"Michonne!" Rick cried out, swinging his axe against the door in a desperate attempt to break into the garage where his son and Ron were currently trapped. "I need you!"

Rick's frantic shouts, coupled with the loud, oddly numbing groans of the army of walkers that had surrounded the Anderson home and were threatening to breach the threshold, drove Michonne out of the room where a mortally wounded Deanna and a frightened Judith were being kept. Racing towards the noise, she shoved the letters Deanna had given her into her back pocket. She had been grateful to spend a few more moments with the woman that had inspired her to fight with everything she had for this community, her community.

Her thoughts momentarily drifted to the poor young man who had lost his brother and father within a matter of days, and would soon face the anguish of his beloved mother's passing as well. Michonne knew, as many did in these times, the utter misery of such loss. Which was why she had willingly pledged to fulfill Deanna's final wishes. She vowed to use everything in her arsenal to teach Spencer that he too could survive in such a world.

Running through the Anderson's kitchen, Michonne caught sight of Rick, sweating profusely, swinging his axe against the interior door that led to the garage. Jessie stood at his side, her eyes frantically looking towards the front door where they had stacked a few pieces of furniture as a temporary barrier. Father Gabriel rushed around, pushing more furniture against the windows and the back door. The barricades wouldn't be long-term deterrents, but could buy them a little more time to figure out a plan of action.

Turning her attention back to Rick, Jessie caught Michonne in her peripheral vision, as she sped to Rick's aid.

"It's Ron and Carl," Jessie said, her voice trembling, as Michonne joined Rick next to the door.

"What happened?" Michonne asked, leaning into the door to pull the doorknob out of its base so Rick could strike it more cleanly.

"Not sure," he quickly replied.

With one last swing, the doorknob pulled away from the door, giving them just enough time to pull Carl and Ron out, before pressing themselves against the door to hold off the invading walkers. Rick, Father Gabriel, Ron, and Jessie held the door closed, while Michonne grabbed Carl, hastily examining him for wounds. As she did so, they were all startled as the walkers finally broke into the home, breaking through the front door and a side window. They all scatter away from the door.

"Everyone, upstairs now!" Rick yelled, turning to his right as Michonne, Carl, and Father Gabriel sprang into action, shepherding the Andersons towards the stairs.

Michonne and Carl remained, staying with Rick to fight off the first few walkers entering the home. Making their way towards the staircase, Rick gestured to Michonne. Halting, she pivoted back to the living room to help Rick grab the couch and pull it towards the stairs. They tipped it on its side, angling it across the entryway to the upstairs, temporarily creating a buffer between them, and dead marauders that were sure to eventually make their way upstairs.

"This won't hold them for long," Michonne whispered, keeping her eyes on Rick as he quickly caught his breath against the upstairs hallway's wall. "We've gotta figure out a way to get out of here right now."

"There're so many of them," Jessie whimpered, trying to stay upright as the inescapable panic filled her very being with dread.

Rick and Michonne looked down the stairs one last time. Satisfied that for now, the couch was adequately braced to keep the walkers from the upstairs, the group made their way to the first bedroom next to the landing; Sam's room. As they entered, a tinny music box could be heard playing a strangely disquieting tune.

"Turn that shit off now!" Rick roared. "That's the dinner bell."

Jessie and Ron ran to the closet, pulling the door open onto a sweaty and frightened Sam. Dropping to her knees, she pulled Sam into her arms, rubbing his back to soothe and protect him from the chaotic visuals that were sure to trigger a meltdown.

"Shhhh, it's going to be ok sweetie," Jessie murmured, trying to lower her tone in order to stave Sam's anxiety. "We just need to be really, really quiet. Can you do that for me?"

Sam nodded, nestling his head against his mother's shoulder, as she leaned over to turn off the music. Gesturing for Ron to sit next to his brother, Jessie rose up and returned to where a shaken Father Gabriel crouched against the wall. She turned her attention to Rick, looking on as he and Michonne, heads nearly touching, seemingly blind to others in the room, seeking each other's quiet counsel.

"We'll need cover," Michonne said, watching as Rick, hands on hips, nodded in agreement. "I'm thinking two of them should do the trick."

"Yeah," Rick said, turning to face Jessie, standing mute in front of them, her eyes nervously darting from one to the other. "We're gonna need as many bed sheets as you can find. Bring 'em back here. Michonne and I will be right back."

"Where are you going?" Jessie called out, looking on as Rick and Michonne briskly walked past her.

Not stopping, he called over his shoulder, "I said we'll be right back."

Jessie shook her head slightly, as she followed them out the door, turning towards the linen closet at the end of the hall, while the two made their way down the stairs.

They took the stairs two by two, stopping a few steps from the bottom to assess the situation. The couch seemed to be holding up, but the loud guttural sounds, coupled with the putrid appendages threatening to escape around the temporary barrier, made it necessary for them to get this done fast.

No words were necessary, as Rick, steadied by Michonne gripping his belt, leaned over the couch and used his axe to hack through the skull of the walker in easiest reach. As Michonne stationed herself against the couch to create an opening, Rick dragged the walker halfway up the stairs. Having done the same with the second, he and Michonne heaved both corpses up the stairs, and back into Sam's bedroom.

