Note: I'm so completely obsessed with The Ones Who Live that my fanfiction mojo has been reignited. This is the first fic I've written in years. I hope you enjoy it.

And if anyone was following me on Twitter before, I was locked out of my old account, so you can follow me on my backup lovelygolden444

His body ached after twelve hours or more of constantly standing, killing walkers at a warped speed. He hardly took the few breaks the CRM soldiers did grant him. Instead, he turned off his mind and focused on the task. It made things easier, though easy wouldn't be a word to describe his current life.

He was too tired to change his clothes save for the heavy jacket. Too tired to move to the bed. Too heartbroken to do anything other than slump down in the lone chair in the prison they called a dorm room. He poured himself a generous amount of whiskey and sipped slowly as his head fell back against the wall. 21:00 hours. The blasts wouldn't subside for another thirty minutes. But he knew the more he sipped the alcohol, the drowsier he'd become. He'd drift off to the only place that brought him peace. One of his many phones sketched with the likeness of his love sat on the arm of the chair. He studied the lines of her eyes and lips, the ever-present headband, and sighed. He closed his eyes and prayed to anyone who may be listening that maybe this time he could stay in his dreams with her and leave his waking nightmare for good.

Rick whistled as he bounced through the parking lot, dodging the constant stream of cars. He held a lone shopping bag in his hand. He usually avoided going to any major shopping centers the weekend before Thanksgiving, but this year, he is downright jovial and looking forward to the holidays. The weather is cool and sunny. The smell of freshly baked muffins stirs in the air from the bakery next to the bookstore. The breeze made his jacket flap as his cowboy boots clacked to the rhythm of his whistled tune. Life was good.

He woke up that morning and realized it was eight months to the day since he'd broken up with his disaster of an ex-girlfriend. He never felt so free as not having to think of excuses to avoid visiting her, equalling disastrous family during the holidays.

"This is bullshit."

He slowed as he watched a woman beside a white Tesla kick the tire and curse at the car.

"Why did I buy this god-forsaken vehicle from a company owned by Elon Musk, of all people? What went through my head when I decided to give that man my money?"

He drank in the woman, from her skin-tight ankle-length cream-colored sweater dress that made her dark skin pop to her black, high-heeled boots and waist-length braids. Rick smirked as she rattled off another round of expletives about stupid electric cars. He stepped towards her. Her beauty and fiery demeanor drew him in like a moth to the flame.

"Uh…excuse me, ma'am," he drawled out in his deep southern accent, "but it looks like you could use a little help."

The woman quirked an eyebrow at him and looked him up and down.

Before she could speak, he held his hands up in surrender. "OK, I understand. A strange man walks up on a lone woman in a parking lot. I'll mind my business. Sorry 'bout that."

The woman laughed with very little humor and waved his apology away. "It's fine. I'm sure I'm a sight to behold with cursing the very idea of a Telsa in the middle of a Holiday rush."

"Well, it's a very beautiful sight to behold." He can't help but smile wide when she rewards him with one of her own.

"Oh, you're trying to be a ladies' man," she said as she tucked a wayward braid behind her ear.

He smiled again and shook his head, "I'm just callin' it like I see it. A man can't help but notice someone like you."

Their gazes locked, and an electric current seemed to surge between them, causing him to instinctively take a step back, his breath catching in his throat. The intensity of the connection was palpable, evident in the way she averted her eyes to the gravel of the parking lot, a subtle shudder rippling through her body as she tried to conceal her reaction.

She took a deep breath and smirked at him to try to recover from whatever had just played out before them.

"Ok, playboy. If you really want to know what's going on, my phone picked the worst time ever to die on me. And my stupid car won't open or drive without using an app because Elon Musk is an idiot. So I'm stranded in this parking lot and have an important appointment in less than an hour."

"So you're having a day," Rick said, trying to lighten the electric current that still hung in the air between them.

"I'm having dayyyy," the woman said, crossed her arms over her chest, and leaned against her car. "And it will be the worst day of my life if I don't get to this appointment."

