A/N: Thank you all for your enthusiastic and hilarious responses to this story. This has been so much fun to write. Thanks again to thematsaidwelcome for the prompt. Here is the final chapter :)

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Rick's hands were on her before she had a chance to see it coming, grasping her by her hips and pulling her in. He leaned in closer, obviously propelled by the fact that she hadn't decked him, and her heart began to beat wildly in her chest, pumping a warm flood of familiarity through her veins. His scent, the way his lips parted just slightly when he was thinking, the way he invaded all of her senses at once; she remembered it all.

"We still can," he said. "Give this a chance." His mouth was dangerously close to her ear and all of the pent up anger that existed between them ignited like gasoline on a flame.

She felt herself reach for him, clutching the fabric of his shirt and pulling him toward her mouth, and he wasted no time accepting the invitation. His lips covered hers in a series of short pecks and long, drawn out kisses that stole her breath straight from her lungs. He kissed her with all of the intensity that she remembered, but this time she felt something else, a tenderness that she had been oblivious to before- when she was sure she had him pegged. His expression was both lustful and longing and she was swept up into it like the powdery snow being tossed around on the wind outside. She rushed to undo the buttons on his uniform shirt, while he worked his way down her neck, leaving a trail of warm and wet on her skin that made her shiver.

When she had pushed his top shirt off of his shoulders, he used the hold he had on her waist to lift her onto the desk behind her.

"No one's coming, right?" she whispered, her hands finding his hair and holding on tight enough that there would be no question as to what she wanted.

"No one's coming." He pushed the tight skirt she was wearing up her thighs, setting her legs free to open for him, then stepped between them, closing the remaining distance between their bodies. His fingers traveled around to find the zipper at the back, loosening it enough to fit his hands inside. "I've missed this," he muttered against her cheek, while his hands kneaded the flesh of her bottom. "It's been torture watching you with Mike, knowing you should be mine."

"I've missed this too." It was an understatement. Her heart and body had been aching for him since the minute she'd told him goodbye, even throughout whatever she was doing with Mike; passing the time she supposed. She'd told herself she hated Rick, but the line between hate and love is thin, and it had all but disappeared now that she was pressed against him like this again. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "for the things I said." His tongue on her neck was making it hard to focus, but she needed to say it. "Rick...wait."

He pulled away, his lips swollen and his hair mussed. Her belly fluttered at the sight, and all that she knew was to come.

"It wasn't you," she said. "I was trying to protect myself. I didn't know how you felt."

"I'm sorry too," he said. "I should have told you instead of Shane." He tugged at the hem of the sweatshirt he had lent her and pulled it up over her head, tossing it onto the floor. "Or done a better job at showing you." Rick dropped his mouth to her chest, kissing around the thin cotton tank top that remained between them, and pulling it down just enough to expose her lacy bra.

Her fingers found his hair again, gently leading him lower. She was done holding back; fate or something like it had put them together and she wasn't going to deny herself anymore. Rick had started out as a guilty pleasure- the best sex of her life that came with every string imaginable. A recently divorced cop with a group of playboy friends, all of whom she also happened to work with. It was a mess on paper, but just like he'd confessed had happened to him, the line began to blur. He'd convince her to stay the night, and she'd find herself watching him sleep. He'd follow her lead and keep her at arm's length at work, but all the while she'd be watching him strut around in his uniform, wishing she could find a dark corner or closet and remove it slowly and get him back inside of her. She found herself worrying about him when she knew he was on patrol, or heard about a case he'd worked that had put him in danger. Rick was a sight to see with his shirt off, but eventually, her eyes began to drift frequently to the scar on his chest, reminding her that not only was this man full of baggage, but becoming involved with him meant caring for someone who had a dangerous job. It was all too much when she added it up, and she had let herself settle into the belief that they were both better off with things as they were. She wasn't sure how she was going to navigate this now that she knew what it meant, but she knew where she wanted to start.

