Her little eyebrows furrowed in steady concentration, Judith looked down at a babbling Herschel Glenn, fondly called "Herschie" by all who had known and loved his father and grandfather. Frustrated by the wholly indifferent Herschie's ability to follow her instructions, she attempted, yet again, to feed him the imaginary contents of her doll's bottle. Not willing to yield to defeat, the singularly focused little girl held tightly to the ten-month old as he, long since tired of her antics, valiantly made a bid to wiggle away.

Michonne, riveted by the events transpiring before her eyes, leaned into Maggie, joining her in laughter, as the two friends shared running commentary on Judith's shenanigans.

"Judy-bear, please let Herschie up," Michonne called out, tipping her head towards Maggie, as both, from their seats on the cushioned wicker patio furniture in the Monroe house's backyard, watched the children play in the grass. Maggie and Herschie – with Enid and Jesus in tow – had arrived that morning. Everyone had pitched in, spending the better half of the morning helping Michonne put the finishing touches on Judith's cake, prepare the other food and drinks, as well as decorate the inside and backyard of the home.

A permanent grin took up residence on Michonne's lips, as she was wowed by the spectacular job her friends and family had done to make the day so meaningful. Guests had begun trickling in from the Hilltop, the Kingdom, the Sanctuary, as well as numerous people from the newer communities with which Alexandra was now allied.

Mirth and frivolity prevailed, filling the home and backyard, as well as those gathered, with a buoyant lightness of spirit. After the tragic events of the previous day, Michonne had implored everyone to keep the mood airy; there would be plenty of time to mourn later. Today, was for Judith.

Judith, an empathetic, just like her brother, seemed uniquely able to pick up on Michonne's state of mind. If Michonne was sad, Judith became sad too, wanting to cuddle, and unwilling to leave Michonne's side. Judith had been particularly clingy that morning, a clear indication that Michonne was giving off some sort of vibe the little girl interpreted as mournfulness. Michonne resolved to make sure Judith would not feel an ounce of sadness today.

Luckily, it turned out to be an unseasonably warm, late-autumn day. Wanting to take advantage of the brilliant sunshine, the party was mainly centered outside, on the patio and lawn of the fenced-in backyard.

Michonne, gazing in wonderment, took in the joyful decor, which only added to the charmed feeling of the festivities. The table to the right of the wicker couch, covered in a bright green tablecloth – Judith's favorite color – held an array of delicious food and drinks. The table was crowned by Judith's cake, now topped with strawberry preserves, and drizzles of a honey glaze that the little girl had insisted on sampling throughout the assembly process.

"'Ersee 'ungry," Judith insisted, her lips curled into a pout, frustrated by Herschie's complete lack of cooperation. "I feed 'im."

"Judith," Maggie said, rising from her seat next to Michonne and walking the few steps to where the children played in the grassy area of the enclosed backyard. "Why don't you help me feed Herschie? 'Member how I told you he has special food that only I can feed him? If you wanna come, you can sit with us on the couch while I feed 'im. Does that sound good?"

Judith looked up at her Aunt Maggie, curious as to what special food might be more enticing than the mysterious concoction held in her doll's bottle. Carefully considering her options, Judith opted to rise from her seat on the lawn, attempting to lift the baby with her. Catching the precocious toddler by her wrist, Maggie bent down and scooped up both children into her arms, eliciting squeals and giggles from the pair.

Watching the entire scene unfold from her perch on the patio, Michonne smiled broadly, as Maggie waddled back to the couch, the two squirming forms now tucked under each arm. Nearing Michonne, Maggie swung Judith around in her arm, and plopped her onto Michonne's lap.

"I'm goin' to change Herschie and bring him right back Judith," Maggie said, bending down to bump noses with Judith, and pull a funny face, causing the little girl to erupt in a fit of laughter. "That ok with you Judith?"

"Yeah!" Judith yelled, never one to feel constrained by her in-door voice.

Maggie walked past the other party goers milling around the patio, stopping for a quick hug from Rosita, before continuing into the house.

Michonne turned her attention to Judith, now sitting quietly in her lap, spinning the baby bottle in her hands. Judith reached over to grab her doll from where it had slipped between the cushions earlier. As she leaned over, she nearly slipped from Michonne's grasp, causing Michonne to tighten her grip, pulling the little girl back into her lap, and reaching to grab the doll herself, handing it back to Judith.

"Meesown?" Judith asked, craning her neck, her light brown eyes, speckled with grays and blues, looking up at Michonne. "Cake time?"

Michonne, grinning down at her adorable little lady, couldn't help but chuckle at Judith's remarkable ability to flit from topic to topic, seemingly making each as critical as the previous.

"Soon," she replied, winning a satisfied smile from Judith, who had, in the meantime, decided to move on to examining the intricacies of her doll's current outfit, by undressing her.

Michonne took a moment to revel in the sight of the many family members and friends who had come to Alexandria to celebrate Judith's birthday. A child's birthday was a momentous occasion in this new world, and one they all took very seriously. She was grateful for their presence.

Movement in her periphery caused Michonne swivel her head, her eyes landing on Jesus, who stood at the food table, next to Aaron, talking to Rosita and Eugene. Bits of their conversation wafted back to her. Looking at Aaron, a poignant smile crept onto her lips, remembering how the devastation of Eric's death had wrecked him, and how Jesus had helped heal his soul.

