Rick barely noticed the first shot. Or the second. But Michonne's cry drew his attention. He turned to find Carl - lying on the ground unconscious.

Rick blinked rapidly, his mind not quite processing the sight. He ran to Carl, Michonne already by his side. She had ripped a strip of cloth from her shirt and wrapped it around Carl's eyes, the right one bleeding profusely.

"I checked his pulse," Michonne said in a slur of words. "He's still alive."

Rick felt too empty to cry as he looked at his son, pale and on the verge of death. Carol and Daryl continued to fight off the walkers, most of which were sprawled motionless throughout the backyard.

"Help me, please," Jessie cried. She sat on the ground, a hand cradling her neck, blood oozing through her fingers. She appeared to have been bitten.

"I should've stopped her," Michonne said in a low voice, staring at Carl. "This is all my fault."

"I'm the only one to blame," Rick said. He quickly unstrapped Judith and placed her in Michonne's arms. "Take her, please."

He swept Carl up in her arms. His head and limbs hung limply from his body. Rick swallowed the fear that rose at the thought of losing his firstborn child.

"Denise," was all he could mutter before heading toward the front of the house.

"Please don't leave me!" Jessie yelled.

Rick ignored her, although his need to save Carl was as strong as his desire to watch her die a slow and painful death. She would either attract walkers or bleed out soon; either way, she would get what she deserved.

Michonne and Daryl led the way, while Carol guarded his back. Blood dripped from Carl's wound, running down Rick's arm. Tears blurred Rick's vision and he took a deep breath, barely holding on to his composure.

They reached Denise's place in a matter of minutes. Lifeless walkers littered the grounds in front of her house. He tried not to entertain the thought that their only doctor might not have survived the attack.

Rick rushed up the stairs, his arms burning from holding Carl for so long. He probably weighs more than me now, Rick thought. He wanted to see his son grow up; he wanted to see the man his son would become. He refused to give up the hope that his son would survive this.

Michonne banged on the door. "Denise!" she yelled.

Rick could hear the dead bolt being unlocked. Aaron swung the door open. His eyes immediately went to Carl.

"Oh no," he said. He ushered them inside.

"Over here," Denise said from the other side of the room. "Place him on the table."

Rick felt the last of his strength dwindling as he rushed to the empty dining room table, lightly placing Carl down. The color was rapidly draining from his son's clammy face. He looked like a shell of himself.

Michonne placed two fingers on Carl's neck to check his pulse. "It's weak, but a pulse is there," she said, sounding hopeful. Rick found strength in her hope.

Rick lost his balance slightly, suddenly feeling faint, like all the blood was rushing to his head. Michonne wrapped her arm around his waist, pulling him next to her. "I'm here. Hold onto me if you need to," she said quietly.

Rick wrapped his arm around her waist and nodded. She had handed Judith off to Carol, but the baby carrier remained strapped to her chest.

He tried not to think about Michonne finding Andre dead and being completely alone, without anyone to hold her and tell her it would be okay, that life would still be worth living.

How had she survived the death of her only child? She survived because she had to, he told himself. Just as he would survive this all, with the woman he loved by his side.

Denise stood over Carl. She removed the soiled bandage from around his eyes and stilled. Her audible exhale worried Rick, but he stayed quiet, wanting all of Denise's attention to remain on his son. He focused on the lint on her shirt to avoid looking at the wound, not wanting to know just how bad it really was. He needed to hold onto as much hope as possible.

"I'll have to operate and remove the bullet. Aaron, I need you to grab clean sheets and bandages," Denise said.

"On it," Aaron said, moving to a wooden cabinet filled with medical supplies.

"Carl's a fighter," Michonne said. "He'll make it through this. He has to."

Rick pulled her closer, finding comfort in her presence. There was no one else he wanted by his side for this, even Lori. "With us by his side, he'll recover in no time, craving fish sticks and fries."

"And French toast," Michonne said, shaking slightly. "That's his absolute favorite, even more than fish sticks."

"And French toast," Rick said.

Michonne's small laugh morphed into sobs and she began to weep. Rick turned to embrace her, his own tears starting to flow again and he held on tight, not wanting to breakdown. He rubbed her back, wishing he could reverse time and make this all go away. "Carl has been through way too much to let a meager gunshot wound take him out. He'll pull through."

Michonne continued to sob quietly and Rick led her away from the table and into a small bedroom.

A man stood at one of the windows. Rick had trouble recognizing him from behind, though something about him seemed vaguely familiar. The man turned around, holding a staff in one hand, and Rick's eyes widened in surprise.

"Morgan?" Rick asked. He wasn't sure if this was real or if he was just in shock.

"Rick!" Morgan said in response, looking as shocked as Rick felt.

