A/N: This is just long for no reason. I'm sorry. Or maybe you guys like 'em long, haha. But really, I hope this doesn't bore you to tears. And I apologize in advance for all the vomit. -Ash

3: a screeching halt

The day had been an interesting one, to say the least. What had started as fairly tame, with Rick staying home to rest, and Michonne vowing that she was done taking breaks, ended with him strangling a man in a bathroom, and her shedding whatever armor she'd had left. They had lost their home for the night, but found a new one before nightfall, as well as a new mission for the future.

"If any of the others saw those signs, they'll be at Terminus," Rick announced as they settled into the floor of their new temporary living room. He glanced at Michonne, who he knew was fairly wary of the idea. She wanted to just find a house and batten down the hatches. "We have to try there."

She nodded understandingly. "We have a mission, at least."

"Maybe it really is a sanctuary," Carl offered hopefully. "Like, maybe it's another version of the prison."

Rick remembered what Morgan had told him so many months ago – if you have something good, that just means someone wants to take it from you. So his hopes weren't high that Terminus could be a long-term solution, but he didn't want to dash Carl's. "Maybe…"

Michonne didn't want to say it out loud, but she really hoped they would find Judith there. Like maybe Maggie or Sasha found her before they got out. If they got out. She knew Rick and Carl had to be thinking it too. "The world is never gonna stop surprising us. But there are good surprises, too."

Rick caught her eye and offered a small smile. He knew that to be true, because Michonne had turned out the biggest and best surprise the world had offered him in a long time. "You an optimist now?"

"You wish," she chuckled.

She looked unbelievably beautiful in the candlelight, he noticed. Angelic, almost. "What did you two find to eat besides Crazy Cheez?"

Carl rummaged through his bag and pulled out several cans of Roni Sticks and Sketti Rings – disgusting canned versions of Italian delicacies that Carl loved when he was younger. Rick and Michonne made a face at their dinner, but had to admit it would be better than another can of green beans.

"I remember you used to try and sneak these into your lunchbox," Rick recalled, opening a can for each of his companions. "You didn't have a can opener or anything. I guess you thought you were gonna get it open with sheer will."

"I never claimed to be the brightest kid," he smiled back, recalling those days as well.

"Geez, kid. I thought I had bad taste in food," Michonne joked.

Rick looked up at her with raised eyebrows. "You do."

She stuck her tongue out at him, and sat back against the sofa to enjoy her dinner. "You know… I think time might have actually made these taste better."

"That's called desperation," he teased, taking a small gulp from his can. He looked at Carl, who was already finishing off the contents of his meal as they spoke.

"I think somebody was hungry," Michonne smirked, watching him as well.

Carl looked up obliviously. "Just a little." He pulled his bottle of water from his bag and took a few small sips before hopping up from his seat. "I'm taking first watch, right, Dad?"

"You are," Rick nodded handing over his gun again. "You wake me before you have to use this," he instructed seriously. "You see anything out of the ordinary…"

"I know."

"Be careful. And wake me in three hours, alright?"

"I got it, Dad."

He grabbed a kitchen chair on his way to the foyer and set up in front of the window next to the front door. He planned to do occasional perimeter checks from inside the house, similar to what he'd learned at the prison. He liked having his job back after so many weeks of useless farming.

Back in the living room, Michonne and Rick continued with their dinner, avoiding the most serious topics on both of their minds. Rick's thoughts were consumed with Judith, while Michonne could only think of the baby growing inside her and the fact that she had yet to tell the father. Was now the right time to say it?

"I killed a man today," Rick proclaimed as if he had just come to the realization in that moment. "Jesus Christ."

Michonne looked at him tenderly, wanting him to know that she had not judged him for it in the least. "You did what you had to do."

He nodded, as that was more than true. "I did. They were openly talking about raping you. They were dangerous men. I would've done anything to protect you two from them."

She felt exactly the same. Which is why she had no qualms about putting her katana through The Governor. She did what she had to do. "Then don't feel bad about it, Rick."

