Chapter 3: Moonlight

moonlight (noun) – the light of the moon

Daryl set the crossbow, bolts, and his bowie knife on the ground before he sat on the back steps. As advanced as the safe zone was, the head honchos were smart enough to conserve energy. Although street lamps provided some light, the moon and stars did most of the heavy lifting to illuminate the night sky. He scratched a match for the kerosene lamp at his feet. Then he reached for the knife first and started sharpening it.

The quiet was different here. The first week in the barracks unsettled him. After being on the road for so long and having to be aware of everything at once, the silence made him uneasy. That was the reason he slipped out the first time. He just needed something familiar and normal like the wild and rumbling moans of walkers. Having Sasha with him felt right, too. They never said much, but their movements were in sync. It reminded him of when they had coordinated runs back at the prison. Then, she was bossy, but her instincts were never off. Now, the bossiness had subsided, but her gut remained a good guide.

Crickets chirped nearby. He tried to focus on their song, but his thoughts drifted to Hershel. The old man was a tough sumbitch. Daryl remembered their last conversation if it could be called that. Just a few words passed between them. You're a read badass, Daryl told him and Hershel replied, I am. There could have been worst things said, but Daryl thought about that moment often. He preferred not to dwell on regrets, but what if Daryl had gone out with Michonne that day instead? Would he have died in Hershel's place? Or together, could he and Michonne have stopped the Governor before he destroyed their home? He wasn't sure if he believed in fate or destiny but he wondered about things.

When Sasha unpacked her bag, he saw her stuff Tyrese's hammer in the bottom drawer. She went into the bathroom and slammed the door shut after that. Her brother would disagree with them. After Tyrese the prison fell and he returned to the group, he avoided killing walkers unless confronted. Daryl wasn't sure if Rick and the others were aware, but Daryl noticed. Something happened out there. He never got a chance to ask Carol if she knew what bothered Tyrese and the time wasn't right to approach Sasha. Daryl knew Tyrese wasn't a coward, but he couldn't put his finger on what had changed him.

Daryl heard the boy's soft steps just as he smelled his scent. "C'mon out."

Noah pushed the back door open and stepped outside. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled. "It feels good out here."

"The window's open?" Daryl returned the knife to the sheath at his belt and set the sharpener down. He started inspecting the bolts.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure about it. Y'know?" Noah sat beside Daryl. "There may be more at the armory."

Daryl nodded. "Why ain't you sure about the windows? The place's fortified."

"Yeah, it looks like it." Noah shrugged. "You never know."

"You can put up bars."

"What if there's a fire?" Noah asked.

"Can't have it both ways."

Noah picked up a bolt that Daryl discarded. He twirled it around in his hands. "I feel like I'm too old to go to school. I'd rather be doing something."

"You will be."

"I'm tired of being cooped up," Noah said. "I wanna…"

"What?" Daryl asked, tilting his head slightly to look at Noah.

"Go with you and Sasha," Noah answered. "I'm getting better. My leg isn't as bad as it was. I still limp, but I'm faster. I can handle my own."

Daryl shook his head. "It ain't what you think."

"I know what it is," Noah said quietly. "I need it, too. Let me come. Just one time."

"We can't have you slow us down," Daryl said. "Sometimes, we run."

"I made it this far," Noah said. "From Atlanta to here. I can do it. Just let me try. Once. That's all I'm asking."

Daryl looked away. "It ain't my call. Me and Sasha'll talk. We'll let you know."

"Thanks—"

"Don't thank me," Daryl said in a low voice. "Not for this. You think you know, but you don't. You don't know."

# #

The fog slowly cleared in the bathroom and Rick's reflection stared back at him. The sky blue eyes were familiar, but the bushy mass of hair on his face was not. Michonne had warned him months ago that his face was losing the war, and now that they had time to breathe, he could see what she meant. The mirror captured the image of a wild, untamed beast, and Rick supposed that he could be that when pushed. He would be that whenever it was necessary, but without her saying much more, he understood that Michonne needed this place to work. Not just for everyone else, although she was right that they could be on the road too long. But she needed it for her, too. A week ago, he would have said that his decision to join the safe zone community was because of his children and everyone else. He realized now, that his reasons went deeper. He needed a safe place just as much as the rest of them.

A shaving kit was stored in the bottom cabinet. He pulled out the scissors, razor, and cream and lined them up on the counter. Hand towels were placed nearby. He rubbed his hand over his beard and sighed. The damn thing itched, but at this point, he had gotten used to it. But it was time for it to go. His baby girl had never seen his full face.

Rick took the scissors and began snipping. He made sure to stand over the sink. The hairs began to fill the basin. He ran water to clear the sink before he started the other side and that's when Judith tossed her rattle from the crib. Cries soon followed. He left the scissors on the counter and headed to her, but Carl reached her first.