From what Michonne could hear, the conversation centered around how Eugene had been able to retrofit a few of the vehicles to run on the oil he had made from their harvested soybeans and sunflower seeds. Eugene was in his element, explaining everything in minute detail to people who didn't quite grasp his supposition, but were, nevertheless, kind enough to let him have his moment.

Michonne looked on as the eccentric man, who had been able to worm his way back into their good graces during the tail end of the war with the Savior, continued explaining the virtues and various uses for the oil. Eugene had also, inexplicably, burrowed his way into Rosita's heart, a baffling turn of events that, so many months later, was still a source of ongoing gossip and conjecture.

Michonne's gaze shifted to those scattered, in small groups, across the lawn. She spied Carol, in the right corner, near the fence, in close conversation with Jessie and Sam. Her eyes stayed on Carol, who would likely remain a curiosity to Michonne. They had never really had a close friendship, nothing like the one she had had from the onset with Maggie, nor the one she cultivated with Rosita, and certainly not like the one won through trust and mutual appreciation with sorely missed Sasha. Michonne and Carol's alliance was familial, but not... familiar.

Carol's actions at the commencement of their lives in Alexandria had always been a bone of contention for Michonne. Her particular brand of palace intrigue had ensnared Daryl and Rick, both susceptible to her unrivaled manipulation style. While Michonne and Carol had fought side by side many times since then, there would always be an air of unmistakable skepticism between them, which was something Michonne wasn't sure she could ever get beyond.

Michonne let her eyes slip from Carol and wander over to Jessie, standing rod-straight, her left around the shoulders of a sullen Sam, who's attention targeted the ubiquitous army men that seemed to always be in his hand. Michonne watched him, as Carol and Jessie chatted. Michonne's eyes fell upon Sam's missing hand, instantly filling her with sorrow and regret, causing her to pull Judith more tightly against her. She worked quickly to tamp down her emotions, not wanting anything to sully Judith's party.

Michonne's eyes drifted back to Jessie, taking in the blonde woman, clearly uncomfortable being at the party, but knowing it would have brought more scrutiny if she hadn't shown up at all. Michonne and Jessie's was an uneasy relationship, packed with overly effusive politeness and awkward silences.

They didn't hate or even dislike each other. Neither woman had ever given the other any reason to do so. Still, woman to woman, Michonne knew that it couldn't have been easy for Jessie to see Rick make concession after concession to ensure Michonne's place in their lives. She wasn't sure she would have been able to do the same. But, Michonne could not withstand any option that drove Carl and Judith away from her. Maybe it was a bit selfish. After all, she knew the life Jessie desired with Rick, preferably, didn't include her. But, a life without the Grimes in it, would have broken all of their hearts. Spencer was painfully aware of this and did what he did to make Michonne happy; Jessie agreed on the surface, but fought it every step of the way, not realizing until it was too late that her battle was a futile one.

The dynamics of their unusual arrangement had been tough on all four of them, but probably hardest on Jessie, the least willing to accept the circumstances. Like she had done for Spencer numerous times, Michonne tried repeatedly to assure Jessie that nothing untoward was happening between Rick and herself, to no avail. She even tried to spend less time with Carl and Judith, giving Jessie space to mother them herself. This failed miserably, causing frequent flare-ups between Rick and Carl. Rick and Michonne eventually decided, for the wellbeing of his children, they would make the unconventional agreement work.

Michonne sighed, not wanting to contemplate how the loss of Spencer might throw off their tenuous interplay. She knew Rick had been moving to some sort of decision regarding Jessie for some time now, independent of her commitment to Spencer. She didn't have to ask, she could just tell. The environment in that house was not healthy, as she had told him many, many times. She has watched him become morose, even as life for all of them had gotten better. She had worried, wanting to avoid a return to his dark space. She knew he would be no good to himself, and really, no good to anyone, if he didn't stay in the light. So, she helped him however she could, which she knew bothered Jessie, and Spencer, for that matter. But, Rick's welfare was too important for her not to try, especially for the sake of Carl and Judith.

Her eyes moving across the back fence ringing the lawn, Michonne paused to gaze up at the decorations, lights and flowers strung across the pillars spanning the patio and onto the lawn. Her eyes returned to the fence, travelling first to Carl and Enid, huddled on the ground with their backs against the fence.

She then moved over to Rick, standing in the opposite corner of the yard from Carol, Jessie, and Sam, in conference with Ezekiel and Morgan. The Kingdom's leader and his first post end-of-world friend had become frequent visitors to Alexandria, having built enduring friendships with not only Rick, but Michonne as well. Michonne caught the genuine smile on Rick's lips, the sunlight capturing him in minute detail, allowing her to see a lightness and rejuvenation that didn't seem to appear nearly as often as she would have liked. As she stared at him, it appeared that Rick sensed her presence, rotating slightly to his right, seemingly seeking her out. Their eyes connect, briefly, then both averted their gaze, as was their way when in the company of others.