Looking up from her task of stacking sheets on the floor, Jessie recoiled in horror as she watched Rick and Michonne drag the walkers to the center of the room. Sam had left his hiding place in the closet and was currently glued to his mother's side. Looking up as Rick and Michonne crossed the doorway, he blanched, cowering as he wrapped both arms around his mother's waist. She leaned into him, rubbing his back and softly whispering words of comfort into his ear.

Michonne dropped the body in the center of the room, and walked over to Carl, wanting to retrieve his knife as it would be better at gutting the bodies than her katana. Carl stood a few feet from Ron, both clearly avoiding any interaction with the other. Something was definitely wrong.

"What's going on?" she asked, her eyes flitting from Carl to Ron and back.

She quickly thought back to having to break them out of a locked garage and realized there was no logical reason for them to have been there in the first place. She waited a few beats for Carl to respond, fess up to whatever was causing the clear hostility between he and Ron. They didn't need this right now; everyone had to be focused on what was to come next.

Carl remained silent. She looked over at Ron, who seemed to be staring back at her. On closer inspection, he was actually looking straight through her and over to Rick, looking on as Rick talked to his mother in hushed tones. Carl had mentioned in passing some tension between he and Ron over his friendship with Enid, but she had discounted it as the usual teen angst. But, she didn't like whatever was simmering between them right now. They had a mission to accomplish and she was wary of having the Anderson boys distracted from the task at hand.

"Everything's fine," Carl replied. "I'm just thinking through what we need to do."

She looked at him, examining his face for the tells she was always able to interpret. He was like his father, terrible at lying to her. He was doing it again, but they didn't have time to waste. Whatever it was, she would have to keep an eye on the both of them.

"Fine," she said, her hand stretching out towards him. "I need your knife."

Carl took it out of its holster, flipping it in the air and catching it by the thin, sharp blade, the handle facing Michonne. She reached for it, giving him a quick smirk as she turned away and walked back to where Rick kneeled next to the walkers.

She dropped to her knees next to him, as they worked quickly, making fast progress in eviscerating the corpses. The rancid smell was a shock to all of their senses, making eyes water and throats clench. The awfulness of it all brought tears to Jessie's eyes, contemplation of what dangers lay ahead sending shockwaves through her body. She clung tightly to Sam, trying to find the words that would bring him some reassurance that all would be well, even if she didn't believe it herself.

"Hand me the bedsheets," Rick commanded, reaching into a corpse and pulling out entrails.

"Is this really going to work?" Jessie asked, befuddled by how they could just walk past those creatures without getting killed.

"Yeah, it works," Rick rasped, annoyed by the question. "We've done it before. It'll camo us, make 'em think we're one of them."

Jessie nodded silently, unfurling the first sheet, and handed it to Rick. Rick passed it to Michonne, who used Carl's knife to quickly slice a large slit into the center, before handing it back to Rick. Rick placed the sheet in front of him, and used the entrails to smear the noxious bits onto the sheets. Once he was satisfied with the coverage, he handed the sheet to Father Gabriel, who promptly used the opening to pull it over his head. Rick and Michonne did the same with the others, until they had enough covered sheets for each of them.

Michonne helped Rick slip his over his head. As he tried to do the same, she stilled his hand and shook her head in response. Rick nodded, laying the rot-covered sheet on the floor. Michonne walked to the door, placing her ear against it, listening to see if the walkers had yet breached the house. From what she could pick up, they were safe for now.

"I think the coast is clear," she whispered, turning back to look at Rick, who was busy pulling the sheet over Carl's head, while guiding Jessie to do the same for Ron and Sam. "I'll get Judith."

Gripping her katana in her right hand, Michonne slowly opened the door, peeping outside to check for signs the walkers had gotten past the couch blocking the path to the upstairs, before she entered the hallway and quickly walked to the room where Judith and a dying Deanna remained. She slipped her katana back into its casing, then opened the door.

Slipping into the room, she was taken aback by Deanna, eyes wide open, making faces at Judith in an effort to entertain the girl while they waited for Michonne to return. She looked over at Judith, who immediately reached her little arms up to be held. Michonne went over to her, leaning into the playpen to place a kiss on the top of her head, before walking over to where Deanna lay on the bed.

"Hey," Michonne said, feeling the mattress shift underneath her as she looked down onto the dying woman. "How are you doing?"

"Well, this hasn't exactly been the best of days," Deanna rasped, no longer bothering to keep her eyes open. "I suppose that's to be expected."

Michonne nodded, looking down and noticing how Deanna's pale complexion had taken on a slightly bluish hue. It wouldn't be long now.

"We're ready to leave," Michonne said, reaching over to grab the gun Rick had left earlier. "Are you sure you want to do this alone?"

Her eyes tightly shut, Deanna simply nodded as Michonne took her hand.

"Ok," she conceded. "Then, you're going to need this. We'll be going through the front door, so there'll be no way to stop them from getting in… I just want you to be prepared."

Michonne placed the gun in Deanna's hands, watching as the doomed woman's finger encircled the trigger. She padded the woman's hand one last time, before getting up and walking over to Judith. She reached in, gripping Judith underneath her arms, pulling her up, and cleaving her to her chest. Making her way to the door, she moved Judith to her hip and unsheathed her sword. She turned back to take in Deanna, eyes closed, resigned to her destiny.

