A/N: Okay, this chapter is kinda long, so really quickly, I just wanna say thank you guys so much for showing love to this story! I always get so nervous starting new things, and y'all always have my back, so I just really appreciate it. By the way, sweettayjax, I went with Palm Trees because it speaks to the locale, but also because palm trees symbolize triumph, peace, and eternal life, so I thought it was a fitting title. (Spoiler alert? Haha.) I prefer one word titles, but I'd been trying to think of one for this story forever and when this came up, it really spoke to me. So there ya go! I hope this chapter isn't boring, but I really wanted to start to establish the relationships, so it's all necessary. I think the next chapter will be fairly easy to write, so I hope to be back soon! -Ash

2 – Damn Good Friends

The island of Anguilla was quite remarkable in its beauty. Captivating. Rick could tell even from his tiny window view from the plane. The water was impossibly blue, except at the shores, where the shallow tides met the white sand, turning the edges of the land a magnificent turquoise color. Michonne had sent him tons of pictures of the place in the months that she'd been there, but as with anything gorgeous, they didn't do it justice. Mere postcards of the world's wonders. He could even feel it in the air as he stepped onto the tarmac at the airport, feeling as though he'd stumbled into paradise. The sun at the top of the sky, the perfectly warm, soft breeze whisking through his t-shirt. In an instant, he'd forgotten that it was the end of December; it felt more like some perfect summer day in June.

After a relatively quick jaunt through customs and two stops for bathrooms and baggage, the group of five made their way outside the quiet airport to find their ground transportation. And just as promised, Michonne was there, accompanied by what did turn out to be a rather ugly white Toyota van – it certainly didn't help that it was juxtaposed against the wonder that was Michonne. Rick caught her smile immediately and sent a reserved one back, just as Judith let go of her father's hand to make a beeline for her godmother.

"Auntie!" she shouted excitedly, her sandals clacking against the pavement as she ran.

Michonne was quick to kneel to her level, scooping Judith into her arms the second she reached her. She squeezed her tight, inundating her with playful cheek-kisses while Judith giggled. "Hi, my little chickpea."

"Hi," she grinned back, staring into Michonne's eyes once they pulled apart. She rested her little hand on her 'aunt's warm cheek, studying her face as if she never wanted to forget it. Just in case. "Did you miss me?"

"I missed you so much," she promised, leaving another quick kiss on her nose. With Judith's arm wrapped around her neck, she began to saunter toward the rest of the approaching group. Smiling at how much Carl had grown since the last time she saw him – he was nearly the same height as his dad now; she chuckled at the way Andrea waddled down the sidewalk with that beautiful giant belly; Shane just beside her with that ever-present shit-eating grin on his face, having traded his wavy black locks for a buzz cut, while Rick seemed to have collected all the hair his best friend shed, his brown hair curling past the back of his beloved UGA cap. And he still had that walk, she noticed, moseying her way like some kind of cowboy. "Oh my god!" she shrieked once Andrea got closer, her stomach arriving before she did. "There's no way you're only six months."

"This is what twins do to your body, apparently," Andrea shook her head, the two of them quickly embracing with a cheek-kiss. "You look fantastic, as usual."

"As do you," Michonne assured her, helpfully wiping strands of her blond hair from her glistening forehead. "How were the flights?"

"Long," she sighed. She took a step back to point out her swollen ankles with pure disgust written all over her face. "Look at this."

"Those are cankles," Judith made sure to inform everyone, mimicking Andrea's choice of words when they debarked from their flight.

"You hush," Michonne chuckled, grinning at Shane as he made his way up to her. "Hello, Mr. Walsh."

"Hey, girl," he smirked. He went for a quick hug and kiss combo before taking Judith off her hands so that she could greet the others. "You came to the islands and got skinny, I see."

"Oh, please," she giggled, knowing she had done nothing but gain weight since she arrived – all in good places, at least. She ran a hand over his nearly-bald head, the two of them laughing when Judith mimicked her. "I leave Atlanta and you lose all your hair?"

"I just felt like a change," he shrugged.

"He means to say he lost a bet with me," Carl interjected, maneuvering between the adults to get a hug in with his godmother. "Hey."

"Hey, sweetie," Michonne grinned, offering him her tightest embrace yet. His hair was so long it brushed her arm when they hugged, and she took it into her fingers as they separated. "So I'm guessing he was trying to get you to cut this, too," she teased.