Hearing the door behind her creak open, Michonne turned to take in Daryl, as he strode onto the patio, trailed by Dwight. Giving her shoulder a squeeze with his right hand, then taking a few seconds to also pat Judith's head, they breezed past her, making their way to Rick and Ezekiel. Spinning back around, Michonne looked on as Maggie appeared in the door frame, bouncing Herschie in her arms.

"Phew!" Maggie said, plopping down next to Michonne and Judith. "I will never understand how so much can come out of something so small!"

The two friends snickered, as Maggie raised her shirt in preparation to feed Herschie. The feeding process held Judith rapt, no longer contented singing made up songs, nor keeping company with her doll. Michonne looked on, thinking about Spencer and how he would miss such moments with their child. As Michonne's eyes began to mist, Maggie looked over at her, noting a dark cloud making its first appearance on this sunny day. Knowing Michonne would not want anything to mar this day, but wanting to give her some comfort.

"When I– When we lost Glenn, I couldn't imagine that a world could exist where he wasn't in it," Maggie said gently, reaching over to stroke Michonne's arm. "How could so much energy and love no longer exist in this world? I just couldn't imagine it. Especially, with having this one on the way."

Maggie looked down at her beautiful Herschie, sandy brown hair, with Glenn's eyes, her father's ears, and Beth's sunny disposition. She looked back to Michonne, capturing her friend's eyes with her own, knowing that she was best positioned to help and support her.

"Michonne, he was one of us," Maggie said, refusing to release Michonne from her gaze. "We all mourn. An' we'll all honor what he would've wanted for you, for your baby, for all of us. That's how we get through this."

Of course, Spencer told others about the baby.

He had been so excited, how could he have not? Michonne kept her face neutral, ensuring Maggie didn't observe the slip. It didn't matter anyway. Nothing stayed a secret for long between family members.

Nodding slowly, Michonne smiled, bending down to give Judith a loving kiss on the top of her head. Looking over, Herschie had fallen asleep, snoring quietly as his mother removed him from her breast, straightened herself up, and prepared to take him into the house for his nap. As Maggie got up, Michonne looked out onto the yard, catching Daryl's eye, as he walked back towards the patio.

"Hey," Daryl called out, gripping the arm of the couch as he gingerly lowered himself onto the couch, not wanting to jar or cause further harm to the injuries he sustained during the run. "You doin' ok?"

She nodded, knowing he would be the one exception she'd make about discussing Spencer on Judith's birthday.


Smiling at him, Michonne moved closer, crowding his space and knowingly making Daryl fidget.

He's so easy, she thought, chuckling to herself.

"Wasn't sure you'd make it," she said, turning to try to catch his eye, currently hidden under his unruly, stringy tresses. "You got pretty banged up. Are you sure you're ok?"

She realized how much she had missed him, as he was often away on recruiting trips, or at the Kingdom. She regularly wondered where her old friend had gone. It occurred to her that maybe it was she who had gone. Daryl had alluded as much in his round-about way. When they had reunited after the fall of the prison, the dynamic between them had changed. The effortlessness of their relationship seemed to have dissipated. The air… was different.

They rarely lingered in the pithy banter or physical joking like they once had. It genuinely made her sad. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it felt as if the closer she and Rick got, the wider the chasm between she and Daryl. If it hadn't been for Spencer and his surprising friendship with Daryl, she wonders if Daryl would have stayed in Alexandria after the defeat of the Saviors, instead of joining Carol in the Kingdom or Maggie at the Hilltop.

Snorting, he rolled his eyes, feeling her scrutiny. He was fine. Physical pain was never really a problem for him. The gnawing ache served as a persistent reminder that he was still here. Still alive, even when it sometimes felt like the effort wasn't worth it.

"Just glad to see lil asskicker so happy," he said, finally shaking his head and exposing his eyes to her examination. "And seein' you. Ain't nothin' better'n time spent with you."

Michonne grinned at his teasing. It felt good when he was this way. It was reminiscent of their closeness after Merle was killed and she and Daryl had committed to finding the Governor, and making him pay for all he had taken from them. She harkened back to those long days and nights in the cramped car, or huddled in a tent. Silent when they wanted, talking if they needed, sharing stories neither had shared with others.

She recalled sitting there, quiet tears etching her face, as Daryl told her about his violent childhood. Frighten tales of broken ribs, shattering beatings, and not enough, never enough, to eat. She finally understood what Merle, the only person who ever tried to protect a young Daryl, had meant to him. She marveled at Daryl's strength of character, and his dedication to the family he found in this life, which he never had the good luck to experience in the old world.

She knew Daryl was strong, but not unbreakable. Healing from the loss of his last connection to the old world was particularly devastating to him. Admittedly, Merle had been ass, but he had also been the only memory of kindness from Daryl's childhood.

Like Daryl, Spencer knew the pitfalls of a brother that outwardly fell short of the glory, but, in their own way, brought a sense of calm and peace to their younger sibling. Daryl and Spencer's initial introduction hadn't exactly been auspicious. After all, Daryl had been threatening to take off Aidan's head at the time. It wasn't until Daryl had been captured by the Saviors, after the death of Glenn and Abraham, when Spencer, in Daryl's eyes, had proven himself worthy.

Spencer had risked his life to get Daryl out of their clutches, an act of grace, which had sealed their bond. Theirs was more than an unusual partnership. It would often make Michonne giggle when she came upon them, huddled on the back patio, talking about nothing, or everything. Knowing both men so well, their comradery tickled her to no end.

