A/N: Well hello, friends! So I know some of you are just a tiny bit unhappy with me right now, but I just wanted to thank you for sticking around through all the ups and downs, the long waits between chapters and honestly, for trusting me to tell you this story. Most of you, at least, lol. We're not quite done, but we're almost there, and I often get caught up in my own emotions when I get to the end of one of these journeys, to the point where I tend not to enjoy it as much as the beginning and middle parts. So before I go get lost in my head, I wanted to reiterate that I'm so thankful for you all. Because I am. I didn't know what kind of traction this story would get, just because AUs are so outside of my comfort zone, and you guys have been so supportive as always. So thank you.

As for the previous chapter... well. I knew it would be divisive, which is why I stalled with it as long as I could, lmao. I knew I'd get people cursing me out in my Tumblr inbox. (Which is hilarious, and it tells me just how invested you guys are in this story, so again, thank you.) But I liked the challenge it presented to these characters (as well as myself), so I went with it. I guess it remains to be seen in the next few chapters, but… hopefully, it pays off! In the meantime, I look forward to hearing y'all's thoughts on this one! (I think.) - Ash

15 - Split Screen Sadness

January 2016.

Rick inhaled sharply as he pulled into the courtyard of 696 Darlington Road, gazing at the property that would soon be known as Michonne's old house. It was still a bit unbelievable to him that she was actually leaving, even having attended her going away party just a couple of days ago; even with the moving trucks sitting in the driveway now, but he'd been forcing himself to come to grips with it all.

With that, he hopped out of his car, taking in the mild morning with another deep breath as he maneuvered up the congested driveway. It was just as Michonne's mother was exiting through the front door, Andre leading her down the winding steps of the porch, and he greeted the two of them with a polite smile, doing his best to erase all traces of gloom from his tone as he spoke. "Good mornin'," he declared from where he stood, not wanting to startle them.

"Uncle Rick!" Andre beamed, recognizing his voice without yet seeing him. He took off running down the steps before his grandmother could protest.

"Hey, dude," Rick chuckled quite genuinely at his excitement. He picked him up with an exaggerated grunt, the two of them continuing back toward the house. "How are you?"

"We're moving today," he submitted, lowering his voice as if it were a secret from the wind. "Grammy is not happy about it."

"Well I'll be honest," he whispered back, approaching Andre's 'grammy' with a knowing smile, "I'm not too happy about it either." He reached out to her for a side-hug and cheek kiss, realizing then that they wouldn't get to see one another much after this. He'd made his peace with not seeing Andre and Michonne all the time, but the few times a year he got to see her parents would likely dwindle to nothing, too. "Happy New Year, Ms. Josephine."

"Happy New Year, sweetheart," she nodded, returning the peck to his cheek before wiping her deep red lipstick from his stubble. "How are you? I haven't seen you in several months now."

"I'm all right," he granted, taking the opportunity to set Andre back on his feet. "Busier than ever, but that's not a bad thing," he rationalized with a slight head-nod. "How 'bout you? How's retirement treatin' you?"

"Oh, I'm good," she returned, sighing in a way that said she actually wasn't. In fact, she began to shake her head as her mind revisited the situation at hand. "I'd be much better if my daughter weren't leaving me, but she's made it clear there's nothing I can do about that…"

He offered a half-hearted smile and a shrug to make up for his lack of a substantive reply. If he had his way, Michonne wouldn't be leaving either, but the last thing he wanted to do was undermine her decision by talking shit about it with her mother. "Well… for all we know, it might be good for her."

"Oh please," she immediately scoffed. "Is this what you tell her when you talk to her?"

"I think I told her some version of that," he chuckled awkwardly. He appreciated when Andre took his hand, probably sensing that he needed some reinforcement here. "I'm sad about it, but—"

"Why are you men so useless?" she interrupted him, irked by everyone's seeming nonchalance about Michonne's decision. "You and Michael. Just let her do whatever she wants. Ruin her career, ruin her life. Her father does it, too. You're all enablers."

"Well I know my place," Rick laughed again, "and it's not to tell her what to do."

"Richard, she'd listen to you," Josephine pressed, her perfectly-manicured index finger pointing to him. "She's making an emotional decision and of course she doesn't want to listen to her mother. But you…"

"Jo, leave him alone," a deep voice declared from the side of the house – it was Michonne's father, Roger, wheeling one of his daughter's suitcases down the driveway and toward Rick's car. "He's got enough to deal with without that one in there giving him trouble." He stopped to shake the young man's hand, hoping to also get his wife out of his hair. "Hello, Mr. Grimes."

Rick cleared his throat, always a bit jarred by Dr. Diarra's formality. Michonne said it was because he was a professor and that was how he spoke to students, but that never eased their interactions in his mind. "Hello, sir," he nodded, returning the handshake. "Happy New Year."

"How are the kids?" he asked pointedly. Ever since Lori's death, he found himself thinking of them often. "Do you all need anything?"

"He's doing fine," Josephine interrupted her husband's line of questioning. "You can't baby everyone like you do your daughter."

"I'm just making sure," Roger defended. "People don't always ask for help when they need it."

