A/N: I'm taking a short break from The Evil Next Door to show this fic series some love. This takes place after S5E1, but before we meet Gabriel in S5E2.
Enjoy!
"Is this seat taken?"
Rick shifted his gaze from Judith sleeping in his arms to see Michonne standing over his shoulder. Her silhouette was illuminated by the dimming embers of their modest fire pit.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile as he patted the ground beside him, having saved the spot for her against the large oak tree he and his children had taken residence under.
As she lowered herself beside him, she noticed Carl sleeping on his father's opposite side. He used a duffle bag to cushion his head and his sheriff's hat to cover his eyes as he softly snored. Judith was in a similar state, with her cheek pressed against her father's chest, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat.
Michonne smiled at the children, happy that, for the moment, they could rest.
"Wish I could go out like that," she murmured with a smile.
Rick exhaled a soft laugh. "You and me, both."
"How are you holding up?" she asked, taking in his weary features.
"I'm tired," he admitted, then pressed a kiss to the top of Judith's head, "but also grateful."
Michonne had to agree, in spite of everything that had happened to them, they were alive and they were together. That was worth its weight in gold as far as she was concerned. She reached over to gently run a hand over Judith downy head. "Me too."
Rick smiled inwardly, at the affection. He didn't comment on it, but he had noticed she no longer seemed to have an aversion towards Judith. While he never knew the reason for it, he knew enough to attribute it to something in her past, since the Turn or otherwise, he wasn't sure.
Whatever the reason, Rick was glad it didn't keep her away now.
He looked around their camp for the night, taking a mental count of the rest of their group. Bob, Sasha, Glenn, and Maggie had coupled off around the edges of their perimeter, in muted conversations. While Tyreese, Tara, Eugene, Abraham, and Rosita were making varying attempts at sleep around the fire.
Carol and Daryl sat across the fire pit from them, neither of them spoke but they both appeared content to be in each other's company again.
"We'll need to keep moving," Michonne whispered to him, drawing his attention back to her.
"Yeah, we do," he replied.
She nodded her head towards the newcomers in their group. "What do you think?" she asked, being intentionally vague.
"They fought with us back at Terminus," he said, exhaling through his nose, "and they helped Glenn on the road."
Michonne cracked a small grin. "So, they passed initiation?"
Rick mirrored her expression. "I guess so, yeah."
"It's good they can fight," she said, "well, most of them."
Rick's eyes involuntarily landed on Eugene, arguably the oddest addition to their group.
"Something's up there," he said, leaning further whisper in her ear.
Michonne was inclined to agree. "Not sure what, though."
"Not yet."
"He gives me mad scientist vibes," she commented, stretching her legs out.
Rick snorted at the off-handed remark. "Maybe he was. He talks like a character from one of those comic books you and Carl like to read."
Michonne laughed under her breath. "Shut up," she returned, kicking her leg against his outstretched beside her.
Rick grinned, leveling her with a conspiratorial look. "You mean to tell me he doesn't act the part?" he teased.
"I don't think Stan Lee, himself, would have thought that kind of character up," she told him, still grinning.
Rick shook his head at their banter, grateful they could still find small moments of levity even in the bleakest situations.
He rested his head back against the bark of the tree, giving Michonne a sideways glance. "You should try and sleep. We're gonna head out at sun up, tomorrow."
Michonne knew she wouldn't be sleeping tonight, there wasn't enough distance between them and Terminus. Even if there was, being exposed in the wilderness came with its own set of troubles.
"I'm not tired," she lied, and Rick knew it.
"You should try," he insisted, gently.
Michonne tilted her head, mimicking his trademark look. "I will, if you will."
Rick rolled his eyes, smirking at the impersonation. "Guess we're staying up then."
"Guess so," she returned, and made a show of settling back against the rugged bark of the tree.
"Comfy?"
Undeterred by the sarcasm in his tone Michonne crossed her feet at the ankles and rolled her shoulders back. "Like laying on a cloud," she said in an airy voice.
Rick laughed under his breath at her exaggeration. "Liar."
"You lack imagination, my friend," she returned.
They fell into a comfortable silence to the background of the crackling fire pit. Rick watched the embers smolder and as the flames reached up to kiss the inky black sky, he thought about the nights he spent camping with his grandfather as a boy.
He would spend hours under the stars listening to his grandfather retell old war stories and remembered being amazed at his bravery.
In hindsight, Rick realized it wasn't bravery at all. War doesn't make you brave, it makes you scared, more so than you've ever been in your life. He understood that better now that he was in the midst one himself. One where his enemies came in all forms and from all directions.