"Show me now," she said, increasing the pressure on the top of his head. He looked up at her with that same look that had burst into her mind unexpectedly earlier in the evening, daring her to banish it, but this time she reveled in it.

…

Rick did not need to be told twice, dropping to his knees and pulling her hips to the edge of the desk in one swift motion. Being invited back to this place, with everything on the table, nothing hidden between them? This was something he had spent a lot of time fantasizing about and he was going to savor every drop. He slipped his shoulder under her knee, pressing his lips to the inside of her thigh, and readied himself to remind her exactly why she kept coming back in the first place.

…

How did she ever leave this? she thought, as Rick danced around her with his tongue, bringing back a flood of good memories that shoved aside the few bad ones that she had been clinging to. He had her trapped in place, as if demanding an answer to that very question and her legs were shaking as she tried desperately not to suffocate him with her enthusiasm. She was going to have to send an anonymous bouquet of flowers to Jessie the receptionist, she thought, when she accidentally knocked over a cup full of pens and pencils, spilling them all over her desk in a blind attempt to hold on to something.

…

Michonne's eyes were clenched shut when he finally stood to look at her. She was leaned back against the partition window looking as though she'd forgotten every insult ever hurled at him and he couldn't help but smile.

"This is why you're so cocky," she said through her own grin. He was glad she still hadn't found the strength to look at him because he was sure his expression would surely have proved her point. He thoroughly enjoyed seeing her in this state and, knowing her reputation as a tough-as-nails prosecutor who always had her shit together, he couldn't help but be proud of himself for putting that bewildered look on her face. Cockiness aside though, being back with Michonne was something he had made himself accept was never going to happen, and his excitement at being wrong refused to hide from his face.

"We both know it's more than just that," he said, stepping toward her. He ripped his t-shirt over his head and descended on her again, settling his face in the crook of her neck in a way he knew was sure to rouse her for the rest of what he had planned. Michonne sat up, wrapping her legs around his waist, just as he'd intended, and she reached between them, tugging on his belt. He was already pressing against the inside of his jeans, and her fingers in such close proximity to the bulge in his pants had him threatening to burst through the zipper.

When she released him and took him in her hand, he felt his forehead break out into a light sweat, despite the chilly air. He bucked against her palm like a teenager, unable to control himself and bit down on her shoulder to keep from crying out.

"I need to be inside you," he said, after soothing his teeth marks with wet, frantic kisses. "We can figure the rest out later."

She nodded, releasing him to lean back on her elbows. The sight of her spilling out of the bra he had left in disarray, her lower lip tucked between her teeth, cut through any remaining self control he had. She was going to let him have her right there, and he was going to take her, forgetting all about the bed he'd laid out just a few feet away. He pushed his pants down his hips, only as far as he needed to, then hooked his arm under her thigh, holding her in place as he pushed into her waiting warmth.

Michonne let out a cry that served as the sweetest welcome home he'd ever heard, and he arched his back to get closer to her, his tongue reaching for her skin. He grabbed for her hand, lacing their fingers, and in doing so he accidentally knocked over a stack of manilla folders beside her. He watched helplessly out of the corner of his eye as they slid onto the floor, spilling their contents onto the floor. Jessie was gonna be pissed, he thought briefly, but he'd come up with a story later. Right now he was focused on getting as deep as he could into Michonne's familiar walls.

…

Michonne heard picture frames toppling over and knick knacks jostle across the counter every time Rick thrust into her, but she was too occupied to care. His face was buried in her cleavage and she was clutching his hair so tightly, she was sure she was hurting him. He was hitting just the right spot, proving his exceptional memory when it came to her body, and though she knew exactly what was coming, she was still practically knocked over by the wave of pleasure that overtook her. If Rick wasn't holding her up, she might have just melted right onto the floor. She released his hair, her hands falling to his shoulders and her nails digging into him as she shook. She barely had time to descend when she felt him follow her, collapsing forward with a few very ungentlemanlike curse words.

"Fuck...I love you, Michonne," he growled as his hips continued to pump into her, despite being spent.

