A/N: Hello, Dear Readers. Wow, thank you all so much for the amazing response to my first chappie. I appreciate the love and support. Your questions will be answered in time, but for now, please enjoy the Richonne reunion.

Shit, Michonne thought. Her heart rate hastened as she heard Rick's footfalls drawing nearer to the door. When he came into view, she felt as if she was frozen in place. He looked great. His hair was longer than she had ever seen it; his tidy curls nestled just below his nape. His beard was neatly trimmed with sprinkles of grey throughout. He had aged well, she mused. His eyes were as piercing and clear as the first day she saw them, though a hint of sadness settled behind the blue, causing them to appear darker than she remembered. They grew wide with surprise when he noticed her standing there.

Shit, thought Rick when his gaze fell on the woman standing in the doorway of his childhood home. Save for her hair being longer, she looked exactly the same as when he saw her last, almost five years ago. She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. A small smile graced her lips as she watched him approach.

"I'll give y'all a moment," said Jeff, as he nodded to Michonne, turned, and then walked by his brother, placing a hand to his shoulder as he passed.

"Hi, Rick," she managed to say gently.

"Michonne," he replied. "Hey."

He stopped in front of her, and then reached out his arms to draw her into an amicable hug. She smelled of jasmine, and her body felt different, but the same, as she pressed herself softly against him.

"Hey," she repeated before they drew apart, somewhat awkwardly. He smelled good; different to what she remembered. He had filled out nicely; his body was much more muscular, and his grasp was firm.

"Wow," he said, as he stepped back and took in her appearance. "You look great."

She smiled at him a little shyly, before saying, "Thanks. So do you."

"What're you doin' here?" he asked, as he scratched his beard. "It's been, what? Five or six years?"

His voice was deeper than she recalled; a little rough around the edges, but still appealing. His southern accent seemed thicker, too.

"Almost five," she offered with a nod of her head. "Look, I'm really sorry for showing up like this, but I was just trying to find a way to get in contact with you because I had a question."

"Did you wanna come in?" he asked, as he shifted to the side and gestured into the doorway. "We're just havin' dinner with my folks, but there's enough food to go around."

"No, thank you," she offered with a courteous smile. "That's nice of you, but I've got my son waiting for me in the car."

"Bring him on in, too," said Rick a little hopefully. "We've got plenty."

"Thank you, Rick," she said. "But we really couldn't impose."

"Alright," he replied with a small smile. "So, you wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yeah, I just needed to know if you had any idea what happened to the box of postcards –"

"That we buried out back of your grandparents' house?"

"Yes," she offered. "I went to dig them up just before, but nothing was there. I figured you were the only other person who knew, so –"

"Yeah, well, I, uh, I actually dug them up," he said a little hesitantly, as he ran his fingers through his greying hair. "I saw the for-sale sign go up next door, and I wasn't sure if your uncle would sell the place before you got the chance to get them. Or if you even wanted 'em. I'm sorry, Michonne. I know it wasn't my place to do that."

"Oh, wow," she said, slightly surprised. "No, no; that's fine. It's a relief. Thank you. It was thoughtful of you. You really didn't have to."

"Yeah, I mean, I didn't want the house to be sold or anything like that before you'd be able to get them. It was buggin' me thinkin' about someone else buyin' the property and possibly ruining them."

"Rick, really, it's okay. I'm glad you did that. It's so kind of you. Thank you."

"Ah, it's nothin'. Don't mention it. I have them at my place," he offered. "Safe and sound. I didn't read them or anything like that. Just holdin' on to 'em until I could find a forwarding address for you. Honestly, I didn't think I'd be seein' you here again. What're you doin' back here?"

She nodded her head and took a deep breath, before saying, "Well, the house was actually left to me, and not my uncle. Some potential buyers will be comin' through to inspect. I'm here to get it ready."

"Oh, so it's your house now?" he queried, surprised by this information. He had thought the house would be left in her uncle's name, seeing as she did not return to King County, even though he thought she might.

"Yep," she offered, feeling a little awkward.

"And you're sellin' it?" he asked, as he leaned his right shoulder against the doorjamb.

"Yeah," she replied. "It's just sitting there, going to waste. Someone should enjoy it the way my family has all these years."

Rick nodded his head in understanding, before saying, "Hey, I wanted to say I'm sorry about Mrs. Johnson," he said in earnest. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the funeral back then. She was a great woman. I really missed her and Mr. Johnson after they left. They were good people. I'm sorry you lost them both."

"Thank you, Rick," she said with a sad smile. "I appreciate you saying that. You know, I wish my son, André would have gotten the chance to know them."

Silence pervaded as Michonne wrapped her arms over her front in a self-soothing way.

"You've got a son, too?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah," said Rick with a smile. "Carl. He's fourteen. How old's your little boy?"

