Those were the words that ran through his mind while he was digging. It's what his mama always told him after he complained about chores, or homework or something else he didn't want to do. She'd hear him out, give her final say on the matter when he was a boy—or offer her opinion once he was grown, and then lovingly add, "We all have jobs to do, Ricky."

In this moment, his job was to dig graves because Michonne needed to put her people to rest. She was in no shape to help him dig, and he was okay with that. He would always take care of her no matter what.

He sniffled, used the back of his hand to wipe the tears from his eyes, and started digging a second grave. The sooner he finished his job, the sooner he could get back to Michonne.


"I need to go out there," Shane said as he anxiously ran a hand through his hair. "Rick needs help diggin' those graves, and he shouldn't be alone right now. I should be out there with him, right, Lori?"

He stared at Lori's peaceful face and made a mental note to change her eye bandage later. She was still sedated, but he needed someone to talk to since Daryl wasn't there and Michonne was off limits. Even if he could talk to Michonne, he knew she'd only want to be around Rick after what went down earlier.

Shane dragged his hand down his face and scratched the scruffy beard that had grown in after weeks of not shaving.

"I know what you're thinkin'. You're thinkin' Rick's gonna beat my ass if I go out there. And you're probably right about that, but I can't just sit around when he needs help, Lori."

Rick had already warned him to stay away today. The first warning came after he offered to help put down the walkers in the bathroom. The second warning came after he offered to help remove their bodies from the house. Shane preferred not to get his ass beat, but he was man enough to admit he deserved it.

He picked up the pillows from his sleeping spot on the floor and put them on either side Lori. She was set up on the pool table in the game room, and he didn't want her falling off it if she woke up when he wasn't there.

"I fucked up," he said, gently brushing her bangs to the side with his fingers, "but I gotta make thangs right between me and Rick."


Rick tensed when the double doors leading out to the garden were opened, but he continued digging. He knew it had to be Shane. He didn't care, as long as Shane kept his distance.

"Motherfucker," he grumbled when he heard Shane's footsteps heading in his direction.

Shane wasn't bothered by Rick's grumbling. The sun would be setting in a few hours. If he started helping with the graves now, they could bury the bodies before it got dark out. He picked up a shovel that was laying on the ground next to Michonne's bloody fencing sword and started digging a few feet away from Rick.

Rick angrily muttered, "Motherfucker!" and threw his shovel down. He walked over to Shane, snatched the shovel from his hands and tossed it to the side. "I don't need your help," he growled, shoving Shane hard in the chest.

Shane stumbled back a few steps but caught his footing before falling. "You're wrong about that, Rick. You do."

Shane tried getting by Rick to pick up his shovel but was shoved in the chest again. The force was strong enough to put him on his ass this time. He grimaced from the pain shooting through his backside but quickly got up and said, "Thangs ain't gettin' better out here. King County, the camp, Atlanta… this is a new world we're livin' in, and it's only gonna keep gettin' worse. We need to stick together. We have to if we wanna survive all this."

Rick glared at Shane, struggling to keep his temper reigned in. There were no signs of walkers in the sprawling backyard, but a raised voice and a couple of punches being thrown could change that.

"Look, man, I owe you an apol—"

"You're really out here runnin' your mouth? Sayin' we need to stick together? Actin' like we're friends as if you didn't just betray me?" Rick asked, getting in Shane's face. "Did you really think you were gonna take my girl from me? Take my Michonne from me?"

Shane had never been on the receiving end of Rick's anger like this. They'd tussled before, but not over anything that caused Rick's forehead veins to pop and fire to blaze in his eyes. As intimidated as Shane was, he didn't cower. They needed to talk this out.

"I was wrong," he said. "I was bein' stupid. I'm sorry."

Rick tilted his head. His hands curled into fists. He was coming very close to not caring about drawing walkers over.

"Go ahead. Hit me," Shane urged. "Do whatever you need to do to make us square."

Rick squinted at Shane. He'd been itching to pummel his face for days. He blew out a frustrated breath and took a few steps back instead. Fighting Shane would only delay him in getting back to Michonne. Also, Shane was wrong.