"Hey, sweet cheeks," Carl said, kissing his sister's nose. "What's wrong? Oh, boy. I know what's wrong."

"I'll change her," Rick said. He placed everything on the bed and waited for Carl to set her on the towel.

"I can do it," Carl offered.

"I know." Rick made quick work of changing the soiled diaper while also making Judith blow spit bubbles and giggle.

Carl took the trash outside and returned. Judith reached for him. Rick slowly handed her over.

"You're shaving it off?" Carl asked.

Rick nodded. He headed back to the bathroom and returned to the task of trimming the beard down to a manageable length. Carl, with Judith in his arms, followed and claimed a first row seat on the lid of the toilet. The boy tugged at imaginary hairs on his face. "Is there another razor?" he asked.

Rick bit back a smile. "No, we'll find you one or we can share."

"Sharing is good."

Judith cooed in agreement.

"Where's Michonne?" Rick asked. After the three of them finished dinner, Carl cleaned the kitchen while Michonne sat and leafed through a book about gardening. That's when Rick decided to take a shower.

"She's visiting Glenn and Maggie," Carl said. "I guess Tara and Eugene, too, since they're all in the same house."

"How long she's been gone?"

Carl shrugged. "Not long. We talked about farming some. Noelle and Dominik are helping out after school. I can, too."

"As long as you get your schoolwork done, first."

"I don't see what good book learning's gonna do for me now," Carl said. "I read on my own. Everything else is about survival."

Rick paused in lathering his face to stare at his son. "You'd be surprised what you can learn at school."

"I'll go—"

"I know," Rick said. "It's not a negotiation."

Carl nodded. Judith patted her brother's mouth and he gnawed her fingers. Her giggles broke the tension. "You know there's an extra bed in my room. I told Michonne she could stay there or maybe you could, but I guess it wouldn't be fair to leave Judith in here with her."

Rick resumed shaving. He wanted to hear where Carl was going with this before he offered his thoughts on the subject. His son continued to play with Judith as he spoke.

"She's not sure where she's sleeping tonight and…" Carl sighed. "Well, it's not fair to make her sleep somewhere she doesn't want to. As long as she's here with us, she should be able to sleep wherever she wants."

Rick turned the faucet on and let the water pour over the razor. While he did this, he said, "Are you asking me something, or telling me?"

"Michonne is… I…" He stood and moved to stand beside his father. "She's part of our family now, right?"

Rick recognized the maturity in his son's eyes and nodded. "I want her to be."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Rick said, his tone sharp.

"But Dad… You're still wearing your ring," Carl said, quietly. "I know what it means. Well, I think I do, and I know Michonne. If she's part of our family, are you gonna keep wearing that ring or will you take it off? Don't you think it makes a difference to her?"

In all honesty, Rick had forgotten about his wedding band. It was like the Colt and the red handled machete. Just things that he had and were always there. He couldn't remember the last time that he thought about Lori in the way a husband thought about his wife. He missed her, he guessed, but not in the way that wearing his wedding ring suggested.

"She say something to you?" he asked.

"You know she wouldn't," Carl answered. "I just thought… I don't know. I noticed it when you were kissing her and…"

"I'm sorry, Carl."

"I'm okay," his son said. "I miss Mom, but I'm okay. I want Michonne to stay."

"Me, too."

Rick pulled the ring off and handed it to Carl. "It's yours."

He shaved the beard off and Carl stayed by his side. Judith fell asleep during the quiet. When he finished, Rick carried the baby to the crib. Carl sat on the floor and waited. Rick joined him.

"Is she sleeping here, then?" Carl asked.

Rick rubbed a hand over his now smooth jawline. The nicks and cuts were minor. He leaned against the bed and stretched his jeans clad legs out before him. Pajamas were in the dresser, but he wasn't sure if he felt comfortable sleeping in anything other than street clothes. Tonight would be a test in more ways than one.

"I don't know," Rick said. "There's more to a relationship between a woman and a man than whether they sleep in the same bed."

"Good."

"Why do you say that?" Rick asked.

"I don't think Michonne is ready to sleep in here."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know Michonne."

# #

The barracks had showers. The spray of hot water had pricked Sasha's body like needles and although being clean soothed her body, it did little for her mind. She didn't question the decision to run a bath. Her mind still held the maze of dead walkers that she and Daryl left behind in the woods. Sometimes, she wished for a sword like Michonne's to feel the power of swiftly slashing through several at one time. But most of the time, she preferred the hand to hand moments of driving the blade through their skulls. Those were the thoughts she held onto as she undressed and slid into the tub filled with hot water and white bubbles.