"If you're in that dire situation, I could give you a ride," Rick suggested. He looked at her and then quickly looked away, knowing he was taking a huge gamble with that suggestion.

The woman pointed at him. "Strange man, remember. I don't get into cars with strange men."

"Fair enough," Rick conceded. "How about an Uber then?"

The woman waved her phone at him. "And how would I reserve a car with no phone?"

Rick chuckled. "Oh, right. Sorry about that. My mind must not be working right. Too distracted by your beauty."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes playfully at the cheesy compliment. "Oh, come on. Do lines like that really work?" Her laughter filled the air, a momentary break from the frustration of her day.

Rick shrugged. "I don't know. This is my first time saying it. It's not a line, though. It's just the truth."

She nodded "Be that as it may. You waxing poetic about my beauty will not get me to my appointment."

"Can you cancel?" He asked, concerned about her dilemma.

She shook her head "Not possible. It's a photo shoot for a huge client, and if I miss it, my career will be pretty much over."

"Anyone I know?" He was curious about the magnitude of her work

"Cartier, the jeweler," She revealed, watching his reaction.

He whistled, impressed. "Yeah, I'd say that's pretty big. You must be very successful."

"I do okay."

"You know I'm a huge photography fan and have a lot of respect for photographers."

"Yeah, sure," the woman responded skeptically. She is used to people claiming to be enthusiasts without much depth.

To prove his sincerity, Rick reached into his Barnes and Noble bag and pulled out a photography book featuring the works of Ansel Adams. "I may be a strange man, but I'm no liar."

Michonne's eyebrows raised in surprise. She was impressed by his taste in books. "Okay, I'll give you that one," she conceded.

"Now that we've established that I'm a truthteller, will you let me help you out?" Rick asked with a playful grin.

The woman raised an eyebrow. "And how do you plan to do that?"

Rick pulled his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans. "I'll call you an Uber from my account."

"I can't let you do that," she protested, still cautious.

"Why not?" Rick countered with a teasing smile.

"Strange man!" She exclaimed with a chuckle.

"I'm assuming you're going to your photography studio and not your home, right?" Rick inquired, trying to ease her concerns.

The woman nodded in agreement. "Yes, it's my studio."

"I'm sure that's public record," Rick pointed out casually. "I will know no more about you than what I can find out in a simple Google search."

She hesitated but then relented, realizing Rick had a point. "But you don't know my name."

Rick grinned, extending a hand. "I guess if you agree to let me help you, you'll have to tell me. Or not. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll just call you a car, and this will turn into a mildly interesting anecdote I tell my mom next time I'm over for Sunday dinner. I'm Rick Grimes, by the way."

Michonne laughed at his persistence and shook his hand. "Fine. Michonne Hawthorne."

"Michonne," he said with reverence. "Michonne," he drawled out again. "Beautiful, unique name matches the woman."

"Still in playboy mode, I see. Ok, Rick Grimes. Time is ticking away from me. I'll let you call me an Uber, but I'm going to pay you back," Michonne declared, determined to reciprocate the favor.

Rick grinned mischievously. "How about you pay me back by photographing me?"

Michonne shot him an incredulous look, "You need a fashion shoot? Because I'm not JCPenny's. I don't do portraits and headshots."

Rick shrugged. "My mom likes having pictures of her children around the house. Might as well surprise her with something fancy."

Michonne laughed again, charmed by his request. She handed him her card. "Fine, call my assistant and make an appointment. I'll take your photo."

"Ok, then," Rick agreed with a nod.

"Ok, then," Michonne echoed with a smile, raising her eyebrow at him. "Well, don't just stand there smiling at me, Strange Man. Call that Uber. I have places to be."