Michonne had watched as Spencer helped Daryl through his torment over Glenn's death. After his guilt in the role he played in Maggie's pain nearly drove him over the edge. After Maggie's grief and anger towards him became so unbearably toxic that it pierced Daryl's soul. After all of that, Michonne considered Spencer's relationship with Daryl to be as unusual, but just as perfect, as her own. They had discovered they were actually kindred spirits. Daryl didn't have to burrow away and hide himself from him, like he did with others. His scars had been exposed, but he was accepted regardless.

"When are you leaving again?" Michonne asked, hoping his answer would be further into the future than she suspected.

"Don't know yet, need this fuckin' thing to heal quick or I'll be no good to no one," he said, running his right hand over his ribcage.

"Why are you always running away?" Michonne ask, blurting out a question that had been in her mind for some time. "Makes it seem like you don't love us."

"Nah, that ain't it," he rasped, checking to see if she was serious. She seemed to be joking, but there was an undercurrent of deliberate purpose in her question. "Can't make an outdoor cat an indoor cat, I s'pose."

Michonne pondered his response, there was so much to unpack. This would be a discussion for a later date. She pivoted towards him, watching him shift in his seat as he ran his hand through his hair, uncovering his entire face as the hair fell back around the sides of his face, framing it for her to view.

"He wanted you to know that he 'loved ya without knowin' how.' That mean anythin' to ya?"

She looked at him, wanting to speak, but knowing her voice would crack and signal her melancholy to the sleepy Judith resting in her arms. So, she settled for letting the tears run down her face, as she gave Daryl a simple nod.

"Ya good?" Daryl asked, warily searching Michonne's face for a response her lips might not yield.

"Yeah, I'm good," she replied, giving him a tear-stained, but nevertheless, dazzling smile.

In an effort to distract herself and stop her tears, her sights found Carol, puzzlingly still in conversation with Jessie and Sam.


"You should consider coming to the Kingdom for a while," Carol said, averting her eyes from Sam's missing hand, while engaging his mother in conversation. "Maybe a break is just what the doctor ordered."

Carol paused for a moment, giving Jessie a chance to respond. She had worked diligently to rectify her role not just in the tragedy that had befallen Jessie and Sam, but how her actions had impacted the lives of those she held most dear. The guilt she felt at her behavior towards this troubled mother and son still consumed her. It would probably not leave any time soon, so she focused her energy on retribution, any means to ease her sins and repay her debts.

If she could go back, maybe things would have been different. If she had taken Jessie under wing, and helped her the way the group had helped her after Ed… Yes, that bastard Pete would still be dead. She'd never have a clear enough heart to wish him back to life, but maybe Ron would be alive. Maybe Rick wouldn't have struggled so mightily. Maybe… maybe everyone would have forgiven her.

"I don't think this is the place for you and Sam right now," Carol continued. "You need to heal and move on, and so does Sam."

"Easier said than done," Jessie laughed derisively, recognizing that things between her and Rick would likely never go the way she had hoped. With the passing of Spencer, she was finally able to see this clearly.

"I can't just pick up and leave. This is all Sam's known since the beginning. He– He's been through enough."

"What are you getting out of this?" Carol asked, trying to change her approach to help the doleful woman come to her own realization that this thing with Rick, whatever this was, wasn't working. "It can't be a happy home."

"That's the understatement of the year," Jessie replied, struggling to keep her emotions at bay, but failing miserable.

She quickly removed her arm from Sam's shoulders, using her fingertips to dab at the tears threatening to roll past her lower eyelids. She nodded slowly, thinking of an alternative plan of action, anyway she could hold on to scraps linking her to Rick. It seemed to be all she did lately. Plotting how to keep a man she never really had. But, she couldn't stop herself from trying. After all, she loved him.

He had saved her from Pete. He had shown abundant kindness to Sam after the loss of his hand. He had opened the door of his home to her, offering to take the weight of choking burdens off her back. This should have been enough and she felt selfish for wanting more. Asking for more.

She'd also felt foolish for not recognizing the true nature of Rick's relationship with Michonne. They had seemed close from her first interactions with them. Exceptionally close, if she's being honest. She saw the looks; they had been hard to miss. She couldn't avoid seeing how Rick sought Michonne out as the first order of business every single time he entered a room. How he would look to her, then turn back to say 'Michonne thinks…' without Michonne having said a word. How his children sought Michonne out for comfort first, even though she was the one ostensibly caring for them.

But, Rick had invited her in, and so, her mind had jumped to the potential opportunity of Rick taking care of her, as he had promised. Realization had been dawning on her for some time, but she still hesitated to surrender to it.

"What do I do now?" Jessie questioned. "I'm not sure I can move out and still stay in Alexandria. I don't think I could take it."

Carol stared at her, a sliver of impatience momentarily flashing in her eyes. While nearly all of Alexandria's strongest had elected to join the war with the Saviors, Jessie had been sequestered, helping care for the ailing, and taking care of Sam. While she had proven herself useful, learning to how to shoot, and how to react in close-quarters combat, and was now capable enough to protect herself and Sam, she would never be a candidate for any role requiring significant time outside the gates.

