A/N: You guys! I really didn't expect to get many responses on the previous chapter. Like the whole time I was writing, I was like, "Why am I putting so much effort into this? Nobody's gonna read this shit." Lmao. But I still thought it was important to show Rick and Michonne's last moments with Lori and that there was real and true love there. By the grace of God, I haven't had any personal experiences with cancer (although my aunt died from a long-term illness), but it warmed my heart to hear from you guys that have, and I'm really relieved to know that I got it right for you. Thank you for sharing that with me.

As for Richonne - like a lot of you, I don't think Lori was The capital-L Love of Rick's life. Hell, he wasn't even hers - as she said, it was Michonne. But they had a good marriage, and as to be expected, there's grief there. But as he told Michonne, he feels free from her now, so you probably won't have to hear a lot more about her, lol.

Also, while I think the next few chapters will address this, I just wanna say: Michonne didn't spend her life pining for Rick. I even specifically made their brief interaction in 2014 very platonic, lacking any hints of attraction while still showing familiarity, because that's what their relationship turned into. And it's important to keep in mind how young they were. Things that happened at 22 matter a lot less to you at 30. And feelings that aren't explored often fade. (Or for Rick and Michonne, laid dormant.) I think it is kind of bittersweet, but I hope it doesn't seem like Michonne had a sad life. At the start of this, I'd only planned to put flashbacks in chapters 5, 7, and 9, but since I've already added one, I think I'm gonna try to work in a couple more to flesh some things out for you guys.

Anyway, I'm talking too much. Thank you all for enjoying this journey. You're wonderful and I love you a lot. -Ash

8 - I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

As the clock rounded past the 8 o'clock hour, the risen sun streaming through a set of ornamental sheer curtains, Michonne's eyes fluttered open, her mind and her sight slowly coming into focus. Her surroundings were familiar, but she felt strange and out of place in her own bed, she realized. Knowing Rick had been there all night; that they'd slept together in the literal sense of the term. She could recall waking up a couple of times throughout, halfway expecting him to be gone, and instead realizing that his quasi-erection was pressed against her. It was nice to be that close to someone again. It was a feeling she'd forced herself to forget – she hadn't really had it since Lori died – but she welcomed it now.

It took a few seconds for her to process the fact that she was in an empty bed now, Rick's arm no longer draped lovingly across her waist, the warmth of his soft breath gone from her shoulder. She wasn't sure why it took her so long to register that she was alone – still caught in the moment, perhaps. But she didn't mind it. On this occasion, waking up alone didn't feel lonely. Quite the opposite, really, as she noticed the sheet of paper folded on her nightstand with Rick's lovely handwriting staring back at her. She'd always enjoyed his almost dainty penmanship, remembering the first time he'd written her a note way back when – something about being late for a study session. When he finally showed up, she made sure to tell him how much she liked his writing. Since then, she would always smile when she'd receive a card or invitation from the Grimes family and could tell that he addressed it. That morning was no different, her smile as wide as her face as she read the note.

Michonne,

I didn't mean to leave before we could speak, like some asshole one night stand. But I made unbreakable plans and I didn't want to wake you - I'm sorry. But I'll make it up to you. Until then, I've got the kids. Enjoy some alone time. We'll be back soon.

Merry Christmas
Rick

"Shit, it is Christmas," she realized out loud as she laid the note back on her nightstand. She quietly laughed to herself, wondering what kind of 'plans' he could be referring to. She wouldn't have been surprised if Andre and Judith had concocted some weird, adorable scheme and pulled him into it.

Even more than that, she was struck by the endearing about the tone of his note – the sweetness in its simplicity. It was thoughtful. And she loved the warmth imbued in his speaking of 'the kids' like they were all one family unit. 'We'll be back soon.' As though this was his home as much as it was hers. It felt right, and she wasn't sure that it should. In fact, she wasn't sure that any of her feelings about the situation were appropriate. When they planned this vacation, she'd simply hoped that this time away from Atlanta would be healing for Rick; that he'd get some closure, have some fun, and go back home, ready to restart his life. And in the process, she would get to enjoy the hell out of her closest friends for a couple of weeks.