"Thank you, Deanna," she said, looking for some sort of recognition, quickly realizing that none would be forthcoming. "Thank you for believing."

She opened the door gently and peeked out, turning to find them all clustered at the start of the staircase. Rick beckoned to her as she strode towards them. Judith looked on from Michonne's arms, her wide eyes dashing from her father, to her brother, and back up to Michonne. She gripped her tightly as they neared the rest of the group.

"Deanna?" Rick asked, as Michonne reached his side.

"As good as can be expected," she replied, shrugging as she leaned against the wall. "How do you want to play this?"

"We need to get to the armory," Rick began, reaching for a reluctant Judith.

"I've got her," Michonne said, nodding towards Carl.

Silently, Carl lifted his sheet, as a terrified Judith clung to Michonne. Eventually, she was able to distract Judith with a few soothing words, gently handing her over to her. Turning towards Rick, she slipped her katana and it's scabbard off, as Rick placed the putrid sheet over her head. Once it was secure, she returned the sword to her back. Once he was sure she was ready, he turned back to the group.

"Here's what's going to happen," he began, making eye contact with each of them. "We all need to stay focused and calm. This ain't goin' to be easy, but if we're calm, we'll be able to walk right past them without them even takin' notice of us."

Michonne scanned the Andersons and said, "does everyone understand that? This is how we make it through this. It only works if everyone stays calm."

Her eyes landed on a stricken Jessie, trying to keep a crying Sam quiet, but failing miserably. Fear crept up Michonne's spine at the thought their plan might be unraveled by the instability of this sad, disturbed boy. But, there was no way they would leave them behind. They all had to go. She watched as Jessie turned towards a trembling Sam.

"Sweetie," she said gently. "Remember what we talked about? This place isn't safe anymore, so we need to leave. I need you to be brave. Can you be brave for me? I know this is scary, but I'm right here with you. I won't let you go."

Michonne looked on as Sam nodded. She wasn't certain that he would be able to hold on. She very much doubted it, but figured if she and Rick flanked the entire group, this just might work. They were startled by burst of noises coming from downstairs.

"Shit!" Michonne rasped. "They're close. We need to move now!"

Rick turned to look at Jessie, the sheer horror of the situation reflected in her eyes.

"We gotta do this now," he coaxed, keeping his eyes on the frightened woman. "If we don't, we're all dead.

Jessie nodded quickly, giving Sam's hand another reassuring squeeze. Rick returned her nod, then turned his attention back to Michonne.

"Ok," he began. "I'll be in front. Carl, Jessie, Sam, Ron, Gabriel follow, and you take the end."

He didn't have to look at her to know she had thought the same. They linked hands, quietly making their way down the stairs.

"No matter what, no one turns back," Rick said, looking up at Michonne as they descended the stairs to meet their fate.


She felt her back curve around the edge of the countertop as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer still. His hands were everywhere, driving an electrical charge through her body that set a constant pulse at her core. She breathed in his singular aroma – the outdoors, mixed with the body wash she had concocted for them; the familiarity made her smile. She shuddered as he reached around her, palming her ample cheeks as he lifted her off the ground and gently set her down on the countertop.

They broke their kiss. Now nearly eye-level, she gazed at him, taking in the sexy way his lips parted, her heart beating a complicated rhythm as she leaned in to caressed his face. Grabbing her open hand, he pressed his lips against her palm, breathing in her essence as he watched the melodic rise and fall of her chest.

He pulled her towards him, her bottom reached the edge of the counter, then he leaned in to capture her lips once more, his arousal grazing her inner thigh, as he staked his claim between her legs. She bent forward, wanting to lavish all the adoration she could on his lips. She ran her fingers through his silken curls, her fingernails gently massaging as she slowly dragged them across his scalp. He moaned at the sensation, gripping her more tightly against him.

Suddenly, the urgency of his erection, the insistence of her passion, produced a dark cloud of guilt that washed over her. Her passion halted, she became acutely aware of where this was headed. She desperately wanted this… all of this. But, was it too soon? Were they actually ready to take this step? What she ready to let go of Spencer?

It was subtle, but he immediately noted the change in her demeanor. His lips still pressed to her neck, he quietly stopped his ministrations, moving his hands from her backside, to her hips, finally landing them flat on the countertop, on either side of her. Scared to say a word and break the spell that had enraptured them, he leaned into her, bringing his forehead to touch hers.

They stood there, silent, addressing their own internal doubts. Rick was scared; the thought of losing this… whatever it was to be, drove a cold dagger through him. Maybe he had gone too fast, asked for too much. He couldn't bring himself to look into her eyes, afraid of what he might find.

"I'm sorry," she quietly said, using both hands to clasp around the nape of his neck. "I– I'm not sure what's come over me. This feels right, but, is it? Isn't it too soon?"

Rick breathed in a sigh of relief. Leaning back on his heels, he looked into her eyes. The yearning still there, but he could also see the cold truth of conflict. He knew what she was thinking.

"I don't think the old rules apply," he began, using both hands to grip either hip, caressing them in a reassuring motion. "I've wanted this for so, so long. I don't wanna to push you… rush you. I guess I just got a bit carried away. I'm sorry."

