A/N: I just wanted to take a quick moment to thank the readers and reviewers of the last chapter before we get started on the new one.

Evie-Thank you so, so much for your review. I'm so glad you're enjoying all of the interactions I'm working in. And yes, cooking lady is a bit jealous. He may be crazy Rick, but he's still hot.

Mama-Your support means the world. I give you the party scene this chapter, hopefully less awful.

SSW-I love having you on board with this fic. I'm bracing myself for the fall just like you are.

Guest and Hoosegal-thanks for reading!

"Did I call it or what?" Deanna asked as she opened the door to the newest set of guests to arrive at her party. "What a beautiful sight," she said smiling as she welcomed them in, always the gracious hostess.

Rick and Michonne glanced at each other from where they stood side by side on the doorstep behind Carl before following him into the house.

"Hi Carl, it's so good to see you again," she said as she patted his head while he walked past her into the foyer where he waitied for the rest of them.

"Stunning," she said of Michonne's simple, lilac strapless sheath dress as she grasped her hand and kissed her cheek when she walked by.

"And you're just darling," she said as playfully she pinched Judith's thigh. "Both you of," she added with a wink looking up at her clean cut father in his crisp, white oxford shirt as he held her in his arms. Rick deflected the compliment with an uncomfortable groan as he took a quick glance at the crowd of increasingly familiar faces that had already gathered.

"There are plenty of food and drinks in the kitchen," Deanna said as she put her hand out in that direction. "I'll let you get settled in, but Rick, be sure to find me later. You're not leaving until you finally meet Reg."

"Will do. Thank you," he said quietly.

Once she left, the four of them stood facing each other in the foyer for a moment, each waiting for another to make a move on behalf of the group.

"This isn't weird or anything," Carl remarked finally.

"Not at all," Michonne deadpanned.

"Carl!"

He turned to find Mikey and Ron calling him over to the dining table where they'd set up camp for the evening with a deck of cards. Carl looked back at his father with questioning eyes.

"Of course. Go on," Rick said as he watched him head off before he could even finish his sentence.

Michonne watched Carl sit down with his friends and easily settle into the card game then glanced up at Rick to find him with a faint smile on his lips as he watched his son. They hadn't spoken much since their meeting that morning aside from a few perfunctory interactions that come with living together, but she hoped that a little time and that view had helped to put him at ease.

"You think we can get away just standing here all night?" she finally asked breaking their silence as she looked up at him, noticing the smile tug a little harder at the side of his mouth.

"Sounds like a fine idea to me."

"Bad influence..." she quipped.

He looked down her finally, his eyes wide at the accusation.

"I thought this was what you wanted?" he asked using his free hand to point out the party going on in front of them.

"I wasn't dreaming of cocktail parties when we were out on the road, but it's part of the package, I guess."

"Guess so. You should get out there."

She looked at him for a moment before he tilted his head as if to ask what she was waiting for.

"I guess I'll start at the bar then. You want a drink?"

"I'm good. I'm gonna go talk to Reg, get that over with."

She nodded and watched as he and Judith head into the living room before venturing into the kitchen on her own.

xxxxxx

She stood in front of the small buffet in the formal dining room, absently tapping the paper cocktail plate against the opposite wrist as she browsed the selection: potato puffs, pickled vegetables, crackers, pimento cheese obviously from the jar...

"Excuse me, are you Michonne?"

She turned to find a man, at least a head taller than her, standing just off to the side. He had a lean build and wore a charcoal grey V-neck sweater over a white t-shirt with well-worn dark denim jeans. She was surprised to see the face that went with the voice; he had deep olive skin with jet black wavy hair chin length he'd tied back loosely at the base of his neck. His strong, square jawline was covered by a healthy layer of dark scruff as was de riguer for most men these days, and it framed his kind smile and while complementing his deep brown eyes.

"I am."

"My name is Dev. I just wanted to introduce myself."

"It's nice to meet you," she said as the surprise from being approached was replaced by a genuine smile.

"Poubellisme, huh?"

She looked down, feeling a flash of warmth in her cheeks from being called out on her highbrow reference. Word apparently traveled fast around the community.

"Trash art?" she challenged lightly with a smirk. "You told your neighbor she made trash art?"

It was his turn to look away now, as he grinned sheepishly to himself.

"It wasn't an insult. I'm sure you know that. But yes, I probably should have chosen my words more carefully."

"Yeah, probably," she teased causing them both to break into a chuckle.

Having broken the ice, while managing to embarrass Michonne and himself, he sighed as he tucked his hands into his front pockets, and shifted his weight to one leg giving the impression that he planned to continue this conversation at least a little while longer. She set the empty plate she'd been holding back down on the buffet table then stepped closer to him so as not to block other guests from the assorted finger foods.