While she was never going to be a warrior, like those in Rick's group, Jessie could have been stronger. She could have contributed more to the safety of the community. Carol put some of the blame for this on Rick's shoulders. Carol had bristled at Rick's approach, insisting there was no longer room for "damsels in distress," in this new world. While Carol had pushed Rick towards Jessie to serve her own purposes, she knew from the start she'd never be the partner Rick needed in this new world, adding to layers to her transgressions.

"I think you could have a good life in the Kingdom," Carol answered, taking a moment to consider the ramifications of bringing a relatively weak woman and her disturbed son into a community of warriors. "A decent life for Sam. That's what you want, right?"

"Yeah," Jessie replied, the deflation evident in her tone and demeanor. Jessie's shoulders slumped, as she pivoted slightly, catching Judith, snuggled into Michonne's lap, as she talked to Daryl.

"This might be exactly what Sam and I need," she said, conspicuously continuing to stare. She didn't want to give up on a life with Rick, but fighting a one-sided battle had taken its toll. Maybe it was time to raise the white flag.

Carol looked at her, measuring her commitment to moving on. Mollified by what she saw reflected back to her, Carol smiled down at Sam, his eyes upturned and latched to hers, and reached over to pat his head.

Making her way towards Michonne and Daryl, Carol called over her shoulder, "No time like the present, Jessie. We leave in the morning."


Michonne looked on as Carol marched across the lawn and towards the patio, stopping a few feet in front of her, just as Daryl began to carefully rise to his feet. He grimaced, but made no additional sounds, as a sharp intake of air sent shivers down his spine.

"Nice of you to grace us with your presence," Daryl needled, ignoring the ache in his left shoulder, and getting a rise out of Carol.

"Hey," she retorted, taking the bait, like she always did. "I've been waiting for you guys to stop yammering so I can catch up with this one." She gestured towards Michonne.

"Is that right?" he asked, adjusting his arm brace into a more comfortable position. "I see how y'all are. Need'a beer anyway."

The two women laughed awkwardly, watching Daryl as he limped over to the drinks table. Carol exhaled slowly, shifting her attention towards Michonne, now cuddling a dozing Judith against her chest.

"Looks like this one isn't going to make it to the cake," Carol said, smiling down at Judith as she let out a protracted yawn, using her tiny hand to cover her mouth, then resettling into Michonne's arms.

"Looks like it," Michonne replied, giving Carol a smile, as they both witnessed Judith slip into slumber.

Michonne looked up again, confused as to what had brought the older woman to her current position, in front of Michonne. Since their arrival in Alexandria, the two had not exactly been close. Michonne had voiced her opposition to Carol's duplicity, and Carol had seemingly worked tirelessly to extract Rick from Michonne's counsel, which had infuriated Michonne.

In the end, both consciously decided, without ever speaking, that they were family and would behave as such. But deep down, in the craters of her heart, Michonne had not fully forgiven Carol, nor relinquished her wariness. Carol's path back to the good graces of Rick and Daryl had been hard fought, and won, but her heart acutely felt the disquiet of Michonne's ire.

Her remorse over the impact her actions had had not only on the Andersons, but on Rick and Michonne's relationship, was something that periodically flared in her psyche. She regretted the role she placed in the dissonance that kept them apart for those months between the herd and the start of their subjugation to the Saviors. The time had likely long since passed to make amends, but she would try.

"Mind if I join you?" Carol asked, reaching down to stroke the soft, wispy curls covering Judith's head.

"Of course not," Michonne answered, gesturing for her to take a seat.

There they remained, on that couch, in each other's company, steeped in silent reflection.

"You didn't know me when this whole thing started," Carol began, nervously clearing her throat as she chose her words. "I was this tiny mouse, petrified of my own shadow. Fifteen years with a man who constantly tried to put you through walls will do that to you."

She chuckled scornfully, recalling the husband this cruel new world had kindly dispatched for her.

"When you showed up at the prison, I– I didn't really know what to think. You were this strong, resolute warrior that had Daryl and Rick intrigued in short order."

Michonne's face displayed a keen sense of recognition, as she caught onto what Carol was trying to say and where this initially baffling conversation was headed.

"I came to find a safe place Carol," Michonne interjected. "I had no idea nor intentions of displacing anyone. It was clear to me you already were a family."

"Yeah, I know that now," Carol said, looking down at her hands, restlessly twitching in her lap. "I don't know if I was jealous exactly. Maybe I was a little bit covetous. I'm sorry to say, but, I didn't like it when you went on runs or searched for the Governor with Daryl. And, I didn't like when Rick constantly sought you out for advice."

Michonne nodded, acknowledging this was not a surprise to her. She had always suspect Carol's demeanor hide a certain amount animus towards he, so had purposefully stayed out of her orbit.

"I can now admit I tried to sway Rick away from you," Carol continued. "When the hard decisions came his way, I wanted to make sure nothing distracted Rick from what I thought to be the right decision. I guess I saw you as a threat to that. I wish I could attribute more of a rationale to it than that, but it is what it is."

"I've never been a threat to you Carol," Michonne responded, this entire conversation beginning to zap her energy.

Carol nodded, stating, "I know this doesn't absolve me, but I wanted you to know how sorry for the pain I caused. It was never my conscious intent."

