Hey guys. First, I wanted to thank everyone for the incredibly kind and encouraging comments on chapter 2. They mean the world to me, seriously. Second, I definitely wasn't expecting this chapter to take as long as it did, I apologize. Michonne totally kicked my ass emotionally with her actions this chapter but it will be more than worth it in the long run.

Third, I'm incredibly excited to see how you guys react to this one. As always, enjoy!

Three

House burnt down, burnt down to the fucking ground

I don't even care now if I make it out - NAO - Make It Out Alive

Michonne could remember her first real kiss as clear as day. She'd been 13, wide-eyed and innocent in the eighth grade. She and Rodney Quinn had been making eyes at each other for months, smiling shyly at one another across crowded classes and trading Goldfish for Honey Buns every day at lunch. The more their peers swirled harmless rumors about their nonexistent relationship, the closer they got. But nothing ever seemed to come of it, not until one Saturday in April when they stumbled across each other in the mall. An hour later and she had Rodney pinned up against an abandoned kiosk, clumsily tonguing him down. He'd tasted like Orange Julius and the scrape of his metal braces caused her lips to hurt for days after. But it was nice, exciting even. So much so that the thought of that first kiss was the only thing to keep her out of teenage despair when his father moved the Quinn family to Baltimore at the end of the summer.

Rodney had been the inception, but Michonne had experienced more than a few first kisses in her life. Some had been God-awful. Uncoordinated, unpassionate, and completely unappealing. Others had been significantly more memorable. At 26, she met Mike Davis. A handsome lawyer with a beautiful wide smile and charm out the ass. It had taken nearly two months for them to have their first kiss, but when they finally did, she couldn't get enough. Mike's kisses had been enough to sustain her for a long time. But the longer they were together, the tougher things got. And the harder their life became, the more devastating their circumstances, the less magical their kisses got. Until they went away completely.

She hadn't been kissed in years. Two years, actually, since she'd felt a real touch of intimacy outside of what she regularly gave to herself with her fingers or her vibrator. The longer she stayed sober, the more she thought of her future. Usually, she imagined a quiet life. With her days spent working in the bakery and her nights spent joining in on Maggie and Glenn's game nights, seeing her parents over dinner, or curled up with a good book. Mostly, she hoped she'd grow into the loneliness and learn to live in it comfortably without despairing too much. She imagined herself content. Not bursting with happiness or filled with all-consuming love. But content. It would be a huge step up from where she was now. It was enough. She was sure it would be enough.

But that surety faded a bit when she closed her front door, effectively cutting her off from Rick Grimes. Body shaking, it was all she could to stumble from her position by the door to the couch in her living room. Her entire body felt like it had been touched by a livewire. Her brain buzzed, her heart raced, and her thoughts scattered. The kiss had been amazing. Rick had been the perfect combination of dominant and gentle. His hands strayed from her hips to her face, never going too far. Never groping her or pushing. And the spark she felt. God. it was nearly enough to set her on fire. Which was exactly why she had to get away from him.

She'd been trying to convince herself that the only reason she joined him at the baseball game was to appease him enough to get him to leave her alone. But that hadn't been true at all. She'd gone because she was curious. There was a large part of her that wanted to learn more about him, that wanted to chase the lively feelings she experienced while she was with him. But what she wanted didn't matter, it couldn't. Curiosity was dangerous. She'd thoroughly enjoyed her time with Rick that day. She had felt freer and more unrestrained than she had in a long time. And it was dangerous for someone else to make her feel that way.

Whatever it was she felt with Rick needed to be stamped out. There were only a few things she needed to focus on. Maintaining her sobriety, repairing her relationships with her friends and family, and making sure the bakery stayed successful. Anything that fell outside of that had no place on her radar. Even if those things did come with grabbable curls, hypnotizing blue eyes, and a swagger that made her knees weak.

In the back of her mind though, she felt doubtful. She knew that she'd called their outing a "date" without him prompting her to. She also knew that he'd shown a serious interested in her. And as standoffish as she'd been with him, she hadn't done anything to truly discourage him. She'd been rebuffing advances from overzealous men for over half of her life. Telling a man all about himself to make him leave her alone had never been an issue. She hadn't given Rick nearly as hard of a time, though. And what half-hearted pushback she did give him, he took in stride, somehow sensing that she was more interested than she let on.