"Me kickin' your ass ain't gonna make us square," Rick growled. He rolled his eyes and walked to the grave he'd just started digging.

Shane started to panic. He'd come outside expecting a black eye, a busted lip and maybe a cracked rib or two. Rick wasn't supposed to just walk away.

"Get back over here and beat my ass," he demanded when Rick started digging again.

Rick scoffed and shook his head. "We're done, Shane."

"That ain't true! I fucked up, and I'm sorry and it won't happen again. Now get back over here!"

Rick continued digging. He was still boiling mad and still wanted to punch the snot out of Shane. He could get himself under control if Shane would just stop talking and walk away.

"I swear on my life it won't happen again," Shane went on.

Rick plunged his shovel into the ground and got back in Shane's face. "It shouldn't have happened at all! You knew how I felt about Michonne! You knew how hard it was for me when me and her weren't talkin'! You were supposed to have my back and look out for her! I trusted you, Shane!"

"I know, man. I feel—"

"You were my brother! You, Daryl and Michonne were the only family I had left!"

"I'm still your brother. We're still family," Shane argued.

"We ain't. And with the way thangs are now, I can't be around someone I don't trust. I can't let someone I don't trust be around Michonne. We have to be together right now, but I'm tellin' you one last time… keep your distance. Keep my name and Michonne's name out your mouth. And as soon as we find a safe place, you need to go your own way, away from me and her. You and me ain't brothers anymore, Shane. Stop actin' like we are."

"You don't mean that," Shane stammered. "You don't mean that! Fight me," he demanded, shoving Rick in the chest to provoke him. "Fight me so we can squash this."

Daryl, who'd spent the last few hours making his way to Michonne's house from the downtown area, returned right as Shane shoved Rick. He hauled ass to break things up between them because he'd already had a few run-ins with walkers and didn't want to deal with another. He grunted as he pulled Shane away from Rick.

Rick and Shane weren't surprised that Daryl seemed to appear out of nowhere. He'd been popping up or disappearing like that since they were kids.

"Rick says me and him ain't brothers anymore," Shane said to Daryl. "Tell him that ain't true. Tell him to kick my ass!"

Daryl looked at Rick's pissed off face and pushed Shane towards the house. "Come on. Let's go," he mumbled.

Shane tried to walk over to Rick, but Daryl pushed him forward.

"You gotta talk to him," Shane pleaded as they walked back to the house. "Tell him I know I was wrong. Tell him I'm seein' thangs clearly now. Tell him I'm sorry. You gotta vouch for me, Daryl."

Daryl didn't say anything until they were standing by the open double doors. "Go check on Lori or somethin'. I'll catch up with you later."

Shane ran his hand through his hair in annoyance and looked back at Rick. "You gonna talk to him? 'Cuz I don't know how to fix this, man."

"Ain't nothin' gonna be fixed if you don't leave Rick alone," Daryl warned him. "You know how he is. And you apologizin' don't change the shit you were tryin' to do. Leave him be."

Shane glared at Daryl but eventually walked into the house with his head down. Daryl hung out by the door to make sure Shane didn't come back. He wasn't worried about his brothers. They'd been friends too long for Rick to end things. Rick did hold grudges though. It might take months, or years, for him to forgive Shane. Daryl grunted and walked back over to Rick.

"I don't wanna talk about me and Shane," Rick grumbled while digging.

"Good, cuz I wasn't gonna ask about you and Shane."

Rick plunged his shovel into the ground again and put his hands on his hips. "Where the hell have you been, Daryl?!"

"I've been out tryin' to find Merle, like I told you," Daryl said, ignoring Rick's bad attitude.

"You told me you'd stop by and say goodbye before you left!"

"You and Michonne were talkin'," Daryl mumbled as he took his crossbow off his back and put it on the ground. "I wasn't interruptin' that."

He'd wanted to let Rick and Michonne to know he was leaving, but things changed when he found them in the dining room. Michonne was sitting on Rick's lap and Rick's hands were all over Michonne's ass. Like he said, he wasn't interrupting that.