Rick chuckled, glancing down at Andre, wondering how he was going to survive staying with his grandparents for the next few days. "I am fine," he promised, though appreciative of the concern. "I'm good. The kids are good."

"I imagine they're not happy about losing their godmother now," Jo posited.

"They're not losing her," Roger cut back in before Rick could answer. "She's moving to a beautiful island, where they can go visit her and… frolic in the ocean. They'll be in paradise."

"And that's supposed to replace her being here for them? As she promised their mother she would be?"

"Oh god," Rick mumbled to himself, feeling an argument brewing – one he wouldn't have any control over once it started. He could see this had been a point of contention in their home for some time now. "The kids are gonna miss her," he interjected, attempting a lighthearted tone and a smile to match, "but they'll be fine."

"None of you have thought this through," Josephine pointed to the two men.

Roger gave Rick a look that asked him to excuse his wife, and he started to ask how his own mother had been lately, but it was then that Michonne came down the walkway with another of her suitcases in tow and the conversations ceased. Rick couldn't help but smile as she approached, seeing how happy she looked to be leaving. Comparatively speaking at least, because she hadn't been all that happy for the past year or so. She wasn't the Michonne he'd come to know and love. Between losing Lori and everything else with Mike, life had definitely dimmed her sparkle, so to speak. And it seemed that the thought of leaving this place had given her some of it back. How was he ever supposed to talk her out of that?

"You know I can hear you guys, right?" she called out to the foursome, her boots pounding against the pavement as she made her way to the small group. "Ma, I heard you from inside."

"I only said good things," Rick joked, stepping out of the semi-circle to give her a quick hug. He'd just seen her a few hours prior, but everything felt so drastically different now. So final. "You all ready to go?"

"Mostly," she shrugged, smiling to herself when she noticed the way Andre was holding onto Rick. She began to pick at imaginary lint from her son's frizzy curls as she gazed at her friend. "All the important stuff is done." But his glum stare was threatening to make her cry for the umpteenth time that morning, after she'd just promised herself she wouldn't anymore. "Don't look at me like that, Rick."

"I'm not lookin' at you like anything," he promised, attempting to smile genuinely. "I'm just lookin'."

As the two of them exchanged their questionable glances, Roger took duty of Michonne's second bag and urged her to get on with her goodbyes. "You're going to miss your flight if you want to keep standing here."

"That wouldn't be the worst thing in the word," Josephine commented with a smirk, her hands on her hips as she stared up at Michonne's emptied home – only a bit of the furniture remained. "Have you told Michael where his things will be?"

"I've emailed him everything he needs to know," she confirmed. "He hasn't responded, but…"

"Of course," Roger sighed.

"Maybe that means he didn't get it," her mother offered in his defense. "I find it hard to believe he wouldn't be here if he had."

Michonne bit her bottom lip to keep from speaking on the subject, always careful not to deride Mike in front of Andre.

"You think she would've asked Richard to take her to the airport if Michael had been doing what he was supposed to?" Roger remarked, his tone dripping in disapproval of his son-in-law.

"All right," Michonne quickly cut in, shaking her head at her parents. She remembered when they used to be so conservative – never would they discuss family business outside of the family, much less air dirty laundry. She supposed it said something about how they felt about Rick now, but still, she desperately wanted them to stop. "Daddy, maybe you should take those to the car."

"All right," he relented, doing as his daughter told.

She then looked to her mother, wearing the same unimpressed expression she put on when they arrived over two hours ago. But she'd been making her displeasure known for the past several months, of course, so she'd learned to mostly ignore it. "Gimme a hug, Ma."

Begrudgingly, she stepped across the small space to embrace her only daughter, closing her eyes as she squeezed her in her arms. It felt like her leaving for law school, except this time, she had no plans on returning. "Michonne," she whispered, swallowing back her tears. "You know that I am always here for you, right?"

"I do," Michonne nodded, her voice muffled by her mother's hug.

"And you can always come home."

Michonne rolled her eyes at her mother's investment in her failure, but knew that she meant well. "I know, Ma."

"But I will pray every day that you find what you're looking for, baby."

And it was then that the dam broke, Michonne's cheeks flooding with tears as she held tightly to her mother, inhaling her scent as if she wouldn't be seeing her again in a matter of weeks. She'd been wrestling with her choice for months now, vacillating between it being either the best or worst decision she could make. But there was no turning back now; she was taking the leap. "I hope so, too," she whispered back to her.

Meanwhile, Rick meandered down the driveway with Andre to give the ladies a bit of privacy, but he could hear the sniffles from where they stood. "So I was thinkin' maybe you could come over next weekend to hang out with Judith," he suggested to the six-year-old, acting as though he and Michonne hadn't already planned it all out. "Would you be all right with that?"

Andre nodded eagerly as he looked up at his uncle. "Can I come now?"

"Well Judith has school tomorrow," he chuckled at his enthusiasm. "But I'll come pick you up on Friday and you can spend the whole weekend with us."

"Okay," he agreed with another nod. "Can Judith come to Anguilla with me too?"

"Well, probably not," Rick gently and reluctantly denied him. "But we'll come visit you guys. All the time."

