A/N: Yay, I'm so glad you guys are as excited as I am! Just to clear somethin' up for one of my dear, awesome readers - Carol will not be a focal point, so don't worry lol. I realized I mentioned her a bunch of times in that last chapter, but I just wanted to establish where we were in the plot without actually saying, 'This takes place at the end of S4E5.' But I'm sure you guys got the point. Anyway, I thank you and love you all and I'm gonna shut up now.

2: after

The whole thing had been a blur. She could remember being taken hostage by The Governor and threatening to kill him, but everything after that was a giant mess of scattered memories. The ride back to the prison. Being pulled out of a truck and shoved to her knees in front of Rick. Rick. His face. His words. How he tried to save them all. God, he tried. She knew the last thing in the world he would want was to have Carl and Judith under the same roof as The Governor, but that was all he had. He threw a Hail Mary, but there was nothing he could've said, could've done. The Governor was just too far gone.

She couldn't look when she knew he was going to kill Hershel, but she heard it all so vividly. The sound of her blade, her weapon slicing into his neck... it was deafening. It felt like it had gone searing through her heart. She remembered wanting to scream, but her body catapulted itself into action.

Another haze of recollections accompanied that. But she knew she wouldn't soon forget the feeling she had when she spotted Rick being strangled from across the field. He had literally turned blue, and the sight made her breath catch in her throat. She remembered running as fast as her legs would carry her, but feeling like it was too late. She was going to make good on her promise to kill The Governor if it was the last thing she did, but she wasn't sure if she could save the man she loved. Pure relief washed over her when he rolled over and started coughing. She'd tried to hold onto him, but he needed to find his kids and she understood that. If she hadn't been so consumed in her anger, she would've even helped him look. But instead, she let him go.

She couldn't believe that after everything she'd done, all her leaving and searching still led to the exact moment she had dreaded. Philip fucking Blake had destroyed everything.

Once she finally made it off of the prison grounds, and someplace resembling safe, her emotions decided to attack her one by one. She was relieved to be alive. But she was so unbelievably angry. She was hurt by what happened to Hershel and the fact that she couldn't save him. She was confused as to how everything had unraveled so quickly. She had seen Rick and Carl's footprints, and was happy they'd made it out alive. But she had been too stubborn to follow after them, too afraid of what would happen next if she allowed herself to be reunited with anything she once knew. She could start over, going back to being on her own.

Except for that one tiny detail, where another person was growing inside of her.

What kind of life was she about to be living? On the road, by herself, pregnant? Was that even possible? Was she willing to do that? Did she have a choice? She remembered Andrea telling her that Rick's wife had swallowed half a dozen Morning After pills to try and incite an abortion. But who knows if that would've even worked. She might have been stuck with this kid, whether she wanted it or not.

Then the tears started. She wiped them away quickly, continuing along a dark road with her two new pets in tow. The sun had gone down, and she needed a place to hole up for the night. Dying wasn't on her agenda just yet.

She found an old car to keep her safe for the following few hours. She would go to sleep sad and hungry, but after the past few days she'd had, sleep would find her relatively easily. Her nightmares would haunt her, but at least her body would get some much-needed rest.

Michonne awoke to daylight, rattled by the dream that had just taken her to a past life. She hadn't dreamt of Mike or Andre in months, hadn't spoken to him in even longer, so she was unnerved by the fact that they had come back to her.

"Why are you doing this," she said out loud, knowing that she was regressing with every word. She didn't care. She needed to get it out.

His voice sounded so clear in her head. If she didn't know better, she would've thought he was actually in the car sitting next to her. You're slipping away, Michonne.

"I'm right here."

Are you?

She wasn't, really. Her body was present, but her mind was so full, she couldn't really say where it was. And her soul… who knew whether that even existed anymore. "I don't know what to do," she admitted in a whisper.

You could get out of the car, for starters.

"And go where?"

Where do you think?

"I can't go back to them."

To him, you mean?

She let out a succession of quick breaths, scared to even have this conversation. "To Rick. Yes."

Why not? You're not tired of pretending you don't love him? Don't need him?

"I don't need anybody," she shot back quickly, with a glare into space. "You should know that by now."

All right, maybe you don't. But what about that baby?

She immediately got out of the car, as if she could escape the interrogation that was happening in her head. She gathered her pet walkers and continued down the road she'd been on, furthering herself from Rick and Carl with every step.