"We tried to reach you. You didn't pick up your walkie! We didn't know where you were!"

Daryl shrugged. "Didn't wanna be reached."

Rick stared at Daryl and then pinched the bridge of his nose. On top of everything else he'd been dealing with today, he was terrified that Daryl would be hurt or harmed while he was out looking for someone who wasn't going to be found. He truly was relieved to see that Daryl was okay.

"In case you were wonderin', I didn't find Merle at that hotel he used to hit up," Daryl said, looking down at the grave that had already been dug. "Merle's just gone."

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose harder and wrestled with what to tell Daryl about Merle. He was well-aware of the value of honesty, but there was still a part of him that wanted to protect the people he loved from pain in any way that he could.

"You don't gotta say anythang. I know you and Merle didn't get along," Daryl mumbled. He could see how hard it was for Rick to come up with something reassuring to say, but he knew it would be hard for most people to care that Merle was gone. "Don't wanna talk about it anymore anyways. What's goin' on out here? What's with the graves?"

Rick would have to decide very soon whether to say something about Merle, but the questions Daryl asked reminded him that Michonne was his priority right now.

"We had to open the bathroom door," he told Daryl. "When me and Michonne were eatin' breakfast, somethin' got the walkers all riled up. They wouldn't quiet down. We didn't have a choice."

Rick pulled his shovel from the ground and began digging again. Daryl saw the distress all over Rick's face and was certain the walkers were Michonne's people.

"She put' em down?" he asked.

"One of 'em," Rick replied slowly. "Thangs happened pretty fast after I kicked the door open. Her mama was the first one out the bathroom… Michonne took care of her… She had her fencin' sword..."

Rick sniffled and kept digging.

"The second one out was her best friend's daddy. Michonne couldn't… She was cryin' and holdin' her mama. She couldn't put him down. I did... I was usin' my hatchet on him when her best friend's mama came out. I put her down too..."

"Damn," Daryl mumbled.

"We thought there were just three of 'em because it got so quiet in the bathroom… It was quiet for so long… just Michonne holdin' her mama and cryin'…" Rick's stomach turned from the memory of what happened next. "Then her brother came out."

He had to stop digging when tears started falling from his eyes.

"Michonne… She just couldn't do it... I did. He was just a kid, Daryl." Rick finally let out the anguish he'd been carrying from having to put the little boy down. He'd been holding it in all day to stay strong for Michonne. He wasn't able to hold it in any longer, and his shoulders shook as he quietly sobbed. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat, wiped his eyes, and started digging again. "Michonne's been a wreck, but she calmed down enough for me to come out here and do this."

Daryl sniffled and picked up a nearby shovel to start digging a third grave. He would stay with Rick for however long it took to bury the bodies.


Michonne sat in an oversized chair on the balcony off her bedroom and looked out at the street. She was supposed to be keeping watch to make sure walkers weren't drawn to Rick at the back of the house, but she couldn't stop thinking about her family. She couldn't stop wondering how they died and if they had suffered. Their rotting bodies made it impossible for her to determine either of those things.

She wondered if she would ever see Jocelyn again to let her know what happened. Their families had always been so close. They'd spent so many vacations, birthdays and holidays together. It made perfect sense to Michonne that Jocelyn's parents would be in her house. Their house, which was two houses away, had also been ransacked and was empty. Michonne hoped that meant they'd made it out of Atlanta. They hadn't. Her mother and brother hadn't.

She told Rick earlier she didn't know whether she could go on if her family was in the bathroom. She now knew she could, though that didn't make her feel brave or strong. She felt like something inside of her was irreparably broken. She felt like she would be forever haunted by what she'd done to her mother and what she wasn't able to do for her brother and Jocelyn's parents.

She wondered if she should've just gotten in Dale's RV and lived without knowing whether her family was in the bathroom.

A soft knock on her bedroom door snapped her out of her thoughts, and she was surprised to see that the sun had almost set. She glanced at the walkers to make sure they hadn't strayed from the street and quietly got out of her chair. A knot of tension grew in her stomach as she rushed to the door. She hadn't been paying attention… what if something happened to Rick? What if he was hurt? What if he'd been bitten? What if she lost him too? She opened her door expecting the worst.