"Tried and failed," Carl confirmed with a smug grin. "I dunno why everyone is so adamant about this, but I'm not gonna budge."

"Because you look like a dirty hipster," Andrea inserted from behind Shane. "Soon as I get the chance, I'm gonna cut it in your sleep."

"All right, all right," Rick chuckled, literally and figuratively stepping into the conversation. "His hair isn't hurting anybody, maybe don't threaten my kid."

"Thank you, Dad."

"You do need to cut it, though," he made sure to finish, just before his eyes landed squarely on Michonne. They were both wearing sunglasses, so he hoped she couldn't tell he was staring, but it had been so long since he'd seen her in person – almost a year now – it felt a bit surreal to be standing in front of her again. "Hey."

"Hey." Michonne was smiling so hard she could actually feel her cheeks, and she immediately pulled him in for a hug. She happily inhaled him as he wrapped one arm around her neck and the other around her torso, pulling her close, in quintessential Rick Grimes fashion – he gave the best hugs. She gripped his strong shoulders and closed her eyes, relishing in the familiarity of it all; the memories that washed over her as she took in his scent. And the way he squeezed her and didn't immediately let go, she could tell that he needed it, too. Finally, though, the two of them did pull apart, Rick's facial hair tickling Michonne's face as he left a quick kiss on her cheek, and she stood back to get a good look at his handsome face. "You look like you did in college," she noted, mostly due to his longer hair. "Well, with a beard."

"A very gray beard," he submitted with a self-effacing smile to match. Meanwhile, Michonne really did look as young as she did the day they met. Her hair was different – she wore dreadlocks now instead of the braids and twist-outs she sported through law school. But her smile, her shape, her style, it was all the same. "You look amazing," he added, trying his best not to gawk at her figure in the turquoise dress she was wearing.

But Michonne noticed his gaze had obviously gone past her face, and she felt her face grow warm from the attention. "So is this everything?" she gestured to their collection of luggage, attempting to change the subject. "You guys ready to get going?"

"This is it," Carl confirmed. "Dad promised our Christmas gifts would be shipped out later."

She laughed at his skeptical tone, but turned for the van, anxious to get her friends back to the space she now called home. "I can't wait for you guys to see the place."

"The pictures you've sent look absolutely beautiful, Michonne," Andrea said, following behind her.

"They don't even tell you the half of it," she replied, helping her friend into the car before stepping inside to prepare Judith's car seat. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but sometimes I think Lori was with me when I found it. It's really everything we wanted it to be."

Andrea smiled back warmly and genuinely, shaking her head. "It doesn't sound ridiculous at all," she assured her. "It sounds beautiful."

Less than an hour later, the group had made it back to Michonne's place of business and pleasure, and it was, indeed, beautiful. She was right that pictures didn't tell the entire story, because it couldn't. Like Michonne herself, Le Palmier Bed & Breakfast was exquisite. Part bijou hotel, part extravagant guesthouse, the establishment was comprised of ten villas sitting right on the white sands of Rendezvous Bay Beach. The architecture was strikingly modern, with all-white exterior that looked pristine against the backdrop of the cerulean sea. And the interior, reminiscent to Michonne's old home in Atlanta, was full of contemporary but comfortable furniture, African art, Italian stone floors. There was no shortage of balconies and terraces, making for plenty of serene outdoor spaces, all caressed by the sea breeze. And the private villas were all linked by different bridges and walkways, dotted with palm trees and open to the bright blue sky. Not only was the place visually stunning, but after the death of her best friend, among other things, it was truly Michonne's oasis.

"So that's about it," she declared, beaming at her friends. They were standing in the courtyard of the property, amid the seven villas that they would occupy for the next two weeks. "We can get snorkeling equipment, we can order up some massages, fishing boats. Anything you want, you let me or Carol know and we'll take care of it for you."

Andrea was still looking around in awe at this place Michonne had created virtually all on her own. She remembered how insane it all sounded when she said she was leaving behind a partnership at her law firm to open a hotel in Anguilla. But she should've known then that Michonne would succeed at this, same as everything else she'd done in the twenty years she'd known her. Overachieving was in her blood, it seemed. "This is incredible," she told her, shaking her head in disbelief. She added a congratulatory hug for good measure. "God."