You did this, girl. Some part of you had to know that this was inevitable.

She kept moving, noticing that she was collecting walkers with every few steps.

Actions have consequences. You don't eat, you get hungry. You have unprotected sex, you get pregnant. You don't kill a psychopath, he comes back and tries to kill you and everyone you know.

"I don't hear you," she mumbled underneath the growl of the walkers that accompanied her. She quickly studied them all, wondering in the back of her mind why they weren't trying to eat her. They had joined on her on whatever journey she was on, as if they knew she was contemplating giving up. Eventually, she found one that resembled her a little too much for comfort, down to the hair being in locs.

That's you if you keep in this direction you're headed, Michonne.

"If you know so much, why are you dead, Mike?"

Don't be mad at me for seeing the mistakes you're making. I'm trying to help you. You've been on the run for too long now. Even with Andrea. You left Woodbury the way you did because you were too scared to share her with anybody. Now here you are in this shitty predicament, and it's time for fight or flight, and you choose flight. When do you stop running? You gotta be tired by now. Here someone is, trying to make it easier for you, and you keep choosing the hard route. This man welcomed you into his family, wants to be in this with you, and you wanna do it alone? Why?

"I'm afraid," she whispered to herself.

Afraid of what? His voice seemed to get louder as hers got softer.

"Look what happened to you. To Andre. I can't go through that again."

Don't do that, baby girl. You gotta let us go. We're not them and they're not us. Choosing death isn't the way out of this.

As the walkers seemed to multiply, along with the intensity of Mike's voice in her head, she couldn't take it anymore. She pulled out her sword, and before she knew it, she was beheading and slicing walkers left and right. There were so many, she couldn't even count, but she moved constantly, if not haphazardly, until they were all in a pile on the ground. Her emotions crashed together at once and she wanted to scream again. Instead, she cried for what she hoped to be the last time.

It wasn't too long before she found her way back to those footprints in the mud that she knew belonged to her family. They led her to an abandoned barbecue restaurant, and finally to a quiet neighborhood full of seemingly undisturbed houses. It had taken everything she had to follow their tracks, and now, she wasn't sure what she would do if she didn't find them. Or even worse, if they were dead when she did.

The roads were empty, save for some fallen leaves, which was why a giant can in the middle of the street stood out like a sore thumb. She moved closer to it, noting that it was an empty can of pudding, and her heart began to race. Carl. Hope began to rise in her chest, allowing herself to believe that they were close.

She cautiously stepped to the front door of the house that had been decorated with pudding, praying that she wouldn't have to look any further. Trembling, she looked through the front window, and was immediately overcome with joy. There they were. Rick and Carl. Sitting on the floor, eating and talking. It was everything she could've asked for. They were okay. She looked up to the sky, filled with gratitude and realization that she absolutely had something to live for.

"Thank you," she whispered to no one in particular.

But Mike was back in her thoughts, one last time, with one last reminder. Hold onto them this time.

Tears fell from her eyes as she nodded at the advice. She would hold on for dear life – she didn't have a choice. And before knocking on the door, she made herself that promise out loud. "I will."

Rick was in obvious pain, to the point where he couldn't even breathe properly, but when there was a knock at the door, he moved to it as swiftly as his body would allow. He and Carl couldn't handle any more surprises – at least, not any bad ones – so he glanced through the peephole carefully. He felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders when he saw Michonne's gorgeous chocolate face staring back at him. He became almost delirious with relief, laughing at the sight.

Carl had his gun cocked, ready for another battle as he watched his dad laugh. "What," he hissed.

Rick knew he would be just as excited to see her as he was. He couldn't contain his smile as he told him, "It's for you."

Confused, Carl looked through the peephole himself, shocked to find his best bud standing there. "No way," he grinned.

The two of them struggled to move the couch out of the way and untie Carl's clove hitch knot, but Michonne couldn't have cared less about the wait. Knowing they were okay was enough for her.

Before anyone knew it, the door swung open and Carl had his arms wrapped around Michonne's waist. "You're here!"

The excitement in his voice, along with the relief, was all Michonne needed to hear. She was crying again, as much as she hated the act, while her eyes locked on Rick. "I'm here," she nodded, attempting to wipe her face. Rick looked absolutely awful, to the point where it hurt her to see him in so much pain. She offered him a silent but genuine, "Hi."

He was still smiling at her when he replied with an inaudible, "Hey."