But somewhere along the line, she'd started to feel things. And it happened so quickly. One night of talking to Rick again, and all the feelings she'd forced herself to let go of – or so she thought – had come rushing back. And she didn't know what to do with that. Even though it was obviously mutual, was it okay to be in love with her dead best friend's husband? And what kind of relationship would they ever have with him in Atlanta and her in Anguilla? She had more questions than answers about their situation, and still, none of that stopped her from smiling whenever she thought about him.

She was just about ready to get out of bed, her thoughts circling the idea of a nice, relaxing bath while she waited for Rick and the kids. But before she could move, she heard the front door open and close, quickly followed by Rick's muffled voice presumably instructing the kids up the stairs. The pitter-patter of little feet kept the grin on her face as she sat up, resting against her headboard as she waited for them to appear.

Within seconds, there was a knock on the door that she recognized as Andre's, followed by giggling, confirming that Judith was with him. "Come in," Michonne chuckled, knowing they were likely up to something.

The two of them came bursting into the room with smiles that rivaled the sun in brightness, and they shouted in near-unison, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" She opened her arms wide, gesturing for them to come meet her with hugs. "Hi, Peanut," she greeted her son with a series of loud, sloppy kisses. "I missed you!"

He smiled coolly as he escaped her embrace. "It was only a few hours, Mommy. And we got to make cookies at Aunt Carol's."

She laughed a that tidbit, inwardly hoping that Carol managed to make some an adult batch for the Christmas occasion. She would have to remember to text her later. "Well I'm glad you had fun," she grinned, gently pinching his little cheeks. She watched, slightly confused, as Judith went around the bed to climb in beside her, going so far as to nestle beneath the white bedspread and cover her feet. Michonne stared at her, amused by her gall, as well as her cute purple pajamas. "Hey, Chickpea."

"Hi," Judith waved back, adorably oblivious to the fact that Michonne was wondering what the hell she was doing there.

Before she could ask, though, more footsteps echoed in the hallway, and Carl appeared, toting the small food tray she typically used for Andre when he was bedridden. Rick followed shortly after, another larger try in his hands, and more notably, a Santa hat perched on top of his head. She grinned widely at the sight of him – mostly out of habit at this point, but also because with his lovely graying beard, he very much resembled Father Christmas. And it seemed that he had come bearing gifts. "What is this?" she asked, despite already knowing the answer.

"We stole your job for a morning," Rick replied with a smile; one that lingered on her sweetly as he situated the tray over Michonne's lap. "Merry Christmas."

She stared at the elaborate setup consisting of guava juice and coffee, a fruit salad comprised of papaya and mango, cherries and starfruit, pineapple and banana, and on her main plate, fried breadfruit, eggs, French toast, and bacon. It was a lot, even for her fairly high standards. "Merry Christmas," she whispered, gazing back up at Rick, her eyes expressing her appreciation.

"It was Carl's idea," he nodded, gesturing to where his son was setting up the smaller tray in front of Judith. "He thought it would be nice if we all made breakfast for our girls."

"I made the fruit salad," Carl added proudly. "Shane made the eggs, Daryl made the bacon, Morgan did the breadfruit, and Dad did the French toast."

"I grinded the coffee beans!" Andre inserted from beside Rick.

"Under my supervision," Rick assured her, stroking the top of Andre's head the way he often did with Judith. "It was a group effort."

"I see that," she grinned over to Judith, who was already chowing down on her banana slices. "This is so sweet," she appended, still in a bit of disbelief. "Thank you, guys."

"You're more than welcome," Carl answered for them. "We just hoped you wouldn't mind Judith joining you. She insisted."