"She's right," Shane agreed. "Got me wonderin' why we didn't move down here with you in the first place."

Michonne smiled at them appreciatively, and then looked to Rick, waiting to hear his opinion on the matter. With a sleeping Judith slung over his shoulder, he walked to the edge of the courtyard, where an infinity pool overlooked the ocean. He couldn't believe any of it was real, much less conceived by his very own friend. That this was the vision she and Lori had, and Michonne had brought it to life so magnificently. He was speechless.

She started to ask his opinion since he hadn't yet voiced it, but a familiar giggle tickled her ear, and the next thing she knew, her son was running her way, just ahead of Carol, the two of them wrapped up in their giant beach towels. "There's my little peanut," Michonne grinned as Andre made it to her side. "You have fun?"

"Uh huh," he nodded distractedly as he threw off his wet towel and beach shoes to hand over to his mother. He waved at both Shane and Andrea when he noticed them smiling back at him. "Hi."

"What's up, little man?" Shane returned, kneeling to his level for a low high five. "I think you were about yea high the last time I saw you, you know."

Andre giggled at the exaggeratedly low height only a few inches off the ground, shaking his head. "No I wasn't!"

"Yeah you were," he insisted. "You didn't even come past my knee, man."

"Stop lying," Andrea rolled her eyes and lightly smacked her husband's shoulder. "It's barely been a year."

"Well he grew a lot in a year is all I'm sayin'."

Chuckling at her friends, Michonne pointed her son in Rick's direction, seeing that he'd finished greeting Carol and was waiting for Andre to notice him. "Look who's over there," she whispered.

Andre's face lit up at the sight of his Uncle Rick, along with his best buddy Judith, even if she was too asleep to acknowledge any of them. He immediately ran over to him, attaching himself to one of Rick's thighs in his best version of a hug.

"Hey, buddy," Rick laughed with delight. He wished he didn't have Judith so he could properly embrace him, but he affectionately ran his fingers over his wet hair, satisfied to simply have him close. "How've you been?"

"Good," he nodded, releasing his leg from his grasp.

"Yeah?" Rick used his other hand to wake his daughter, gently shaking her leg to rouse her from her slumber. "What's been good?"

"Umm." Andre stood back to think for a moment, looking up to Rick with his grin full of missing and growing teeth and then shrugged. "Everything's good."

"Everything?" he teasingly narrowed his eyes at him. "Everything?"

"Uh huh."

"So you mean to tell me you don't miss me and Judith?" he prodded.

"I do!" Andre promised with a giggle. "I mean other than that."

"Oh, of course," Rick grinned back at him. "We've missed you and your mom a lot." As Judith finally stirred from her nap, he attempted to include her in the conversation. "Haven't we?"

"Hi, Judith," Andre eagerly waved at her.

It took a moment for her to acclimate to her whereabouts and why so many people were surrounding her, but she eventually smiled sleepily when she recognized her friend. "Hi." Of course, once she recognized that he was in his bathing suit and she wasn't, that became the only thing that mattered, and it was like an hour had passed between them instead of a year. "Did you go swimming without me?"

All the adults laughed, while Rick glanced out to the awaiting beach. He couldn't wait to spend the next several days soaking up every bit of this beautiful place. "You'll have plenty of time to go swimming, sweetheart."

"Can we go now?"

Michonne chuckled at her insistence, considering she'd still be knocked out if it weren't for Andre showing up. "Tell you what," she announced to the entire group. "I'm gonna show you all to your rooms, and while your dad gets settled, I'll take you out there."

"You don't have to," Rick replied, though appreciative of the offer. "I know you've got your hands full today."

"It's fine. I have an hour to spare."

"It is fine," Carol coolly submitted from the lounge chair she'd claimed next to an exhausted Andrea. "I can go get Morgan and Jenny from the airport so you can at least get some time to breathe before dinner."

Michonne sent a thankful smile her way, knowing that wasn't the original plan. Carol had really become her right hand in the five months she'd been down there. "Sounds good?" she asked the group, although she mostly just needed the kids' approval. After receiving a collection of nods and yeses in agreement, Michonne grinned again, pleased. "All right. Then we'll meet back here for dinner."

