I decided to go back to the original ending and finish it here. I honestly don't think I'll be adding much more to this story - maybe side stories once in a while - but it's been a long time so here's an edited version of the end. I might go back and edit the entire thing again!

The ride back to San Francisco was filled with silent tears. Not only was Michonne already miss Rick, she had no way of ever contacting him.

Don't think about him. It was only a couple days, he doesn't really care about you, it was just sex. She repeated, attempting to convince herself, but she knew better. His kiss goodbye felt different.

Rick watched the bus disappear into the desert. He didn't want her to leave, but she had to go. They had starting attracting a crowd and that was never good for someone who looked like him.

The old women who were previously giving them disapproving looks were now wondering what he was doing with a Black girl dressed as such. Rick thought that they assumed he was pimping her out; that didn't surprise him. He didn't look like the best version of himself or of anyone for that matter.

He sighed loudly and got back on his bike. Maybe he was right, in another life, they could have had something interesting. He revved up his Harley and made his way back to his lonely cabin. His life, as he knew it, would never be the same.

TWO MONTHS LATER

Maybe I should. Maybe I shouldn't. Michonne looked at the address of Moe's bar frowning. If she thought it was a good idea to write to Rick, she would have done so one month back when she first had the idea or writing to Moe's bar.

She wanted to write many things: 'thank you', 'you were a great fuck' and 'are you okay?' but most importantly, she wanted to write to him because she missed him. Not a single day went by that she didn't think of him. Rick had been right, every time she closed her eyes she could hear the demanding growl of his voice and feel a memory of his fingertips on her thighs. Thinking of him made her heart beat faster. But the memory was fading, and that was devastating.

When she first got home from Arizona, her grandmother had been suspicious.

"A girl goes missing for damn near a week, won't tell anyone what she's been doing, and comes back looking like she went twelve rounds like Muhammad Ali. What happened to you child? Meet the devil in the desert?" Michonne had just bitten her tongue until the buzz of curiosity died down.

She fingered the torn piece of paper. If she wrote to him and he did not respond, she wondered how she would feel. Foolish perhaps; he had clearly seen her as the easy fuck. What if she wrote to him and he didn't even receive it, perhaps he had been cast out of Moe's bar since the fight. She would still feel foolish.

But if she wrote to him and he did respond, the ramifications were potentially worse than feeling foolish. An interstate-relationship was unrealistic, especially one based on a glorified series on one night stands. And an interracial relationship, especially with a southern boy whose leather clad exterior was bound to give her grandma a heart attack was a big no-no. So that wasn't going to happen too.

Maybe we could keep it a sex thing, nothing wrong with that in these times. Interstate motels, quick flings, and then we go our separate ways.

But then Michonne thought of her teaching career. Not only was she the first real career girl in her family, she had also been the first one to go to college, with her mother, grandmother, and aunties helping her financially and otherwise. She had a good reputation in her community which she wanted to keep, not just for herself, but for her family. No, she was going to do the responsible thing, the expected thing, and whatever that was, it involved not trying to get with Rick.

She put that idea to sleep and wrote another letter to the Smithsonian, organizing a school trip for her students, and put it amongst the other letters she had written.

Unbeknownst to her, she had mixed up the information.

. . .

Moe was going through his paperwork when he noticed that one of the letters was addressed to 'Rick Grimes'. Strange, he thought.

"Hey Rick, you got a letter. See, now everybody thinks you live here." Moe said as he stroked his greying beard and smiled at his own dad joke.

Rick took the letter and threw a few too many dollars on the bar as tip. He felt guilty for ruining Moe's business. The old man had taken Rick's side and had seen his customers trickle out as the formerly tight nit motorcycle club divided itself. Moe had put up with the antics of Negan's version gang, until one of the bikers on Negan's side burned a cross at the front of his bar, apparently on the new leader's orders. That's when he had had enough and kicked them all out, the strippers included. He wasn't a saint, but he sure as hell was not going to align himself with the Klan. Now he spent his days serving Rick, a few old gang members and tourists passing by. He liked it that way.

Rick tore open the letter with care as it looked like something official.

"Dear Sirs,

My name is Michonne Anthony and I am a teacher at Alamo Elementary School. My students have been learning about dinosaurs and have been wondering just how many bones a Tyrannosaurus Rex has. I would like to arrange a four day history trip to Washington D.C. for my students and was wondering if it would be possible-"

Rick grinned. Michonne wasn't much for arranging school trips, but road trips however…

. . .

Michonne walked the last of her junior high school 'homework club' students, Rhonda, back home.

"Thank you Ms. Anthony." The cute chubby girl said.

"No problem, Rhonda. Have a good weekend."

"You too!" The little girl said as she skipped the rest of the way home, excitedly chattering to her mom about what she'd learned today. It was five o'clock and a Friday. Michonne started to walk back to the home she had bought her first year of teaching. During her absence, her mother and grandmother had made themselves at home, but once they found that she was no longer going to "run off," as they claimed, they retreated to their own homes, her siblings included.