She looked up at him, a small smile playing on her lips. She needed this, needed to find this center, this balance with him.

"You've wanted this for how long?" she asked, using her fingertip to run across his delectably kissable lips.

He smiled back at her, happy to see the light energy still flowing between them.

"That's hard to say," he said, giving her a pointed look. "I barely noticed you in the prison. Practically never gave you a second look, coming or going. I probably couldn't have picked you out of a line up."

"Yeah, you couldn't have, could you?" she retorted. "It might have been easier if you had looked after me when I left a room or something. That might have made me more memorable."

"Hmmm. I think you might be right," he said.

They chuckled softly, in wonderment at the ease infecting through the room.

Ok, If I'm being honest," he said, capturing her gaze once more. "It probably started when you and I and Carl took that trip back to King County. I guess I felt some sorta connection… I don't know exactly. I just know I wasn't expectin' it. Caught me off guard."

She nodded at his explanation. She had felt… something as well. Not quite sure what to make of it, so she had pushed it into the recesses of her mind, chalking it up to her longing to belong somewhere, to something. Rick just fit the bill of the type of man she could envision making part of her family. His steadfast love and devotion to his children was what had sold her. She had simply wanted to be on his team.

"And, if I'm being real, real honest, it solidified when you an' Daryl decided to make the hunt for the Governor your life's journey. I'm not gonna lie. I hated the thought of you an' Daryl out there… together… alone."

Michonne looked at him, surprised by his confession. She had known that Rick felt… some sort of way about Spencer. Hearing that he had ever been jealous of her relationship with Daryl was enlightening. She and Daryl had been close, very close. And there had been a point where she had considered the possibility that something might have been there, just beneath the surface. But finding Rick and Carl after the fall of the prison had put life into perspective. Daryl was family. Rick was… something else.

"Daryl was never a threat to you," Michonne stated, clearing any misgivings he might have harbored.

"I know that now," Rick said, shaking his head. "It didn't stop me from being envious of the time you spent together. Spencer, on the other hand, was a different story…"

"How do you mean?" she queried, curious to hear what he had to say.

"I knew it wasn't like a crush or anythin' temporary," he sighed, lifting his hand from the counter to rake it through his beard. "I knew you'd be leavin' me… leavin' us. I didn't know if I could take it."

"You were living with Jessie," Michonne scoffed, suddenly wanting to hop off the countertop. The current conversation dragging her to a place she'd vowed never to return.

"First off, you know there was nothin' goin' on then," Rick said, holding his arms firmly on either side of her, preventing her exit. If they were going to see this through, they needed to get everything out into the open. No more secrets.

"The truth is, I thought once we got settled, once we were safe," she began, looking down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. "I thought maybe there would be time for us to explore if there was anything more between us than a deep commitment to the family we'd built. But, we get here, and you? You disappear on me."

Rick lowered his eyes from hers, unable to take the residual hurt and pain they contained.

"I know," he murmured. "I spent all that time chasin' ghosts and losin' what was right in front of me. I will never forgive myself for that. If it takes the rest of my life, I'll spend every moment makin' it up to you. It's you… It's always been you. No one's ever made me feel the way you do."

"And, how is it that I make you feel?" she asked, bashful, but eager to pull them back to the light. She wasn't angry. Not anymore.

"Like I'm a good man," he began, his eyes never once leaving hers. "A man of honor. A man worthy of lovin' you. Worthy of bein' loved by you. Because, Michonne, I do love you. With all of my heart. This… what's between you and me and our kids? This is different."

She smiled at him, joyful tears welling in her eyes.

"I love you too Rick," she stated. "It's taken me a long time to come to terms with that, but it's true. I just… I feel like I'm somehow being disloyal to Spencer. I know he always felt that there was or had been something more between us, but I pushed that to the back of my mind and just focused on loving him. He made it easy. This? What's between us? It just feels right. It makes me feel a little guilty, but I know this is different."

"This'll be on your terms, your timeline," Rick said, peering deeply into her eyes. "We're in no rush. We've got the rest of our lives."

She smiled, as he pulled her into his arms and lifted her off the counter, placing her gently onto the ground. She reached up, pulling him towards her for one last kiss, before taking his hand and leading them out of the kitchen. They both believed it. This was different.


Michonne looked at Rick from her position at the end of their chain, watching as he led them down the stairs. She noticed how loud the groans and roars were to her ears. Even having been this close to walkers numerous times, there was something unusual, something so wrong about facing them within Alexandria's walls. The walls that were supposed to keep them all safe. She swallowed the lump in her throat, knowing that she'd need to be on high alert to ensure they all got through this safely.

Saying a silent prayer for Deanna as they made it through the front door and slowly began walking down the porch steps, she watched as Sam began to visibly shake. She turned once more towards the house, looking on as the walkers began to swarm it. Turning back, they quickly slipped past the throng of walkers littering the sidewalk. Sam was still shaking, but looked, at least from her vantage point, to be keeping it together.

Pulling them into the relative shelter of a patch of bushes, Rick whispered to Michonne,

"Change in plans. There're too many of 'em and they're too far apart. All we got are flares and a few guns in the armory. Won't be enough. We need to get back to the quarry and get the cars. We can drive 'em back and use them to lead 'em out."

