The worn wool blanket provided an extra layer of warmth from the chilliness in the unheated cabin. Although the heat made from their tangled bodies in a small bed, was more than enough to keep Rick and Michonne comfortable. It had been a very long, long time since either had experienced a night like this one. Rick was at peace and Michonne felt safe. As a day full of noodles, whiskey, and kind gestures transitioned to a night of vigorous lovemaking, and both were more than ready for a full night of sleep.

As Michonne shifted in the bed and placed her back flush against Rick's chest, he lifted the blanket and spotted the blue boxers she was wearing. "Hmm, I think those belong to me," he said.

"I wanted to wear something comfortable. And I like wearing your clothes," Michonne said as she turned to face Rick. "It's become a bit of a habit over the years."

"Oh really," he asked in a surprised manner. "What prompted that?"

The room was dark but contained just enough light for Michonne to pick out the faint shade of grey in Rick's eyes. "You were gone. I had no idea what happened to you, but you were gone. And I was alone."

"I'm sorry. I never wanted to leave you," he pleaded.

Michonne smiled. "It wasn't your choice. At first, I'd go to the closest and just smell a shirt you'd worn. Once I knew I was carrying RJ, I started regularly wearing one of your jackets. I needed to feel close to you and I thought RJ should feel close to you too."

"I want to thank you for that Michonne. Thank you for doing everything for our son when I couldn't. I can't wait to catch up with Judith and meet him," he said while sitting up in the bed. "I have a confession, one I'm a little scared to admit."

Concerned, Michonne shifted her position so they were both facing either other. "Tell me."

"You said RJ calls me The Brave Man. For almost eight years he's held this almost mythical image of me in his head," Rick said. The sound of worry was evident in his shaking voice.

Michonne nodded silently.

"What if….what if when RJ sees me, he's disappointed. What happens when he gets to know me and realizes I'm not some hero? How will he react when he realizes I'm just -"

"His father. The father who loves him so much that he cut off his own hand to get home," Michonne interjected.

On the bedside nightstand sat a half-finished glass of brown whiskey that Rick had planned to finish off before bed. He reached over with his right hand, grabbed the glass, and shot it back. The slight burn in his throat provided a welcome distraction from his emotions. "When I was RJ's age, I thought my father was perfect. Like he could do no wrong. One day, I saw him for who he actually was, which was far from perfect. I just don't want RJ to go through that."

"Rick, every child learns their parents aren't perfect. I was nine when I realized my mom was mostly full of shit, but I still loved her. She was nowhere near perfect, but she loved me and tried her best. That's what counts as a parent. You raised Carl!"

"I know, it's just…..I'm nervous. I want RJ to like me, I want Judith to forgive me for missing her grow up. Michonne, I want us to have a happy life. One where we grow old and watch our kids grow, and maybe one day play with our grandchildren," Rick said fondly. "For some reason I've always seen myself having a big family."

Michonne's eyes widened. "Carl, Judith, and RJ. That's three kids. How many kids were you wanting, cowboy?"

"Mmmm, four or five sounds perfect," he said confidently.

"FOUR OR FIVE! So, I guess you're planning on finding a new woman then," Michonne laughed. Before the world fell apart Michonne never imagined being a mother. In fact, her first son was unplanned but very much a welcome gift. RJ was a sweet and easygoing baby, but could she raise another?

Rick planted a kiss on top of Michonne's forehead. "I don't want any woman but you. Maybe I could persuade you to have one or two more babies."

"Persuade me? I'd like to see you try, Grimes," she said while running her hand down Rick's legs.

"Challenge accepted."