He wasn't sure what it meant to not feel bad after taking a life. To have no kind of remorse. That was Shane's train of thought. And Carol's, apparently. He never wanted it to be easy to kill a man. But that afternoon, when it was either him or the other guy, he didn't have to think twice. Even as weak as he was, there was no doubt in his mind that it was going to be the other guy.

"It was Carol," he began to reveal quietly, looking to Michonne to gauge her reaction. "She killed Karen and David."

Michonne's big brown eyes narrowed at the news. "What?"

"She admitted it herself," he continued. "And I banned her from the prison for it. Which might've saved her life, in the end. But I couldn't understand her point of view…"

"And you do now?"

"She did it for us," he frowned, finally getting it. "It was misguided, but she was doing what she needed to do to protect us."

Michonne considered this, but was unsure whether she agreed. Murdering two of their own was a far cry from strangling a rapist. "You don't need to feel bad about banning her, Rick. The council would've done it if you didn't."

"Maybe," he nodded. "But I didn't understand. I didn't try to."

"Rick…"

"I did the same thing with you. I never tried to understand why you weren't ready, and I'm sorry for that."

She moved across the floor so that she was sitting right next to him, so that they could speak low enough that Carl wouldn't hear them. "You don't need to be." She took his hand into hers for the second time in two days. "I meant it when I said I was done taking breaks."

He looked down at their intertwined hands. Even in the darkness, the contrast of their skin together was such a beautiful sight to him. He wished they had found each other before the world went to shit, but he knew why she had been put in his life at this point. She gave him the strength to keep going. "I love you, Michonne."

She swallowed hard at those four words, feeling a mixture of joy and trepidation at hearing them. He'd said it before, at Glenn and Maggie's wedding a few weeks prior, but she figured that he meant it in a best friend, I-trust-you-with-my-life sort of way. This time, she knew that he was saying he was in love with her.

A couple of stray tears escaped to her cheeks as she replied, "I love you too, Rick." It had been true for a long time. It felt good to finally admit it without some devastating 'but' to follow. "Whew," she sighed.

Rick was just as shocked as she was. When he said it, the last thing in the world he expected was for her to say it back. "Did that just happen?" he smiled.

Without thinking, she motioned to sit on top of him, straddling his lap so that they were face to face. "It did," she eventually returned with a sly smirk.

She placed a soft kiss on his unwitting lips, waiting for him to return the action. He did so immediately, his hands instinctively groping her ass as he did. Her tongue eventually requested entrance into his mouth and he was happy to oblige, if only for a moment.

"Michonne..." he pulled back hesitantly. The last thing in the world he wanted was to let her take her lips off of him, but this was turning into risky business. "Carl is right in the other room."

"I know," she whispered, trying to continue the kiss anyway. It had been a long time. She knew they regretfully couldn't do anything else, but kissing seemed harmless enough. "He's gotta find out sooner or later..."

As much as he hadn't really been in the mood, he noticed that his pants were getting a little tighter with every second she was on top of him. "I think we should get some sleep," he chuckled awkwardly. "We've had a long day."

She didn't want to relent, but he was right. Besides, she didn't want to start something they couldn't finish, and from the feel of it, they were quickly headed in that direction. She slowly slid from his lap, offering one last peck to his lips before she stood and began to make their bed for the night.

He kept his eyes on her as she moved gracefully to pull their sleeping bag into place, the candlelight illuminating her every step. He couldn't contain a smile at the fact that she was his now. She was giving of herself, willingly and completely. He had no idea what the future held, but if she was a part of it, he knew they would be all right.

The next morning, Michonne awoke, surprised to find Carl crouched next to her. She had fallen asleep in Rick's arms, and was somewhat disappointed that he wasn't still there, but she supposed he had taken watch at some point in the night. She wondered if Carl had seen them cuddled together.

She wondered a lot about him, it seemed. She hoped their little game the day before made him feel better, but she didn't know if he would ever be truly happy, and it made her hurt for him. She wondered who he was going to be in this world. A man like his father, constantly toeing the line between the light and darkness? A hopeful man, like Hershel? Or some hardened soul, dogmatic about doing what needed to be done, at any cost? He was a sweet, thoughtful kid, but she could tell he didn't know that about himself yet. She ran a hand through his hair and let it rest gently on his face.