Michonne took a deep, cleansing breath, gently removing Judith's thumb from her mouth, while giving herself a chance to gather her thoughts. Carol's act of contrition had caught her off guard.

"I guess I just didn't understand what you were trying to do," Michonne began, soothing Judith as she shifted in her arms. "I thought we all wanted the same thing, a safe place for all of us, and a place for Carl and Judith to thrive."

Shaking her head, Michonne added, "but, you fought me on this every step of the way. At first, I wasn't sure why. It seemed unimaginable that you would risk the possibilities of a life here for… for, what?"

Michonne paused a moment, overwhelmed by emotions she assumed she had long since released. How upset she was at Carol threw her. She wished she had chosen not to engage in this conversation, certainly on this day, of all days, but acknowledged the topic had likely been rattling around in Carol's mind for some time. At the end of the day, they were family. She would afford Carol this tender mercy.

"I was never quite sure why you seemed so hell-bent on making life here harder for us," Michonne said, stroking Judith's back as the little girl fell deeper into sleep. "Knowing what you did to Sam, how you scared him and fed into his anxieties, I– I just don't understand how a mother could do that," she said, shaking her head as the bewildering events of their early days in Alexandria played out in her mind.

Carol bowed her head, aware of how hard it was for a mother to conceive of another mother doing such damage to a child. She was humbled.

Michonne pulled her arm from under Judith's leg, extending her hand out to Carol, who immediately took it.

"If it's any consolation, I do forgive you," Michonne said, releasing the old hurt with those words.

"It means everything," Carol replied, lifting her eyes to meet Michonne's.

The two sat there for a few moments, letting the peaceful aura surrounding them sweep away the tension. As Judith began to stir, Michonne fixed her gaze on Carl, still huddled with Enid against the back fence. Looking from Carl, back to Judith, with Carol seated beside her, she couldn't help but smile at the battles she endured to get this family.


"You have a good day kid?" Michonne asked, looking over at Carl as he helped bring in the final decorations from the party back into the house.

"Yeah, today was a good day," he replied, grateful for all Michonne had done to make it such a wonderful day.

Looking over at this young man, she couldn't help but smile. The stubborn, empathetic, justice warrior, forever on the lookout for unfairness in this world. It had caused him trouble in the past, and had often caused a cauldron of worry to percolate within Michonne's heart. But, she could not deny how proud she was of Carl's solidarity with those weaker than him. As she watched Sam trail behind Carl, helping as much as he could despite his injured hand, Michonne's heart swelled, as she thought about the care Carl had taken to ensure Sam's recovery.

Judith had woken up for her cake, then spent the rest of the afternoon and evening running around like the social butterfly she aspired to be. As the late fall sun descended, the air cooled noticeably, driving the remaining party goers back into the house. Judith had begged to stay with Michonne, so Rick had carried the drowsy toddler upstairs and settled her into the guest room across the hall from Michonne's.

Maggie, Enid, and Herschie were staying with Rosita and Eugene, while the other visitors spread out to other homes in the community for the night, leaving clean-up duties to Michonne, the Grimes, Jessie, and Sam.

Michonne was in the backyard with Rick and Carl, pulling down decorations and storing them for later use. Sam tried to help, but letting go of the comfort the toys in his hand was an impossibility. So, he mostly flitted back and forth between his mother in the kitchen, and Carl in the backyard.


Jessie stayed inside, packing away the food and tidying up. It was awkward having all three of them in such close proximity. Spencer had played a neutralizing role. With him gone, the elephant in the room only grew larger. She was nervous and uncomfortable, trying to avoid looking through the window next to the stove, and onto the patio, where she could hear the animated chatter between the three of them.

Jessie could now admit she and Rick had started on shaky ground. Rallying her regrets, her thoughts circled back to Ron. Losing him had been the tragedy of her life. She had never been able to protect him from Pete's wrath in the old world, and wasn't prepared to do so in the new. Rick's offer of support had been a lifeline. One she desperately clung to, even when she discovered it couldn't fully keep her afloat.

The discovery of Spencer's relationship with Michonne had thrilled her, bringing hope that Rick would finally sever his bond with the beautiful warrior. Instead, it seemed to have been rekindled. When Carl had his fits about missing Michonne, Jessie knew that Rick would throw himself at her feet, begging for forgiveness for sins she never quite understood, and Rick refused to explain.

She swallowed the bitter, avarice pill when Rick told her his children would be spending more time with Michonne because Carl needed it to "add his healing." She hated the arrangement, feeling like the unwanted stepmother, having to look at the first wife being showered with adoration by the children she had tried to care for like they were her own.

She knew that Spencer had given in, quickly gulping the bile Rick's presence around Michonne caused him. She'd observe Spencer at gatherings, standing close the Michonne while she talked to Rick. He always looked pensive, but committed. After all, he had successfully ingratiated himself into Rick's family. Something, try as she might, she was never able to do. Sure, they were friendly and kind, particularly to Sam, but she often felt like an outsider. Michonne seemed to have shared the groups secrets with Spencer, allowing him to join in their repartee. But, Rick had kept her in the dark, never willing to fully reveal the details of what his group had gone through prior to their arrival in Alexandria.