"Rick, there's no way we can take Judith," Michonne responded, shaking her head. "She needs to be somewhere safe."

"I'll take her to the church," Father Gabriel offered, taking in the distrust emanating from Michonne. "I can keep her safe there until you lead the walkers away."

Rick looked over at him, the skepticism clear on his face.

"I can do this," Father Gabriel continued. "I won't let you down."

"You're sure?" Michonne queried, looking directly at the once cowardly minister.

"Yes," the contrite man replied. "I have to. I'm supposed to."

Michonne nodded silently, looking towards Carl as he gently removed a weepy Judith from beneath his sheet, shushing her as he transferred her to Father Gabriel's arms. Once securely under his sheet, Father Gabriel turned to give Rick and Michonne a reassuring smile.

"She'll be safe," he said. "I promise."

"Take Sam with you!" Jessie interjected, pushing Sam towards the minister.

"No mom!" Sam nearly shouted, drawing Rick's ire. "I want to stay with you. I can be brave. I promise."

Michonne watched as Jessie looked down at her son, contemplating whether or not he would be up to the task. She wasn't convinced. Michonne considered insisting Sam join Father Gabriel, but rationalized this might cause an even larger disturbance. They couldn't afford that. And so, she looked on as Father Gabriel turned and walked slowly towards the church, his assured gait repelled the walkers and created a clear path towards Judith's safety.

Turning back to Rick, they linked hands again, and began to move. The walkers skirted closer and closer to them, but if everyone remained calm and kept the pace slow, they would make it.

"Mom?" Sam said in a loud whisper.

Michonne gasped, as she felt Ron's grip tighten around her hand.

"Sam?" Jessie said, softly. "Sweetie, you can do this. I know you can. Please walk. Come on Sam. Look at me Sam. I need you to come with me. We're almost there."

"We gotta go now!" Rick whispered, tugging at Sam's arm.

Michonne looked on as the traumatized boy anxiously looked from his mother to Rick and back. As Rick attempted to pull them forward, a walker reached between mother and son and seized Sam's right hand, tearing the flesh from the top. Sam screamed, as Jessie dropped his hand in revulsion. Sam, in shock, lifted his mutilated hand into the air. Instinctively, Rick let go of his other hand, pulled his axe from its belt holster, and quickly dropped the blade onto Sam's hand, severing it at the wrist. Jessie gasped in shock as the limb tumbled to the grass.

Michonne and Rick gaped at each other, stunned at the turn of events. Michonne watched as Ron broke their chain, stepping out in front of Rick. On heightened alert, she reached behind her back to unsheathe her katana. Everything seemed to slow to a crawl as all but what was happening in her sightline faded to black.

Ron pulled out a gun from under his sheet, lifted it up, and aimed it at Rick's head. Michonne could hear the rumbling of the walkers surrounding them, still oblivious to the fact that a food source was amongst them. The quiet whimpering of a shocked Sam rattled in her ears as she trained her sights on Ron.

"This is all your fucking fault," Ron muttered, cocking the gun and flexing his finger on the trigger.

A split second before he could fire, Michonne lunged forward, driving her sword through Ron's back, the tip exiting his chest. Ron, eyes wide open but unseeing, pulled the trigger, launching a bullet from the chamber.

Stunned, Michonne retracted her sword. Jessie and Sam looked on in horror as Ron stumbled to his knees, twitching for a few moments, before walkers besiege him, tearing his body to pieces. Rick looked towards a teary Michonne, nodding in acknowledgement that she had done what needed to be done.

"Dad?" Carl called out, looking back and forth between Rick and Michonne, before dropping to the ground, blood gushing from his face.

"No!" Michonne shouted, rushing towards her fallen boy.

Rick reached him first and quickly dropped to his knees to cradle his son. He rose with him in his arms, then looked towards Michonne for guidance.

"We need to get him to the infirmary now!" Michonne yelled.

"Stay by my side," Michonne shouted at Jessie, observing how the dazed woman had begun to slow down. "Move, now!"

Terror held Michonne's heart hostage, as she slashed her way towards the infirmary, clearing the pathway for all of them. She couldn't lose him. She wouldn't. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to do whatever it took to save him. She would die first before she would lose another son.


"Awwww, Judy-bear," Michonne said, gently rubbing an agitated Judith's back as they waited outside Carl's room in the infirmary. "Daddy's going to come out soon to give you hugs and kisses. I promise."

She planted a kiss on the top of the baby's head, looking down as Judith snuggled deeper into her arms. She swayed back and forth, thinking of how she was still covered in filth, only having had a few minutes to clean up because of her mad rush to check in on Carl after they– the Alexandrians had dispatched the herd. After they had arrived at the infirmary, Denise quickly sprang into action, assessing Carl's injuries and working diligently to clear his exposed eye socket of debris.

Michonne looked over to the partially open door, glimpsing Rick as he sat next to Carl's bed. He had been stabilized, but was still unconscious. Thankfully, the bullet had ricocheted of his orbital bone, costing him an eye, but had kept bone and slug fragments from penetrating his skull. It would be a while before the true damage could be assessed, and Denise had cautioned them that he still might not live, or might have significant neurological damage if he did. This stark reality brought both Rick and Michonne to their knees. They had cried in each other's arms, grateful of the quiet comfort the other's presence had brought.