"Hey," Michonne called out to the two, halfway wondering what they were discussing, though her main focus was on saying her goodbyes to her baby. They'd only be apart for two weeks, but it already felt like an eternity to her. "C'mere, peanut."

Rick released the little one from his grasp, smiling as he made the beeline for his mother. "I'm gonna wait in the car," he quietly announced, turning for his Q7 just as Roger was closing the trunk. "We all set?"

"She's all ready to go," he confirmed, his deep voice boasting a rather jovial tone. "And I meant what I said earlier, Richard. You can call if you need us. Even if that one is gone."

"I might actually need you now that she's leaving," he joked, his eyes flitting to the ground as he thought about what life would look like without Michonne just down the road. For the better part of two decades, she'd always been close.

"You're going to miss her," Roger recognized with a small nod.

"We all are," he conceded, speaking for their full friend group. "Michonne is…"

"I'm talking about you," he interrupted Rick's unfinished sentence.

He chuckled awkwardly and uneasily, unsure what Dr. Diarra was trying to uncover here. He didn't think it was a secret that he would miss her, but it felt like he was trying to imply more than that. "She's one of my best friends," he replied, biting at his bottom lip, slightly chapped from the cool morning.

"All right," Roger relented with a nearly sarcastic grin, a small chuckle topping it off. "Well take your friend to the airport. We'll see you on Friday?"

"Yes, sir," Rick nodded, a tense smile still on his face. He turned for his car and hopped in, figuring he could warm it up a bit while he waited for Michonne. Watching as she hugged her parents and Andre, all of them doting over each other. He used to be a bit envious of her two-parent upbringing – back before he realized just how hard it was to raise kids alone and his mother deserved awards for everything she'd done for him, not disregard. Still, it was nice to see an example of love that had endured so many years.

He smiled again when they finished their goodbyes, waving to the three of them as Michonne approached the car, obviously wiping at tears as she walked away from the place she'd called home for seven years now.

"You all right?" Rick asked when she opened the door, slipping into the passenger seat.

"I'm fine," she assured him, throwing her purse into the space behind him. "I just thought I got it all out at the party, but actually leaving is another story, apparently."

"You did cry a lot the other night," he teased her, waving to Andre and his grandparents one last time before backing out of the winding driveway. "Like, an uncomfortable amount."

"Shut up," she giggled. "I honestly thought this would be easier."

"You thought it'd be easy to leave me?"

"Oh god," she rolled her eyes, grinning as she did. Because the truth was, saying goodbye to him was probably going to be the hardest part in all of this. "No, not easy, Rick."

"But nobody said it'd be this hard, huh?"

She smirked at the recognizable Coldplay line, but kept her eyes on the barren Buckhead streets as they passed. Even in its Sunday morning emptiness, she was glad the city was still decorated for Christmas, as that was how she wanted to remember it. The best and most memorable parts of her life, save for Andre, always seemed to come at this time of year. It was why she chose to embark on this crazy journey now instead of the end of the school year. "It's not too late for you to come with me, you know," she declared, only half joking about the idea.

Rick glanced over to her, both curious and intrigued, but also unsure that he was hearing her correctly. "What?"

"It's something to think about," she shrugged. "I was talking to Carol the other night about her wanting to take a sabbatical from work next school year, so. She might come down for a few months."

"That sounds fascinating," he returned diplomatically, smirking as he made the turn onto GA-400. "But I'm not looking to blow up my life right now."

"Oh," she raised an eyebrow at his choice of words, trying to be more amused than offended at them. "So you think I'm blowing up my life?"

"I think your life already blew up and you're looking to start over."

"Mmm." She couldn't exactly disagree with that – between death and inevitable divorce, nothing felt the same, and not in a good way – so she didn't try to. Instead, she offered, "Well maybe we could both use a do-over…" She gazed at the side of his face as she waited for his reply, and she could tell that he was thinking about it. She wasn't exactly serious, given his whole life was in Atlanta – and Carl's too, for that matter – but it was a nice thought. Having something familiar in Anguilla with her. Someone who was also drowning in grief. The idea of them going to some faraway place and just... healing together, it was compelling, if nothing else. But also just a fantasy, she knew.

"It'd be nice," he eventually admitted, stealing another glimpse at his friend as they barreled down the highway, a small smile on his face.

Much to her surprise, Rick reached across the small space between them to take her hand, rubbing a comforting thumb over her knuckles as he gently squeezed. She closed her eyes at his touch and didn't allow him to let go, not until he had to. And they rode down 85 just like that – quiet, somewhat somber, but mostly comfortable. She loved that their friendship had come to a point where the silence between them was its own conversation.

"Promise me you'll come visit," she whispered when they finally pulled up to the Delta terminal, still not wanting, and maybe even unable, to let him go. "Before the year is out."

"I will," he nodded, already thinking up dates in his mind. "Promise me you'll come back home every now and then?"

"I'll think about it," she grinned, just before the two of them reluctantly exited the vehicle to the busy, cold curbside.

Rick hustled to the trunk to retrieve her two giant bags, while Michonne went to his side of the vehicle to grab her purse. Anything to prolong their time together. She wished they'd had the forethought to stop for breakfast, even checking her phone to see how much time they had before her 10:30 flight. The tears were already stinging her eyes as she watched him roll her bags up to the porter. "Fuck," she whispered to herself. This was it.