Rick was a good man, and his protective stance around her had warmed her heart, at least, at the beginning. But, his later reticence to expose more of himself to her had stung her deeply.

As Sam stood by her side, drying the dishes with his one hand, while holding his army men in the crook of his arm, the three walked through the backdoor and into the kitchen. Jessie shut off the faucet, drying her hands on the dish towel resting on the counter, before swiveling to look at them, a false smile plastered on her face.

"That was quite a party," she exclaimed, forcing a breathy lightness into her voice far removed from what she actually felt.

"It sure was," Rick replied, keeping his eyes trained on his boots.

"Birthday parties are my jams," Michonne countered, hoping some lightheartedness would suppress the tension threatening to siphon the air from the room.

Clearing her throat, Jessie fixed her gaze on Michonne and said, "I didn't get a chance to say this yesterday, but I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Jessie, that means a lot," Michonne stated, wanting to make sure the wistful woman and her son knew she truly meant it.

Nodding quickly, Jessie returned her attention to Rick.

"We're going to get going," the blonde said. "Will I see you later?"

She watched as Rick raised his head from viewing his boots, to squeezed Michonne's shoulder, then Carl's, as he moved to stand directly in front of Jessie.

"I'll come with you," Rick replied, finally making eye contact with Jessie.

Jessie could see that he was tired. She knew this would be it, but, still held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, there would be something left to salvage. So, she nodded her goodbyes, pulled Sam towards her, and turned to walk towards the front door, hearing the echo of Rick's boots striking the hardwood floors, as he followed her.


In nearly complete silence, Rick, Jessie, and Sam walked home. Rick's insistence that Carl stay behind made it obvious to Jessie what was to come. Sam, oblivious to the anxiety swirling around his mother and Rick, skipped up the stairs to the porch, waiting there for someone to open the door. Jessie and Rick trailed slowly behind, allied in a solemn death march. A solitary light shone from the kitchen, as they made their way into the eerily still house.

"Sam," Jessie said, pulling her son in for a hug and kiss on the top of his head. "Why don't you go to bed? I'll come up in a bit and tuck you in."

Nodding, Sam made his way through the dining room and kitchen. Both Rick and Jessie stood frozen in place, until they heard the soft patter of Sam's shoes making their way up the stairs.

"I need a drink," Rick said, making his way towards the kitchen. "You want one too?"

"Yeah, that's fine," she replied, taking a seat at the dining room table, folding her hands in her lap, as she became mesmerized by the faint scratches etched into the surface of the table.

Rick walked over to the cabinets, opening the one next to the stove, pulling out two tumblers, and placing them on the counter. He walked over to the pantry, reaching up to grab the bottle of spirits Eugene had concocted from the potatoes they had harvested that fall. He poured the liquid into both glasses, then picked up both glasses in one hand, while holding the bottle in his other, figuring one drink might not be enough for the conversation they were about to have. He walked over to the table and took a seat across from Jessie.

Pushing a glass towards her, he looked on as she brought it to her lips and took a long sip, grimacing at the taste, but not stopping.

"I think you know I love you Rick," she began, keeping her eyes on the nearly empty glass she had set down in front of her.

Although he had suspected it, Rick was, nevertheless, startled by her proclamation. He had known she wanted more from him when she moved in, but had insisted they keep things platonic at the start, stating that they both needed to focus on helping their sons heal. After he discovered Michonne had begun a relationship with Spencer, he rationalized that it made sense to try to make something work between he and Jessie. After all, if they were "playing house" as she liked to say, they might as well make it official. He soon realized forcing a relationship that his heart wasn't fully committed to had been a foolish idea.

She had been good to him, notably, during their war with Negan, when he had momentarily thrown caution to the wind and sought comfort in her arms. He regretted using her in such a way. It had only muddled the boundaries of their relationship and given Jessie false hope. She had been devastated when he had ended their physical relationship several months prior. It had made her cold and difficult, characteristics she hadn't displayed before, at least, not to him.

Deep in thought, Rick kept his eyes focused on the glass in front of him, trying not to absorb her long intake of air and labored exhales.

"Rick, look at me," she insisted, slamming her glass firmly onto the table, the vibrations reaching his side.

With his own protracted exhalation, he looked up from his glass. The hurt and disillusionment in her eyes was clear. Yet another person he had disappointed.

You are not a good man, he thought to himself. Not even close.

He dared another glance in her direction, then back to his glass.

"Did you ever love me, even just a little bit?" she whispered, her tears at the threshold.

She held her breath as the seconds ticked on. One… two… three… Still nothing, as she allowed her tears to breach her eyes and cascade down her cheeks.

"I promised to take care of you," he said finally, eyes firmly on a black speck floating in his drink. "I have every intention of doin' that. Nothin's changed."

But that was the thing. Everything had changed. After Pete, she just assumed Rick would be her second chance. The possibility that he might not be had never occurred to her. She wasn't a fool. She knew that there was… something there between Rick and Michonne. He had always insisted that it wasn't romantic, but it was something. Whatever it was, she seemed to have gotten in the way of it.

"Do you love her?" she asked, quietly letting the question hang in the air, cloaking the room in a heavy malaise.

His head shot up, but his eyes refocused beyond her, landing in the blank wall space above her head.