"Of course I don't mind," Michonne continued to smile. In fact, she rather enjoyed being afforded a god-mother-daughter moment with her. They were too far and few between. She took that opportunity to dig into her own salad, plopping a cherry into her mouth as she examined the tray again. It all looked so good. "Have you guys eaten?" she wondered. "You want some?"

"We're fine," Rick assured her, chuckling at her unwavering insistence on taking care of everyone else. All the time. "We wanted you to have a few hours where you just think about you."

Still beaming, she simply nodded, understanding that her only worry for the moment was to enjoy her breakfast. "Okay," she relented. "Thank you."

"Thank you," he sent back with another nod, affectionately patting her bare foot before turning out for the door, Andre and Carl following behind.

"We'll be downstairs," Carl informed them. "Just let us know when you're done."

"Will do." Michonne watched the boys disappear down the hall and then gazed at her plate for the third time, quietly laughing at the fact that she'd woken up to room service in her own hotel. How sweet it was to have someone take care of her for a change.

"What's funny, Auntie?" Judith wondered with a mouthful of her bacon.

"I don't know," she replied, shaking her head. Truthfully, she was thinking of how much she was enjoying all of this. Maybe too much. "I'm just happy."

"Oh." She grinned up at her godmother, also relishing the special moment. She imagined this was what it must've felt like to have a mommy. And she liked it. "Me, too."

By the time noon rolled around, Michonne's living room was decorated with wrapping paper scraps and emptied boxes from the bevy of gifts the kids had received for Christmas. And Rick and Michonne watched on, both proud and grateful that they had the means to spoil their kids a bit for the occasion. Judith was in one corner, giggling to herself as she created her own movie using her new animation kit; Andre in another, completely enamored with a manual and his new tools, learning how to build a computer; and Carl had taken up the couch opposite the adults, off in his own world as he got acquainted with his new VR headset. The room was quiet, but busy, just the way parents tended to like it.

"This is good," Rick declared, taking care to keep his voice quiet, so as not to disturb any of the kids from their tasks.

Michonne nodded as she took a sip of her coffee, settling further into the couch as she gazed around the messy room. The Joneses had gifted everyone a set of onesie pajamas for Christmas, and she was happy to put hers to good use as she sat around doing absolutely nothing. "It is," she agreed.

"I know we're not supposed to let them get too attached to technology, but when it keeps them busy like this…"

"I know. You usually get worried when they're this quiet. But this," she gestured to the room, "is perfect. It's actually the best Christmas I could've asked for."

That put an instant smile on his face, happy to hear that she was happy. It was her first Christmas away from home, which he knew could evoke some strange feelings, especially given what was happening with Mike, but she genuinely seemed to be enjoying her day. "You ready for your gift?" he asked, nodding toward the tree, where just a couple more wrapped presents were waiting.

Michonne quirked a suspicious eyebrow at him, questioning what he could've gotten her that was making him smile that way. He almost seemed excited. In the past, their gifts to each other tended to be pretty generic - some memento from a vacation that went to every couple, or some personalized household item that was never particularly personal. Now that they were no longer part of couples, she was intrigued to see what he'd thought to get for just her. "Okay…"

"Jesus, don't sound so excited," he chuckled, picking himself up from the couch.

She watched, amused, as he did his bowlegged strut through the mess and retrieved the boxy present she'd been wondering about, given the lack of name tag. The smirk on his face as he walked it back to her only piqued her interest more. The shape of it made her think it was perhaps a book, maybe some self-help shit he'd discovered over the past year. But she got the feeling it was something sillier than that. "What did you do?" she simpered back, accepting the neatly wrapped gift.

"It's nothin' really," he shrugged, noting her dubious smile. "Just somethin' I thought would make you laugh."

"Well don't ruin the mystery." She waited for him to reclaim his seat before beginning to carefully strip the festive paper. Her smile soon evolved into a fit of giggles as she slowly revealed the gift's cover image of Kate Winslet being enveloped by Leonardo DiCaprio with 'Titanic' imprinted along its side. "Seriously?" she nearly shrieked.