"Let's just rip it off like a band-aid," Rick shook his head as he returned to her, already seeing her eyes glistening. He could feel the lump forming in his throat and he couldn't take some long, drawn-out goodbye that would leave them both crying in the middle of the street. "Come on," he grinned, pulling her into his embrace. Rubbing at her back as she gripped his torso.

"I miss you already," she chuckled, closing her eyes as she memorized the moment. She would need it for the rainy, lonely days ahead.

He smiled at the softness of her voice, then peppered the side of her face with short kisses, attempting to keep the moment light. "I love you, 'Chonne."

"Goddamn it," Michonne sighed when the tears surfaced again. She broke out of the hug, knowing that if they stood there any longer, she wouldn't be able to leave. But she took his hand, kissing the inside of his palm before letting him go once and for all. "I love you, too, Rick."

"Go," he encouraged her with a nod, noting that the skycap was waiting for her. And as well as he'd done to hold it together in front of her, the second she walked away, off to start her new life, he allowed his tears to fall.

And I don't know where you went when you left me but
Says here in the water, you must be gone by now
I can tell somehow
One hand on the trigger of a telephone
Wondering when the call comes
Where you say it's alright
You got your heart right...

Present day.

"Hey. Happy New Year."

Rick glanced at the clock on the oven before turning to the sound of the familiar voice. He thought he'd have a little more time before his friends started to wake up, but he'd forgotten that Jessie was an early riser. It was how they became friends in the first place. "Hey," he half-grinned at her from across the counter before politely adding, "Happy New Year."

"What the heck are you doing up at 5:00 a.m.?" she wondered, scanning the kitchen for clues. The only one was the aroma of something sweet wafting through the giant kitchen – breakfast, she figured. "Did you even sleep?"

"I couldn't," he revealed, absently, tiredly rubbing at his beard with his palm. "Too many things on my mind, I guess."

"Thinking about your friend, huh?"

"Somethin' like that," he exhaled heavily. "Carol said the hospital was so bad here, they just had Andrea sitting in a hallway. So last I heard, Michonne was getting them over to Saint Martin and they'll be able to get to Miami from there."

Jessie nodded at the update, still a bit shaken by the situation. "It was so scary when she went down," she recalled. "They came back from the beach because she wasn't feeling well, and she was asking for a banana or... something. But she just started mumbling. I thought she was having a stroke."

"Jesus," he whispered to himself.

"And then the ambulance took forever to get here. Shane was freaking out..."

"Yeah, Carol said she had to give him something to calm him down."

"It was a mess," she sighed. "So I'm glad they're getting her where she needs to go."

"Yeah," he nodded back awkwardly, his stare landing on the counter instead of her face. "Me, too."

Still, she gazed at him, trying to discern whether his strange, solemn mood was actually about Andrea or because he was leaving soon and Michonne still wasn't back. Probably both, she presumed. Especially with all this going down the night of their first date. "So I guess things didn't go quite the way you planned," she smiled at him sympathetically.

"You don't have to pretend to care," Rick smirked in response. "It's fine."

"No, I do," she maintained. "Maybe because I kinda know what that disappointment is like. To want something, wait for it, and it's... unexpectedly ripped away from you. I can't imagine what it must be like to wait twenty years, and still…"

He quietly chuckled at the guilt trip she was laying on him – maybe justifiably so – but he nodded with recognition as well as contrition. "I'm sorry, Jessie," he spoke softly. "I really didn't know that was how you saw it."

"No, I'm exaggerating," she smiled back, obviously having failed at making him feel better. "I mean, I was definitely disappointed, but I get it. And that's why I can sympathize with how you must feel."

"Well I appreciate it," he nodded again, glancing back at the oven to avoid her expectant stare. He felt like he was on the verge of being blinded by the earnestness.

"I mean if you want," she began to offer, against what was probably her better judgment, "I can take Judith and Carl back with me so you can stay a little while longer."

Rick chuckled at the proposition, moved by it, in a way, but also baffled as to why she was still being so kind to him after he essentially broke her heart. "After everything… why would you…" His sentence trailed off, unsure of how to finish it without sounding rude.

"I dunno," she shrugged, flashing her dimples as she smiled shyly. "I mean, we're still friends, right? I'm not gonna go away just because you're in love with someone else."

He smiled, immediately thinking of his relationship with Michonne, how that was essentially the crux of it. They were friends before and after anything else. But that smile quickly faded as reality hit him like a brick – it was time to go home. "I'm grateful for the offer, but…" He shook his head. Even if he wanted to stay, he couldn't send Carl home with Jessie without feeling like a terrible father. "The kids start school Tuesday, so we need to get back to our routine."

Jessie nodded, understanding that part of it, but she couldn't help but think he was holding back for some reason. Something was wrong, she could tell from his tone, and she wished she knew him well enough to parse out exactly what. "Are you okay?" she decided to simply ask.