She hated herself for it but it felt good to be respectfully pursued. Especially by a man like Rick. But as much as she liked it. As much as she almost desperately wanted to entertain his pursuit of her, she needed to find the strength to keep him at arm's length. She was terrified of what might happen if she didn't.

Monday morning, Michonne distracted herself with work. She focused most of her attention on the ornate edible flower arrangement that would descend one side of a four-tiered wedding cake for a set of very enthusiastic brides-to-be. After finishing her first task, she worked on some very delicate spun sugar roses that would be placed on a large retirement cake. The rest of her day went as such. Her employees, somehow sensing that she wasn't in much of a mood to talk, left her to her work in the kitchen while they handled everything else. Michonne hardly noticed as they shuffled around her, talking, laughing, making use of the kitchen. She felt there, but not present.

She worked studiously to keep her mind blank and free from thoughts of Rick, or Mike, or Andre, or the four big gulps of whiskey sitting on her decorative shelf at home. Around 5 p.m. her phone alarm went off, signaling the end of her workday and serving as her reminder to get on the road to make it to the meeting in Madison in time. She moved sluggishly through the back end of the bakery, ridding herself of her apron and washing her hands. Before she could bid a proper goodbye to her staff, Maggie Rhee, her longtime friend and business manager, dragged her back into the break room by her arm.

Maggie didn't say a word, looking at her with an excited expectancy. Michonne rolled her eyes.

"What, Maggie?"

"What?" The brunette replied. "You're asking me questions? You who had some fine ass man in cowboy boots show up in the bakery yesterday askin' after you? I'm the one who should be askin' questions."

"So ask," Michonne said simply.

"Are you dating again? Is Rick your new man? Where did y'all meet."

Michonne counted off the answers on her fingers one by one. "No, hell no, and at a meeting."

"A meeting like...a meeting, meeting?"

"Yes, Maggie. One of those meeting."

Her friend was flummoxed, her pink lips opened and closed a few times without letting a sound out. "He wasn't here causin' trouble, was he?"

She shook her head, deciding to tell the truth. "No, he was here to ask me out. Which I said yes to even though I shouldn't have."

Maggie quirked a brow. "When are you goin' out with him?"

"I already did," Michonne answered. "We went to a Braves game yesterday."

"And it went well?"

Michonne nodded.

"But, for some reason, you can't see him again right?"

Another nod.

Maggie let out a long sigh. "You're doin' that thing again, Chonnie. That thing where you refuse to let yourself be happy."

"I am happy."

They both knew that wasn't true as they shared a wry chuckle at the blatant lie.

"Well, I'm as happy as I deserve to be," Michonne mumbled.

Maggie reached out and grabbed her, pulling her upper body towards her in a tight, loving hug. Warmth surged through Michonne.

"I don't care what you say, Chonnie," her friend voiced. "You deserve so much more than you think. You deserve everything. It doesn't matter how many mistakes you think you've made."

Michonne shook her head and grimaced as she heard her friend sigh in defeat. They'd been having the same conversation for years and it never seemed to lead anywhere. Maggie was a saint for putting up with her. For trying to constantly convince her that she was wasn't as loathsome as she thought she was. Michonne almost never believed her, but it was appreciated nonetheless.

"Those mistakes are all that matters, Maggie." She paused, then let out a sigh of her own. "I love you. And I appreciate you. But I really don't want to talk about this right now. You need to get home to your husband and I need to go to my meeting."

Maggie nodded in defeat as they pulled away from one another. Michonne had to close her own eyes at the sight of Maggie's big green ones rimmed red with tears.

"And you can forget about, Rick," she said, tightening her purse around her arm. "He won't be coming around anymore."

Before heading to Madison, she made a pit stop at home, washing up a bit before changing into a pair of dark wash distressed jeans and a flowy black tank top. Refusing to let herself think too much about the purpose of her abrupt wardrobe change, she started her hour-long drive, letting the top-40 power hits drown out her worries.

By the time she got there, the seats in the basement were already half full. A few semi-familiar faces and some that she didn't recognize from the previous week sat in their uncomfortable chairs, waiting quietly for Hershel to begin. She took a quick peek around the room, noticing that Rick wasn't there. Briefly, she wondered if he had decided not to come. The thought sent a ping of disappointment through her that made her dig her fingernails into the denim hole in her thigh and into her skin in punishment.