Rick blushed, relieved that she both recognized what it meant and seemed to like it. "It came up on Amazon after I watched The Revenant, and it was like… a sign."

"I mean, this is the original two-tape VHS version," she said, still staring at her present in awe. "You really took it all the way back."

Hearing the commotion between the adults in the room – or mostly Michonne – Carl put his game to the side and made his way over to their couch to see what all the fuss was about. His face scrunched with confusion as he observed the twenty-year-old movie and its even more antiquated format. "Is this is an inside joke?"

"It is," Rick assured him, playfully rolling his eyes at his son's judgmental tone.

"Is it something you can explain? Or is it gross?" he frowned.

"It's not gross," Michonne chuckled, briefly trading the movie for her coffee mug. "Why... would you even think that?"

"I dunno, most inside jokes end up being dirty."

Michonne only shook her head and gave Rick a look meant to say, That's your son. "Sit down," she instructed him. "I'll tell you all about how your dad wasn't shit during our junior year."

Rick's mouth opened to protest, but he only ended up laughing instead, because he had no solid defense. "That's how we're describing this?"

"Mommy," Andre cut in from across the room, "you said a bad word."

She let out a sigh that doubled as a laugh, amused by how attentive he was. Here she thought he was too preoccupied to pay any attention to them. "It's a bad word for you, Peanut. Not me."

"Why?" he shot back.

"Just… because."

Rick took the opportunity to give her sarcastic glance right back: That's your son. "That's not a good answer," he whispered.

"Because it's a word for adults to use, baby."

"Okay…"

Michonne chuckled again, knowing from his tone that he had already checked out of the conversation. "What were we talking about?"

"You were gonna tell me why my dad isn't shit," Carl reminded her. He received stern looks from his father and Michonne, leading him to raise his hands in surrender. "I was just repeating what Michonne said."

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," she grinned, pointing to him accusatorily. "I'll be forty in February and I still don't curse in front of my parents."

"Really?" he frowned again. He had friends that cursed in front of their parents now, so that notion sounded foreign to him. "They'd say something about it?"

"I'm not entirely sure my mother wouldn't knock me across the room."

The three of them laughed, although only Carl thought she was joking. Rick was well-versed in Dr. and Mrs. Diarra's very traditional ways – to put it mildly. "I remember when I told your dad he could call me Rick instead of Richard. He looked at me like I'd lost my mind."

"Oh yeah, I heard about that one," she giggled, recalling the night of her engagement party. "He was just extremely baffled about you having the audacity to tell him something in his home."

"Trust me, I figured that out really quickly."

"So… does that have something to do with the movie?" Carl interjected, still trying to discern the hidden meaning behind the Christmas gift before they could go off on some tangent. "Is it like a thing about how you were poor and she was rich, so you were like Jack and Rose?"

"No," Michonne laughed heartily. "It's not that deep I assure you."

"And I wasn't poor," Rick added, shaking his head at Carl's deduction. "We weren't rich, but we were fine."

"Grandma says you were poor."

Michonne snorted at his response, but she also knew that older people had a way of playing up their hard times when they needed to. Her parents did it, too. "So the movie," she proclaimed, seeing the need for the subject change. She positioned so that her legs were propped beneath her and she was comfortably facing Rick and Carl. She gave the older Grimes a quick but knowing glance before beginning the short story. "So this had to be, what, twenty years ago?"

"Technically nineteen," Rick nodded, smiling, already knowing that she was going to make this story sound worse than its reality.

"So it's this same time of year, right around Christmas, and all of us had gone back home for the winter break. And before we left school, your dad and I made explicit plans to go see Titanic the day it came out-."

"They were not explicit," Rick cut in to point out. "We just said we were gonna go."