A week later, Rick felt the nerves of a teenage boy on his first date as he walked into Michonne's studio. He spotted her as soon as he walked in and took a moment to watch her. He felt that electricity again as he took in her with her long braids style half up in a high ponytail with the rest hanging down her back, her outfit - a pair of skin-tight faux leather pants, sleek back sleeveless shirt, and silver jewelry. Again, he marveled at the beautiful sight she was.

"Hey there…," his voice came out hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey, there, Michonne."

Turning towards him, she held a high-tech camera in her hands. Her smile was radiant as she greeted him. "Hey, yourself. Glad to see you again."

"Glad you had time for me."

Michonne smiled. "I think I can make time for the man who saved my career."

Rick chuckled and scratched at his eyebrow. "I think you're giving me too much credit." He scanned her rather large studio and let out a low whistle. "This is incredible." He looked at the photos hanging on the wall. "All of this is your work?"

She nodded. "That it is."

"Incredible," he said again.

Michonne smiled, pleased by his compliment. "Thanks. My muse keeps me on my toes."

"And who's your muse?" Rick inquired, genuinely curious.

"Oh, you know," Michonne replied with a thoughtful smile, her eyes reflecting a myriad of influences. "The world around me, my culture, friends, other people," she explained.

Rick nodded. "Other people, huh," he said with a smile.

"Other people, strange people," Michonne said with a playful smirk, as she cut her eyes to Rick.

"You know, I did hear strange people, and they are some of the best people you can meet," Rick replied with a chuckle.

"I'm sure you did." She gestured towards the Barnes and Noble bag. "More book shopping?"

A rush of unexpected shyness washed over him. His words became hesitant, his heart raced, and he found himself stumbling over sentences that had once flowed effortlessly."It's…it's almost Christmas, and I got you an early gift."

"Look at you." He handed her the bag, and she pulled out a photography book: National Geographic's Stunning Photographs. "This is gorgeous."

"I didn't know if you had it or not. Or if it was silly to give a photographer a photography book."

"No, it's perfect. Thank you."

"Next gift will be an engagement ring," he said, feeling his bravado come.

Michonne laughed and shook her head. "What am I going to do with you, Rick Grimes? I have to finish up some things. Why don't you look around, and then I can work on making you the next Tyson Beckford?"

"Who?" Rick asked, confused by the reference.

She laughed, shaking her head. "Nevermind. You'll see."

Her infectious smile tugged at Rick's heart. As he smiled back, a hint of lovelorn longing was in his eyes. It amazed him how deeply he was already smitten with this woman.

Rick wandered around the studio, becoming further impressed by the art she produced. He snuck glances at her as she finished her work, dedicated to her craft. She meticulously arranged props, adjusted lighting, and lost herself in deep concentration as she reviewed some of her digital prints on the computer. The next time he looked at her, he saw her staring back.

"What?" He asked.

She smirked and shook her head. "Nothing." She pulled out her phone and snapped a quick shot of him with the camera.

Rick cocked his head to the side. "Was that my photoshoot?"

"No. I told my sister about you ordering me the Uber last week. She said I was crazy for letting some random man help me like that. She did a mini background check on you to make sure you weren't wanted in ten states or something like that, " she chuckled.

"Since you're allowing me to be here, I'm figuring I passed your sister's test."

Michonned nodded. "So far, but she wanted me to send a picture of you to further her investigation."

"Sounds like you have a good sister."

"She's the best. So," she picked up her camera again, "Are you ready for your close-up?"

Rick opened his arms wide. "Do with me what you will."

Michonne giggled and adjusted her camera. "Just so you'll know, I'm not at all charmed by you."

He grins at her. "Why would you be? I'm just a silly country boy."

Their eyes met again. The electricity was potent.

"Stand over there." She pointed to a spot in front of a gray background. "Now, don't try to be a model. Just act naturally, and I'll capture your essence." She switched on some music. "My muse responds to melody. It'll help me flow better."

Rick bobbed his head along to the smooth beat.

Yeah, baby, let's cruise away from here
Don't be confused, baby, the way is clear, uh
And if you want it, you got it forever
Oh, this is not a one night stand, baby

"I think I know this one. Motown, right?" He asked.