The neighbourhood was jiving, and some of the young guys were already clustering, getting ready to hit the bars and discos.

"Ooh baby, baby, you are dy-no-mite!" One guy said excitedly as she passed by, pulling up the sheep skin lined collar of his coat and tapping his sharp shoes.

Michonne smiled politely at the over-exuberant guy. "Hold your tongue now, respect a lady."

"Girl, and let me show you just how much I respect you."

"Ssh, don't say that, that's my sister's new history teacher." Another said. He was wearing a tight t-shirt, exposing his muscles.

"Really? Sorry Miss!" The man guy looked worried all of a sudden, like her jurisdiction to hand out detentions extended to the streets.

Michonne smiled, "That's okay, have a good evening gentlemen."

"Good evening, Miss!" The young men said before they started to tease one another. Michonne smiled as she walked home, the sun still out and bright though the days were growing darker. The streets actually grew a bit quiet as she got closer to her townhouse. She smiled to herself, she was a successful woman and she satisfied with her life, though it did get a little boring. Really boring actually. Rick was the last exciting thing she did.

And boy was he a fun thing to do. Michonne smiled, but grimaced again. He had been an out-of-town fling. That was it. Sometimes she had dreams about them together, in a world where she and him could co-exist peacefully, but the more she conjured these thoughts, the more she recognized them for what they were, delusions. Now she was alone on a Friday in San Francisco with nothing but schoolwork to occupy her.

She heard an engine purr behind her, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She kept walking, but the purr followed her, like a creepy Cheshire cat.

Couldn't be. He-

"Ms. Anthony, I need you to explain something to me." She knew that drawl very well. Michonne stopped dead in her tracks, her heart beating quickly.

"How did you-" Michonne said, turning round.

Rick pushed up his Ray-Bans and slid them over his head and on top of his hair. "You wrote to me, apparently against your own will, which is quite some achievement. But that isn't the issue here, explain to me how a bold girl like you was too chicken to contact me even when she figured out how?"

Michonne could not help but be affected by him, he was wearing a black tank up, his muscled arms showing. His back was straight and defiant and his already handsome face had lost most of his signature beard, revealing a beautiful sensuous mouth. She smiled.

He stopped his bike by the sidewalk, swung off it.

They stared at each other for a while. "Come here."

She ran into his arms like a child. He opened his arms, receptive to her hug.

She cried in his arms. He gently rubbed her back. "If you missed me that bad you should have written to me sooner." He playfully patted her bottom.

Michonne untangled herself from his arms in a mild panic "Don't Rick, people might see."

Rick looked at her in exasperation. "I kinda guessed that's what it's all about. You're afraid of what folks might think of you cavorting with a Gringo?"

Michonne wiped her tears. "Just my mother, who has made herself comfortable in my home." She wiped her eyes before continuing. "I hope you didn't come down here just to chase tail."

Rick raised an eyebrow and grinned. "I'm here for work. Got a chop shop two blocks away from here with Jesus. The tail chasing is just incidental."

Her eyes widened. "You're moving down here?" He nodded. "With Jesus?" He nodded again. "What if you had bought the shop and in turned out I didn't even live here?" Michonne looked at him incredulously, though her heart was secretly bursting in joy.

He shrugged with deliberate casualness. "Didn't really think that far ahead, just wanted a change of scenery. Figured I might eventually bump into you sometime too." Rick sounded hopeful, this worried Michonne. She looked around to see if anyone was watching her, a group of kids were pointing at her.

"Well that's really nice, but, I don't think anything will work between us Rick." Michonne was trying to be sensible and responsible, ignoring her own feelings.

Rick looked a bit disappointed, but resolute. "That's cool, because the last thing I'm looking for is a relationship."

"So why are you here?" She assessed, suddenly feeling sassy.

"I was just passing through on my way to my new business. Thought, why not stop over and have a little fun with Michonne." He said as his eyes looked up and down her curvy body.

Michonne shuddered at the attention. "And what if I said no?"

Rick took a step closer. "Would you say no?"

He captured her hand; he just needed to touch her. "I missed you."

Her stubbornness melted as she felt his thumb caress her palm. "You wanna come inside?"

"Sure." Rick smiled. He parked his bike on the side of the road and followed Michonne. He knew as much as she did that this wasn't going to be a little thing. He would make sure of it.

"So this is all yours?" He asked, tilting his head towards the house.

"Yup!" She smiled proudly.

"Very nice." He said sincerely. "Clean." He joked and she smiled.

"I missed you so much, Rick." She said, turning to face him.

"I know, baby." He stepped closer and rubbed her back.

"You can park your bike in the garage, you know..." She was looking for words to say.

"I'll get to that. I have other things to do right now." He smirked. "Show me your fridge, why don't you?"

Michonne rolled her eyes and unlocked her door, hoping that this was going to be the start of something new.