Michonne stared at Rick blankly for several seconds, but opted not to respond to him, continuing with her tale instead. "So that Friday comes and I was so excited. I'd seen the trailer a million times, and everyone was talking about this movie and how big it was gonna be. So that morning, I was up early and looking up movie times at Phipps… because I had to see it at the fancy theater."

"Wait, it was just the two of you?" Carl wondered, both confused and intrigued that they had plans that didn't seem to include his mother. "Was this a date?"

"It wasn't a date," Michonne was quick to clarify. "Your mom and dad were on one of their 'breaks' at the time," she added with an obligatory eye roll, "but I was with Mike."

"He was gone, though," Rick submitted, "so we kept each other company quite a bit that semester..."

Michonne's blank stare turned to an intentional gaze as she recalled how they probably spent an inordinate amount of time together junior year. The first half of it, at least. She held back a smile as images came to mind of that one night where things went a little too far. She had to shake them away just to resume her story. "We also lived fairly close in Atlanta," she went on, "so it seemed like a simple trip to the movies wasn't a lot to ask."

Carl chuckled, already hearing the indignation creeping into Michonne's voice. "I hear a 'but' coming..."

"But we never made it to the movies. Did we, Rick?"

Rick hung his head in shame, scratching at his eyebrow with the knuckle of his thumb as he tried to fish his brain for an excuse. "No… not quite."

"Why not?" Carl asked.

"Because your dad," Michonne answered before Rick could even try, "supposedly my friend, called me at fucking 6:30," she added from behind her gritted pearly whites, "as in thirty minutes before he was supposed to pick me up, and said he couldn't go."

Carl's eyes widened in disbelief and he stared at the side of his dad's face. "Dude."

"I know," he conceded with a nod. "It was shitty."

"Why would you do that?"

"I mean, it's a little more complicated than Michonne is making it sound," he said, eyeing his friend, assuming he probably shouldn't elaborate on that. "But I did. I stood you up."

"I was so ready," she commented sadly to Carl. "I had to go with my mom on Sunday, and she talked and asked questions the entire. three. hours."

"That sucks," Carl sighed at his father. "Like, was it some kind of emergency?"

"The point is," Rick interjected, purposely ignoring the question, "this is my twenty-year-late apology. And I was hopin' we could watch it today."

"Yeah, because there are lots of VCRs laying around, Dad."

Admittedly, Michonne had been wondering what she was supposed to do with a VHS in 2016, but she also didn't care about that aspect. She was appreciative of the gesture and the fact that he remembered that part of their history. It was a small token but it evoked so many memories - some bad, but mostly good, about the start of their relationship. Back to where it all began. And almost ended, for that matter. All the feelings and then the lack thereof that led them to this place. "You be quiet," she told Carl, happy to trade his sarcasm for Rick's sweet gesture. "It's surely on Netflix or somewhere on the internet."

"Luckily, I'm not so old that I don't know how technology works," he told Michonne, even though he was responding to his son. "The tapes are a keepsake. I already bought it and queued it up on Amazon Video."

She tried to contain her smile, but it was hard to pretend she wasn't impressed by his forethought. "I told you your dad had game," she smirked at Carl.

Rick raised an eyebrow at her statement, wondering what conversation he'd missed that led her to that conclusion. The fact that she'd obviously defended him only interested him more. "Is that right?"

"Not a lot," she was quick to retort, careful not to give him any big ideas about himself. "But you're thoughtful, and that goes a long way."

Carl couldn't help but note the looks being passed between Michonne and his dad, and while he wasn't sure whether he was reading them correctly, it made him happy to see them getting along so well. His dad seemed uncharacteristically happy there. And maybe it was just because he was on vacation and didn't have anything to particularly worry about, but he wanted more of this for him. "Dad, I asked Michonne the other day why you guys never got together back in college, and she basically ran away from me," he revealed with an impish smile. "So did you ever think about it?"

"Well," Rick chuckled nervously, knowing this could head into awkward territory. "It might interest you to know that I actually met Michonne before I met your mother."