"Hey," Rick said tiredly.

Michonne took in his exhausted face, bare chest, dirty jeans, and bare feet, checking for scratches, bites, bruises or wounds of some sort. Rick noticed how frantically her eyes dashed around his body and knew what she was doing.

"I'm not hurt," he said, taking her hand.

"You're sure?" Michonne asked, still checking for injuries.

"Michonne, I'm not hurt." He waited for her eyes to return to his. "I just wanted to let you know it's done."

Michonne swallowed hard and tightly held onto Rick's hand. "They're buried?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"They are."

Michonne's heart broke all over again. She looked up as fresh tears sprang to her eyes. "Okay," she whispered.

Rick would've wrapped his arms around her and held her close if he didn't have the stink of walkers all over him and if his jeans weren't stained with dirt and walker blood. He didn't want her breathing in that filth and he wasn't about to ruin the silky little pajamas she was wearing. He kicked himself for not taking a proper bath before rushing up the stairs to see her. He'd only taken off his soiled shirt and washed the muck from his face and hands to be presentable enough.

"Michonne, I need to go back downstairs to wash up, but I'll come right back," he said gently. "Are you gonna be alright by yourself for a few minutes?"

Michonne wiped her tears and looked at Rick. "No," she said firmly.

"No?"

"No."

Rick didn't like going against Michonne, but he wasn't going to hold her until he was clean. "I'll be real quick," he promised. "And I can send Daryl up to keep you company until I get back."

"No, Rick. I need you here with me."

He didn't object when Michonne pulled him into her room and led him to her bathroom. He'd thought about asking to use it but didn't want to assume she'd let him just because they made up and were talking again.

"You can freshen up in here," she said, opening the bathroom door.

The bathroom was lit by battery-operated emergency lanterns set to the softest, dimmest lighting, and it somehow smelled so fresh. Rick inhaled deeply.

"What is that? It smells like…" He inhaled again. "Heaven."

Rick's comment drew a small smile from Michonne. "It's Cashmere Bliss. There's a diffuser on the sink."

The diffuser was a gift from Yumiko from the Italian spa resort she stayed at over Christmas break. She'd given Michonne a Raindrop Kisses diffuser and Jocelyn the Cashmere Bliss, but they swapped diffusers because of how much Michonne loved the smell of Cashmere Bliss.

"Cashmere has a smell?" Rick asked.

His tilted head and the confused look on his face made Michonne's smile spread a little. "Forget about the cashmere, Rick. The shower's right over here," she said, pointing to the glass-enclosed walk-in shower. "I put pots of water, soap and washcloths in there. The towels are over here," she said, pointing to the towel rack. "Clean clothes are on the sink. They should fit you just fine."

For months, her family had been buying clothing in different sizes and styles from their favorite shops to donate to local shelters. They never got an opportunity to donate, which left Rick, Daryl, Shane and Lori with an ample supply of clothes.

"You can put your dirty clothes in the hamper over there," Michonne said, pointing to the hamper. "We'll throw them out in the morning."

Rick was still staring at the shower with the five large pots of water in it. He was beyond touched that Michonne would take the time to prepare a bath for him after the day she had.

"Thank you," he murmured, shifting his gaze to her. He brought her hand to his mouth and softly kissed the back of it.

The tender affection warmed Michonne down to her core. But of course she would make sure Rick could clean up after everything he'd done for her today.

"I'll leave you to it," she said softly. "Let me know if you need more soap or water. We have plenty."

Rick nodded, though he didn't let go of Michonne's hand. He couldn't let her go. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

All that tenderness in Rick's eyes was too much for Michonne to take. She withdrew her hand from his and left the bathroom in a hurry, closing the door behind her. She didn't want to start crying again, even if Rick would've had her crying the sweetest of tears.

"Wash up first," Rick said to himself to talk himself out of chasing after Michonne.