Through the open door, she listened as Rick prayed by Carl's bedside. The unabashed prayers of a father, bargaining with all his might, to save his own flesh and blood. She stood there, swaying Judith in her arms, thinking of what they would need to do to ensure Carl's recovery. For the first time that day, her thoughts returned to the mother who had lost a son a few short hours ago. The despair of taking Ron's life branded her like an ulcer on her soul. Once the gun appeared, her actions became muscle memory. Perhaps she should have felt more regret, but the choice between her family's safety and the loss of a troubled young man, was no choice at all.

She would have never wished the loss of a child on any parent. She thought of Sam, ashen and nearly catatonic, lying in another bed only a few steps from where she stood. Jessie, thankfully, had gotten the message to stay away from her and the Grimes, at least for now. Carol was in the other room consoling, which was another problem, but one Michonne wasn't willing to even consider at the moment.

Instead, she listened to the soft, lilting voice of Rick as he begged his son to stay with them.

"I was wrong Carl. I see that now. I thought these people were stupid, weak. That we wouldn't be able to teach 'em. I was wrong. You should have seen what they did! The rose up. All of 'em. They fought for this place! This is our home now. We'll patch up the walls. We'll let in more people. Everything is possible now. It's possible because of you, because of Judith, because of Michonne. The three of you, you made me see. I want to build this world for you. Please let me Carl. Let me show you what this world could be. Please stay with me."

Michonne bowed her head, tears flowing freely and dampening the top of a sleepy Judith's head. She looked up as she heard the familiar clacking of boots against hardwood floors. Her eyes landed on a red-eyed, disheveled Rick as he emerged from Carl's room. He looked from her to Judith, a small smile gracing his lips.

"There you are," he croaked, leaning in to grab her arm. "I think it might help if you'd talk to him too. That ok with you?"

She nodded slowly, watching him as she transferred a yawning Judith into his arms. She looked on as he brought the baby's face towards his, giving her a tender kiss on the cheek. Michonne gave the baby one last pat, before turning around and walking into Carl's room.

She gasped as her gaze found him. Shirtless, but cleaned up by some good Samaritans, on his back, in seemingly peaceful slumber. The despondency of seeing this young man she loved so much broken in such a way, stilled her heart. She sat down next to him, reaching out to grab his hand and hold it firmly in between two of hers. She wanted to scream. Cry out to the heavens for all the losses this young man had suffered in his few years. She knew it would do no good. The fates took as they saw fit. And so, she examined his features, and pulled together her disorderly musings to share with him what she knew to be true.

"You've been such a light in my life, pretty much since the moment I met you," she began, stroking the palm of his hand with her thumb, a pacifying motion she had committed to memory from her days mothering Andre.

"I knew you were a special young man, destined for greatness. I could feel it in my bones."

She watched him intently, looking for any signs that he could hear her, that he too had not forsaken her. Her chest tightened as she let her mind go to the place she had been rejecting since the bullet pierced his body. The place that told her that only evil prevailed this world. The place that took her very soul and turned it to ashes.

Carl had given her the courage to rise from those ashes. To demand a reckoning for all she had lost and all she would never let leave her grasp again. She mourned for her first son. That sweet boy that she had been forced to surrender to this cruel world. She had reclaimed part of what she had lost in the all-encompassing love of this fine young man. She would not concede his loss without a fight. She would not give into her sorrow.

"I never told you this, but when Andre was two months old, he got really, really sick. Actually, he'd been sick pretty much since we first brought him home from the hospital. I thought the doctors and nurses would think I was this crazy new mom, bringing him in practically every day, but I was scared out of my mind. Having a child is such a solitarily devastating proposition. Your heart is no longer yours. This tiny thing holds it, along with all your hopes and dreams, in its tiny hands."

She wavered, her thoughts retreading the fine landscape of terror that had gripped her during Andre's illness. The same feeling now constricted the muscles around her chest, forcing her heart to beat across edges of pain.

"At first, the doctors didn't know what it was. They just kept poking and prodding my sweet baby until his tiny arms were covered in bruises. It's impossible to explain to a baby why someone is hurting him and won't stop."

She hesitated again, as she felt slight pressure exerted on the hand that held Carl's. Denise had mentioned something about 'reflexive muscle' activity, so she didn't want to get her hopes up too much. She looked down at their intertwined hands and watched as he gently squeezed her hand again, then slowly released it. The tears that had been steadily dropping down her cheeks, stopped, shocked, but heartened.

"Mike and I were at our wit's end. He wasn't eating at all, so they had to put a feeding tube into my poor baby. I remember sitting at his bedside, wishing… praying that God would show mercy and not take him from me."

She looked on, desperately seeking any visible sign that Carl was still with her. But his slack hand suggested otherwise.

"They finally figured out what it was. Some obscure protein that I had been secreting in my milk was causing the problem. Imagine that? I was the one making him sick. Bitter irony."

She looked up to the ceiling, willing her tears to break ranks and flee. Her heart couldn't take much more.

"When your kid is sick, there's a special brand of fear that leaches into your very soul. Something that'll make you fight to make things ok. I'll fight for you Carl. I'll do everything to keep you here. I will not let you go. I just need you to fight too. We're the Wonder Twins, remember? Yeah, I know you think they're corny, but you're missing the point! No villain can defeat us because… it's the two of us. Please Carl, fight!"