Carl was still holding onto her waist tightly, showing no signs of letting go, so she continued her silent conversation with his father. "You okay?"

"I am now," he mouthed back.

She smiled behind the fall of her tears. God, she loved this man. She couldn't believe how much better she felt the instant they were back in the same room together. "Me, too."

They kept their eyes on one another for another few beats, but Carl's sniffles brought them back to the moment. "Carl, why don't you come up for air and let Michonne have a seat."

He hesitantly released her from his embrace, his eyes shining with tears as he turned back to his dad. "Sorry."

"You all right?" Rick asked.

"Yeah," he nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was telling the truth. "Just thankful, I guess."

"We both are." They moved the couch back into place and the three of them sat down, Carl between the two adults. "Have you eaten anything?" Rick directed to Michonne.

The attack had been two days ago, and she hadn't eaten a single thing since then. Even worse, she'd thrown up what little had been in her stomach. She was starving, once she thought about it. "Can't say that I have."

"I went on a run yesterday and got a bunch of stuff," Carl piped up proudly.

Michonne looked at him disbelievingly. "You? By yourself?"

"I did!" he defended with a smile. "Of course, my dad was passed out on the couch and had no idea I was gone, but…"

She wanted to laugh at the kid, but the idea of Rick unconscious made her uneasy. The Governor had certainly done a number on him. It was surprising he was even up now. "That sounds scary."

Carl nodded. He didn't want to get into the part where he thought his dad had turned, but he could admit that it was the worst moment of his life. And that was saying a lot. "It was."

"He doesn't even know how amazing he is," Rick shook his head, instinctively running his hand through his son's unruly hair.

He didn't feel amazing. Not when he couldn't protect his baby sister. "Dad, please don't."

"I'm proud of you is all I'm saying."

"I know," Carl nodded somberly. He then looked to Michonne, who was smiling at the two of them. "So what can I get you to eat? Some cereal? Canned corn? Pork rinds?"

"I suppose there's no more pudding left," she winked at him.

"How do you know about that," he frowned.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the big ass can sitting in the front yard."

"Oh yeah…"

"Oh yeah," she mocked him playfully. "Dead giveaway. I knew it had to be either you or Glenn."

The three of them stopped their chuckling at the mention of his name. The mere thought of anyone else from the prison was a harsh reality to come to. The idea that they'd never again see their friends – their family, really… It was tough.

"They could've gotten out," Carl proclaimed, reading everyone's mind. "We did."

Rick nodded at his assessment. "They could've. That's all we can really hope for."

"I think I saw Beth head into the woods with Daryl," Michonne offered softly. They were the last two to leave before Rick and Carl, which was the only reason she had a chance to notice them. "I don't know who was on the bus."

"So many of them were sick," Rick recalled, which was exactly why they couldn't afford to fight. He couldn't imagine many of them were safe, especially with so many walkers taking over. He still wasn't sure how he made it out alive. And then it dawned on him. "I owe you a thank you," he realized, looking over Carl's head to Michonne again.

"You really don't," she smiled sadly.

"I do," he insisted. "You saved my life."

She hated thinking of that moment. She had all but resigned herself to the fact that she was too late. "I thought he'd killed you," she revealed quietly. "I was so relieved when you got up."

Carl looked back and forth between the two of them, realizing they made a really good team. "I didn't know Michonne saved you, Dad. Now you're even."

"Even?" Rick looked back at his son.

"Yeah. Remember when she came to the prison? She passed out, surrounded by walkers, and you carried her inside."

"Which is why you don't need to thank me, Rick." Not to mention, he'd saved her in every way imaginable just by being there for her. His friendship was the only reason she fought to stay alive sometimes.

He felt like he could read her thoughts. He knew she was thinking of him. And he was thinking of her. She had saved him from so much in the few months they'd known each other – particularly from himself. He didn't know how he would ever repay her. He smiled at her as he replied, "I suppose we're even then."

That night, Carl chose to sleep upstairs in the bedroom he'd coveted over the prior two days. Two nights on a hardwood floor were enough for him. He was glad Michonne was with them for obvious reasons, but not having to be on the lookout with his dad was a bonus.

Meanwhile, Rick insisted that Michonne take the master bedroom while he slept on the couch, but she wouldn't hear of it. He was wounded beyond belief, and if anything, he needed the bed. In the end, they decided to share it. They were adults, they were friends, and they'd sure as hell shared a lot more than that in the past.