He opened his mouth to speak. He wanted to say that he was, or at least would be, even if he couldn't be sure that was the truth. But he didn't quite know what to do with the idea that he'd come to Anguilla for closure, to finally let go of his wife after two years of mourning, and somehow, he was leaving with a twenty-year wound reopened. But before he could figure out what to say, the sound of heels clacking against the floor echoed through the lobby and Rick instantly knew that it was Michonne. He let out a small sigh of relief when she appeared, but his next thought was that she looked exhausted. Still wearing his jacket, her curls fallen, makeup either smeared or disappeared. Like Cinderella after midnight… which wasn't exactly the fairytale he had in mind. "Hey," he greeted her plainly. Cautiously.

She approached him with an apologetic smile, sorry for how long she'd been gone and how little time they had left. She planted a quick kiss to the side of his lips, wanting to connect with him while also remembering that she hadn't brushed her teeth. "Hi."

"You okay?" he questioned, cupping her cheek, staring into her reddened eyes.

"Yeah," she decided in that very moment. "Just… sad for several reasons. How are you?"

"Hey," Jessie decided to interrupt before their conversation could become too intimate.

Michonne's head snapped in the direction of the voice, utterly surprised to see Rick's neighbor had been standing just a few feet away. She was so tired she hadn't even noticed her. "Oh. Hey, Jessie."

"Happy New Year," she tried to grin through the clumsy moment. "Any update on Andrea?"

"She was lucid when I was there," Michonne nodded, looking to her and then back at him. "Got her on a plane to Miami with another pregnant woman. But my phone died, so I haven't gotten any updates since I left."

"I was wondering why you were so quiet," Rick commented.

"It's been… a mess of a night," she shook her head, her eyes barely staying open as she did. "I just wanna lie down. At least for a few minutes." Her expression was asking Rick to join her, though he didn't seem to be getting the message. "Come with me?"

"Of course," he granted, already turning for the exit and leading the way to the staircase. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he felt her gentle grip on the hem of his t-shirt, holding onto it as they made their way up to her villa.

"Did you get any kind of meaningful sleep?" she asked him as they entered her quiet home. It was then she realized that she'd barely thought twice about Andre in the time she was gone, which was a huge testament to how much she trusted Rick.

"I didn't," he answered quietly. "Tried to get some last minute stuff done around here. Packed up the rest of Shane and Andrea's stuff… figured they won't be back."

Michonne nodded, but she was no longer focused on anything he was saying by then. "Come," she said, gesturing for the final flight of steps up to her bedroom. "We have, what, three hours?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I mean at least we've got that," she grinned weakly. Trudging up to her room with Rick in tow, she couldn't help but think how weird it was going to be without him there for a while. She'd gotten used to this – waking up, knowing she would see his face. It would be an unwelcome adjustment not to have him close. "We've gotta figure out how to get you back here as soon as possible," she joked.

"Why do you say that?" he asked obliviously.

"Because I'm gonna miss you," she frowned, figuring that obvious. "After these two weeks, FaceTime calls aren't gonna cut it."

He replied with his own faint smile as they continued into her bedroom, Michonne letting out a heavy sigh at the sight of her bed. "Take a seat," Rick instructed. "I'll take off your shoes."

"You're too good to me," she smirked, though his somber mood was giving her pause. She couldn't tell whether it was fatigue or something else. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he promised, following her to her side of the pristine bed; kneeling to the floor as she took a seat. Gently taking her leg into his hand, he started to unfasten the straps of her heels, pausing when he heard the rustle of paper, immediately followed by a giggle. He looked up to find her holding a gold-wrapped condom between her fingers.

"Carol was serious, it would appear," she shook her head, amused by the gesture. "God love her."

"That's funny," he returned, but hardly cracked a smile to sell the statement.

"Rick, what's wrong?" she asked, unable to pretend that it was a question of if he was okay when he clearly wasn't.

"Nothin' is wrong," he insisted. "I'm just not in as good a mood as you, I guess."

"I'm not in a 'good mood.'" Michonne's voice dipped and her eyes narrowed as she realized she was what was bothering him. "I'm just trying to make the most of the little time we have left right now."

"Okay."

"I know last night didn't go the way we wanted it to," she appended, gently pulling her foot from his grasp so that he'd look her in the eye. "But like you said, we've got the rest of our lives."

Rick nodded, knowing his disappointment was selfish at best, and still, he was unable to shake it. And he didn't want to pretend it wasn't there. Because keeping his mouth shut for all these years was how they ended up here in the first place. "I'm gonna be honest, Michonne, I wish you hadn't gone last night."

She opened her mouth to retort, but she was so dumbfounded, nothing came out at first. "...Andrea needed me, Rick."

"I know." He stared at the floor and then the ceiling with a deep, frustrated exhale. "She needed someone," he opted to say instead, "and as always, you were the one that came to the rescue."

"I cannot believe you're mad at me for this," she chuckled in disbelief. She instinctively sat back so that her legs were no longer within his reach. "Of all the things…"

"I'm not mad at you," he corrected her. "I'm not. I'm… sad, I guess. Because it was our last night. In a vacation full of one interruption after another, we finally had time set aside specifically for us, and it was still taken away."

"Rick, the entire point of all this is to have all the nights we want. What does one more matter?"