Tears rolled in steady streams down her face as she railed against all that had been taken from her, and all that she now refused to relinquish to destiny. They would make their own. As she drew in a long, labored breath, she watched in awe as the eyelashes of his right eye began to flitter. Her heart filled with hopefulness as her stomach plummeted, not daring to believe.

True as day, Carl opened his eye, scanning the room until he landed on Michonne. Gazing up at her, he squeezed her hand once more.


"What was that for?" she asked, her arms and legs delightfully wrapped around his torso, lazing in the soft kiss he had landed on the tip of her nose.

"Everythin'," he replied. "Besides, can't a man just kiss the woman he loves?"

She giggled at the thought of Rick loving her. The very idea filling her with a hopefulness she had been prepared to pack away. Looking over, she discovered the pure adoration in his eyes; he was smitten.

"I do believe he can," she replied.

She had woken to find herself on top of her duvet, with the arms of a sleeping Rick curled protectively around her waist. It had been two weeks since she moved into her new home, which now seemed to contain more artifacts from the Grimes' than their own house. They hadn't yet revisited their living situation, but Michonne was enjoying the special warmth their loyal presence had brought her.

Tonight, it was just the two of them, talking and lounging in her bed. Enid was visiting from the Hilltop, and Carl had eagerly opted to stay home and babysit Judith. This gave the couple precious time to connect in ways that hadn't before. It hadn't gone beyond kisses and touches, but the ache that each felt made it seem more of a matter of when versus if. The realization was cathartic for both, each having firmly staked a claim to the other's heart.

They'd spent most of the previous night talking about anything, and everything. Discussing how together, they could "reorder this world," make things right again. Telling each other secrets they'd never shared with another living soul. Sharing their unfiltered truth of how their journey in this new world - together and apart - had shaped their spirit. After everything had been said, they finally fell asleep on top of her new bed.

At some point, Rick had taken off his boots, which were now haphazardly strewn across her bedroom floor. His stockinged foot rubbed across the smooth skin of her calve, drawing her closer to him.

She reached over to stroke his chin, spellbound by the scant sprinkling of gray hairs that, improbably, only served to add to his allure. She wanted him. It was as simple as that. She wanted to plant her flag on the very ground on which the Grimes lived, claiming them as her own.

Michonne let go of the fear, the doubts, and the guilt that had plagued her since his death. Silently, purposefully, she released her heart for his diligent care. She would take it all. The good times and bad, the times when darkness would surely rear its head and attempt to steal what was rightly hers. She would fight to the death for all of them, for all of him.

Rick gazed at her intently, his eyes widening as he watched the transformation roll across her face. The anticipated euphoria of being with her stoked his fires in a way he could barely articulate. The heat within him began to roar as he stared into the deep, dark, lusty pools of her eyes, seeing only the same longing and need reflected back at him. Confidently, he reached over to cup her cheek in his hands, using his callous covered thumb to gently rub her cheek, the feathery touches kindling her own flame.

Smiling her consent, he leaned over, pulling her towards him, as he flipped her onto her back and covered her with his body. He steadied himself on his elbows, not wanting to put weight on her. He peered down at her, dazzled by this woman's rare beautiful and his overwhelming desire to consume all of her. He couldn't imagine ever reaching his fill.

He tucked his head into her shoulder, absorbing the spice scent of whatever beauty product she'd recently formulated; he'd never smelled this scent on her before. The aroma of summertime at the beach and cinnamon dragged his senses. His tongue darted out, licking a slow, sweet trail down her neck and across her collarbone. She gasped, momentarily shivering as her body jerked upwards.

He gently, but firmly held her down as he worked his way back up. His tongue dawdled as he skimmed the edges of her ear, finally reconnecting their lips in a fervent kiss that elicited moans from both. He had wanted this for so long, but eagerness trumped any ability to control his hunger and savor the moment. He lifted an arm to caress her face, as his tongue continued its exploration, gliding into her mouth, tasting her essence.

She felt that familiar stirring, that wanting to join, that deep rooted desire. She opened her legs, allowing him to settle in and take of her bounty. Shifting to his knees, he broke their kiss, causing a look of confusion to reach Michonne's furrowed brow. He smiled down at her as he began unbuttoning his shirt. The anticipation sped up her heart; she could practically hear it. Drawing the shirt out of his pants, he discarded it on the floor beside the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.

She sat up, taking in his broad shoulders, his chest, covered in a light patch of hair, stippled by the trials he'd endured to get here. She pulled her tank top off, freeing her breasts as they bounce against her bare chest. He inhaled sharply, reaching over to caress them. The smooth, supple skin yielded to his fingertips, her nipples standing at attention before even meeting is touch.

Easing her back down, he traveled first to her lips, gently pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth. He kissed them once more, before letting his lips make that slow, methodical trek down her body. He pledged to visit each and every monument offered up for his pleasure.

He first stopped to admire the glossy hue of her breasts, their silken texture inviting his roaming tongue to stay a while. He obliged, letting his tongue create an imprint on each hardened nub, before sucking it into his mouth and pulling gently with his teeth, getting an immediate response for his efforts. He smiled into her chest as he worked his way down, taking a moment for his lips to circle her navel and leave hot, wet kisses on her barely perceivable bump.