"And if you say 'who', I swear to God Rick," she scoffed.

He tucked his chin into his chest and murmured, "I don't know."

She snorted sarcastically. She didn't believe him.

"I've been standing here, in limbo, waiting for you to stop loving her and love me."

He jumped a little in his seat, staring directly at her. She refused to acknowledge the look of surprise on this face.

"I love her, but not in the way that you think," he said, suddenly realizing that sharing his entire truth might not be worth laying more hurt at Jessie's doorstep. "She's family."

But, she was more than family. He could pinpoint the exact moment when he knew for certain that his feelings for Michonne were… different. It was during those brutal hours they had spent, on their knees, prostrate to Negan. He had looked on as Michonne pleaded for Carl's life; for all their lives. From that moment on, he knew he loved her. Everything that came afterwards, was simply his heart struggling to survive the pain of her loving another.

"So, what have I been to you?" Jessie asked, eyes long since drained of the tears she had so desperately tried to hold back.

"What do you want me to say?" he said, staring at her, bewildered. "I promised that I would take care of you, and I will. Just not in the way you want. I'm sorry about that, but I can't change it."

Smiling ruefully, she replied, "I get it. You're a man of honor."

There was no hint of irony. She meant every word.

"I guess I just need more than that," she continued. "Maybe, I'm finally done being part of this little existential crisis you've got going. You make me feel like I'm the punishment for your wrongdoing. Maybe you don't think that you deserve happiness, but you do, an– and so do I."

Maybe she had imagined it all. She thought about how he still wore his wedding ring and the fact that she had never been brave enough to ask him why. All these little things that true partners should know about each other, she didn't know about him. She was basically living with a stranger.

"Do you remember when I asked you to tell me there's more?" she asked, shifting in her chair. "You said there was. What changed?"

"Nothin's changed," he replied, his energy waning as he tried to power through this conversation.

"But, everything did. You moved me in here, then decided you didn't want me anymore?"

"It wasn't that. I– I just wasn't myself when I walked through those gates. I never should have done half the things I did."

"Including pursuing me?"

He nodded, guilt and regret raining down on him.

"I shouldn't have Jessie. I was a cop for Chrissakes. I knew the perils of injectin' myself into a volatile domestic situation. I should've handled Pete better. I was trained and I knew better. If I had, maybe Reg would still be alive."

"So, you let me in because you felt bad about killing my bastard husband?" she asked. "What about Michonne?"

"What about her?" he asked, confused by her sudden shift in topics.

She had decided that she now wanted to know everything.

"Why do you leave Carl and Judith with her every single time you leave these gates?"

Rick filtered through words that would hurt Jessie the least. He found nothing.

"She leads this community too. She knows exactly what to do if anything were to happen."

He looked at her, trying to read her reactions to his rationale. She gave him little to work with, sitting there stone-faced.

Sighing, he continued, "she's been out there. She knows what's out there. She knows how to keep them safe. I didn't want to put that burden on you. "

"Yeah, you didn't, did you." she spat, shamed by Rick's lack of trust.

They sat there staring at each other, waiting for the other to end this stalemate and just put a stake in this thing once and for all. He felt horrible for the pain he had cause, but, he couldn't give his heart to her when it was no longer his to give.

"This doesn't work," he finally said. "I'm sorry I didn't say it a long time ago."

She gave him a sad smile, an odd sense of relief radiating through her. This hurt, and she had no idea what lay ahead for her and her son. But, as an overwhelming sense of calm ran through her, it flashed in her mind that she would be ok.

"Sam and I will be going to the Kingdom to visit Carol for a while," she said, grabbing his attention once again. "Maybe a long while. I want a fresh start. Sam needs that, and so do I."

He nodded, acquiescing to give her his full attention. She rose from the table, circling it to get to his side. He looked at her, recognizing his role in the sadness that spanned across her face. She gave him a teary smile, causing him to feel worse. She leaned down, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Goodbye Rick," she said, straightening up and walking through the kitchen, disappearing from his view as she turned the corner towards the staircase.


A light knock on her front door woke Michonne from her restless sleep. Disoriented, she rolled over to her side, nearly falling off the couch, where she had fallen asleep several hours ago. She sat up, the blankets slipping from her shoulders, and leaned over to turn on the floor lamp next to the couch.

Rubbing her eyes, she stretched languidly, looking over to squint at the clock on the coffee table. 1:30. She got up and walked to the door, knowing who would be on the other side. She paused for just a second, hand on the door knob, contemplating whether or not she should feign sleep instead of opening the door. Slowly, she turned the knob, opening it onto an exhausted looking Rick, hands on hip, chin down, peering through his lashes, his eyes immediately laser focused on hers.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself," she replied, softly. Widening the door, she spun around and walked back into the house. Rick, smiling to himself, followed Michonne across the threshold, pulling the door closed behind him.


A/N: "I loved you without knowing how or when, or from where…" is an excerpt from Pablo Neruda's One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII. I guess this is my way of saying: you should read Pablo Neruda. Lol.

I've thoroughly enjoyed my PM convos - we've got some extremely perceptive people in this fandom! This chapter is my version of "light." There's got to be a few dark clouds for contrast... Besides, I figured Jessie hitting the road would bring light to at least a few of you. Thank you so much for reading.