"You're right," he conceded, scratching at his eyebrow with the knuckle of his thumb. "In the grand scheme of things, it's not that big of a deal. I dunno, I just... thought I could be honest with you."

"I know you have a tendency toward being self-centered, but this is just cold," she muttered, shaking her head.

"Don't do that," he balked at the notion, shaking his head. And he could see that this conversation wasn't going to end well, but he went on anyway. "She had Shane, she had a fuckin' surgeon. Not to mention Carol, who has to know this island nearly as well as you do by now. You didn't have to go."

"No, I didn't have to. I went because that's what friends do. You sacrifice for each other. You show up for them when it's inconvenient. Even if it means you have to wait a little longer to get laid," she scowled, feeling herself on the brink of tears. "And I know you know that, so fuck you for making me feel like shit about it."

"Michonne," he sighed, hearing the emotion rising in her voice. "It's not about the sex, and I know you know that. I just wanted to be with you." His own voice was hollow, hoarse from exhaustion. "After this year of us being apart, these two weeks have been… I dunno. Magical. Cliché as it sounds. And I just thought we'd be together at the end of it. Starting the new year together. The first day of the rest of our lives kinda thing. And then you just… left." He offered a one-shouldered shrug, unsure of what else to say about it. "I didn't mean to make you feel like shit about it, but I also didn't wanna act like everything was fine when it wasn't for me."

"I dunno," Michonne shook her head, feeling trapped in her frustration – both with him and the situation. "Maybe… at a certain point, we have to consider the possibility that this just isn't supposed to happen."

Rick squinted at her words, wondering if they meant what he thought they meant. "Really?"

"I don't know," she repeated. "I know I'm exhausted. And you probably are, too. But we went into this just assuming it'll work out, and maybe we need to think about that a little more."

He let out a small but derisive chuckle as he did think about that – how just 24 hours ago, he was ready to drop everything for her. Relocate his kids, leave his business. And that it was unfathomable to him that she was pulling back now because of this. "Maybe so," he mumbled, pulling himself up from the floor. His gaze scanned Michonne's room, trying to recollect the good times they'd had in it over the past two weeks; figuring this would be the last time he saw it for quite some time. "I'm gonna go finish packing," he announced, already turning toward the door.

Michonne knew he was lying – she'd spent most of the previous day helping him do just that so they'd be free for the morning – and she wanted to call him out for it. She wanted to ask him to stay; not waste the time they had. But she could tell he wasn't in the mood, not after what she'd said, so she thought it best to let him go. "Okay," she whispered.

Two wrongs make it all alright tonight
Two wrongs make it all alright tonight

Sooner than later, Michonne was pulling up to Anguilla's tiny airport, unusually crowded thanks to the storm, and dropping off her first batch of departing guests. She quietly let out the breath she'd been holding for most of the short ride, feeling the tension in the air with Rick right there in the passenger seat. The silence between them might as well have been a wall. And with the kids in the next row and Jessie behind them, she couldn't even attempt to breach that barrier.

"Auntie, are you gonna come to Atlanta soon?" Judith asked, managing to cut some of the tension in the van with just her sweet little voice.

In response, Michonne exhaled again, because she honestly hadn't a clue of what was going to happen next. "I'm not sure, chickpea," she answered her earnestly. "Hopefully for your graduation?"

"In May?" Carl cut in, thinking that sounded like an eternity away. But then, he knew Michonne had a business to run, so he looked to his father for an alternative. "Dad, do you think we can come back for spring break?"

Rick turned his head only slightly, an attempt to avoid looking at Michonne. "We'll see."

He frowned at his soft but short tone, while also picking up on the distance between his father and godmother. "Is everything okay?" he asked. It was nearly the opposite of how they'd been the day before, staring at each other all googly-eyed whenever they were in the same room. Maybe their date didn't go so well, he thought.

"Everything is fine," Michonne said, opening her car door before the discussion could go any further. Even if she wanted to let the kids know what was or wasn't going on, she wasn't going to give Jessie the satisfaction. As she slipped out of the van and went to unlatch the back door, she made sure to paint a smile over her discontent. "We just haven't worked out the details yet," she explained to the kids.

"Well spring break is in March," Carl informed her, "so I'm gonna start looking for flights on the way home. We can even start bringing some of our stuff down then."

"You've thought of everything, huh?" she continued to grin, taking care not to commit to or encourage anything.

"Just trying to help."

She gestured for him to hop out of the car so that she could unbuckle Andre, stealing glimpses of Rick while he wordlessly released Judith from her seat. His obvious silence, a place she usually found comfort, was so loud to her now.

Once the van was cleared of people and their luggage, the goodbyes began – Michonne leaving Tara and Jessie with cordial but enthusiastic 'Nice to meet you's and empty promises to keep on touch. Carl reminding Andre to text him while they were apart, while Rick promised him they'd see each other again soon. He didn't know when, but no matter what ended up happening with Michonne, he wouldn't let another year pass with Andre and Judith not seeing each other.

Michonne forced herself to smile again as Carl came to hug her, wishing there was a way to keep him there with her. He'd become such a cool kid over the years – someone she genuinely enjoyed talking to; watching him grow into this little adult. "Your mother would be so proud of you," she sighed, brushing his hair from his face to get one good, final look at him.