If he could go back, he would ask his grandfather, not about the war but about what came after. It wouldn't change his circumstances now, but maybe it would have given him a sense of what to expect when everything was said and done. If that even was such a thing.
"Where'd you go?"
Michonne's soft spoken question gently brought him out of his reverie. "Sorry," he apologized, though he wasn't sure why.
She shrugged. "For what? Spacing out?"
"I guess," he returned, unsure. "I was thinking about the camping trips I used to take as a boy."
Michonne couldn't help grinning. "So the country boy likes to camp outside, go figure."
"Yeah," he chuckled, "what about the city girl?"
Michonne wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Choosing to sleep in the wilderness was not high on my to-do list, I'm afraid."
"Go figure," he returned with a smirk as his eyes wandered upward.
Michonne followed his gaze and smiled a little at the stars. "Under different circumstances, I guess I can see how this would be enjoyable," she allowed.
Rick smirked. "It has its merits."
"Was it a family thing?" she asked, looking over at Carl.
Rick arched an eyebrow in consideration. "I guess you could say that. My grandfather used to take me and my brother out when we were kids. Carl had just reached an age where Lori felt comfortable enough for him to spend a weekend away from her, but we only got out there once before everything happened."
"What did you do?"
Rick shrugged. "We'd go fishing, tell stories around the fire while we made s'mores."
Michonne sighed with a lazy smile. "Mm, s'mores."
Rick grinned at her perpetual sweet tooth. "We used to stack em' to see how high we could get before it started leaning over."
"Sounds like a waste of a good snack," Michonne returned, flatly.
"Well, we didn't have the food scarcity that we have now, so it didn't seem that way at the time," he reasoned, then snorted at the look of indignation on her face. "Wouldn't have mattered, huh?"
She shook her head once.
Rick exhaled a small laugh through his nose. "We took a lot of things for granted back then," he eventually said.
Michonne didn't respond to that, instead she returned her gaze on the glowing embers in front of her. Focusing on the dancing flames to avoid considering the gravity of his statement.
"Where'd you go?"
A small smile lifted the corner of her lips as she turned to face him. "I'm still here," she assured him.
Rick considered her for a moment, squinting his eyes to see her features in the dark. There was something in her eyes, a story he wanted to know, but was almost certain she wasn't ready to share. He held on to hope that one day she would. It wasn't far from the realm of possibility, given their track record so far.
Judith squirmed against him, whining softly into his chest. Rick tilted his head to check on his baby girl and found her bright brown eyes staring back at him.
"She might be hungry," Michonne said, reaching for the knapsack that contained their meager rations.
Rick adjusted Judith, letting her head rest in the crook of his arm as he murmured soothing sounds into her ear while Michonne rummaged through the contents of the bag. She pulled back with a small jar of pureed carrots. "Hopefully, she isn't picky," she said, passing the container to Rick.
"Thank you."
Without the luxury of utensils, Rick had to sit Judith up in his lap and feed her from the jar. The baby hungrily slurped her meal, reaching up to hold the jar herself.
"She leaves my side for a minute and doesn't need me anymore," he huffed, watching her.
"She's around that age where her personality is going to start showing," Michonne said, running a finger across the bottom of Judith's foot. The child lifted her eyes to her and grinned behind the rim of the jar. "Independence isn't a bad thing," she said, smiling for the child.
Rick wordlessly watched them with a smile of his own.
"Besides, what little girl doesn't want her daddy around?" Michonne lifted her eyes to him and shrugged. "That's how it was for me, anyway."
He raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised by the volunteered information. "Is that right? You were a Daddy's girl?"
Michonne nodded, leaning back against the tree. "Through and through. He's the reason I became a lawyer," she admitted quietly.
She once revealed to him on a run her occupation from her past life, and he remembered thinking it fitting given her judicious nature. "Was he a lawyer, too?"
Michonne jerked her head in a nod.
"He must've been proud of you," he surmised. Even though he had never or would never see her argue a case, he had no doubt of her capabilities.
"I wouldn't know," she confessed, bringing her knees up slightly, "he died from cancer before I could take the bar."
"I'm sorry," Rick said softly, then leaned into her space and whispered, "still, I bet he was proud of you even before then."
Michonne looked at him, wordlessly, and for a moment he wondered if he had said something wrong.
"How do you do that?" she asked.
"Do what?"
She tilted her head and smiled at him. "Always know the right thing to say."
Rick blushed, shaking his head. "I assure you, I don't."
"You must not hear yourself the way I do," she returned, then nodded to Judith. "I think she's finished."