A wave of emotion hit Rick and he lost all control, messy sobs shaking his entire body. He hoped his long lost friend and comrade would forgive him for such a crappy welcome.

Rick and Morgan sat in chairs near Carl's bed. Carl lay motionless, his breathing shallow and weak, a fresh bandage wrapped around his head and covering his right eye. Denise felt confident that if Carl made it through the night, he had a really good chance of recovering. But the waiting was torture. A parent should never have to consider their child dying before them.

Rick had sent Michonne away to spare her that pain. She had gone with Daryl, Carol and Aaron to clean up the rest of the walkers and kill any remaining "W" trespassers in Alexandria. Rick had suggested the task in order to keep her busy, as she'd been pacing back and forth for hours. Daryl and Carol promised to keep an eye on her and to keep her safe. That was the only way he could let her out of his sight, even though he knew it was for the best.

Denise and Judith were in the living room, taking much-needed naps. As tired as Rick was, there was no way he could sleep a wink.

"They call themselves Wolves," Morgan said. "I came across a small group of them a few weeks ago. They tried to rob me, but I wasn't having that. I never even suspected there were so many of them out there. Aaron and I encountered five just on our way here."

To meet Morgan again, after all this time and under these circumstances, was just surreal for Rick. Morgan had been the first person he'd met after waking up from his coma, alone in the hospital. The man had selflessly saved his life and Rick was forever grateful to Morgan for that good deed. He had only been with Morgan for a few days, but the man still held Rick's deep respect and trust.

Rick wasn't sure if their meeting again was reality or some dream. He futilely hoped that he would wake up from all of this, to find Carl healthy and happy, not struggling to survive.

"He looks just like you," Morgan said, breaking the heavy silence.

"When he was younger, he was the spitting image of his mother. But now…" Rick examined Carl's features closely. His usually bright cheeks lacked all trace of color and his breathing was almost imperceptible. "It's hard to tell."

"He looks strong, like his father."

Rick only nodded in response.

"You know, after we parted ways in Atlanta, Duane would go on and on about the cool sheriff searching for his missing family. He even grabbed a badge from the station and wore it almost every day, talkin' about how he wanted to be a sheriff when he grew up." Morgan smiled,. "I didn't have the heart to tell him that sheriffs don't exist anymore, not in this world."

Rick did not ask the obvious question – why Duane was not with Morgan. He knew the answer and it terrified him, knowing that his own son's life hung in the balance.

"Duane was a good kid. I think he and Carl would've been fast friends." Rick tracked the rise and fall of Carl's chest, making sure he continued to take the breaths that would keep him alive.

"Especially somewhere like here. This is a place where a kid could lead a normal life, safe from the chaos and darkness out there. Even with what happened today, it's still safer than anything I've ever come across."

"How did Aaron find you, anyway?"

"I have no clue. For some time now, I've been wandering, just following the wind. Aaron said he found me a couple of weeks ago and had been following me ever since. Wanted to make sure I was safe and sane. I guess I passed his test."

"Considering how I treated Aaron when we first met, I'm surprised he even brought us back here. I kind of held him hostage."

Morgan laughed. "Better safe than sorry."

"Only way to survive nowadays. A lot has happened this past year."

"I'd love to go back to the days when nothing happening was the norm, when the most I had to worry about was getting to work on time and helping my son with his math homework."

Rick smiled for the first time that night. "The good ol' days."

They sat in silence. Rick started to fantasize about a life with Michonne, Carl and Andre. Rick playing ball with his two sons, while Michonne watched from the back porch, smiling and telling them to be careful of Andre. And later, he imagined the four of them having dinner on the deck, enjoying the fireflies blazing in the warm summer night, his arm wrapped around Michonne and Andre sleeping in her lap. Carl would, of course, be lost in a comic book.

"It seems like you've surrounded yourself with some good people. It's clear how much they care about you and your son."

"We're family. I've been with some since the beginning, when I found my family again."

"I can understand where that drive came from, to venture out into the dangerous unknown to find your wife and son. Your wife seems like an amazing woman."

"My wife?"

"Yes. Michonne, was it?"

Rick wanted to answer, Yes, that extraordinary woman is my wife. But instead, Rick would have to explain to yet another person, that Michonne was not his wife.

He he had successfully flushed the possibility of their matrimony down the toilet. "Michonne isn't my wife. We're..." Rick was at a loss for words. He wasn't sure what they were anymore.

"Sorry," Morgan said with sincerity. "I just assumed from the way you two were with each other and how worried she was about your son…"

"We used to be a couple, but not anymore. All thanks to me." He felt the loss of his relationship and of Michonne even more deeply now, the loneliness threatening to dissolve what little strength he had left.

"I imagine it might be a struggle to have any kind of healthy relationship nowadays."

