A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful response to this story. Your reviews, as usual, are giving me life. Here's chapter 2.

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The daylight had long since faded away, and the station had taken on an eerie quiet as the evening settled in around them. The room was lit only by the reception area and, despite maintaining their distance with silence, they both played out their respective boredom within the small area where the lamp light reached.

Rick had perched himself on the check in counter, swinging his feet above the floor as he flipped through the latest sports news on his phone. Michonne, explaining she wanted to make sure she had a full battery on her phone for the chance to drive home that she was still clinging to, was perusing a week-old newspaper she had found on the desk, and rolling herself in the desk chair, back and forth across the tiny carpeted space.

The sound of tree branches cracking and groaning under the weight of the ice that was growing thicker by the hour provided an occasional interruption to the complete silence that had overtaken them. The wind had picked up as well, gusting like a freight train into the double glass doors, causing them to shake and shudder in the jamb.

Rick stopped his absent-minded scrolling and strode over to them, sliding down a large bolt from the top of the frame and locking them in place. Then he made his way over to the thermostat to adjust for the dropping temperature in the old building. He had just unlocked the little plastic box that housed it, when all of a sudden there was a loud whoosh sound, as the life drained out of the HVAC system, and the little lamp that had been keeping them company flickered, and sputtered, and gave up the ghost.

"You've got to be kidding me," Michonne said, from her spot curled up in the rolling desk chair. He turned in her direction and watched her stretch out her legs in front of her before reaching for the light and flicking the switch on and off just to be sure. "We're going to freeze."

"Don't be dramatic," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, as if just the idea had dropped the temperature already.

"They can't expect you to stay here all night with no power. Just drive me home and let's be done with this."

Rick glanced again at the storm raging outside, then back at the dark desk. "The phone still work?" he asked. He waited as she lifted the receiver and held it to her ear, nodding in affirmation. "I gotta stay then. I'm the only one on duty and with the power going out, who knows what could pop up. 'Sides, if we were gonna chance it, that moment has passed." He pointed to the view of the parking lot, barely visible now that the outdoor lights had gone out. The snow had drifted, scooped up by the strong fingers of the wind and dropped back down in little banks accumulating in front of the doors and windows. There was no cavalry coming, he realized. They were settling in for a long night.

…

It was going to be an excruciatingly long night, Michonne realized. She nearly groaned at the realization that all hope had been lost and it was time to just accept her fate and find some quiet corner to curl up in and go to sleep. She'd spent plenty of nights in Rick's proximity, she surely wouldn't die from one more. He might though, she thought, watching him tap his finger tips on the butt of his gun as he continued to pace. She tossed him her best unimpressed look and walked back over to the desk where she had left her shoes and blazer. She grabbed her jacket, hooking her heels on her fingers and her purse over her shoulder.

"So where are we sleeping?" she asked.

Rick raised an eyebrow at her and she felt a warm flush fill her cheeks.

"I mean where am I sleeping? And where are you sleeping? Separately."

Rick did a sweep of the room with his eyes, his brow furrowing, and it occurred to her he hadn't thought that through yet.

"I'll just take the floor over there," she sighed. She gestured with her chin to a corner of the room behind Deputy Espinosa's desk. It somehow felt more appropriate taking up behind one of the female officer's desks.

"We have sleeping bags, actually," he said from behind her as she turned to walk away. She looked over her shoulder at him, urging him on with her eyes. For a brief moment she thought maybe he was just taunting her, and he was planning on letting her sleep on the hard floor with the knowledge of some hidden comfort stowed away somewhere in the building. The thought quickly fled, though. He was a lot of things, but he wasn't cruel, and even in his bullheadedness he would find it hard not to be chivalrous.

She had always found that to be an interesting quirk of his. The night she'd broken it off between them, when they had had an all out screaming match in the middle of his living room, he had still followed her out to her car and held the door open for her while she cussed him out. She thought about that moment a lot.

"Give me a minute," he said, taking off down the hallway to the annex that housed the locker rooms and storage areas.

…

He should let her sleep on the cold floor and shiver all night, he thought, as he dragged a step ladder out of a closet and used it to reach the very top shelf in the station's gun cage. They had emergency gear stashed up there that hadn't been touched in years. None of the guys thought it was worth keeping in the trunk of their car, since there wasn't a one of them that could remember having an occasion to use it, so it sat collecting dust with the extra trash bags and paper towels that stocked the break room. There were blankets, and flashlights, and a couple of sub-zero rated sleeping bags that he had always wondered how a police department in Georgia had acquired. He stuffed a bunch of supplies under his arms, kicking the ladder away and closing the door with his foot, before heading to the lockers.

He set the stuff down on the floor and crossed the room to the locker with his name on it, pulling out a gym bag he kept on site. He unzipped it and pulled out a King County Sheriff's Department sweatshirt and an old Atlanta Braves t-shirt. Tossing the new additions on the pile, he crossed to the cubbies in the shower area of the room, gathering as many towels as he could carry. Loading his arms up with all of his provisions, he headed back to Michonne.