A low moan escaped her but she was unaware of it. Her knees bent as she sunk low into the water, her chin just above the surface. She closed her eyes. Her body needed this. Her muscles ached from the miles walk into the forest and back again, then the climb over the fence. With her eyes shut, she saw only darkness and that's what she wanted.

Once she finished, she dressed in khakis, t-shirt, socks and boots. She found herself back in the living room with her rifle and cleaning supplies spread across the coffee table. She sat on the sofa. Taking care of her weapon was the best way to fill the time. Her hands moved through the motions easily. Calculated decisions were unnecessary.

Gabriel rattled pots and pans and made other noise in the kitchen. She heard water running and his low hum. A few minutes later, the water stopped. His breathing sounded near, but she didn't turn to look at him.

"There's dinner if you want it," he said.

She shook her head.

"I can make a plate."

"I'll get it later," she said.

"Um…" Gabriel began.

Sasha sighed, but still remained focused on the rifle. "What?"

"I can sleep on the couch and you can have the extra bed in the room with Noah if that would make you more comfortable," he said in a rush, as if the speech was practiced.

"I'm fine where I am."

He moved fully into the room. His loud breaths sound agitated, so she finally looked at him. Their gazes locked, but Sasha didn't blink. She smelled soap a moment before the sofa cushion beside her dipped.

"Here." Daryl dropped a handful of bullets into her palm. "Found them on that last run."

"Thanks," she murmured.

"I was telling Sasha that there's food in the kitchen," Gabriel said. "Noah and I didn't eat it all. There's plenty. I can get you a…"

"I'm good," Daryl said.

Sasha set the bullets on the table in a row. She finished wiping down the rifle, but her attention wafted between the weapon and the former man of the God. His nervous energy annoyed her. When they decided to live together, she reasoned that she could do it, but sometimes like right now…

"Do you like your assignments?" he asked. "Noah and I are both at the school. I thought you two would be together, but I guess it's close enough, right?"

Sasha tuned out his voice. Daryl leaned back against the sofa. He stretched his legs out before him until he found a comfortable position. As the quiet lengthened, Gabriel mumbled something about going to bed and left them.

Daryl nudged her arm. "I'll sleep here."

She frowned at him. "No, don't mind him."

Sasha dreaded the thought of being alone. With only the sounds of her breath keeping her awake. They had all been together as a group for days now. Even in the barracks, she hadn't been completely isolated. He wouldn't understand if she told him, so she swallowed the words.

"The bed is big enough and you smell fresh like Zest or Ivory or something," she said. "It'll be fine. I'm okay with it."

"You tired yet?" he asked.

"I can't tell the difference anymore."

Daryl stood and checked the lock on the front door. He paused at the sofa. "C'mon."

She followed him to the bedroom. The rifle was set within reaching distance, as was his crossbow. She went to the windows and opened the curtains. The moon was a perfect circle. Yellow, bright, and glowing. She kept the curtains open so she could see the night sky from a distance. Behind her, Daryl moved the bed so that it faced the window better. He waited for her to choose the side she wanted to sleep on.

She chose the left and dropped on top of the covers. He took the right. They kicked off their shoes once they were settled. Their bodies didn't touch, but she could hear his breaths and they were even with hers. Sasha stared out the window for hours. Even without looking at him, she sensed that Daryl did the same.

# #

Michonne stood with Glenn on the porch of his new home. His face was tight and his shoulders slumped. She leaned against the column as she waited for the apology she knew would come.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Maggie is… It's getting better. Maybe tomorrow will be different. The community garden sounds…exciting."

"Not as exciting as what you and Rick are signed up to do," Michonne said.

"I don't know." Glenn shrugged. "Things seem pretty tame here. A week in the barracks and it was quiet. The garden probably has more chances for adventure."

"We'll see."

Glenn gave her a half smile. "Thanks for trying tonight. Maggie appreciates it. I know she does."

"You don't have to speak for her," Michonne said. "I understand. You don't have to apologize either."

"Tara told me to stop." He laughed.

"Listen to her," Michonne advised. "It isn't necessary."

"I'm glad you came over. Not just for Maggie," he said. "It felt good to have a friend over in our home. I never thought I'd be able to say that again."

She stepped from the porch. The katana pressed against her thigh. She held it in place without thinking about it, just a natural reflex now.

"Wait…Let me walk you—"

Michonne waved away his good intentions. "I'm good. Goodnight."

"G'night, Michonne." Glenn stayed on the porch, and Michonne knew that he watched her walk across the yard.

Halfway there, a tall man with dark curly hair greeted her with a wide grin. He had a clean-shaven face, and unmistakable blue eyes even under the glow of stars and moonlight. Still, the temptation to tease was hard to resist. "Who are you?" she asked.