"It was all of two weeks before," Michonne intervened to add.

"Still before," he maintained. "And I tried desperately to get her to go out with me that entire time. But she already had a boyfriend, so…" Rick shrugged, allowing that to be the end of the story.

Carl glanced at Michonne, confused by her cageyness on the subject in that case. "You could've just said that a week ago."

"Yes, I suppose I could've gone with that very simple version of events," she chuckled, her eyes staying on Rick as she smiled amusedly. She actually liked that their borderline-dirty, not-so-little secret had mostly stayed between the two of them throughout the years. Sitting there clutching her gift, she was reminded of just how much she'd held in for so long. "Okay, so," she declared, knocking the thoughts away before she could be consumed by them, "junk food and movies for the rest of the day?"

"Really?" Carl lit up. "We don't have to get dressed up for some fancy Christmas dinner with everyone?"

"I don't know what anyone else is doing, but I'll be here on my couch, in my pajamas all day."

Rick grinned, loving the sound of that - just the five of them, enjoying a leisurely, low key day. He was used to busier holidays, Lori always wanting to see the people she loved on Christmas Day. Which either meant a lot of traveling or hosting some elaborate party for everyone they knew. But this was how Michonne liked to enjoy the holiday, and it felt like being welcomed into her immediate family. "That sounds good to me."

"God, Cal is the worst." Michonne rolled her eyes as she watched Rose's fiancé profess his sexist points of view, but she quickly realized that she was talking to herself. The room was silent aside from some light snoring coming from beside her - Carl's, to be exact, stretched out between herself and his father. Of course Rick was no better, curled up at the end of the sofa, his mouth hanging open, obviously knocked out. The little ones had fallen asleep before the movie even started. And after fairly large doses of pizza, cookies, and ice cream for dinner, she'd been expecting as much. Carl and Rick, however, were going to hear about this.

With a sigh, she picked herself up from the sofa and went to her hallway closet to retrieve blankets for them. They probably didn't need anything - they looked pretty damn comfortable as is, but she had a habit thanks to Andre. She settled on her giant UGA blanket, big enough for both of them, and tiptoed back into the living room to cover them. As annoyed as she was, she couldn't help but smile as she tucked them in for the night. She gently ran her fingers through Rick's curls as she gazed at Carl, looking uncannily like his mother.

Michonne lowered the TV volume and took her happy thoughts outside where they wouldn't disturb anyone if they became too loud. She leaned against the parapet, contentedly gazing out into the darkness, listening to the sound of the sea. She thought about how her first Christmas on the island had been a good one, and in fact, the entire year had been good to her, much to her surprise. She had never been one to take chances, never rocking the boat, as she preferred smooth sailing over unknown adventures. But quitting her job and moving to this little Caribbean sanctuary was probably the best thing she'd ever done for herself. Maybe even the only thing. Her life was full of decisions she'd made for other people, and if this year had taught her anything, it was that living for herself was an option. And she needed to do more of it.

After a few blissful minutes with her thoughts, she detected movement behind her, figuring one of the kids had probably stirred for a bathroom break. But the gentle footsteps told her otherwise, and she turned, pleasantly surprised to see Rick coming outside to join her. She smiled to herself as he closed the balcony door behind him and remained silent as he joined her, not caring why he was out there; simply glad to have his company.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," he declared, casually propping himself against the railing next to her. "But I forgot how boring the first half of that movie is."

She laughed lightly, amused at his unwarranted contempt for this film, even if she didn't agree. "You're gonna stop talking shit about my movie," she said, feigning a serious tone. "Especially when you're supposed to be making up for standing me up:"

"I mean, it's not like I just didn't show up," he continued to insist. "I called you, at least."

"Thirty minutes before!" she hissed back, careful not to wake the kids despite the closed door. "You didn't even give me a good reason."

"Being sick is a perfectly good reason."