"We were doing okay, actually. We were doing really well before…" Rick trailed off. "It's a long story."

"We've got the time." Morgan adjusted in his seat, pulling an oily rag out of his pocket.

He picked up his wooden staff. He wrapped the rag around the tip of the staff and began to clean it, using small twisting motions. His movements were slow and repetitive, putting Rick more at ease.

Rick checked Carl's breathing once again. There was no change - his breathing was weak, but steady. Rick leaned back in his chair. He hadn't discussed his feelings about Michonne with many people, but Morgan had earned his trust long ago when he'd saved his life and asked for nothing in return.

"When I first met Michonne, I knew she was the one. She was smart, beautiful, confident - and way out of my league."

Morgan chuckled. "Isn't that always how it goes? I felt the same way about my wife."

Rick smiled. "When you meet someone like that, who just speaks to your soul on so many levels, it's impossible to ignore." He grew more serious, not sure how Morgan would take the rest of their story. "Unfortunately, this was five years ago and I was still married at the time."

"Hmm," Morgan hummed. He continued to clean his staff while listening.

"My marriage had been over for quite some time by then. My wife fell in love with someone else, but stayed with me for Carl's sake. And finding out – that she'd cheated – didn't hurt as much as I'd expected."

This was the first time Rick had admitted that to himself. It helped to put so much about their marriage into perspective. He'd been miserable with Lori after she'd cheated because he could no longer deny the fact that he'd never loved her.

"But when I fell in love with Michonne, I knew what it was to have true love and to lose it. I lost her because I wasn't man enough to face the truth."

Rick's sadness lingered just below the surface of his cool facade, only a memory or two away from exposing him for the pitiful, cowardly man that he felt like in this moment. He'd found true love and had been a fool to let it run like water between his fingers.

"My wife used to say the path to love is crooked and full of potholes. That there are so many twists and turns that it sometimes seems like you'll reach it. And yet you and Michonne still found each other."

"Twice," Rick said. "We parted that day, five years ago, and found each other again, in this new world."

"Even more amazing. I can see why you want to hold onto it. But it's clear you want love that she's not ready or willing to give to you yet."

"What gave you that impression?"

"Body language speaks volumes."

Rick regarded Morgan's staff. "Did you pick that up while learning to use that stick?"

"The purpose of Akido is to not only defend yourself but to protect your attacker from injury. Knowing how to read your opponent's body is crucial. In terms of you and Michonne – you move forward and Michonne moves back."

Rick wondered if his desperation was making him push too hard with her. He was determined to get Michonne back, even though she had been extremely clear about her reservations.

"Love is sacrifice, Rick. Sometimes you need to have the courage to let it go. If it comes back to you, then you've really earned it."

The thought of giving up on a relationship with Michonne terrified Rick. She was like air and letting her go would surely suffocate him. But he knew in his heart that Morgan spoke the truth. Michonne needed her space and he would be a selfish asshole if he chose his own needs over hers.

"I'm interested in speaking with Michonne about her technique," Morgan said, deftly changing the subject. "I imagine she is quite good at wielding that katana."

"One of the many reasons I'm head over heels in love with her."

The front door opened and Rick heard several sets of footsteps in the living room. He and Morgan left the bedroom to meet them.

Carol and Daryl stood huddled in the corner, whispering.

"How'd it go?" Rick asked. He noticed Michonne's absence. For now, he would focus on getting updates about their situation in Alexandria. And then he would find Michonne.

"Sasha and Tyrese managed to keep the armory safe, so the intruders never stood a chance against our weapons. They're all dead. The walkers and humans alike," Carol said. Daryl avoided all eye contact with Rick, while Morgan cleared his throat at his side.

"What about casualties?" Rick asked.

"From what we can tell thus far, we lost seven people. All Alexandrians." Carol gave Daryl a quick glance, as though there was more that neither wanted to share.

"What aren't you telling me?" Rick asked, looking from Carol to Daryl.

"Deanna…she's dead," Carol said. "Spencer found her. They had done a number on her with a machete, but she came back and he had to finish her off."

"Shit," Rick said under his breath. Though he and Deanna had their disagreements, he still respected and admired her. She would be greatly missed. Her death would be a blow to the entire community. He had his work cut out for him.

"Where's Michonne?" Rick asked.

"She's out on the porch," Carol said. "She needed a breather."

Judith's cries filled the living room. She waved and kicked her little legs in the makeshift crib Michonne had put together for her – a large, cardboard box lined with blankets.

Carol grabbed a few jars of baby food from her pockets. "Michonne grabbed these for her."

"Thanks," Rick said. He picked Judith up and rocked her gently in his arms. She only cried when she was hungry.

