Merry Christmas, everyone!

"Richard, hello," Michonne's father greeted Rick's father.

The pair had grown up together in King County, Georgia and their friendship had spawned into adulthood. Lately though, Roger worried constantly about his only daughter Michonne and their strained relationship since the passing of Michonne's mother five years ago. Michonne had been incredibly close to her mother, but her mother insisted on spoiling Michonne while Roger believed in strong working values. Somewhere along the line, he'd lost touch of his daughter and he didn't quite know how to mend their relationship.

He picked up a photo of himself, Michonne, and her mother from before he started his job at Coca Cola. They looked different. Happy. He longed for those days again, although he didn't want Michonne to suffer like he had as a young man. He wanted Michonne to live a nice life with a well to do man.

He constantly fought with himself, not knowing what type of parent he wanted to be.

"Hey, Roger," Richard greeted him enthusiastically. "Why are you calling me?"

"Well, it's about my daughter. She's been acting up lately and I'm concerned," Roger began. "I'm not sure what to do with her."

Richard hummed on the other side of the line. "How about you write the letters this year?"

"I couldn't possibly -"

" - You could. Every year a new family writes the letters and we use those in our cards," Richard explained. "Beyond that, the letters are magic. They change lives."

"What does this have to do with my daughter?"

"Everything. Your daughter is lost and alone, but so is my son. I think they could help each other, Roger. Your daughter just needs to bring them here and I'll stay away for just the right amount of time. Once she meets me, she'll read the letter you wrote her. Trust me, it works every time. I've just never personally involved myself or my son…"

"Do you think that'd actually work?"

Richard chuckled. "There's something about them that just does, Roger. Just threaten her inheritance, get her out here, let her learn how to be a person for once. Stop shielding your daughter from the real world and the struggles you endured. That's clearly not helping her."

"I just...I didn't want her to go without," Roger admitted, a tear falling down his face. It was the first time that he'd admitted it. "After Josephine died, it just became harder. Michonne was always spoiled, but she's become so angry."

"It's never too late to fix that," Richard said. "Write some letters and in due time, she will understand."

Roger nodded. "Okay. Okay."

Dear Michonne,

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for…

A few hours later, his favorite assistant Ms. Jackie knocked on the door. "Michonne is here to see you…"

"Bring her in," he said.

:

Michonne knocked on Rick's door, her impatient heels clicking against the wood of his front porch. It'd been two days since he'd helped her shop for food to eat. In that time, they'd spent more time together, as she tried not to melt at the site of him or the kindness that he possessed in his heart. She couldn't help but admit that she was drawn to this handsome stranger, who was somehow allowing her to just be without the pressures of the world.

When he opened the door, she saw the forlorn, almost sad look in his eyes. Usually, he was so happy, but today he wasn't smiling when he greeted her.

"Michonne," he said, his voice tight.

"I - um - I'm just coming over to ask when your dad will be around," she questioned him. "Tomorrow is Christmas and…"

"Dad's busy," Rick responded.

Michonne, caught off guard by his mood, just stood there staring at him.

"Anything else?" Rick questioned her.

"No, that's all," she answered.

"Do you have a problem?"

"No, Rick, I don't have a problem at all."

Rick opened the door more, intrigued. He couldn't help but be intrigued by this woman as he barely knew anything about her. He knew she couldn't shop, didn't know how to handle money, and clearly didn't know how to dress for dirt. He eyed her up and down, his eyes trying to understand her mystery.

It helped him as well, seeing her. He'd had a rough couple of years, and the holidays hit home for him. His home was empty, without the thrills and spills of Christmas, so he welcomed her. It gave him something to look forward to.

"My dad said he won't be able to be back until next week," Rick said. "Christmas cards are kind of important on Christmas."

"Oh," Michonne answered, disappointed.

"Yeah, oh," Rick said.

"Well, it's Christmas Eve and...neither of us are with anyone and I was wondering if maybe you'd like to come over," Michonne asked him. "I mean, you don't have to, but you've been so nice to me so far. You don't seem like you're having the best day. Maybe we could help each other with that."

Rick's face lit up into the brightest smile. Her unexpected gesture caught him off guard. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. I'm sorry, for my behavior. I'm - I've been terrible to you when you've only been nice to me. I don't know when I started to be like this."

"Change is in all of us, Michonne. It's never too late," Rick told her. His words once again hitting her deeper than she expected.

:

Once they got inside of Michonne's home, she spent the next few minutes apologizing for how it looked. Rick's steady eyes surveyed everything and it hit him immediately, who she was.

"Michonne?" Rick asked.

"Yes?"

"How long have you been rich?"

Michonne stuttered, nearly falling over. How had he figured it out so fast, she wondered. She turned to face him, deciding that being rich wasn't some shameful, scarlet letter. For some reason, she trusted Rick.

"I've been wealthy since I was about ten," Michonne admitted. "My dad worked his way up one of the biggest companies in the world to become a top executive there and soon, he will own the company. I didn't want anyone to know."

Rick just hummed. "I figured you must have a lot of money, because who doesn't know how to grocery shop?"

"Hey! I can shop…," Michonne trailed off.

"For fancy croissants," Rick teased.

"Exactly!" Michonne said, she found herself giggling. "Most people want money or a job after I tell them. Which one do you want?"

Rick simply shook his head. "Neither. I told you that it doesn't matter to me, what you have, what you can give," he insisted. "I want to understand who you are, beyond all of that. I'm glad we got that secret rich thing out of the way so that we can figure out who you are."

"What are you? My therapist?"

Rick laughed loudly. "No, but I'm willing to be your friend."

Michonne's heart fluttered. She didn't have those. Friends. She'd stopped getting close to people years ago, and instead settled for empty friendships that didn't really mean much. Those friendships, she figured, weren't anything to write home about. She wanted to try to open up, to let others in. She didn't want to continue being this version of herself anymore.

She'd try to be Rick's friend.

"I'm willing to be your friend too," she said.

"Good because it would've been awkward if you said no," Rick grinned, his smile was bright and heart stopping.

She stepped inside, and for the first time in a long time, she felt herself again.