"I pray for you, little one." She said it for Carl, but she meant it for the person growing inside her as well.

Rick stood quietly in the doorway of the room, watching the scene unfold. He had been observing the loves of his life in their slumber, and wanted to say something when he saw Michonne had woken, but he just couldn't bring himself to disturb the moment. She was so good with Carl, so caring and attentive. It was one of many reasons he was in love with her.

"Do you really?" he finally whispered when she'd stopped caressing Carl's face.

Surprised, she turned towards his voice and smiled, sitting up to look at him. "Hey," she returned softly. He looked beautiful, bathed in the morning sunlight, she noticed. Even as bruised and battered as he'd been, she loved looking at him. "Do I really what?"

"Pray for him."

"I do." She slowly removed herself from the sleeping bag, careful not to disturb Carl, and moved towards Rick. "I pray for you, too."

"I didn't know you were religious."

"I'm not, particularly," she reasoned. She kept walking, leading him towards the staircase at the front of the house so they wouldn't wake the kid. He took a seat first and she sat on the step in front of him, instinctively resting her head against his thigh. She loved being close to him. "My parents weren't big believers in God and all that," she went on, "but my mother's mother was a very devout Catholic. And all my life, even as an adult, she would tell me how she prayed for me and my sister, she lit candles for us, even before we were born. It just stuck with me, I guess."

He smiled thoughtfully, his mind wandering to what her grandmother must have been like. Her parents, too. "I also didn't know you had a sister."

"Yep. Younger."

He played with the ends of her hair that were splayed across his leg. "What was her name?" he asked softly.

"Noemie. She lives in Boston. Or lived, I guess," she sighed. "No way I'll ever know now."

"I have – or had – a younger brother, Jeffrey. Lived in Memphis," he revealed. "It was so weird realizing that I'd never see him again."

"I tell myself that she made it somehow. Like to an island or something. Even if I don't believe it, it's all I got."

"You ever think about how full our lives were before? We had families and friends and colleagues and the folks around the neighborhood. Just tons of people that made up our existences. And now... it's just a handful."

"And in that handful, every single one of them are the most important thing in the world to you," she agreed. "It's very odd." She inwardly smiled at the sensation of his hands in her hair. It made her feel like a kid again. "How far do you think we are from Terminus?"

"A good sixty miles or so," he had decided from looking at the map the day before. Part of him didn't want to leave. He could find happiness right there with just the three of them. But he had to know if the others, namely Judith, were alive. "Why?"

"Just wondering how long it'll take to get there."

"You need a break already?" he joked.

"I need you to take a break."

"I've had plenty of rest, you know."

"When was that?" she turned her head towards his voice. "When you were unconscious? Or when you were under a bed trying not to be killed?"

"That's very funny."

"I'm serious, Rick. You need one good day to do absolutely nothing."

"You said this yesterday and you see how that turned out."

"Okay, that didn't go as planned," she laughed quietly. "The difference is, I'm gonna be here to make sure nobody fucks with you."

"Oh, is that right?" he asked flirtatiously. "Nobody?"

"Well... almost nobody," she grinned to herself.

He tapped her shoulder lightly so that she would lift her head and he stood from his seat. He glanced over the banister, where he could see Carl still fast asleep, and then looked to the top of the staircase. "Come on," he instructed quietly.

She looked at him with an odd mixture of hesitation and excitement. "Come on where?"

His blue eyes danced with her brown ones for just a moment, letting her know that he wasn't going to answer her. "Come on."

She hopped up from her seat and followed him up the steps to the master bedroom, smiling at the fact that he had obviously already cleaned up the room.

He was pulling off his t-shirt before she could even compliment him on his efforts. "You just gonna stand there?" he teased her.

She felt a flutter in her stomach as she realized what was happening. They hadn't had sex in nearly two months, and she had missed him terribly. She didn't think he would be in the mood anytime soon, but she sprung into action the second he put the offer on the table. "What ever happened to romance," she joked, beginning to unbutton her shirt as well.