"He's six," Michonne said, slightly more cheerfully.

"That's a great age. Their personality really starts to come through then," he said.

"Oh, I believe that," she replied. "He's a quiet, thoughtful kid. Happy to tag along with me; no fuss at all. My little Peanut is a gem."

"He's a lot like you, then?" he asked, remembering what she was like before; wondering what she was like now.

"Maybe," she answered, warmly.

"I remember you being quiet and thoughtful," he added. "I assume that much hasn't changed."

She offered him a shy smile and said, "I think you're getting it mixed up; you were always quiet and thoughtful."

"Maybe," he replied.

A moment of silence passed between them as they glanced at one another.

"So, the cards," said Rick. "Did you want me to bring them by tomorrow? I figure you'd be tired from traveling. Did you get here today?"

"Yeah, today."

"And you're stayin' next door?"

"Yes, back in my old room, which feels so weird," she admitted with a chuckle.

"Alright, then. So, you want me to drop them off to you tomorrow?" he asked, with a glint of hopefulness behind the blues of his eyes.

"Uh, yeah, yes," she said. "That'd be great. Here, let me give you my number, so you can let me know when you'll be coming by."

"Yeah, of course; that's a good idea," said Rick as he took out his phone an handed it to Michonne; their fingers brushed against one another lightly. Rick silently wished it was longer; Michonne swore she felt a spark. She recovered quickly and then typed her number into his phone; she then saved it to his contacts before handing it back.

"So, call or text," she offered. "Either way is fine, and we'll arrange a time."

"How long are you staying?" he asked suddenly, thinking he would like to spend some time with her during her visit.

"Just until I sort out all of the details with the real estate agent," she offered. "Meet with prospective buyers. Decide if it's worth having an auction. A week, or two."

Rick nodded his head, before tilting it to the side. That was a mannerism of his that had endured, she noted. He then kicked the toe of his well-worn boot against the wooden porch slats before saying, "That's good you'll be stayin' a little while."

"Yeah," she replied, as she linked her fingers together. "It will be."

…..

It was just after eight-thirty in the morning when Rick arrived at the Johnson's house. He had a box tucked under his left arm, which contained the postcards, as he knocked on the door. After a moment, Michonne opened it and greeted him. She was dressed casually in a tank top and yoga pants, with flip flops on her feet.

"Hi," she greeted sweetly.

"Mornin'," replied Rick as he held out the box to her.

"Thank you," she said as she took it from him.

"I replaced the box," he explained. "The other one was a little damaged."

"That's sweet of you," said Michonne as she held it to her chest. "Thanks. Can I get you some coffee? There's only instant, but it's hot."

"Thanks," said Rick. "Instant's fine."

"Great," Michonne replied. "Please come in."

Rick accepted her invitation and followed her inside. They made their way toward the kitchen. When they got there, Michonne placed the box on the counter, and then checked to see if the water was still hot enough; it was.

She offered Rick a seat at the kitchen table. He glanced around the room. The last time he was inside the house was after Mr. Johnson had passed away. It still appeared as he remembered, save for some dust that had collected. He suddenly felt quite nostalgic as Michonne busied herself.

"Sugar?"

"Yes, thank you. Place still looks the same," he offered, as he watched Michonne spoon coffee granules into a cup, and then pour in the hot water.

"Yeah," she replied. "I've got a lot of cleaning to do."

"You hire some help? A spot opened up maybe two years ago. They do all sorts of domestic cleanin' at a fair price."

"No way," said Michonne with a laugh, as she turned and brought the beverage to him. "My Gramma would've had a fit if someone else came through and cleaned her house. There's no way I would hire someone and have her haunting me while I'm here."

They each shared a laugh before Rick said, "Good point."

He cupped the coffee mug in his hands and grinned.

"Sasha's out of commission," Michonne said as she took a seat at the table. "So, it looks like it will be just me and my Peanut."

"If you need a hand, I'm happy to bring Carl by to help," he said.

"Oh, Rick, I couldn't ask you to do that."

"It's no trouble at all," he supplied. "We could help you clear out anything you didn't want or need. Get to work in the yard. Wash curtains. Do some dusting. Anything you needed."

"That's kind of you, Rick, but you don't need to."

"I know," he replied. "But I want to. Your grandparents were always good to me and my family. I want to help out to honor them."

Michonne considered what he was saying for a moment.

"Besides," he added. "Your Gramma always put me to work around the place when I was a kid, so I don't think she'd mind if you put me to work now."

He gave Michonne a charming smile and she felt her stomach flutter. He was still beautiful. He was still kind. She still found herself gravitating towards him, even after so many years had passed. If she was going to be spending time in King County, some of it might as well be with him.

"Okay," she said, beaming. "I'd love your help."

A/N: And so, the next part of their journey begins. Thanks to those who are joining them, and me, as I tell this story.