He turned away from the door and looked around the bathroom. Naturally, it was very high-end. The floor was marble; a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling; the bathtub looked like a small jacuzzi; the shower had an overhead shower head and six additional body spray jets on the wall. It was the nicest bathroom he'd ever been in. It was also huge. It had to be three or four times larger than the largest bathroom in his house.

Rick's shoulders slumped slightly as he unbuckled his belt. Everything about Michonne's house reminded him of her wealth and her privileged background. Most of the time, he didn't dwell on it. But there were other times when his insecurity was triggered and he questioned what things would've been like between them if things were still normal. Would his inability to give her the finer things in life have caused a rift? Would they have lasted as a couple or just been an incredible fling?

Rick unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down his legs with his underwear. He was grateful that he now had Michonne's words to hold onto when his insecurity crept in:

I think we met for a reason, Rick. I think we're meant to get through these awful times together. I think we were always meant to be a part of each other's lives.

He placed his jeans and underwear in the hamper and stopped in front of the vanity mirror on his way to the shower. He looked so much older than he had just a few months ago. His hair had grown out. A beard was growing in. His eyes looked so dull, so sad, so hollow. He looked away from his reflection. He hated seeing this downright exhausted version of himself.

This new world they lived in was going to break him if he let it. He vowed not to let that happen, and he vowed not to let Michonne be broken either.


Michonne glanced at the bathroom door and checked the time on her dad's favorite pocket watch. An hour and twelve minutes had passed since she left Rick in the bathroom. She wanted him to take his time in there, but she couldn't wait any longer to see him. She carefully placed the watch on a nightstand, mindful of the fencing sword leaning against it, and got out of her king-sized bed. She was halfway to the bathroom when Rick opened the bathroom door.

They both froze in surprise. Rick's eyes immediately darted around Michonne's room, searching for signs of trouble. The flashlight on one of Michonne's nightstands provided enough light for him to confirm that everything was in order.

"Is somethin' wrong?" he asked, rushing over to her.

Michonne gave Rick a little shoulder shrug and shyly looked away, suddenly embarrassed by how desperate she'd been to see him.

"Michonne, what's wrong?"

Because Rick was getting worked up, Michonne had no choice but to tell the truth to calm him down. "I missed you," she confessed.

Rick's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Yeah?" he asked, cupping her face with one of his hands.

Michonne's rose-scented soap lingered on his skin, and the tshirt and underwear she'd left out for him fit him perfectly. She'd also left out a toothbrush, minty toothpaste, and deodorant for him to use. Rick was fresh and clean and ready to hold his Michonne.

"I missed you, too," he said, finally wrapping his arms around her waist.

Michonne wrapped her arms around Rick's neck, and they clung to each other. In that moment, they were the only two people who existed. There was no sorrow, no suffering, no sadness. No pain, no loss, no heartbreak. There was just Rick and Michonne.

"We should go to bed," Michonne whispered after they'd been holding each other for some time.

Rick nodded in agreement and slowly let her go. He'd given thought to their sleeping arrangements while he was brushing his teeth. He wanted to share Michonne's bed with her but didn't want to assume that's what she also wanted. If he needed to continue sleeping in the hallway outside of her bedroom, he would. He stood in place and watched Michonne walk over to her bed and open one of her nightstand drawers. She pulled out a scarf and wrapped her hair and then pulled back her covers and climbed into bed.

Michonne decided to leave the flashlight on. She couldn't sleep in total darkness anymore. She also couldn't sleep without Rick anymore.

"Rick," she said softly, patting the space in bed beside her. Since he was just standing in the middle of her bedroom, she was afraid he would reject her invitation and sleep in the hallway.

Rick quickly put that fear to rest by hustling to the bed and getting under the covers. He sighed in bliss as his body melted into the mattress and his head sunk into the pillow.

"Feels like… heaven," he murmured with his eyes closed. It was the most comfortable bed he'd ever been in.

Michonne didn't agree with Rick. While she appreciated her bed more than ever after having to sleep in a tent at camp, her bed had become a relic. It was something from a life that no longer existed. Michonne didn't think there was anything heavenly about that. She sighed and turned on her side to face Rick.

Rick turned on his side and faced Michonne.

They gazed into each other's eyes.