Rick laughed and took her hand. He guided them to the front porch where they sat on the top steps. The cool air was a welcome change from the unrelenting heat that dogged the last legs of their journey. From their position, they had a good view of the neighborhood. The community center that also housed the barracks for new arrivals was on the far end of the block. Otherwise, residential houses took up the area, except for the lone former FEMA trailer that was now the unemployment office.

"How's Maggie?" he asked.

"Resting," she said. "Glenn worries, but she's strong."

"She is," Rick agreed. "We all are." He squeezed her hand between both of his. "I was thinking about your work assignment—"

"I want it try it out," she said. "I'm a grown woman, Rick. If I don't like it, I know what to do."

"I know. I just…"

"Don't do that," she said. "You don't have to."

He nodded. "Nik invited us to dinner tomorrow night. He said everyone's invited."

"Think Dawn knows about that?"

They laughed.

She turned toward him. Seeing him smile without the interference of facial hair was interesting. She knew he was a handsome man. The beard had added character and at times savagery. Clean-shaven provided a different dynamic. He appeared open and less guarded. On automatic, her hand curved his jawline and stroked the rigid planes. His skin's texture wasn't as rough as she had imagined. The smoothness felt good against her fingertips.

"Like it?" His Southern twang deepened.

"Yeah."

His kiss was no surprise. But the gentleness of it was intoxicating. His mouth moved slowly against hers. There was little insistence from his tongue and his hands remained on hers. In fact, this was quite chaste in comparison to the other kisses they had shared. When they parted, she had questions, but he answered before she had to voice the first one.

"I don't want to rush you," he said, running his fingers along her neck. "I was pushy. I want you to be sure."

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

"Sex is a big step—"

"Really?"

He laughed. "I know just hear me out. Carl isn't a kid anymore. He's paying attention, maybe better than I am. If we share a bed tonight…"

Michonne squeezed his hand and noticed that his left hand was ringless. "It's gone," she said.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"I've been thinking about what it will mean to the kids if we do this," she said. "The world is different, but some things haven't changed. Judith needs a mother and Carl needs… I guess he does, too."

"I understands if you're not ready for that," he said. "I don't come solo, but I want you and not just as a mother for my children. You're more to me than that."

Michonne quietly accepted his words. Minutes passed, and they went back inside. The couch was made up with pillows, sheet, and a blanket. Judith was asleep in a crib in the corner.

"The bedroom is yours," Rick said. "Whenever you're ready, I'll share it with you."

When Michonne went to bed, she lay there, refusing to allow herself to think or feel. Before the outbreak, a life with Mike and Andre had been all she ever wanted. Her little Peanut was adorable. In his round brown eyes, she saw the best of her and of Mike. She had dreamed of growing old and one day rocking her grandchildren in her arms, filling them with stories about their father when he was a curious little toddler. For a long time, it had pained her that those dreams would never come to pass.

First with Andrea then Rick and Carl now even Judith, the hurt eased some. But those dreams had been so vivid. Even with Mike gone, she sometimes ached for their little boy. His curls always felt so soft against her cheek and he had a smell that was uniquely his own. Judith did, too. As did Carl.

Michonne was not one to run away from hard truths. Rick came with extras. On most days, she wanted everything—him and his children. But the devastation in Maggie's eyes made her remember the horrors of losing it all. She was unsure if she could survive that again. She had endured that dark place once. Cowardice was not her way, but nor was the foolhardy choice of running straight into danger. On the bright side, she laughed softly at herself at the thought, Rick is willing to wait. A little time, she told herself, was all she needed. Just to be sure.

[A/N: Thank you all for reading, following, favoriting, reviewing, and kudoing. TWD fandom is fabulous! :-) A different Chapter 3 was originally planned, but your feedback convinced me that this version of Chapter 3 had to be written. I'll have to make some edits/changes to Chapter 4 to make it flow better now, but you'll have a gist of what was going to follow Chapter 2 instead. Anyway, all that was to say this—your comments are a goldmine. Keep them flowing. (No, that metaphor doesn't work, but I know you get it, right? Lol) In the current version of Chapter 4 which may change due to inspiration, new characters are introduced and hints of future conflict appear. But we'll see. Last week's ep was amazing! I loved everything Sasha/Michonne and the blink-or-you'll-miss-it Richonne moment around the fire. And the new Judith is adorable! The ending with Maggie and Sasha summed up so much for both. Love that their friendship is canon. More please! Oh, if you're reading Declarations, this chapter was longer than I expected (stop laughing) and I know the next part of Declarations will be a doozy, so it's coming just not this weekend. If you're not reading Declarations, check it out. ;-)]