When he returned, she had her blazer laid out over her bare knees as she sat in Rosita's chair, rubbing her hands over her arms.

"Here," he said, tossing her the sweatshirt. He didn't wait to see if she caught it, instead he began stacking the folded towels into two piles, leaving the last two to wrap around them, forming a sort of makeshift, scratchy as hell, pillow case. Then he grabbed his t-shirt and wrapped it around the one he made for her. He remembered the silk pillowcases she had on her bed for her hair, and he figured the rough terry cloth wouldn't do at all. The soft cotton had to be a little better.

When he turned back around, she had removed her blouse, which was now laying across Rosita's desk, and pulled his sweatshirt over a cotton camisole that he could see peeking out from underneath. It was two sizes too big for her, and paired with a dark grey pencil skirt it looked absolutely ridiculous, but also somehow incredibly sexy. Memories of her slipping into one of his t-shirts for a late night bathroom trip began to play in his head, along with the recollection of the round two that those moments usually led to.

"Thank you," she said, interrupting his thoughts as she came over to select a sleeping bag and blanket, as well as one of the flashlights he had added to the pile.

"You're welcome. Here." He handed her the pillow he had fashioned, and her eyes darted between it and the one he had made for himself, before a shy smile ghosted across her lips as she turned away.

He watched her spread the sleeping bag out on the floor and cover it with the red and yellow, plaid safety blanket he had found. When she had settled in, curled on her left side the way she always slept, he retreated to the reception area and got to work making his own sleeping area on the floor behind the desk where the station phone was.

…

It was only 8:30pm, far earlier than her usual time to turn in, and Michonne had had three cups of coffee that afternoon. She lay there, tossing and turning, but at the very least warm, thanks to Rick's sweatshirt. She appreciated the gesture, but as cozy as it was, it smelled like him and it was causing her mind to wander. They hadn't been alone together since that fight, months ago, and knowing he was just across the dark room, probably sleeping flat on his back with his arm slung across his eyes, since the slightest bit of ambient light could keep him awake, had a whole slew of memories dancing in her head. She had always enjoyed watching him sleep, usually from underneath his firm embrace, as she rested on his chest- his hard, toned, chest. Besides the way his naked form begged to be fully inspected when she was in such close proximity, she also found the peaceful look on his face while he slept to be such a contrast from his usual intensity that it enchanted her. Of course spending the night with him, actually getting to the sleeping part, was where it all went wrong.

She pulled the blanket up around her neck and clenched her eyes shut, begging for sleep to pluck her from her misery and plop her into the morning when she could make her escape, but it was no use. She kicked it off again and shivered at the cold burst of air on her bare legs. Grabbing the flashlight he had given her, she straightened her skirt and stepped onto the cold tile, intending to make her way to the bathroom to empty her bladder. When she stood up from behind the desk, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she spotted Rick still awake, silhouetted in the dim light, staring out the window. He turned at the sound of her gasp and she could just make out his curious expression in the moonlight that was shining in.

"I have to pee," she announced, heading in the direction of the public, unisex toilet outside of the interrogation room that she usually tried her best to avoid when she had to be there.

Rick flicked on his own flashlight, that he'd been flipping around in his hand, and moved to follow her. She stopped short, looking him up and down and inquiring with her eyes as to what exactly he thought he was doing.

"I don't need help, thanks," she said smartly, folding her arms across her chest.

"Be nice," he said. "I'll take you to the one out back. It's a lot cleaner."

She contemplated turning down his offer on principle, before she remembered all of the suspects in handcuffs she had seen utilize the facilities she was headed to, and she nodded her head.

She followed Rick down a set of winding hallways she had never ventured down before, until they got to a locker room labeled "Ladies" and she let out a relieved breath. Knowing there were only two female cops in all of King County, she was at least ensured a clean bathroom for the night.

Rick held the door open for her and she offered him a sincere smile in thanks, as she pushed past him into the locker room.

…

"Shit," Rick muttered under his breath, his stomach sinking like a stone. He leaned against the wall, tossing the picture of her pretty smile around in his head while he waited for her to finish.

The truth was this was exactly what he had been fearing when he thought of having to spend the entire night in Michonne's presence. It wasn't the arguing or the general displeasure that was always written all over her face whenever she was in his company. It was the possibility that she would do something to make him forget his newfound hatred and remind him of when he used to be able to make her smile and giggle and other stuff...like call out his name while she surrendered herself to his affections. He had to remind himself that it was all a show, though. Based on the way she reacted when word got out about their little weekend thing, none of that was ever really just for him.