"Rick, my dad's out there. Somewhere," Michonne said.

Rick saw the question burning in her eyes and put his hand on her hip. They hadn't talked through any plans now that they knew her family was in the bathroom, but he did agree with Daryl that they couldn't stay in this house much longer.

"I know staying here wouldn't be the smartest or the safest thing to do," Michonne admitted. "I still think we should stay. My dad wrote that message on the door for me because he thought there was a chance I'd come back. And I did. I think there's a chance he might come back."

Rick lightly squeezed her hip. "I know you wanna wait for him—"

"And I know that's asking a lot. We have no idea how long we'd have to wait, but we could make it work," Michonne said passionately. "We have food. We have water. We just have to continue to stay quiet while we wait."

"Michonne, the walkers are growin' in numbers every day. Daryl said Atlanta is crawlin' with 'em now. This place ain't secure enough."

"But it could be. It will be. We'll make it more secure," she insisted. "I'm only asking for another week… maybe two. We can do this, Rick. Will you do this? Will you stay?"

Rick looked away from the vulnerability in Michonne's brown eyes and rolled onto his back, pulling Michonne with him. He sighed to himself because he wasn't going to be able to deny her.

"I'll have to talk to Daryl about it," he said in resignation.

"My dad will be back. I know it!" Michonne snuggled into Rick, resting her head on his chest and draping her leg over his.

Rick tucked one arm behind his head and kept the other wrapped around Michonne's waist. The feel of her body pressing into his was true heaven. Her soft bed and the smell of cashmere didn't come close. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of her bare foot rubbing against his.

"I never thanked you," Michonne whispered, tracing a heart on his tshirt right above his heart.

Rick slowly opened his eyes. "What for?" he asked drowsily.

"For coming out here and checking on my family. For that picture of me and Duane," she said as she looked up at him. "For risking your life for me, Rick."

"I shouldn't have done any of that," he said, looking deeply into her eyes. "You don't have to thank me."

"I do."

"You don't."

Michonne rolled her eyes and gently tapped Rick's chest, saying, "Rick Grimes, I'm thanking you with the understanding that you won't ever do anything like that again. Say 'you're welcome' so we can go to sleep."

"You're welcome." Rick smiled at her and softly kissed her forehead. "Good night, Michonne."

"Goodnight, Rick."

Michonne rested her head on Rick's chest again, and when she could no longer fight it, she fell asleep, hoping that Rick's presence would once again keep her nightmares at bay.


"Rick! Michonne! Wake up!"

Rick and Michonne's eyes popped open, and they jumped out of bed. Rick stood with his fists raised, ready to fight. Michonne grabbed her fencing sword and stood in a defensive stance.

"We got a problem," Shane said.

"What the hell are you doin' in here?" Rick barked in a voice thick from sleep. He kept his fists up and looked over at Michonne to make sure her pajama shorts and her top with the skinny little straps were in place. Lucky for Shane, her pajamas were in place.

Shane kept his eyes on Rick and quickly started to explain himself. "I was patrollin' around on night watch, and a walker got in the house—"

"What?!" Rick and Michonne both exclaimed.

"I thought it was a walker," Shane said in a rush, correcting himself. "It was covered in blood like a walker, and it walked like a walker. I knocked its ass out, and it wasn't a walker. It's some asshole pretendin' to be a walker."

"What?!" Rick and Michonne exclaimed again.

"He's still knocked out. Daryl's keepin' an eye on him."

"Is he alone?" Rick asked, lowering his fists and looking around for a weapon. He'd left his hatchet downstairs.

"Seems like he was. We won't know 'til we wake his ass up. We got guns downstairs, man. Come on." He backed out of the room, avoiding Michonne completely.

Rick nodded curtly at Shane and looked over at Michonne. She was putting on a long, cream-colored robe with fur at the collar and the wrists. It was far too nice for such a dangerous situation.

"I'm going downstairs with you," Michonne announced as she tied her robe.

Rick knew better than to argue, but he was having a hard time not arguing. He wanted her to stay in her room and lock the door until he was certain there was no threat of danger. He hadn't fully recovered from seeing her struggle when they were fighting walkers at the camp. He wanted her safe.