Michonne shook her head. "No, baby, close, but that's D'Angelo singing this version."

"You just call me baby?" Rick teased, with a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Don't be flattered. I call everybody baby." Michonne quipped with a light, teasing chuckle

Rick raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips. "But I'm the only one you're calling baby right now," he pointed out, his playful tone matching hers as he enjoyed their banter.

She snapped a shot with her camera. "Pay attention, Richard."

"Yes, ma'am."

"The camera kinda loves you."

As she did her thing with the camera, Rick couldn't help but be captivated by Michonne's presence, her confidence shining through each frame. She stalked around him to capture each shot like a lioness, and he was her willing prey.

"Like I told you last week I'll be giving one of these to my mother," Rick joked. "It'll be nice for her to display the work of her future daughter-in-law."

"You don't stop, do you?"

"Figure we'll be engaged by Spring, wedding early Fall to beat the Georgia heat."

Michonne lowered the camera and gave him a curious look. "How do you know I'm not already married or in a long-term relationship?"

"Because you would have already told me that and wouldn't be here flirting with me right now," Rick replied confidently with a playful sparkle.

"Oh, I'm flirting with you?" Michonne raised an eyebrow in amusement

Rick grinned, leaning in slightly. "Oh, you're definitely flirting back."

She lifted her camera with an amused twist of her lips. "Let's just get these pictures done."

"Why don't you take one with me?"

"I'm the photographer, not a model."

"You look like both to me." He looked her up and down. "A woman of many talents."

"Oh, Rick Grimes, Rick Grimes, Rick Grimes," Michonne chanted. Her voice came out as a breathy sigh, both amused and with a feeling she wasn't yet ready to name.

"Ok, I'll set the timer and take one picture with you." She held up a single finger.

She set the camera on the tripod and activated the timer before rushing over to Rick. With a playful giggle, she leaned close into him as he wrapped an arm around her waist, their proximity charging the constant electricity that had been between them since they met.

After taking the photo, Michonne returned to the camera and showed Rick the picture. Their smiling faces and the ease in their embrace made it seem as if they had known each other through multiple lifetimes, capturing a moment of connection and possibility at the click of a button.

Rick rubbed his beard as he studied the photo. "Looks perfect for an engagement announcement. Maybe the save-the-dates."

We're gonna fly away (we're gonna)
Glad you're going my way (oh, yeah)
I love it when we're cruisin' together (cruisin', ay, ay)

The song was on repeat throughout the whole shoot. Rick brought his hands around her waist and turned her body towards his as they swayed back and forth. "This song can be our first dance. We can tell our kids how we fell in love in your photo studio, and they'll play this song at our surprise 50th anniversary party, where we slow down again like it's the first time."

Michonne wrapped her arms around his shoulders and swayed in time with the music, impressed by his rhythm. "We met a week ago, and you already have us married with children for 50 years."

"At least 50 years. Probably more. When a man knows, he knows."

"Hmm. Guess that's true. Even a strange man."

"Especially a strange man."

He drew her closer, their lips meeting in a lingering kiss. As she opened her mouth to him, he seized the opportunity to caress his tongue against hers, eliciting a shared moan from both of them. Afterward, he planted three more short kisses on her mouth before she gently pulled away, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I think I could get used to this," he said.

Michonne lifted her head and beamed a megawatt smile at him. "Baby, I think you and me might be -"

"Grimes! Wake up! You're on duty."

The glass slipped out of his hand, crashing to the floor as the pounding on the door startled him. He reached over to grasp her, but there was only air. He gingerly straightened up, his neck and back screaming at him for sleeping in a chair all night. He squinted as the morning sun flooded the room with too much light. He was back to living the nightmare, and she was gone…again.

He stood and staggered his way to the couch. He unzipped his hiding place and gave one last lingering look to her image. He kissed the screen before zipping the phone into the cushion.

"Bye, my love. See you soon."