He planned to take care of his daughter first and check on his son before seeking out Michonne. It was time they finished their talk.

Rick found Michonne sitting on the front porch, sipping on a bottle of whiskey. He sat beside her, Judith sleeping in his arms.

"Where'd you manage to dig that up?" Rick asked.

"Daryl's got a secret stash he thinks I don't know about," Michonne said. She seemed relaxed, but still in control of her faculties.

"Thank you for handling everything," Rick said.

"How's Carl?" Michonne asked quietly.

"He's hanging in there. He's still weak, but his breathing is steady and some of his color is returning."

Michonne exhaled. "Thank goodness."

Judith began to stir in Rick's arms and he rocked her, but she showed no signs of settling down.

Michonne took another sip of the bottle and then placed it down beside her on the porch. She held her arms out to Rick. "I'll take her."

Rick passed Judith over to her. Michonne placed Judith against her shoulder, rubbing her back in small circles. And then she began to sing a lullaby, the same one she'd hummed in the shower, that first time she confessed to Rick that she'd had a son.

Rick loved Michonne so much it hurt. He had joined her on the porch with the intention of doing the right thing by her, but his courage was drifting away at the sight of her with his daughter. He wanted to hold onto this beautiful woman and mother and never let her go, rather than do what he knew was best for the both of them.

She ended the lullaby, as Judith had finally drifted to sleep, resting her tiny head on the top of Michonne's shoulder.

"Michonne..." Rick began but he was interrupted by Enid's presence at the bottom of the stairs.

"Enid," Michonne said.

The girl walked up the stairs. "Hi," Enid said, her expression somber.

"You're here for Carl," Michonne said.

This must be her, Rick thought. He'd suspected Carl liked someone, but his son had been unwilling to share any info with Rick. Michonne doesn't seem surprised though.

"Yeah," she said. "Can I see him?"

"I'm sure he would like that," Michonne said. "He's not awake yet, but I'm sure reading that to him will give him incentive to wake up soon." She nodded to the comic book in Enid's hand.

"This one is his favorite."

"Even better," Michonne said, smiling. "Go on in."

Enid nodded and entered the house, leaving Rick and Michonne alone again.

"She seems like a nice girl," Rick said.

"She is," Michonne said. "Though she's more like us than the rest of the Alexandrians. I think that's why Carl likes her."

"Makes sense that he'd fall for the strongest of the bunch. Not unlike his father," Rick said.

Michonne remained quiet.

"We need to talk, Michonne," Rick said turning to her.

She continued to look forward. "Rick, this isn't really the time…"

"Please, just let me finish. This is long overdue."

Michonne nodded curtly.

"I'm sorry. For everything," Rick said, trying not to choke up. "I'm sorry for letting you walk away from me five years ago. I'm sorry for putting you in the position to have to raise Andre without his father. I'm sorry for being selfish and taking my grief out on you and Carl. I'm sorry for disrespecting you as a mother and as a woman. And I'm sorry for expecting you to still love me, after everything I've put you through. I'm sorry, Michonne."

Michonne closed her eyes, but she did not utter a word.

"I have no right to expect your forgiveness," Rick continued. "But I hope you will believe me when I say that you are the most extraordinary woman I have ever met in my life. And you deserve to be happy – with Daryl. I promise to no longer come between the two of you. He's a great man – a loyal man – and he loves you like crazy. I…wish you two the best."

He waited, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

"Thank you," Michonne said.

The words filled him with both relief and heartache. She had accepted his apology, for which he was grateful and which he should take for what it was – a sign that she had moved on. Yet, he still hoped against hope that she would want him. And that did not seem to be the case.

The front door opened and Rick glanced back to see Denise step onto the porch. "There's movement," Denise said excitedly.

"What?" Michonne and Rick said in unison. Rick rose and helped Michonne stand as well.

"He's not awake," Denise said, "but the movement in his fingers suggests that his brain functions are gradually returning to normal. I won't know for sure until he wakes, but I think Carl is going to make a full recovery."

"Thank you, Denise," Rick said, giving the doctor a hug. Michonne stood beside him, beaming.

He had just let go of the only woman he had ever loved and Carl was still technically in a coma, but Rick was grateful. His son would recover and Michonne would be happy.

The hope of them all being a family again, however, refused to fade away. And he was grateful for that too.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this latest installment! Leave it to Morgan to talk some sense into Rick. Rick may think he knows what Michonne wants, but he has never been as good at reading the signs as he thinks. This is a Richonne fanfic after all and I'm a sucker for happy endings, so there is a lot more to come in these last few chapters. Sorry to the Dixonne fans, but maybe I'll start a Dixonne fanfic to make up for it, 'cause I kind of dig that pairing too. :) Thanks so much for the positive/critiquing reviews, follows and faves!