Another few hours later, the group of ten was situated around the dining room of the chic bed and breakfast, having just enjoyed a delicious dinner of curried goat with pigeon peas and rice, one of Michonne's many specialties. She looked around at everyone's nearly empty plates, feeling quite satisfied with herself as she sat back in her chair. She'd been worried that Judith and perhaps even Carl wouldn't particularly like the opening meal, and she was armed with hot dogs and potato chips if all else failed, but much to her surprise and relief, they dug right in.

"Michonne, you outdid yourself," Morgan proclaimed from the end of the table opposite her. He also sat back in his seat, lazily resting his arm over the back of his wife's chair with a contented sigh. "That goat was as good as my mama used to make."

"That was better than his mama used to make," Jenny cut in, a sarcastic bite to her southern twang before she turned back to her husband. "You know you're the only one that liked her cooking."

"Either way, I'll take the compliment," Michonne grinned.

Shane, however, was quick to jump in to defend his friend and his mother. "Now wait a minute, I used to love Miss Sharon's cookin'. Me and Rick were over there every chance we got, whether Morgan came with us or not."

"I rest my case," Jenny shot back, causing Michonne to snort in response.

"I remember the first time he took us to his house," Rick started to recall, already laughing at the memory of meeting Morgan's mother. "I think it was just me and Shane at first, and then Mike and Daryl came by later. But we walk into the house and Morgan asks Miss Sharon if she made the goat for dinner, and I think my eyes almost popped outta my head. Shane and I spent the entire first half hour or so lookin' at each other like, How the hell are we gonna get outta here, dude?" He continued to smile as everyone laughed at his story, and he shook his head, unsure why that memory was so vivid. "We stayed, though, obviously, and it was one of the best meals I'd ever had."

"Probably because your mama can't cook either," Andrea teased him, not even bothering to look up as she scraped her plate.

"Oh god, remember when she made us that rum cake?" Michonne chimed in, cackling. "Whose birthday was that?"

"It was for Shane," Carol supplied, remembering how he ended up leaving it at her house. "It was literally just a Duncan Hines cake doused in rum."

"My mom did not make that cake," Rick insisted between all the laughter. "My mom made the pineapple upside down cake that was not… quite upside down…"

"Oh, yeah," Andrea recalled, pointing her fork at him. "The pineapple right side up cake."

"Lori made that rum cake," he finished, chuckling to himself as he realized that his wife being the culprit probably wasn't any better. "She really wanted to make Shane somethin' homemade, but it was right around the holidays and you all know how she was."

"Tryin' to take care of everyone," Morgan nodded, all of them knowing much too well how Lori Grimes operated.

As the table went quiet, Carl looked around at all his mom's friends, hating how they'd suddenly gone somber likely thinking about her. Given they'd be spreading her ashes in a few days, he knew that a lot of this trip would be about her, and he was looking forward to celebrating her memory. But he much would've preferred to not cry about his dead mother the first night there. "Okay, but she was a terrible baker," he submitted, smiling with relief when everyone laughed at him.

"My girl couldn't even make pancakes," Michonne admitted, laughing as she wiped her mouth. "It was so bad."

"I remember when she wanted to make those cake pops for school and you wouldn't let her," he chuckled. "So then she tried to do the cake in a jar."

"Oh god," she giggled, thinking of how Lori showed up at her office with a box full of literally half-baked cakes in mason jars. "Your mother. She was a walking Pinterest fail."

"She always tried, though. God love her," Jenny sighed.

"How 'bout a toast to our girl," Shane suggested, already holding up his glass full of rum and coke. "To Rick's girl," he added, glancing over to his quiet friend.

Michonne was second to raise her glass while the rest of the group, including the kids, followed suit. "Here, here."

"To Lori."

"And fuck cancer," Andrea added, oblivious to the kids in the room as she swallowed down her coconut water.

Both Judith and Andre looked up from their preoccupation with coloring the tablecloth, gasping in shock upon hearing the expletive, while Michonne widened her eyes at her friend. "Are you kidding me?"

"I'm so sorry," she covered her mouth, realizing her mistake. She pointed to both the youngsters, narrowing her eyes at them. "Don't say that word, kids."

"Carl says it a lot," Judith declared, pointing accusatorily to her brother.

He sighed in response, shaking his head at his sister's need to needlessly tattle on him. "Thanks, Judith."