"You want romance, or you wanna get laid," he smirked, approaching her for a kiss. He could feel her smile as their lips devoured each other.

Her hands gently went up and down his bare sides while he finished the rest of the buttons on her shirt for her. He was in the process of undoing her bra when their moment came to a screeching halt, at Michonne's behest.

"Sorry," she pulled away and turned her head completely so that she was no longer facing him.

He frowned at the suddenness of it all. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, but still wouldn't look at him. "Just... gimme a minute."

He gave her some space but watched carefully as she bent over with her hands on her knees. "You should sit," he suggested.

"I'm... fine." She wasn't fine. Maybe it was all the excitement, but her stomach was betraying the hell out of her. Morning sickness is a bitch, she thought to herself.

"You look like you wanna throw up," he noted, reading her to a tee.

"I'm fine."

"The more you say it, the less I believe you," he frowned. He offered her his hand so that he could help her to the bed.

"Bathroom," she directed him, realizing she couldn't put up this front any longer.

He immediately obliged, guiding her to the main restroom situated in the hallway. She was on her knees, retching into the toilet before he could even close the door. "I guess we'll be finding you something else for dinner," he attempted to joke as he held her hair. In the back of his mind, he just hoped that was all that was wrong.

The following morning, Michonne and the Grimes boys found themselves exploring their new neighborhood in search of supplies. They'd spent the remainder of the previous day doing absolutely nothing, but it was time to get to work. They were dangerously low on ammo, which was to say they had none, and were going to need an ample cache if they were going to make it to Terminus. Michonne and Carl had cleared two houses when they met up with Rick, who was just finishing his first.

"Any luck?" Michonne called out to him.

"Couple of handguns and a shotgun," he squinted in the sun, noting that Carl appeared to be weighed down by his bag. "What did you find?"

"More Sketti Rings," Michonne rolled her eyes jokingly. "But also some beef stew for us."

"And batteries," Carl piped up to remind Michonne. "The kind that tell you how full they are!"

Rick chuckled at how excited Carl seemed to be by the notion. "I thought I'd head down by the cul-de-sac and then make my way up."

Michonne nodded but began frowning, much to Rick and Carl's confusion.

"What is it?" Rick wondered, turning to make sure a herd or something equally as dangerous wasn't approaching them.

She visibly swallowed and then shook her head. "It's nothin'," she promised. "I'll take Carl to the street over and see what we find there."

It was Rick's turn to nod. "You want me to hold on to those cans," he offered his son. He had the biggest bag of the three of them and could carry them more comfortably.

"That's okay." Carl wanted to be sure to assert himself as being just as capable as the adults. Plus, his dad was still healing. "You be careful, okay, Dad?"

"You, too," he eyed both of them. "We'll meet back here in two hours?"

They nodded and headed in the direction in the direction opposite Rick.

Carl found himself walking unusually far in front of Michonne, and turned multiple times to make sure she was all right. When she hadn't said anything for a full five minutes, he finally decided to just ask. "Is everything okay, Michonne?"

She narrowed her eyes at him playfully, trying to distract him from the fact that she wasn't her usual self. Morning sickness was really rearing its ugly head. "Yeah. Everything okay with you?"

"I'm fine," he retorted. "You're the one lagging behind."

"I'm not lagging," she lied. "I'm enjoying the scenery."

"What's so scenic about a bunch of houses and leaves on the ground?"

He was right. The neighborhood, while a typical lovely Georgia setting, wasn't particularly picturesque. She was just trying to hold it together. "It's peaceful," she finally decided. "We have to cherish these moments sometimes."

Carl was used to quiet. Sometimes, too used to it, he thought. But if she liked it, he wasn't going to say anything. "If you say so."

She smiled, relieved that he wasn't going to challenge her. "Hey, you got any crackers in that bag?"

He stopped to search his sack full of food, though he was pretty sure he only had chips and cookies. "That's a negative, ghost rider. I've got some Lorna Doones, ginger snaps, which you can have every last one of, some Pringles, and… one very sad Chips Ahoy left."

