Michonne peered into the window and saw the Grimes boys. Her katana stayed in its holster. The tears flowed. She looked up to the sky and had to thank someone, her bottom lip quivering. It was hard to believe in a higher power when the walker apocalypse began. And it became even harder to believe when Andre died and Mike was unable to protect him. But this feeling of relief? Of gratitude? Of hope for the future? It had to mean something.

Knock knock knock.

She heard some shuffling, clanging of dishes, laughter behind the door. Sounds like Rick. Then silence.

Did I have to knock again?

Knock knock knock.

"It's Carl! We blocked the door! We'll open in a second!"

She looked through the window again and saw both Grimes men as they were contemplating around a sofa.

Wait, why does Rick still have his mangled shirt on if they had the time to secure a whole house?

Within a couple minutes, Carl opened the door and rushed into Michonne's arms at the threshold, not even one foot in the door.

"Michonne so happy you found us how did you do it are you OK and also Judith's missing." Carls words sputtered.

"Uhhh…" She looked over at Rick, who was grinning widely, standing, somehow, despite his wretched condition, even bouncing on the balls of his feet, seemingly ready to push Carl out of the way, no help at all. "I'm not telling you to not worry, Carl, but hope. Maybe someone in the group found Judith and is taking care of her until we all somehow meet up. I mean, it's crazy, but I was able to track you guys down."

Carl slowly let go of her. "I never thought of it like that. Hope." The word felt brand new to him. He plopped down on his spot of the floor again as Michonne walked in.

There Rick was, apparently ready to pounce.

Michonne sharply inhaled and opened her arms wide. This was going to be the most physical contact she had with Rick, and by him being alive, finding Carl, and wearing those cowboy boots that made him able to be easily tracked, he had earned it. "Give me a hug," she said with a smile.

Rick stumbled into her embrace. Michonne didn't know if the odor of dried blood came from her or him. His sinewy body pressed against her as his arms wrapped around. Michonne sighed into his chest, never realizing that she needed something warm and welcoming like this until now.

Then she felt something of his rub against her thigh. Hard.

Her eyes darted. His Colt Python laid on the couch. No protein bars in sight, she would have never let him forget it if he didn't offer her one anyway.

The fact that she could estimate the size of his shaft through his terrible jeans and her leather pants gave Michonne enough pause to be impressed.

"You're very happy to see me, huh?" Michonne said, still smiling while noticing Carl nonchalantly peeling off labels of water bottles.

"Are you even real? Am I dreaming?" The dry way Rick said his words were parched, but Michonne appreciated the thought of her as a mythical figure. He buried his face into her neck, his nose maneuvering her locs that settled on her shoulder. The rough bristle of beard against her skin made her tingle from the sensation, her reply ended with a shudder.

"The answer to your first question is no. The second answer is yes."

"Can we take a bath later?"

"Together?! Do we even have running water here?" Michonne was done being flattered and her feelings were bordering on annoyance.

That's when Rick mumbled something unintelligible and sunk all his weight on her. His heaviness made her gasp and step back, he was leaning into her still with his face tangled in her hair.

"Carl, move your dad's gun, now! I think he lost consciousness."

The preteen scrambled and Michonne slowly, gently pushed Rick onto the sofa, his massive erection undeniably visible.

"Ewwwww!" Carl shielded his eyes, turning away.

"He can't control his bodily functions." Michonne took Ricks pulse by his Adam's apple. Strong and steady. She witnessed his chest under his tattered shirt sharply rise and fall. Maybe he was just taking a nap?

Carl stuck his tongue out in disgust, still turned away. "He can't control his gross functions either."

Michonne chuckled a bit at his immaturity. "You want to help me take him upstairs so he can rest? You'll have to grab his feet."

"Michonne, I'd rather eat a giant can of pudding again."

"OK, listen, grab some pillows for him and then you can stay up there."

"What are you gonna do? Stare at him while he looks like that?"

"Yes, Carl, it's my destiny to be with your dad while he has a boner on the couch. Do I have to make you take watch?"

Carl sprang up the stairs like an Olympic level hurdler. Moments later he dropped off some frilly uncomfortable looking pillows and bounded up again to escape.

"And thanks for not telling him to change!" Michonne shook her head at Carl's thoughtlessness and propped Ricks head up, his stiffness notably decreasing. She sat on the floor, back leaning on the couch, merely inches away from him.

Taking a bath together. Now that she had time to think about it, it could make sense. Conserving water efforts. Captive audience to talk strategies, no distractions that she could think of. And she would ensure that his wounds would be taken care of, platonically, of course. No need to see what his Apollos belt and cock and legs would look like surrounded by soapy bubbles. Maybe she would entertain herself in the tub by disguising him with a playful sudsy beard. Because being in a bath with someone so handsome that she was growing so close to could be so mundane.

Her eyes moved around the house. It was evident that it was picked over even before the Grimes boys found it, but in good enough condition that Michonne considered as 'welcoming company at the end of civilization' worthy. A shower cap, a couple toothbrushes and razors…she realized she didn't peek into the bathroom, suddenly, desperately wanting to…and this could work for the three of them. A place to call home. Maybe she could tell Rick when he woke up.

Sleep itself claimed Michonne a few minutes later.