"Well, I wanted to say welcome. I heard Aaron and Eric just brought you and your group in a few days ago."

"You hear everything around here, don't you?"

"We've never brought in a group this large, so it's the definitely the talk of the town. Aaron and Eric told me when I got back from the run today, though; they're my neighbors, we take turns plant-sitting when the other is on the road," he admitted.

"Plant-sitting..." she repeated in a whisper with a small grin.

"I can only imagine how that sounds to you," he said self-consciously given what little he knew about her situation before arriving.

"Nice? Those are the kind of favors I miss doing for my friends. Trust me."

"I'm out there a few weeks at a time, so I know something about what it's like, but it's always been temporary for me. I know that I have a safe place to come back to, people whose company I enjoy. It's not a bad life all things considered..."

"No, it's not."

"You know, there's a small group of us that get together when we can for dinner, cards, movies...it's Aaron, Eric, David, Betsy, Annie, Heath, and myself. They're all good people and we always have fun. You should join us next time."

She inhaled through her nose and straightened her back at the invitation, the stiffening of her posture not going unnoticed by Dev.

"Sure," she said with a forced grin, nodding her head in an effort to further convince herself that this sounded as fun as it was meant to be.

"Whenever you're up for it," he added, sensing that accepting his invitation seemed to be a small act of bravery on her part. Her shoulders relaxed as did her face with those words; he seemed to understand her hesitation which put her at ease. She gave an appreciative smile, and felt moved to reach out to him, as well, in light of his kindness.

"Jessie told me about your idea for the mural."

"Really?" he asked with genuine surprise.

"Everybody talks, right?" she asked with a grin. He bowed his head in mock defeat at having been further outed by one of his loose-lipped neighbors. "I think it's a great idea. When I was out walking with the kids the other day, I couldn't help but notice how imposing the walls felt. It'd be nice to brighten up a section, give them something to look at other than steel panels day in and day out. It'd be nice for us, too. I'd be happy to talk to Deanna about it."

"I'd appreciate that. I've got a few ideas sketched out, but I can't pull it off by myself."

"I find it hard to believe you can't find a few people willing help."

"The artistically inclined don't fare well in this world apparently," he cracked.

Michonne tried to muster a polite smile at his joke, but it felt more like a grimace in response to the pang she felt in her heart.

"Any creative people in your group by any chance?" he continued.

"I'm not sure actually," she said distractedly as she looked out for the nearest grouping of her friends, finding Rick first, standing across the room sipping a glass of scotch while talking to Reg and Deanna. "I'll ask around, though."

"What about you?"

"No," she said quickly as she returned her attention to him. "I don't have a creative bone in my body."

"How do you know?"

"I just do," she said simply.

"You know, I didn't think so either until I got here and tried my hand at painting. Turns out I wasn't half bad. Everyone needs a hobby or two or three around here. You should give it a try."

She opened her mouth to speak, then held back, just tilting her head to the right slightly and taking a deep breath in. She wasn't saying no, but she couldn't say yes.

"I'll talk to Deanna, and let you know what she says. It was nice meeting you, Dev."

"Same here, Michonne."

She gave him a weak smile before turning to make her way through the overcrowded living room. She spotted the door leading to the side porch, and chose that as her destination, walking as quickly as possible through the crowd, driven by a sudden need to leave. Glenn, Noah, and Maggie looked up smiling expectantly as she walked in their direction, but their smiles quickly faded into confusion as she passed by without a glance. When she finally reached the door, she let herself onto the porch and stopped just in front of the white railing where she let out a long, shaky breath she wasn't even aware she was holding. She shook her hands at her side, hoping to rid herself of the tension she was feeling then placed them on the railing in front of her, leaning forward as she dropped her chin to her chest and closed her eyes.

"Hey baby."

She smiled at the the deep voice that sounded from behind at her spot in front of the kitchen sink where she stood rinsing the excess paint off of small plastic containers of finger paints.

"Hey. How'd the viewing go?"

He came around to her side and leaned in to kiss her cheek before answering.

"It went well. There were a few interested parties, but you know how that goes."

"Sounds promising."

"Where's little man?" he asked as he searched the living room for signs of their son.

"I just put him down. He made something for you, though."

She turned off the faucet and quickly dried her hands with a dish towel before grabbing the white piece of paper on the bar in front of her and passing it to him. He smiled to himself as he looked at the paper which barely had a spec of blank space left on it. The artist's heavy handed use of colors had resulted in a large brown blob, but it was still one of the finest pieces of art either of them had ever seen. He looked up to find her smiling, as well, then looked over to the bar where there was another piece of paper.

"What's that?" he asked with a mischievous grin as he eyed the paper.