"A reason that sounded a lot like bullshit," she quipped, both of them chuckling.

Rick nodded as he stared back at the ocean, thinking about how much had changed since then. "Honestly," he started to admit, "I canceled because I was mad at you." He glanced over to her, waiting for her expression to change, but it didn't. "I wanted you to be disappointed like I was."

She smiled thoughtfully at his confession, having figured as much, but it was nice to hear him say it out loud... even two decades later. "Why?" she prodded him.

He replied with a smirk and a raised eyebrow to match. "You know why…"

It was Michonne's turn to nod, gazing into the distance as she contemplated whether to ask her next question. They hadn't talked about that time of their lives in years, but it seemed that with all the surfacing feelings as of late, the conversation was probably inevitable. "Do you ever still think about that night?"

"On your couch?" He watched her nod again before shaking his head. "I forced myself to let it go a long time ago," he said. "Most of it just… slipped away," he gestured his hand waving through the air. "I don't even remember why… what prompted us to start kissing in the first place."

She let out a small exhale as she also tried to recall, unable to pinpoint it herself. "I don't either." She smiled again as she looked to Rick - his lips, more specifically. "I just remember it being a good kiss."

"I remember that, too." He shifted on his feet as he allowed his mind to flood with memories of what her lips felt like...

"I was so jealous when you and Lori got back together," she remembered with a quiet laugh. "Every time you came over, I would just go sit in my room and seethe. And try to distract myself from knowing you two were having sex."

"Well at least you didn't have to hear us," Rick retorted, chuckling, too. "You and Mike…" He could so vividly remember hating to be at their apartment when her boyfriend was there. "There were a few times where I just thought, 'Jesus, what is he doing to her?'"

Michonne giggled loudly, then quickly sobered herself as she swatted his arm. But she couldn't deny that Mike knew how to put it down. "Before I even knew what good sex was, we had it," she shrugged.

He gave her a long glance, his eyes inadvertently falling down her cleavage before quickly refocusing on her face. So many things coming to mind…

"What?" she asked, feeling her face grow warm under his stare.

"No, I just… that explains a lot."

"You mean why I was so hung up on him for so long?" she smirked back.

Rick shrugged, not wanting to put it into exactly those words, but… "Yeah."

"It was more than that," she assured him, ruefully grinning at the side of his face. "He was my safe place. Although maybe more of a security blanket now that I think about it. But he made me feel, I dunno, comfortable. Especially after you... knocked me off my feet. I needed a soft place to land, and he was it."

"Mmm." He nodded thoughtfully as he stared down at his ringless hand gripping the railing. Remembering how the last time he was single, he kissed Michonne and completely upended their friendship. And still, he couldn't stop thinking about how he just wanted to do it again. "I didn't mean to," he whispered, staring at her earnestly. "I just… I was drawn to you from the day you sat down in front of me in that Statistics class," he recalled. She was the one to knock him off his feet first. "I wanted to know you. Then we became friends, and those feelings just… I dunno. They got away from me."

Michonne smiled at his recollection of the past, still feeling flattered by the crush he had on her. "You don't have to apologize," she shook her head. "The choices we made… they led us here."

"You never wondered what it would've been like if you'd made different ones?"

"Of course I did," she scoffed quietly. "Sometimes I still wonder, would we have been happily married for twenty years?" She shook her head, yet to come up with a definitive answer. "Maybe," she granted. "Or maybe the rift it caused between me and Lori would've put a strain on our relationship."

"You probably wouldn't have gone to New York," he acknowledged with a small smile. "And then you might've never had your own law firm. Which means we wouldn't be here right now."

"No Andre. No Carl or Judith…"

"We probably wouldn't even have our friends. They would've ditched us for being terrible people."

Michonne smirked at their attempts to vindicate their decisions, but then cocked her head to the side the more she thought about Rick's last statement. "I'm not sure Shane has room to talk about anyone being terrible."