Rick followed her eyes and chuckled at the sight. Judith had fallen back to sleep with a mouth covered in mashed carrots, even as she snoozed, she gripped the jar tightly in her tiny hands.
Michonne retrieved a small cloth from the knapsack and reached over to clean Judith's face, then gently pried the jar from her hands to reseal.
"So did you always want to be a lawyer?" he asked, shifting Judith so that she could sleep more comfortably.
Michonne shook her head as she returned the jar to the bag, before settling back against the tree. "I wanted to be a dancer," she revealed.
"Ballet?" he guessed.
"Exotic," she replied, easily.
Rick blanched, blinking at her, unsure how to respond.
"I'm kidding," she quietly laughed, nudging him, "yes, ballet. How did you guess?"
He wanted to say it was obvious because of the graceful way she carried herself. But, thanks to her remark, he was struggling not to picture her twirling around a chrome pole instead.
"Smart ass," he said dryly, looking away from her as if that would erase the mental picture.
"You should have seen the look on your face," she giggled back, then softly exhaled, "but, to answer your question, no, I did not always want to be a lawyer."
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, to see if she was being serious. "What changed?"
"It wasn't realistic after Daddy died," she told him, honestly. "Before that, I wanted to join the Alvin Ailey dance theater, I even auditioned."
Rick knew of the theater. He once attended a performance with Lori on a trip they had taken to New York, a few years before Carl was born. He remembered the production being intimate and beautiful. He would have liked to see Michonne in a performance like that.
"Did you get in?" he asked, curiously.
Michonne's expression dimmed as she nodded once. "I got the call while I was in the hospital, but with everything going on I knew it wasn't the right time. My mother needed me, and I needed a career with stability."
Her voice sounded far away even though she was sitting right next to him. He could tell by her expression, as she stared into the fire, that she really had gone somewhere else this time.
"I never regretted the decision," she continued quietly, "I liked being an attorney, I was good at it, but a small part of me wondered what my life would have been if I said yes."
"You would have traveled the world performing on all grand stages," he imagined out loud, "you would have received bouquets of flowers from admirers at the end of every performance. You would have been a star."
Michonne listened to him visualize her life with fascination, struck by how much thought he had given it.
"Of course, if you had done that," he continued in his infamous drawl, "you probably wouldn't be out here under the stars with us now."
She exhaled a soft laugh through her nose. "No, probably not."
"And, that would be a shame," he said with a nod.
Michonne smiled at that. "It would be," she agreed.
Rick turned to look at her, then smiled as she reached up to cover her face as she yawned. "Sleepy yet?" he asked, knowingly.
"Maybe a little," she admitted.
Rick shifted in place, and lifted his arm. "Get in here," he instructed.
Michonne blinked at him. "What?"
"You'll never get your beauty sleep against this tree," he reasoned, "no matter how good your imagination is."
Michonne narrowed her eyes at him, and Rick started to lower his arm. "Suit yourself."
She caught his arm before it could return to his side, and tentatively scooted closer to lean against him.
Rick smirked, lowering his arm around her. "Better?"
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak as his heartbeat thrummed soothingly under her cheek. Her own beat louder in her ears at their proximity. Aside from the occasional hug from Carl, she hadn't had any real physical contact with another human being in ages. She almost forgot what it was like.
Being this way with Rick added a layer of complexity to her emotions.
"Is this weird?" she asked, craning her neck to look up at him.
He smirked down at her. "Only if you make it weird." She rolled her eyes at him, and he squeezed her a little. "Admit it, it's better than the tree."
She couldn't argue with that. "What about you?"
"I'll be fine," he said, easily.
Michonne eyed him skeptically. "You say that now."
"It's not the worst place in the world to be," he said, glancing down at his children beside them.
Michonne followed his eyes and smiled in agreement. With her head tucked in the crook of his neck, she curled her fingers under her chin and scooted closer into his embrace. "Good night, Rick," she murmured against him.
Rick rested his cheek against her hair, and gently ran a hand down her arm. "Good night, Michonne," he whispered back.
Daryl had just about fallen asleep, having finally found a comfortable place against the fallen log he was leaned against when he felt a nudge at his side. He lifted his eyes in question to the woman seated beside him.
"What did I miss?" Carol asked.
He frowned, confused, and she nodded her head in the direction of the dying fire pit. Daryl followed her gaze to the couple across from them, and understanding dawned over him.
Realizing Carol was expecting an answer, he shrugged.
"Liar," she scoffed.
"Leave em be," he told her before turning back over, "ain't nothing wrong with it."
"Never said there was," she returned lightly, "I just wanted to know when it happened."