"For the record," Shane interrupted as he watched Carl's face turn a blushing shade of pink, "no one is surprised by a fifteen-year-old usin' curse words. Just stick to doin' it with your friends."

"All right," he grinned, although still a bit bashfully.

"Your mother cursed like a sailor," Andrea revealed to him, lowering her voice as if it were a secret between the two of them. "It's in your blood, kiddo."

Carl's face contorted into a confused frown, finding that hard to believe given what he knew about his mother. "My mom?"

"Yep."

"No way."

"Not once you were old enough to understand her," Michonne was quick to clarify. Last thing she wanted him to think was that his mother lived some double life. "But in college? That woman wielded swear words like a sword."

He smiled at the revelation, enjoying hearing about his mother before he came along – he always had. Whenever Michonne talked about their college days, he always got the impression his mom was actually pretty cool. "Nice."

"Hey, where the hell is Daryl," Andrea wondered out loud, noticing the clock in the corner read 8:30pm. "I thought he was getting in like two hours ago."

"He'll be here in the morning," Carol informed the group. "He had to switch flights, said there was some… thing he had to do."

"And he wasn't gonna let us know?"

"He let me know," she shot back. "And now I'm letting you know."

Michonne did her best to suppress her smile, knowing her friend had been talking to Daryl quite a bit since she'd moved to the island. And she always tried to press the issue, but Carol was cagey as ever whenever she brought it up, which only furthered her suspicions. She'd already made a mental note to keep her eye on that once he arrived. "Everything's okay with him?"

"Yep." Carol took a long sip of her drink, avoiding all the other eyes in the room. "So how about that election?" She received a series of groans and eye rolls in response, which only prompted her to dig in. "We can't not discuss it."

"What is there to even discuss? Donald Trump was racist America's wet dream, and they got what they wanted," Andrea said.

"But the fact that he didn't even win the popular vote has to give us some hope, doesn't it?"

"No," Morgan cut in, his tone emphatic. "The Electoral College only works in the GOP's favor, and all it means is that they'll continue to illegitimately win elections, which does not give me hope at all. It's terrifying."

"Not to mention, it shouldn't have even been close," Jenny added in agreement.

Andrea rolled her eyes again as she readjusted in her seat. "If I hear another person say Hillary was just as bad as the pussy grabber, I might actually hit them."

"Really?" Shane chuckled at her use of another obscenity.

"Oh, if the President can say it, I can say it."

Michonne had already noticed that Rick hadn't spoken in several minutes now, and she figured he was off in his own head, probably thinking about Lori. And she didn't want to take that from him, so she didn't interrupt him; tried to ensure that no one else did either. But she didn't realize how far he'd gone until he unexpectedly and quietly excused himself from the table. Worried, she watched him disappear down one of the corridors, wondering whether to go after him, but again, thought it best to leave him be.

Shane considered the same, knowing the rest of the group was probably wondering why he didn't follow. But having been through this a few times before, he explained it away in just a few words: "Just give him a minute."

An awkward silence washed over the table as they waited hopefully for Rick to return, everyone downing their alcohol as they tried to come up with something to say to salvage the conversation. And again, it was Carl to the rescue. "So… do we think the Falcons can make the playoffs?"

"Do not get him started," Andrea sighed, referring to her husband.

Ignoring her, Shane instantly lit up at the mention of his favorite team. "Not only do I think they're gonna make the playoffs, but they're goin' to the Super Bowl, man."

"Man, you've said that every year since Matt started," Morgan reminded him.

"Yeah, but I mean it this year."

Andrea hated to play into Shane's delusions, but she couldn't disagree. "He is having his best year yet, which is pretty impressive nine years in."

"And Julio is un-damn-stoppable."

"If they win these next two games, they're in, right?" Carl questioned.

"Yeah, man. They could finish at the top of our division."

"Could get a bye week the first week of the playoffs," Morgan nodded. "That would help tremendously."

"See," Shane grinned excitedly. "I'mma be honest, I almost want Ty to stay in Atlanta next week. He needs to get that defense together if they wanna win in January."

"Oh, let the man have a week off," Andrea frowned. "I can't even remember the last time Tyreese got to come on vacation with us."

"He invited me and my dad to The Dome when they played the Packers," Carl recalled with a small smile on his face. "We got to hang out in the box and everything. It was awesome."