She emerged from the dark locker room a few moments later, and he took off down the hall, silently, while she hurried to stay in the lighted path he was making with his flashlight. When they got back to the big open room, instead of slinking off to the corner she had made for herself, far away from where he was, she followed him through the swinging half-door and into the square area behind the reception desk where he had laid out his own sleeping bag.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked abruptly.

The question surprised him and he swung around to look her in the eye, scoffing out loud. He tried to remember a time when he hadn't been nice to her, and came up short. Except maybe earlier that evening when he had called her car stupid, or smiled at the thought of her relationship with Mike fizzling out, other than that though, he was a saint compared to her. It was Michonne who had ended what they had going on. All he had done was do his best to accept it. Accepting it for him required avoiding her like the plague, and being ready and willing to trade a few petty insults when they were forced to be together, but in all fairness, she had been the one to put this deep freeze over all of their interactions.

"I'm actually a nice guy," he reminded her, dropping into the rolling desk chair and crossing his arms. "You used to enjoy my company."

"Maybe I still would if you hadn't gone bragging to Shane about your little conquest from the county attorney's office."

"This again?" he spat. "You know damn well he figured it out when he stopped by my house that morning and saw you getting in your car."

Michonne stepped closer to him and drove her finger into his chest, her eyes narrowing. "For all he knew it could have been a one time thing, but somehow he found out we'd been sleeping together for months, and so did everyone else. Do you know how that makes me look, Rick?"

"Like a human being? Sorry I blew your cover. Besides how do you think it made me look when you went out of your way to deny it meant anything? Good enough to sleep with, but God forbid anybody get the wrong idea and think I'd be the type of guy you'd be involved with."

"It wasn't like that," she snapped. "We work together. It wouldn't be appropriate to-"

"To what? See each other with our clothes on?"

Michonne pulled her hand back from him and used it to massage her temple, her eyes closing in frustration. "Rick," she said, through clenched teeth.

"I wasn't bragging to Shane, alright?" Rick stood from the chair, forcing her to take a step backward, and she put her hands out to steady herself on the long reception desk behind her. "I know it was stupid.," he said. "Looking back, he was the last person I should have been talkin' to about it, but I didn't know what to do. I didn't tell him so I could boast about getting you into bed. I told him because I was looking for advice. I wanted more than just hooking up on the weekends, Michonne. I'd been out of the dating game for a long time, I thought maybe Shane...maybe he could tell me how to make something outta what we were doing."

Michonne's tight expression loosened, changing to something else altogether. She looked stunned, her eyes widened and her lips parted, as if his confession threatened to knock her off her feet. He blew out a short huff through his nose. Was he supposed to believe she had no idea he was in love with her? No clue that he wasn't asking her to stay the night with him because he liked sneaking out of her condo before her neighbor, who worked at the courthouse, caught sight of him. She'd have to be a fool to miss the way he looked at her when she laughed, or how he started texting her in the middle of the week to see how her day was, even though they'd been standing next to each other a few hours prior, pretending to barely be acquainted. Michonne was not a fool.

"Rick...I…" She dropped her eyes to the floor, but even in the indirect light of the flashlight he had set on the desk, he could see them begin to glisten.

"Don't, Michonne," he said, moving away from her, but he felt her fingers wrap around his wrist before he could escape her pity.

"You had just gotten a divorce," she said. "I just assumed I was the rebound."

"I told you how that all went down with Lori," he said. "The mourning period had been over for awhile."

She nodded and released him, but he didn't move. There was something flickering in her expression that he couldn't quite identify. Sadness? Regret? The need for him to explain it?

"Look," he continued, praying he was reading the situation right for once, "it started out as just sex. That first night, neither of us expected it, but after the months kept going by, and it became a regular thing, I just...I started missing you on the weekends when we didn't end up together, started wishing the nights could start earlier, that I could touch you when we were all standing around in the same crowd at happy hour, instead of having to wait until no one was looking."

"You never said anything…"

"I know," he said. "I've never been good at saying the right thing. That's why I was talking to Shane in the first place. But, I've also never known you not to get what you want, Michonne. I figured if you wanted more, I would have known. When Shane caught us, I hoped you would want to just drop the whole charade, but you were so pissed that your secret was out. I got the hint. I just wanted a shot at convincing you to give me a chance."

Rick started to fidget as the moments ticked by without a response. Her eyes were darting around his face, studying him while they re-hashed the entire sordid end to their short-lived affair.

"I would have," she said finally. "-Given you a chance."

Her voice was small. None of the disdain that usually coated her words was present, and he could feel his restraint waning. She was so close, and it had been so long since he had touched her silky smooth skin, or smelled her spicy perfume. If Abe and the rest of their mutual friends thought they were tired of this feud, he was ready to collapse from exhaustion.

Michonne didn't move, seemingly frozen in the moment that had just overtaken them, and he stepped closer. He knew he was taking a chance touching her in this dark room with half the night left to go. She was liable to pop him in the jaw, or worse, break his heart again, but something told him she wouldn't.