They laughed for several beats, letting the sound linger in the air until silence came to claim it. Rick stared at the side of Michonne's face as the cool evening breeze whipped through her hair, her locs swaying like wind chimes. Her expression was a captivating mixture of playful and wistful, making him smile. "I think you made the right choice for both of us," he said in a near whisper. He rested a quiet hand over hers, waiting for her to look at him. She did so reluctantly at first, her nervous eyes conveying her butterflies - likely the same ones he was feeling, and it all felt like deja vu. He'd been here before. And he didn't know why he was getting another chance, but he had every intention of taking it.

Michonne took a deep breath when she realized that he was thinking about kissing her. She could feel his pulse in his fingers, or perhaps it was her own, because she desperately wanted him to do it. Even if she had no idea what came after; even if the very thought of the unknown tended to scare the shit out of her, in that moment, she was aching to pick up where they'd left off all those years ago. Taking his hand into hers, she faced him, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she gazed at him. She noticed the way his eyes were fixated on her mouth and her stomach practically dropped to her feet. This was happening.

The world seemed to go silent as he inched forward and tenderly caressed her face, her soft skin feeling like silk against his fingertips. He brushed her hair back and leaned in, tilting his head just so, for the perfect angle, his eyes falling closed as he gently pressed his lips to hers. Immediately, they both melted into the kiss, their bodies relaxing as they intoxicated themselves on one another's soft lips. Rick cupped the back of her head while she touched her fingers to his face, the feeling of his soft beard adding another sensation to all the others she was experiencing. Her other hand made its way into his hair, her fingers coiling in his long curls as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, making Rick smile as he reciprocated. She tasted of the mint chocolate ice cream they'd had with dinner, another something to bring him back to their first kiss.

The moment quickly turned from sweet to steamy as Rick's hands snaked their way down Michonne's body, wrapping around her tiny waist to pull her closer. They were positively immersed in each other, their lips and tongues locked, her soft chest pressed against his hard one so that their hearts were beating against one another. They couldn't breathe, yet neither of them were interested in coming up for air. Rick quietly moaned, his body reacting to the close contact while his mind began to wander, imagining peeling her red jumpsuit from her perfect body. Michonne felt him immediately, and her mind went running too, picturing herself dropping to her knees to suck him dry - her own special Christmas gift to him. It'd been a while, after all.

She was rather ready to make her fantasy a reality, her fingers finding the waistband of his sweats before she could talk herself out of it. She tentatively pulled back, not even bothering to catch her breath before whispering, "We should take this upstairs." She phrased it as both a question and a statement, but she doubted he could even hear her over the sound of her heartbeat.

Rick nodded as he wiped at his tingling lips, noticing her erect nipples through the fabric of her pajamas and he quickly averted his stare. He was suddenly timid, thinking about how they'd been waiting twenty years for this and had accepted that it wasn't going to happen. But now, here they were. He was at a loss for words. Because there weren't any that expressed how she made him feel. "Yeah," he eventually returned in a throaty whisper.

Before she could respond, there was a light knock on the balcony door, causing them to separate as if they'd been caught in an act. From the silhouette behind the curtain, she could tell it was Carl, and so, she looked at Rick. "Why is he like this?" she whispered, annoyed before she could find out what he wanted.

"I don't have any proof that he's actually my son," he joked, shaking his head with a sigh. "What do you want?" he called back, refusing to open the door before necessary.

"Michonne has a visitor," he replied, his tone conveying that he was just as irritated as they obviously were.

"What?" She frowned to herself, questioning who would be 'visiting' at 8:00pm on Christmas night. Everyone had agreed to keep to themselves for the day. "If Daryl is here for towels or some shit, I swear to god," she commented to Rick as she moved to open the door. But as she stepped back into her villa, she immediately wished it had been one of their friends looking for some small need fulfilled. Instead, she found herself standing face to face with her soon-to-be ex-husband, Mike. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Apparently. "Fuck," she mumbled to herself.