"She'd be proud of you, too," he grinned back bashfully.

Her head cocked to the side, she held back tears as she went for the embrace, squeezing him as tight as she could, as if she could save their hug for later. "I love you, dude."

"I love you, too, Michonne."

She finished with a kiss to his temple before letting him go, trading him for the littlest Grimes, who already had her arms out, waiting for her hug. Michonne dropped to her knees and pulled Judith close, forcing her eyes closed just to bask in her embrace, those little arms clinging to her neck. She hoped she'd been a good mommy to her these past few weeks; knowing that she hadn't been the greatest in the previous year. Not what she could've or should've been. "You can always call me," she whispered to her. "You know that, right?"

"Even in the middle of the night?" Judith asked, already testing the waters.

Michonne giggled at her way of always managing to make her laugh with her earnest curiosity. "Especially in the middle of the night."

"Okay," she nodded, leaving her godmother with a big, wet kiss to her cheek, not unlike the manner she'd been greeted two weeks ago.

"Okay." She stood back to her feet, hesitantly eyeing Rick while Judith and Andre said their simple goodbye. A quick but undeniably affectionate embrace, followed by a wave from Judith. "I'll see you soon, okay?" She spoke as if they'd already had a conversation about this.

"Yep," he nodded in agreement. "Next time when you're here, you have to come play football with me."

Judith beamed with the recognition that he was talking about soccer again. "Deal."

Rick chuckled at their exchange, realizing that he was going to miss their ridiculous-yet-precious banter so much once they were apart. He was going to miss all of this. And to make matters worse, he was no longer confident that moving there was the end game.

"All right, let's get this over with," Michonne quietly declared as she approached him. She was out of words and full of emotion, which wasn't going to make for a pretty goodbye, hence her abruptness.

Understanding the sentiment, he hoisted his knapsack onto his back and went in for the hug. Like Judith and Andre, their contact was brief, but same as everything involving Rick and Michonne, it was steeped in subtext, thanks to their storied history. It was short because anything more would've likely sent both of them down an emotional drain. He capped off the moment with a kiss to her forehead, while she inhaled his scent, memorizing it for when he was long gone. "We'll talk soon," he promised in that throaty twang, rubbing her arm as they parted.

She nodded back, but the tears were already formed. She pulled her sunglasses down from the top of her head, hoping to hide it all, but her trembling voice gave her away as she told him, "Let me know you got there safely."

And with that, the five of them gathered their luggage and headed inside, Judith and Carl at Rick's side, while Jessie and her friend trailed behind. Michonne smiled to herself when Andre's hand found hers, but it didn't stop the river of tears from flooding her cheeks.

"All you need is love" is a lie
'Cause we had love but we still said goodbye
Now we're tired, battered fighters
And it stings when it's nobody's fault
'Cause there's nothing to blame at the drop of your name
It's only the air you took and the breath you left

Several hours later, Michonne was sitting solitarily in her big kitchen, preparing to do an inventory of her remaining supplies. Le Palmier had been emptied of its holiday guests, leaving her and Andre on their own for the first time in several months. The empty halls would've normally been a welcome respite from the bustle of constant company. But after spending two weeks with the people she felt closest to, their departure left Michonne feeling lonely. And so she busied herself with work all day, stripping all the beds and bathrooms of their linen, prepping for her staff's return in the morning. She'd have new guests the following afternoon, so luckily, there was no time to waste moping. But the day was quietly turning to evening, and soon, she'd be forced to be alone with her thoughts.

"Andre!" she called tentatively into the compound for her son. He was up in their villa reading comics, and she wasn't entirely sure he'd hear her from the kitchen.

She listened for the sound of him running toward her as he usually did, but to her surprise, he answered from upstairs, "Yes, Mommy!"

She smirked at his response – apparently, he'd gotten used to a different routine as well – but she continued about her tasks without answering him, figuring he'd get the message sooner than later. Instead, she went to load up the dishwasher, needing to clear counter space before beginning. And it was then she noticed one random baking dish sitting on her stove, covered in foil. "What the hell," she mumbled to herself, already annoyed at the thought of having to wash something else.

Upon further investigation, Michonne realized the dish had a purpose, lifting the cover to find a full pan of bread pudding staring back at her. And she was instantly transported back to the group's first night on the island, her and Rick perched on the balcony just across from where she stood now, and he said – he insisted, in fact – that he would bake her something before he left. She hadn't thought twice about it since that night, but the fact that he obviously had, and went so far as to keep that promise made her burst into tears. Happy tears, for the most part, as she laughed at the thoughtful gesture; but she also cried for her mistakes – for being stupid enough to let him leave Anguilla thinking she wasn't committed to being with him.

"Mommy?" Andre called out to her, cautiously stepping into the kitchen as he watched his mother cry over the stove.

Michonne quickly wiped at her face, but knew it was no use trying to hide it. She'd been caught. "Yeah, sweetie," she sniffled, turning to him with her sad smile. She welcomed him into her embrace, closing her eyes as he wrapped his arms around the lower half of her body. "I'm just kinda sad that everyone's gone," she told him.