Lowering himself into the valley of her outstretched legs, he went to work pulling off her shorts, all of her laid bare for him. He reveled in the view, taking in the gleam of arousal coating her folds, as well as the sparse hairs above. He leaned in, taking a long, deep inhale, his mouth watering at the sight. He steadied himself as the heady aroma of her lust overpowered his faculties. He was enraptured.

Her legs trembled as he blew on her, the cool breath hitting her most sensitive of areas. He stilled her, wrapping his arm around her thighs and pulling her center closer to him. He lowered his hands, palming both cheeks and giving them a firm squeeze. He dove in, ferocious, like a hunted man on his final escape. His lips and tongue devouring ever part of her, as the cadence of his movements created their own melody.

Her moans filled the room as his swirled his tongue around her bud. His fingers penetrated her, slipping through her folds in search of the places where her pleasure resided. She clenched down on his fingers, as the rhythmic humming of his lips on her bud carried her closer to nirvana. He gave one final suckle. She erupted, sighing loudly as her legs trembled and her body left the bed, taking the sheets knotted in her fists with her.

"Holy shit," she exclaimed, her breath coming in short, animated spurts. "That was… my God!"

He laughed into her thigh, thrilled to have pleased her. He made his way up her body once more, landing on her lips, and sipping from them once more. He let her feel, taste herself on his lips. It was intoxicating. The lioness in her roared, turning slightly to push him over and onto his back. He smiled, loving this battle for dominance. The feisty side of her sparked his engine, further stiffening his engorged member, laying thick and heavy in his constricting jeans.

"My turn," she smiled, straddling his waist, as she slowly scooted down his body, raking her naked core across his belly, causing his torso to contract.

Her tongue left a wet path down the center of his chest, causing goosebumps and the fine hairs to glisten as she made her way down. Sitting on his clothed thighs, she unbuckled his belt, as he arched his back in response.

She unbuttoned his jeans, crawling backwards to the foot of the bed to pull them off, leaving him exposed, aside from the boxers that share the same color as his eyes. Her eyes were glued to the hardened outline visible through his boxers, the girth of it tantalizing her senses. Not wanting to wait, he took it upon himself to pull them off and discard them to the side of bed.

She looked at him, slightly propped up on the headboard, staring back at her.

"You gonna keep me waitin'?" he asked, watching the candles she had lit create intricate patterns on the ceiling, bathing her in an angelic glow.

On hands and knees, she crawled back towards him, stopping to straddle and set her bareness on his knees, gentle so as not to hurt him. Her hands by her side, she leaned in and swiftly licked the wetness from his tip. He jerked up, gasping as the overwhelming sensation rippled through his body.

"Ah!" he yelped. "You're gonna kill me! I can tell."

She giggled, taking the entire dome into her mouth, tugging it gently with her lips. She wrapped her hand around his shaft, gently pulling upwards in a duet with her lips. He brought his hand to her head, fisting her locs, as she drew him deeper in her mouth, awakening each and every nerve ending he had.

He floated outside his own body, the ecstasy dulling his senses to anything that wasn't her. He had found his paradise. He looked on as she upped the pressure, bringing the exquisite threat of orgasm to the brink. The blood rushed downwards, speckling his neck and chest in a rosy tint. Gripping her locs more firmly, he stilled her, knowing he could not take much more.

She beamed as she moved forward to straddle his waist, their wetness commingling. She leaned in to capture his lips, lifting herself up over his length, and slowly sinking down onto him. His eyes closed as a low growl left his lips. The ache making her dizzy, she slowed down, pausing a moment to calm her breathing, before finally settling firmly in his lap.

He pulled her towards him, reveling in the sweet, tight heat that surrounded him. He held his breath, willing himself to show restraint. She started slow, giving both a chance to steady themselves. She rode him, up and down, at a deliciously slow speed that scorched his very being.

"Come on," she purred, reaching down to fist the base of his shaft as it slipped in and out of her.

Retaking control, he spun her onto her back, momentarily knocking the breath from her lungs and causing a rhapsodic sensation to reverberate through her center. He reared up onto his knees, careful not to put any of his weight on her belly, as he reached a hand between them, taking her bud between his fingers. Keeping his weight in his good knee, he drove into her with abandon, maintaining his pace, while rubbing her slippery center. His final stroke lit the fire that pulled an ethereal moan from her. He continued rocking into her as she pulsed in his arms.

Her legs, still tingling, remained wrapped around his waist, as the remnants of her orgasm lingered. Looking down at her sated visage, he let go. The force of his release ignited bits of light that bounced within his field of vision, like fireflies at dusk in the summertime. Reversing onto his back and drawing her to his chest, he was mesmerized by the joint fluttering of their hearts. He looked down at her, taking in the serene, delicate smile on her lips. Bliss had overwhelmed them both, setting a confident tenor that would guide them towards whatever was to come next. It didn't matter, they'd be ready for anything. After all, they'd come this far, and this indeed was love.


A/N: This show… What is the point of ANY of this if Carl is dead? Grrrr. The rest of this story is dedicated to Carl and CR. Both deserved much, much better.

As always, thank you for reading!