She sat quietly for a couple more minutes, watching out of the corner of her eye as more people entered the space. Each time, the ping came back, and each time she punished herself for it. She figured by the end of the meeting her leg would be scratched raw. At five 'til seven, Hershel limped his way towards the podium, not starting the meeting yet, just gathering his things. Michonne took one more glance towards the door, her heart nearly stopping when she saw him walk into the room.

The soft clack of his dusty cowboy boots drew even more attention to his slightly bow-legged gait. He looked towards her, flashing her a small smile. A quiet gasp fell from her mouth as she turned around abruptly, embarrassed that she'd been caught staring.

"Were you lookin' for me?" Rick asked quietly as he approached the seat next to her, reaching down to move the purse she'd sat there. When he didn't move to hand it to her, Michonne reached over and snatched it out of her hands in a shamefully forceful move.

"Of course not," she answered. "I was actually hoping no one else was going to come through the door so we could finally get the meeting started."

He saw right through her. "Sure."

They sat quietly for a beat, before Rick spoke up again, "You kno-"

He was cut off by a quiet "Shhh" from Michonne as Hershel cleared his throat at the front of the room. She had no guesses as to what the man next to her wanted to say, probably something flirty or charming. She was glad she cut him off before he could get it out.

Neither Rick nor Michonne stood up to talk during the initial calls for speakers. She wasn't sure why he'd decided to opt out, but she knew she wasn't ready yet. As ready as she was to kick her addiction, she was significantly less enthusiastic when it came to talking about her issues in front of a room full of strangers - and the man she'd stupidly kissed the evening before.

Michonne sat next to him, one eye on Hershel as he spoke about the importance of believing in greater powers during recovery, and one eye on the denim clad thigh Rick had pressed up against her. It was warm and heavy. And the scent of his light, musky cologne had her wanting to press her face into his neck and breathe him in deeper.

Then her nails were back to scratching, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make her remember the real reason she was there.

Towards the end, she cursed herself for not getting up and moving as soon as Rick sat down next to her. For loving the feel of his body so close to hers. For her own mind as it wandered back to the kiss they experienced on her tiny front porch.

As soon as Hershel announced the end of the meeting, she bolted. Refusing to look Rick in the face she grabbed her purse and power walked to the parking lot. But he was right behind her, she could hear his boots against the hard tar ground, hear the jingling of the keys in his pocket.

"Did I do somethin' wrong?" He asked from a respectable distance as she unlocked her car door with her keychain remote. Rick didn't back down when she said nothing. "Michonne?"

The sigh she let out was weary. "What, Rick?"

"Can you turn around and look at me, please?"

She faced him, not saying anything but looking at him expectantly.

"Thank you," he continued gruffly. "Have I done somethin' wrong? Somethin' to make you uncomfortable?"

Michonne's gaze softened. She didn't want him to think that her behavior and avoidance had been his fault. It was hers. Everything about this situation was her fault. "No, you didn't do anything. I just...What happened last night can't happen again. I can't do this."

"You can't do what? We haven't done anything."

"The...The baseball games and the kissing and the flirting. I can't do it," Michonne's voice caught in her throat. Her lash line became wet with tears. "It's all just too much. I don't know why I entertained that. It was a bad idea. Stupid. So stupid of me."

"Hey, hey," Rick said soothingly, moving closer to her but making sure to give her space. "You're not stupid. It was me. It was all me. I moved too fast and fucked it up."

Her shoulders were heavy, as they dropped down. Michonne had to lean against her car to keep from collapsing onto the ground. She shook her head back and forth, not looking Rick in the eyes. "It's not you. Like I said, you didn't do anything wrong…" She looked towards the darkening sky. "I'm not a good person, Rick. I'm a mess. Just about every damn thing in my life is a fucking mess. I don't have time to date you or be your fuckbuddy or give you whatever it is that you want from me."

"I don't want anything from you, Michonne," she almost keeled over at how sincere he sounded. "I mean, yeah, I'm interested. Of course I am, you're smart and successful and so damn gorgeous. I just felt drawn to ya for some reason. I wanted to get to know you, that's all."