"Rick, I know I'm not the best fighter. I'm not you. I'm not Daryl. I'm not Shane. But this is my house. I'm going to defend it," Michonne said. She slid her feet into her slippers with the furry pom poms on them. "I'll be fine," she added. "And I have this…"

She held up the fencing sword from her freshman year at Emory University. It wasn't one of her best swords—those were on the team bus, and she prayed Jocelyn, Yumiko, Mike and the others were using them wherever they were—but it was her only sword in the house. She'd asked Rick to bury the sword she used to put her mother down.

"Are you with me?" she asked him.

"I'm with you. Always," Rick replied. He held his hand out for her to take.

When they left the bedroom, Shane led them to the first floor sitting room where Daryl had his crossbow trained on the man who'd been pretending to be a walker. He was lying flat on his back and covered in walker blood and guts. Michonne had to pinch her nose shut because of the stench.

"Is he still out?" Rick asked Daryl.

Daryl grunted and kicked the at the man's feet. "Yep."

"Time to wake his ass up," Shane muttered. He picked up a rifle and a Colt from one of the plush chairs in the room. They were the guns Dale had given them before they parted ways. He handed the Colt to Rick and asked, "How're we doin' this?"

"We can splash water on his face," Michonne suggested. "I'll go get the water." She ran to the kitchen before Rick could shoot down her idea. When she returned with a bottle of water, Rick, Shane and Daryl were spread out around the man with their weapons pointed at him.

"You're okay?" Rick asked.

"I'm okay," Michonne said, standing next to him.

Rick gave her a quick once-over to make sure that she was. "We've got the guns aimed at this asshole's knees and chest. Daryl's got his crossbow aimed at his head. Are you comfortable pourin' water on his face?"

"Yes. I can do that," Michonne answered. She placed her sword on the floor and twisted the cap off the bottle.

"You'll be in the line of fire, so you'll have to back away real fast after you pour the water," Rick told her.

Michonne nodded.

"And keep your distance from him so he can't grab you. If he does, you kick him in the face, Michonne. Right in the nose. Kick it to break it."

"Okay," Michonne said in a shaky voice.

"You're sure about doin' this?" Rick asked. "You don't have to."

Michonne kicked off her slippers to be able to back away faster and nodded again. "I'm sure."

"Daryl… Shane… you ready?" Rick asked.

"Ready," they both answered. They were prepared to shoot, if necessary.

"Michonne, I'm gonna count down to one and then you'll make your move. Are you ready?"

"I'm ready."

"Pour the water and back away," Rick reminded her. He took a breath, aimed at the man's left knee, and began counting down. "Five… four… three… two… one."

Michonne stayed an arm length's away from the man and squirted water on his face that was drenched in blood. He immediately started groaning.

"Rise and shine, mother fucker," Shane growled.

Michonne started backing away. After taking three steps, she stopped. A baseball cap near the man's head caught her eye.

"Back up, Michonne," Rick ordered.

She didn't.

"Michonne, move," Daryl ordered.

She didn't.

Shane silently ordered Michonne to get out of the way.

"Fuck," Rick grumbled when the man started to sit up. He lowered the Colt and ran to Michonne to pull her back.

She resisted.

The man held the back of his head and groaned as he looked around. His eyes landed on Michonne and narrowed to focus on her. "Michonne," he said sluggishly.

Michonne's eyes filled with happy, happy tears. "Glenn," she gasped.


A/N: - Full disclosure: I forgot Glenn was part of the camp outside of Atlanta until I rewatched the season 1 episodes. When I started writing this fic, I associated him only with Atlanta not with the group, which is why he wasn't featured in chapter 2. Oops. So he's Glenn with a little twist since he and Michonne know each other.

In the next/final part of chapter 3, we'll find out if Rick tells Daryl about Merle or if he keeps his lips zipped. (Thank you for those votes!)

Hope you enjoyed this update. Let me know what you thought about it.

Stay safe.

And I'm so happy we're part of the BEST SHIP EVER!