Her head was still dizzy, but she heard him clearly and the words kept her heart pounding in her chest long after the physical effects of their tryst had dialed down. He held her tight around her waist, propping them up with one hand as he panted into her neck. He was making no apologies or excuses for what he'd just confessed, just resting comfortably in her embrace.

…

She didn't reply, but Rick didn't care. He should have said it a long time ago, and so he just let himself enjoy being back in her arms. They could start from scratch, or from wherever it was this left them, tomorrow. She'd promised to give it a chance and this time he was going to do whatever it took to keep her.

He could feel her bare skin begin to pebble as he ran his fingers up and down her leg, and he was reminded that he'd left her with very little clothes on in this very cold room. Pulling away carefully, still sensitive and his legs just a little wobbly, he pulled his pants up over his hips and tucked himself back into his boxer briefs. He wrapped his arms around her, stealing one more kiss as he helped her down from the desk, then gathered his sweatshirt from the floor.

He watched her straighten her bra and tank, then pull the sweatshirt on. Her skirt was a wrinkled mess as she tried to smooth it down with her palms and twist it around her hips until it was straight. She stepped toward him and turned around for his help with the zipper.

He did as she asked, then pulled her against him, caressing her hip and speaking into her ear. "I might be able to find some shorts out back for you to sleep in," he said. "I woulda looked for some before, but I didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

She laughed sweetly and tipped her head back against his shoulder. "Have I earned them now?" she asked, covering his hand with hers and squeezing his fingers.

"I think you have."

"Good. Take me with you so I can use the bathroom."

…

After a trip to the locker rooms, where Rick had indeed found her a pair of gym shorts that he promised belonged to neither Dixon, nor Shane, and after combining their sleeping areas into one behind the reception desk, Michonne felt herself drifting off, cocooned in the warmth of the fleece blanket and Rick's arms. He was snoring lightly, his chin tucked onto the top of her head, and her mind flooded with all of the times they had fallen asleep like this before. Sated and comfortable; happy. She thought back to how those moments had crumbled into the sheer acrimony that had existed between them just a few hours ago. If she was honest with herself, she knew that feeling any which way about a man so strongly meant more than what she had been willing to admit. Being with Mike was meant to erase Rick from her mind, but her anger only grew at him, despite having no recurring catalyst. She contemplated what that meant, as his words sang in her ear. He said he loved her, and she supposed if she didn't hate him anymore then the only thing left strong enough to maintain this passionate energy between them was love. Somehow she'd fallen in love with him and now not only had she not said it back, but she still hadn't done much to prove to him that being with him was never something she would have been ashamed of. He'd said they would figure it out later, but as far as she was concerned, they'd wasted enough time. She wouldn't let another day go by without letting him know she felt the same.

…

The ice coating the outdoors had tripled the strength of the morning sun, catching it and bouncing it full force off of every angle it found. The double glass doors did nothing to shield them, and neither did the dusty, broken mini-blinds hanging in the small rectangle window of the reception area.

Michonne woke slowly, her eyes fluttering against the glare, before opening all the way. She stretched her arms above her head like a cat, and she felt Rick's arm tighten around her waist, trapping her against him, then loosen again as he began to stir awake.

"Good morning," she said, when his eyes finally opened. Instead of answering, he pulled her on top of him in one swift motion, and lifted his head off of the pillow to kiss her.

"Hi," he finally said, his hands creeping down her back to settle on her behind.

"Hi."

"Is the power back on?" He glanced around the room looking for something electronic to answer his question, but Michonne shook her head. She remembered leaving the lamp on purposely so that they would be alerted if it came back. "Better stay under here a little longer then," he said. "Keep warm."

His hands were on the move again, and she would have loved to find out their destination, but she knew they didn't have the same luxury as the quiet night had afforded them. "I have to use the ladies room," she said. "And we should really clean up the desk."

They both looked over her shoulder at the mess they had made, and Rick groaned. "Alright," he agreed. "You remember where it is? You want me to walk you?"