"Ain't nothing happening, yet," he supplied.
"So you do know something," Carol grinned, leaning over to see his face. "Spill."
Daryl sighed as he turned over to face his friend, knowing she wouldn't drop the subject unless he gave her something. "After we all got separated, I found them together. I don't know what happened on the road before that, but they ain't strayed far from each other since."
Carol returned her attention to the pair and found Rick's eyes on her. She smiled at him before looking back to Daryl. "Interesting."
"Not really," Daryl retorted, "can I go to sleep now?"
"Yes, pookie," she said, reaching over to stroke his hair, "sweet dreams."
Daryl grunted in response, and turned back over.
Carol smiled to herself, deciding she would stay up a little longer to keep watch.
She returned her gaze to the smaller family unit in their ranks, noticing the changes in their dynamic for the first time. It surprised her, but not in a bad way.
In fact, the more she thought about it, the more it made perfect sense. Michonne had developed a connection with the Grimes that even those with the longest tenure in their little group did not seem to have.
Carol remembered a time when Michonne would leave the prison for weeks on end in search of the Governor, and she would find Carl moping cell blocks like a lost puppy. Then, she'd eventually cross paths with his father, and found Rick in a similar state. Only for them to perk up the moment Michonne returned safely.
They had experienced so much pain, pain Carol was intimately familiar with herself. So, when Michonne came into their lives, it was a turning point for the Grimes men, whether they realized it not.
One look at Michonne, and Carol knew right away she was a lost soul, too. It was something she could recognize in others since she had lost her Sophia. She understood that it was a shared grief that united them, but now it appeared to be more than that.
Carol didn't know if it was as obvious to Rick as it was to her, but if the look on his face now was any indication, it was a safe bet that one day it would be.
Carl sat up with a yawn, stretching out his stiff muscles as he did. He sleepily rubbed his eyes, squinting from the sun shining above as he took in his surroundings.
The fire had died over the course of the night, leaving a pile of soot and dead branches in its place. He could see Glenn and Abraham speaking quietly at the edge of their perimeter, but almost everyone else was still sleeping.
He looked over to check on his father, and found him asleep as well, with Judith and Michonne tucked securely under his arms. While the adults looked too peaceful to be disturbed, his sister was wide awake.
Carl reached for her, but Rick's arm automatically tightened around the baby as his murderous eyes snapped open.
"It's just me," Carl assured him as Rick turned to him, relaxing slightly.
Rick looked around, easing his grip for Carl to take Judith from him. "She needs a change," he said groggily, then looked down at the woman under his other arm.
"I got it," Carl whispered, standing with his sister.
Rick turned back to him with a nod, grateful for the offer since he wasn't eager to start moving yet, certain his body would rebuke the effort if he tried.
"You okay?" Carl asked him, knowing his position against the hard tree probably wasn't comfortable.
"I will be," Rick grunted, craning his neck to stretch out the stiffness.
Carl nodded as he knelt to retrieve his sister's diaper bag, then left to find a place downwind to change her.
Rick kept a watchful eye on his children, and took in the rest of the camp as he did. Judging by the hazy grayness of their surroundings, he hadn't been asleep long. A couple hours at most, but he knew he would need to start moving soon.
He glanced down at Michonne, actually surprised she was still asleep. Like him, she usually rose with the sun. Instead, her eyes remained closed, with her face pressed against his chest, and he realized he had never seen her look so peaceful.
While he didn't want to disturb her, he knew it couldn't be helped. So, he gently patted her side to stir her. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," he murmured.
Michonne frowned in her sleep, then slowly blinked her eyes open.
He smiled at her as she looked at him. "Did you have a good sleep?" he asked.
"Too good," she mumbled, carefully untangling herself from his arms.
If his back weren't screaming at him, he would have been disappointed to have her move so quickly. "That makes one of us."
Michonne turned to him, wincing sympathetically. "I'm sorry."
He brushed off her concerned with a wave of his hand. "I offered, so don't be."
Michonne pushed her to her feet, and stretched her arms above her head. "Next time, I'll be your pillow," she sighed without thinking. Rick raised his eyebrows at the remark as he slowly rose to his feet, and Michonne dropped her shoulders, hearing the insinuation she did not intend to make. "I heard how it sounded."
"Well, if you're offering," he teased with a grin.
"Shut up, Rick."
He laughed lightly, nudging her shoulder with his as he passed her. "I'll be your pillow any time, Michonne."
She smiled to herself as she watched him walk to meet his children.
Camping outside may not have been her preference, but with the right company, she was beginning to think it wasn't so bad.