"Nothing," she said quickly as she snatched the paper with her hand and crumpled it into a ball in her fist.

"So you'll paint with Andre and not with me?"

"He's two-and-a-half years old and he's not an artist, so yes."

"How many times have I tried to get you to come to the studio with me? We could bring a bottle of wine, play some music, paint for a few hours...you'd love it."

"No, I wouldn't because it's not my thing," she explained.

"Right because you only enjoy doing things you're good at," he chided playfully as he turned his body to face hers.

"Who doesn't?"

"You've got no sense of adventure, 'Chonne," he said with a grin.

"That is not true," she countered with a roll of her eyes. "I'll travel anywhere, eat anything, go to all types of random shows and exhibits with you..."

"Because it's in your comfort zone," he said still wearing the smile she desperately wanted to wipe off of his face.

"That's a pretty big comfort zone," she countered, unable to keep the grin off her face even though he was challenging her.

"It is..."

"But?"

"But you're very good at a lot of things, so you hide this little flaw well."

"Flaw?" she scoffed.

"I went to hot yoga with you, and I know I looked like a fool doing it, but I went because you asked. Hell, I look like a fool around you doing most things," he said with a laugh as he stepped in closer and placed his hands on her waist.

"That's not true," she said softly and sincerely.

"Just come with me one time then you're off the hook. What are you doing this weekend?"

"I guess I have a date at the studio with you," she relented.

"And what you are doing right now?" he asked as he brought his lips to hers for a soft kiss. Her eyes flicked down to the mess in the sink.

"I'm gonna finish cleaning up and get a little more work done," she murmured into his lips that were still brushing hers.

"Leave it."

A smile spread across her face, and she brought her hands up to his cheeks and answered by pressing her lips to his as he wrapped his hands around her lower back, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist so he could guide them to their bedroom.

xxxxxx

Rick stood alone in front of the kitchen window sipping from his second glass of scotch while he kept his eye on the house next door that served as the armory. He'd watched Carol cut across the yard a few minutes earlier, but couldn't see anything else aside from a light coming from the closest window.

"That's a pretty good view, isn't it?" asked a familiar, perky voice. He turned to see Jessie walking toward him with a grin. He instinctively squared himself in front of the window to block her view then shrugged his shoulders in response as he took another sip of his drink.

"Having fun?" she asked as she looked around the otherwise empty room.

"Sure," he said with a shrug.

"That's kind of a stupid question, right?" she asked as she crinkled her nose.

"No," he answered allowing her a small smile. He always felt this sense of disconnect with her questions and comments, but he couldn't deny that she was nice, that she was always trying.

"On a night like this, it feels like ordinary life like before. Well, not like before."

"No," he said looking down, unable to indulge in that particular white lie. Some things were the same, but far too much was missing from his life to say that.

"Yeah, no. I mean, it's better. Not out there, but in here. A lot of things disappeared, but a lot of bullshit went with it. I guess I'm just saying, we all lost things, but we got something back. It isn't enough, but it's something."

He squinted as he looked down at the floor, trying to find it in himself to engage, but instead he just felt empty as her platitudes ran through his ears without ever taking hold in his mind like she probably intended for them to.

"Yeah," was all he could eke out.

"You'll see," she confidently as she folded her arms across her chest.

He looked up to find her smiling brightly back at him, and lowered his gaze slightly, his attention caught by a large, faded yellow mark on the outside of her right bicep.

"What's that? On your arm?"

She looked down at her right arm, completely unaware of what he was referring to until she saw the faded bruise herself, more prominent in the harsh kitchen lighting than it had been in her bedroom while getting ready. She slid her left hand up her arm, replacing his view of the bruise with that of her diamond band shimmering in the bright light.

"Oh, I just banged myself up cleaning out the garage the other day."

"Is that right?"

"That's right," she said as she pressed her lips tightly together to form a grin. She looked out of the room for a moment then back at him. "I think Sam's looking for me. I should go," she said with a nod toward the other room as she slowly turned, keeping her eyes on Rick as she walked away.

He took another sip of his drink then turned to face the window once again. His eyes went to the armory immediately where the light was now off; he could safely assume Carol had succeeded in getting what the need. He let out a sigh of relief and then let his eyes scan the remaining area, a habit formed during his days as a sheriff. It was pitch black out, but light streaming outside from a window on the opposite side of the house cast down on something moving on the porch. He kept his eyes fixed on that spot until he could finally make out the familiar silhouette; she was alone with her back to him as she leaned against the railing. He took another sip as he watched, feeling the pull to join her. He hesitated, though, unsure whether she'd want the company, particularly his; so he took another sip, telling himself that he would walk over after that, but opted for another and then another, and eventually watched as she turned and walked back into the party.