"I may be all of those things, Rick. But I'm one thing above everything else. And you know what that is because it's what you are too."

His voice was heartbreakingly emphatic when he spoke again. "But that ain't all we are. It can't be. And it don't mean we can't be happy either."

"No, it doesn't mean that," Michonne replied. "I just don't think I'm meant for that kind of happiness anymore. The kind you're searching for."

"Why do you say that?"

She sighed, working hard to make sure those tears didn't fall. "I had it before. That kind of happiness and I don't think it's possible to have it again."

God had she been happy. The disgusting, sickening kind of happiness that people imagine the characters in their favorite rom-com experience after the credits roll. She'd had the perfect man, the perfect child, the perfect home, and the perfect job. Now, she barely had her own self most days.

Rick took another step closer to her, matching her position as he leaned on her car alongside her. "There ain't a limit on the amount of happiness you can feel, Michonne."

"I used to think that too, but I was wrong," she looked up at him, brown eyes wide and glassy. "Yesterday, at the baseball game you said you had a son. Where is he now?"

Rick was a little confused at the sudden change of subject. "He's at home with my ex-wife. Probably eatin' dinner as we speak."

"So, he doesn't live with you then?"

Even in the dusky light, she could see Rick's jaw clenched tightly. "No."

"No," Michonne shook her head. "So how often do you see him? I can't imagine his mama is too happy to send him off to his drunk daddy all the time."

Her comment was crass and harsh. Rick didn't exactly sneer at her, and his expression wasn't necessarily unkind, but Michonne knew she was pushing his buttons.

"I don't have to explain my role as a father to you."

"No, you don't. I'm just trying to prove a point."

"Which is?"

Michonne gestured to the church behind him. "You're here for your boy, right? Getting sober to try to be a good man for him again? So he can be proud of you? So you can actually be there?"

He nodded. "Yeah, that's why I'm here."

"That's noble, Rick. It's a good reason. One of the best probably. It's one I can relate to. But I'm not getting sober to get custody of my boy or make sure I'm front and center at all his school plays. Because those things aren't possible for me anymore. My son is dead, and I've been shitting all over his memory for years. Getting right, getting sober, rediscovering just a fraction of what I use to be is the only way for me to make up for that."

She could tell he was shocked at her admission. So was she. Michonne could also see the transformation behind his blue eyes as he went from pissed off to concerned to wanting to comfort her. But she didn't want to be comforted, she wanted him to understand that she couldn't give him what he wanted. What both of them wanted.

"My life and my time aren't mine to give, Rick," she told him earnestly. "They belong to a ghost."

Rick licked his lips then dug his teeth into the one on the bottom. Michonne could tell that he wanted to reach out to her but both of them knew she wouldn't allow it. "I ain't even goin' to pretend to understand what you're goin' through, the thangs you must be feelin'. I can't imagine and my heart hurts for you because of it. But I don't think this is what your boy would want. He wouldn't want his mama unhappy."

"I'm not planning on being unhappy. I just can't be happy with you, or any other man for that matter."

He didn't answer her right away. Instead, choosing to keep his unrelenting gaze on her. She wasn't sure if he was searching for something or just trying to wrap his head around what she'd said. The disappointment was clear on his face when he acknowledged her again.

"Ok," he said nodding. "I understand. If you don't want me in your life right now, I won't bother you anymore. You have my word. I've got no interest in trying to convince you to want somethin' you don't."

Michonne felt to urge to bring up the fact that it wasn't at all about wanting or not wanting. Were she following her desires, they'd be halfway back to Atlanta, headed straight for her bed. Her refusal to entertain him had nothing to do with want and everything to do with her perceived needs. Like most of her other urges, she fought to ignore it.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "But I don't want things to be awkward between us either. Hopefully, we're both still going to be attending meetings here and I don't want us to be distracted from our purpose by drama."

"There ain't goin' to be any drama on my end." Rick's voice was soft. "Like I said, I won't bother you anymore."

Michonne couldn't bring herself to say anything else. Nothing felt right. Instead of offering more platitudes or drawing things out further, she finally opened her car door and slid inside. Forcing herself not to think any more about Rick she peeled off quickly, but when she looked in her rearview mirror he was still standing there. His face fading from her view more and more the longer he watched her drive away from him.