That didn't stop Michonne from feeling antsy as he emerged from the bathroom, freshly bandaged, and climbed into bed. "Everything is fine," she whispered to herself with her eyes closed.

He glanced over to her, though in the dark, her expression was more unreadable than it usually was. So he asked her, "You all right?"

She nodded, not caring that he couldn't see her response.

"Why are you talking to yourself?"

"I dunno," she sighed. "I just… have to remind myself of that sometimes."

"Even if it's not true?"

"Especially if it's not true."

He sighed heavily. They were only inches apart, but he felt so far away from her. He wanted to hold her hand, he wanted to give her a hug, he wanted to hold her, but he knew that after everything that had happened, she probably wasn't feeling up to that kind of intimacy. "I told Carl earlier, I know things aren't ever gonna be like they were. But that doesn't mean they can't still be okay."

She nodded again, feeling soothed by his voice. It was raspy and rough, but she was just happy to hear it again. "It's just gonna be hard. Starting over."

"Hell, that's all we do nowadays. We should be pretty good at it by now."

"That's true," she smirked knowingly. Their lives were a series of do-overs at this point. "We had something special, though."

"Yeah. We did." He knew she was referring to the prison, but the same could be said about the two of them. "Doesn't mean we won't have it again. Might even be right here in this house."

"Maybe…" Her thoughts wandered to the next nine months and what they would be like. She wondered if this was the moment she should tell him. There had been something off in Rick and Carl's demeanors, both of them obviously saddened by the fact that Judith was gone. She was careful not to mention it, and they tried to smile through it for her, but it was clear to anyone with two eyes that they were deeply disheveled by it. And she wasn't sure whether her news would encourage Rick, or further depress him, so she decided to keep it to herself.

"Michonne?"

"Yeah?"

"You ever think about givin' up?"

She turned her head towards him, unsure of what to say to that. She didn't know whether it was because he suspected she had, or if he felt that way himself. "Constantly," she answered honestly.

It was his turn to nod. "If it weren't for Carl and Judith, I think I would have a long time ago." Now, it was just Carl.

"You would've found something to live for."

"What keeps you going?"

She turned her head to face the ceiling again, feeling perplexed by the question. But if she was going to stop running, that had to include running from the truth. "You do." She inched her hand towards Rick until she found his, intertwining their fingers. "You brought me back from the dead, Rick."

He was speechless. It was about the last thing he expected her to say. After all the time she spent trying to wriggle out of his clutches, there she was, holding onto him. "I wish you had prepared me for that one."

"Trust me, I didn't expect that to come out of my mouth either," she chuckled lightly. "But it's the truth."

He squeezed her hand softly, relaying that he felt the same. "I always wonder if this endless shit storm will ever let up. And then something like this happens. You happen. And it just reminds me that everything isn't quite as bad as it seems."

She smiled. He was a man of few words, but when he used them the right way, they sure could knock her off her feet. "Shit is pretty bad though," she joked, rolling so that she was on her side, facing him.

"Shit is bleak," he chuckled. "But he's dead, and we're alive. That's a start."

She ran her free hand through his curly hair and then continued to his face, her fingers gently exploring all of his bruises, all of his pain. She couldn't see anything, except for the shine of his sad blue eyes, but she could feel everything. "We're alive," she repeated, as if she had just come to the epiphany herself. "And we're together."

"We're together."

"That's a pretty good start."

He didn't say anything else, even though he agreed with her. He lowered his head, resting it against her chest so he could listen to her heart beat. He found it curious that it was going about a mile a minute, but after everything that had happened, he could understand why. Either way, he knew it would bring him a peaceful slumber.

After a few minutes had passed, she knew he had fallen asleep. She continued to caress his head, her fingers getting lost in the messy curls. She hated to wake him, but she had something she'd needed to tell him for months now. "Rick?" she whispered, not wanting to startle him.

"Hmm?" he grunted back softly.

"Just so you know, my last name is Bellamy."

His eyes slowly opened at the realization of what she said. She was making an attempt at being open, being honest, and he could barely contain a smile at the thought. He almost thought he was dreaming. "Are you talking in your sleep, Michonne?"

"No," she giggled quietly. "You wanted to know. There was no reason to keep it from you."

"I'm sure you had your reasons."

"I did. But they were pointless. I'm here with you, I'm in this."

As much as it hurt to not have Judith there with them, he felt a contentment he didn't think he'd find after everything that went down. This was what he called a good start.