She eyed him carefully, knowing he must have snuck and ate the rest of the cookies when she wasn't looking. "When did you eat the Chips Ahoy, Carl?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he grinned coyly, resuming his walk to their next house.

"There were at least twenty of them when we got to the house last night."

"Maybe my dad ate them…"

"Or maybe his son did."

Carl couldn't contain his laugh and 'fessed up as they came to another stop. "Okay, okay, I ate them last night. I swear I didn't mean to, but I was just sitting there, looking out the window, and before I knew it, like the whole thing was gone."

"You're the worst!" she laughed lightly. "We're supposed to share."

"I know, that's why I saved the last one for you."

"I don't know why. Nobody wants just one cookie, dude."

"It's better than no cookies."

"Oh, just eat it," she grinned, walking ahead of him towards the front door. She was thankful to him for distracting her from her sickness, but they weren't gonna clear anything in two hours if they kept at the glacial pace they were going.

"Hey, Michonne," he stopped her before she could break open the door to the place.

"Yes, sir?"

"Were you cold last night?"

"What?" she smiled back at him, confused.

"Last night. You and my dad were… " His young face turned a bright pink shade as he tried to ask the question he wanted without actually asking it. "I mean… I don't know, ignore me."

"No, tell me what you mean," her face contorted in bewilderment. "That's too random a question to not mean anything."

"Okay," he sighed nervously. He realized he would've been more comfortable asking his dad this since they had already explored the topic a bit. "Last night, when I came to wake my dad, you guys…" His sentence trailed into silence when he saw Michonne bend herself over the railing of the porch. "Are you okay?"

She tried to answer, but found herself throwing up before she could get the words out.

Carl was stunned. He didn't know what to do but watch. "Should I... go get my dad?"

"No!" she was able to croak out forcefully. Rick had already seen her like this, the last thing she needed was for him to know this was a chronic issue. Nearly panting, she kneeled on the ground so she could steady herself. Her vision blurred with tears as she felt another round coming up. "Water," she requested just before she began vomiting again.

"I'm getting really worried," Carl noted as he found a half full bottle in his bag and handed it over. "Is it something you ate?" He and his dad were fine, so he couldn't imagine it was that.

"I dunno," she breathed before taking smalls sips from the bottle. "I think I'm fine now."

"You don't look fine."

She exhaled slowly and pulled herself up from her spot. She remembered having similar issues when she was pregnant with Andre, but that had been so long ago, she didn't realize how hard it would be to hide this all from her two companions. Rick was too perceptive and Carl was too inquisitive for her symptoms to go unnoticed. She was going to have to spill the beans sooner than later. "Just trust me, kid. Let's go."

That afternoon, after the three of them returned from their fairly successful ammo run, they scattered about the house, enjoying the last few hours of shelter before they began their journey to Terminus. Michonne was upstairs, rummaging for any clothing and blankets that would be useful in their approximate week on the road. Rick was in the kitchen loading their guns, and Carl had just finished organizing the food when he found his father.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Hey." He looked up at him briefly, noting the worry in his big blue eyes. "What's on your mind?"

"I don't wanna worry you," he started cautiously, knowing his dad tended to be overly-wary about, well, everything. "But I'm not sure if we should leave yet."

Rick stopped what he was doing and watched his son's expression carefully. "Why do you say that?"

"There are a few reasons. But the most important one... I think Michonne might be sick."

"And what makes you think that?" his eyes narrowed.

"I don't mean like she's turning or anything," he assured his father, "but while we were out today, she just started throwing up all of a sudden. We weren't moving fast or anything, she just stopped and started vomiting. And it kind of freaked me out. She said she was fine, but she looked... I dunno... sick."

Rick exhaled slowly, resting his elbows on the table while his hand covered his exhausted face. "Shit," he sighed softly, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. His stomach dropped to his feet as the pieces pulled into place. The timeline for when they began messing around; the morning sickness; her being all open and honest with him - it all made sense now.

"What, Dad?"

He opened his eyes to look at Carl, but seemed to be looking through him instead. "Huh?"

"What's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost."

He felt like he had just died, actually. "Nothin', son. I just… gotta talk to Michonne."