"No, I can make it," she smiled. She reluctantly pulled herself away from his warm arms and slipped out of the sleeping bag, dancing a little on her toes at the icy cold air and her full bladder. "I'll be right back."

His grin was so content and happy, that she couldn't help leaning in to kiss it one more time before hurrying off down the hall.

…

Rick watched Michonne stop at her purse for the toothbrush she always kept there, and he smiled at her scout-like preparedness, thanking fate that it had failed her just one time and left her stranded here with him. When she was out of sight, he crawled on his knees over to the desk and began gathering the files that had fallen onto the floor, stacking them neatly and trying his best to organize them the way he thought they should go. He had moved on to the pens and pencils, when he heard a whiney siren sounding off in the parking lot, followed by the flicker of red and white lights strobing in through the windows. He glanced in the direction Michonne had taken off in, then quickly searched for his jeans on the floor, barely getting them zipped before he heard the double click of the lock on the side entrance, followed by jingling keys and laughter.

"Honey, I'm home!" he heard his partner's voice call, just before he emerged from around the corner with Abe in tow.

Rick looked at his watch. It was barely 6 a.m., he wasn't expecting to be relieved of his shift for another hour. "You're early," he said, taking a moment to clear his throat when he heard how guilty he sounded. "I mean, how're the roads?"

"Roads are shit, but duty calls, right?" Daryl scanned the room while Abe stayed strangely quiet, his barrel chest vibrating with the laughter he was holding in.

"Aren't you supposed to be next door?" Rick asked him.

"I got a little time to kill," Abe answered. "Figured I'd come check on you first. Musta got pretty cold in here with the heat off..."

"Where's Anthony?" Daryl asked, taking a sip of the coffee he was holding. "You didn't lock her in a closet somewhere, did ya?"

"Course not," Rick said, careful not to give anything away. He wasn't going to make that mistake twice. "She's in the bathroom."

Daryl grunted a response, moving to set his things down on his own desk.

"Rick, the county offices are still closed," Michonne called to him from the hall. "Looks like I get another day off." She rounded the corner with her cellphone in hand, stopping short at the sight of their new arrivals. "Hi, guys."

Rick folded his arms across his chest, avoiding the stares of the two men as he stepped back toward the reception desk. "Daryl's here to relieve me," he said. "Not sure why Abe is here…"

"Hey, Michonne," Daryl said, giving no indication as to his thoughts on what he was seeing.

"Hey, Dixon. What's the situation out there?"

"Roads are still a mess. Power's out this side a town. Probably good down your way, though."

…

Michonne could see Rick edging his way out of the conversation, a slight pink hue traveling up his neck and settling on his cheeks. This was her chance, she thought. She took a deep breath and crossed the room to where he stood, slipping her hand casually into his, while the other two men watched with wide eyes.

"Maybe you can drive me home," she said, turning toward Rick and looking up with a confident smile. "If I still have power, you can shower there, stick around for awhile."

Rick's lips parted in surprise before turning upwards into a large grin. "Sure," he said. "Let me grab my stuff." He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, then took off down the hallway that she had just come from.

Abe and Daryl continued staring at her after Rick disappeared, and she set her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes in their direction. "Listen up," she said. "This is none of your business." She gestured to herself and the direction Rick had gone. "But, it's also not a secret. So tell whoever you want, just make sure you get the details right. We're not just messing around, and it's not just a fling. Got it?"

Both men nodded, silently, looking as though they'd just been ordered to the principal's office.

"Good. I'll see you guys around." She walked behind the counter again, gathering her personal items and finishing the job Rick had started, putting the desk back together. When he reappeared with his coat and gym bag over his shoulder, she met him at the door, lacing their fingers again. It wasn't easy looking confident wearing a man's clothes and a pair of black pumps, but she did her best, following him to the main exit.

"You ready?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Ready."

Rick nodded, pushing the door open and calling over his shoulder to his friends. "See you boys later. Don't call…"