He nodded, feeling similarly now that he didn't have Judith to talk to whenever he wanted. "Is Carol back yet?" he wondered, figuring she could at least cheer up his mother.

"She's probably not gonna be back for a while," she confirmed regretfully. She realized he didn't get a chance to say goodbye after she'd essentially been part of their family for six months. "But we can try to give her a call tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded back again, but his disappointment was evident. "Why isn't she coming back?"

"Because she needed to be with her family," she said, tenderly running her hand through his hair. She shook her head as the words came out of her mouth, recognizing that perhaps Rick was right – she should've done the same last night. Maybe she wouldn't feel so shitty now. But she let out a quick exhale to recollect herself and glanced back at the dessert. "So it's you and me tonight. What do you want for dinner?"

Andre took a step back, attempting to see what was sitting on the stove that had his mother so taken. "What's that?"

"That's a treat for later," she returned, knowing where he was headed with the query. "And no, we're not having dessert for dinner two nights in a row."

"Mom," he groaned. "Please?"

"How do you know you'd even like it?"

"Did you make it?"

"Nope," she smirked, her eyes scanning the pan again. It had a perfect golden crust, sprinkled with raisins... she couldn't deny that it looked good. "Rick made it for us."

"Well he made good pancakes," he grinned, recalling the cinnamon flapjacks they'd gotten a couple of times over the holiday.

Michonne smiled back, hating that she couldn't resist that perfect little face of his. "We're eating a salad with this," she warned him before grabbing the the pan. "Go get some forks."

Together, the two of them sat down at the kitchen table and dug into the delicacy straight from the baking dish; Michonne savoring every bite, from the moist bread with its hints of rum and vanilla and coconut, and heaven, quite honestly, while Andre gobbled it down, simply enjoying its sweetness.

"You like it?" she asked, though already quite clear on the answer.

Andre nodded, his mouth full of bread, barely swallowing before answering her, "I can't wait 'til they come back to live here."

She smiled again, lacking the ability to form any kind of meaningful response, and she stood from the table, momentarily watching him happily devour the pudding. "I'll be right back," she whispered, grabbing her phone from the counter on her way toward the lobby. Quickly finding Rick under the Favorites in her contact list, she gave him a call, wishfully thinking he was back home by then. With the time difference, it wasn't quite 5:00 yet, but it was worth a shot. One ring and then voicemail. "Hey… it's me," she greeted his inbox hesitantly. She hadn't planned what to say, just wanting to hear his voice more than anything, and so, she didn't say much. "Ummm. Just give me a call, I guess. When you can."

I called
Because I just need to feel you on the line
Don't hang up this time
And I know it was me who called it over but
I still wish you'd fought me 'til your dying day
Don't let me get away

By nightfall, Rick and the kids had been back in Atlanta for hours and were readjusting into their home life. As best they could, anyway, after being gone from it for half the month. Usually, it was a relief to come back from a long vacation. The familiarity of one's own bed, not feeling like a constant invader of someone else's space. But this felt different. For Rick, at least. In part, probably, because Lori was officially gone. The empty mantle of his bedroom looked strange now. But more than that, he knew it was because he'd gotten used to Michonne. Her face, her place. He felt so far away from her, in more ways than one.

Which was why he probably should've answered when she called earlier, instead of declining it. But after a long flight, followed by a full interrogation in customs, he wasn't in the mood to be emotional with her. He wasn't in the mood for anything, really, other than sleep. He'd entertained the kids throughout dinner – Chinese food, since nothing else was open – and even enjoyed that they'd retired to his room instead of their own for the night. But he was falling asleep with them sprawled across his bed, back to their iPads and laptops, with a Harry Potter marathon playing in the background. He'd just dozed off, in fact, when his phone vibrated against his nightstand, effectively waking him. Because it was a text attached to Michonne's name, and he couldn't even try to ignore it this time.

:: So I'm assuming you're home by now.
I don't want to also assume you're
ignoring me, but I think I know you well
enough to come to that conclusion, too.
I get why you'd be mad at me right now.
But I don't want that to stop me from
saying this, so... I just want you to know
that I love you, Rick. I do. I was mad at
you for being selfish, but I shouldn't have
let you leave here without saying that.
And without making sure you knew that
these past two weeks have meant the world
to me. To have this 20-year fantasy turn
into a reality, to be openly wanted and loved
by you... it absolutely has been magical. I'll
never forget this vacation, Rick. And what you
said about it being the start of the rest of
our lives? I hope it is. Let's talk soon? ::

He read her message three times before even attempting to respond. And he started to type out several versions of some long, drawn out response, admitting that she'd hurt his feelings today. How he couldn't believe she was willing to pull the plug on the whole thing simply because he'd said something she didn't like. He wanted to ask why she didn't believe in them as much as he did. Ask when she was going to fight for him – not just with words, but with actions instead of withdrawing every single time things got hard. Because he was tired of wearing his heart on his sleeve while she kept hers covered in layers. He wanted to say all of that and more, but his pride wouldn't let him. Instead, he traded his honesty for silence and simply set his phone back on the nightstand.

Two wrongs make it all alright tonight
We share the sadness
Two wrongs make it all alright tonight
Split screen sadness