A/N: It's time for this tale to come to an end! I hope you all enjoy the conclusion. Thank you for all of the positive feedback!
D.C. summers were blisteringly hot. It seemed unfair to Rick that a place could exist where you seemingly sweated your skin off in the summer, and had to dig your car out of piles of snow in the winter. Still, Carl liked it here, liked his friends, liked his school, and loved being less than a half hour from his grandparents. So Rick endured, adjusting as best as he could. He was wiping his dripping brow, tilting the bill of his faded red baseball cap up over his eyes when he felt his phone begin to vibrate from his pocket. He fished it out, still walking, expecting to see Carl's name, or Lori's parents.
Rick was sure he had misread when he glanced down at the number lighting up on his cellphone. He paused mid-step in the middle of the sidewalk, staring down in disbelief. Someone jostled by him rudely, cursing under their breath. Hastily, Rick stepped to the side, raising the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" he said cautiously.
"Rick," it was her, the lilt of her voice sweeter after months without hearing it. "I was hoping you'd pick up."
"Michonne," he couldn't help the smile that came to his face, even through his irritation. "I didn't think I'd be hearing from you ever again." She said she'd call, and for a long while, he'd held out hope. After months of radio silence though, he was forced to confront the reality that his friendship with Michonne was a thing of the past.
She paused, shuffling on the other line. "I'm sorry," Michonne said. "I'm so sorry, Rick. After the trial, it all got so insane. Reporters were knocking down the door, people were sending threats."
"I know," he'd received his fair share of the same. He couldn't get out of Georgia fast enough. Even Virginia had seemed too close. "I figured you'd lay low for a month or two, but it's been close to a year—" he couldn't help the hurt in his voice.
She too, sounded melancholy. "I wanted to call Rick, but I thought it was better this way. I wanted to let you get back to your life."
His life. Rick wasn't so sure what that was these days. Once upon a time, his life had been being an officer of the law, a husband, and a father. His life had been in Kings County with folks he'd known since primary school. But now….
"I heard you're in DC," Michonne said. "I heard you're still fighting the fight." There was something almost like pride in her voice.
"Yeah," he sighed. "Well, you know it ain't just Blake and Mamet. There's more, all across the country. We put one away but—" he broke off. Truthfully, the decision had been easy once the dust had settled. He could no longer be a police officer, but there were other ways to protect and serve.
"I know," she told him. There was a moment's silence . "How's Carl?" she asked.
This was familiar territory. Rick willingly engaged. "He's good. Loved those comic books you sent. Keeps asking after Andre," Rick paused, "and you." He'd tried not to be saddened when the package came, a box filled with things for Carl, things that Michonne had likely personally selected. There'd been a card on top for him, simple and white. Inside, she'd written the words, "thank you" in gold lettering. It now was tacked to the bulletin board in his office, pinned up among dozens of case studies.
"I needed to grieve," she told him suddenly. "I needed to rest. That whole year, it was like a hurricane and I couldn't-"
"I know," he didn't require her explanations. "Michonne, you've got nothing to be sorry about." He'd forgiven any of her perceived distance from the moment he saw her name glowing on his phone screen.
"Don't I?" she asked on a sigh. "I won my fight and I turned tail. You kept on fighting." There was shame in her voice. She was the last person who deserved to feel shame.
"I told you to rest, remember?" he asked her. "That night before we won. You promised me you would."
"I did," she said.
Rick wished he could see her face, see the expressions playing out there. "Well?" he prompted.
"Well what?" she seemed bemused. He could picture it, that look she gave him on the rare occasions that he confused her.
"Did you keep your promise?" he asked.
She laughed then. "I did," she said. "I took a long break." She let out another chuckle, an exhausted sound, as though she still couldn't quite believe where life had led them.
"Good," Rick leaned into the shade, searching for respite from this southern humidity. "You deserve it," he told her.
"The thing is, Rick, I think I'm done taking breaks," Michonne said.
"What do you mean?" he asked, heart pounding.
"Like you said, there's still work to do. And we made pretty good partners…"
"We did," he confirmed.
"I'd like to be partners again, if you need me," she offered.
"Of course," Rick didn't hesitate. "Of course I need you Michonne." It was the first time he had ever said the words out loud. He surprised even himself at how true it was.
"Well then," she sounded so pleased he could almost hear her smile. "Can I Andre and I share your couch until we get a place of our own? I've been checking out DC apartments."
"We have a brownstone," Rick said, grinning broadly. "It's technically in Maryland, but you can have the whole spare room. I'll let Carl know you're coming."
"I'll be there," she promised.
He wasn't sure he fully believed her until she showed up on his doorstep a month later.
"You've cut your hair," Michonne observed, leaning over his kitchen island. Carl and Andre had retired, exhausted after hours of running around outside having adventures in the backyard. Rick had offered Michonne a drink, eager to catch up with her. Now she sipped it, watching him from across the counter.
"So did you," he smiled at her. Her long locs were gone, replaced with a close-cropped fade. "I like it."
"We're twins," she smiled back. She reached out for him, tracing the short hair above his ear. "I may have to ask you for your barber's number," she complimented. His skin seemed to spark beneath her finger.
"It's yours," he assured her, taking a drag of his own beer to steady himself. They stared at one another for a long moment, the space between them growing increasingly more charged.
"I have an interview with the organization this week," Michonne told him suddenly, breaking the moment. "They said you vouched for me."
"Of course," Rick chuckled. "Not that I needed to. They jumped when I mentioned you moving here."
"You'll have to catch me up," she said, tugging at the short curls atop her head. "I've missed so much. There's months of case work to go over and—"
"I will," Rick said. "Later."
"Later?" she looked amused.
"Later," he confirmed. "I want to catch up with you first." He set his beer bottle down.
"What do you want to know?" she asked. She leaned forward again, the fabric of her sundress dipping low.
"How are you feeling?" he questioned, determinedly keeping his eyes up.
She began to laugh in earnest, setting down her half full bottle. "You haven't changed, Rick," she smiled at him, walking around the corner to stand in front of him. Rick straightened up, meeting her gaze.
"Well," he prompted. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm better," she said. "Some days are hard, some days..." Michonne shrugged. She reached for his hand, clasping her long fingers around his. "You were right."
"Sometimes I get it right," he teased. He twisted his wrist, lacing his fingers with her own. She took another step closer to him. "I missed you," Rick told her, exhaling deeply. "I wondered about you all the time."
Michonne worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "I missed you too, Rick. I just…" she sighed. "I had to put Mike to rest."
He nodded, understanding. They were coming up on two years soon, two years since he'd seen Blake pull the trigger, since he spent weeks reeling in guilt and disgust, since Michonne showed up on his porch.
"Do you ever regret it?" she asked suddenly. "Helping me? You lost so much…"
"Hey," he silenced her, cupping her chin with his free hand. She shivered at the touch, still chilled from his beer bottle. "I don't regret it. I'd do it again." He would, though he wished he could spare her the whole affair.
She nodded, her dark eyes fixed on him. Her hand reached up to touch his arm. She traced her fingers up, leaving goosebumps in her wake. Slowly, she leaned towards him.
Rick met her halfway. He pulled her into his arms, pressing his mouth to hers. She tasted sweet, like summer cider. Her lips molded to his, her arms twisting around his shoulders. She pulled back after a moment, resting her forehead against his.
"I think I'm ready to start over, Rick," she whispered, her lips brushing his. "If you wanted to start over with me."
In answer, he held her tighter, cradling her.
"Together," he whispered.
"Together," she agreed, kissing him again.