Michonne was smiling at the exchange amongst her friends, but her real attention was with Rick, wherever he'd gone, and she was finding it difficult to sit there and pretend otherwise. She stood from her chair, running her hand over her son's back as she excused herself, too. "I'll be back in a minute," she softly declared, not wanting to disrupt the entire table. And before anyone could reply, she walked off in the direction Rick went, scanning every nook and cranny of the property for her friend. Eventually, she found him on the terrace outside the lounge area, overlooking the pool. She hesitantly moved to join him, hoping he wouldn't mind the intrusion.

"I'm all right," he announced in a hoarse whisper once she reached him. "I promise."

She placed a comforting hand on his back, noting that he wasn't especially tense the way she was expecting. "Okay," she nodded.

"I just started thinkin' about things, and I needed a minute to myself. I didn't wanna bring everyone down."

"Well just so you know, abruptly leaving in the middle of a conversation doesn't do a lot for people's spirits." She watched him smirk in response, and she began to gently massage his back with her fingers. "I hope you didn't think we were being inappropriate, we just–."

"No," he shook his head. He even closed his eyes, feeling comforted by her touch, the softness of her voice. "It was nice, honestly. You talk about her like she's still here."

"Sometimes I feel like she is," she admitted, smiling back at him. "I can't even delete her from my phone, so sometimes I'll come across her name and her picture, and it takes me a minute to remember..."

"I've gotten used to her not bein' around," he nodded. Though he knew what she was feeling all too well, those first three months after Lori's death being nothing but a series of little reminders that she was gone. "But sometimes little things will creep up. Like Carl will look at me exactly the way she would've. Or Judith needing something from me that I'm completely incapable of doing, and of course Lori was an expert in…"

"Nothing involving baked goods, I'm assuming."

Rick chuckled as he leaned over the railing of the balcony. "No, not that," he agreed. "I'm pretty good at baking, actually."

Michonne gave him a playful but disbelieving look, complete with her raised eyebrow. "Compared to Lori?"

"Compared to anyone," he laughed again. "I'm pretty sure I could hang with Martha Stewart on a good day."

"That sounds like an overstatement," she replied, grinning at him. She was glad to see him laughing so easily; it made it easier to believe him when he said he was all right. "But I'm gonna let you have that."

He shifted his gaze from the water to the woman beside him, a smile tugging at his lips as he looked her up and down, though she seemed oblivious to his stare. "I'll make you somethin'," he eventually offered.

She glanced back at him, baffled, as if he'd just spoken to her in one of the languages she didn't know. "What?" she chirped.

"I'm here for the next two weeks, I'll prove it to you."

"All right." If nothing else, she was impressed with his confidence. It made her want to believe him, even though she had absolutely no reason to. "Just let me know when you wanna use the kitchen."

"I will."

Their mindless conversation soon dwindled to a pleasant silence, the two of them taking in the view of the water, complete with a cool breeze to top off the moment. The sun had set hours ago, so it was nearly pitch black outside, just the light of the moon reflecting off of the endless seascape. Still, it was just as picturesque a scene as its daytime counterpart; perhaps even more so because of the darkness. Rick felt a tear slip down his cheek, and he quickly wiped away before it could develop into a full-blown cry. He'd had enough of those in the past two years. "As much as I wish she could've been here with us," he started to say, his gaze flitting up to the sky as he spoke, "I'm glad I'm here, Michonne. I think I needed this."

Michonne nodded solemnly, closing her eyes as she listened to the waves crashing against the shore. Because she understood what he meant by that – needing this place. There was an emptiness she'd felt, a hole in her soul from Lori's absence, and it was one of the main reasons she decided to move to Anguilla in the first place. She wasn't sure what she'd find there, but she hoped for peace, at the very least, and she'd gotten it, mostly. Away from all the heartbreak she left in Atlanta, every day, a little bit more of that hole filled with the gratification she got from her new life. And maybe for Rick, he would find peace in getting some closure; in letting Lori go. She hoped so, anyway. She opened her eyes to the sight of him still gazing into the distance, and he looked like he was already halfway there. She moved in close to him, smiling when he linked his right arm with her left, and she rested her head on his shoulder, basking in the warmth of his body heat. "I'm glad you're here, too, Rick."