*For clarification on the timeline* Rick and Michonne were together for 7 years, then separated for 4 years before the ZA. Now they're about 2 years into the ZA. Michonne got pregnant with Andre soon after she and Rick broke up. The rest is basically the same. Hope this helps! Read away333
They scope out the herd from atop a water tower a few miles out. From above the abandoned town almost looks normal, bathed in late afternoon sun that bounces off of old metal roofs and church steeples. It's a rural area, the kind that reminds Rick of home. Whatever that used to mean.
The obvious, striking difference is the twitching mass of walkers parading through the town square.
"It's definitely headed towards us," Aiden observes, arms crossed as he squints at the view. Rick can't stand him- he's arrogant and violent and somehow under the impression that he has any sort of authority over this situation. If anything, Rick's people are here to babysit the guy.
"I'd give it two or three days before we start seeing the herd from Alexandria," Glenn adds, passing the binoculars to Rick. He takes them, scoping out the situation in silence.
"Herd's not gettin' anywhere near Alexandria," Rick finally announces to the group, passing the binoculars back to Glenn. "We'll divert it ourselves, tomorrow."
Before they can question him, Rick starts down the ladder. Rosita and Michonne are standing guard at the bottom, a handful of slain walkers around them. He drops down from the last rung and rises to his full height in front of Michonne, close enough that he has to look down his nose at her. She slides her katana back into the sheath without looking away from him.
"What's the verdict?" she asks him, voice low and quiet. Since meeting her again in Alexandria, Rick has been captivated by Michonne's voice. It lacks the round, full, joyful quality he had known before, every word imbued with wit and consideration. Now, it's sharp and direct, intimate in its quiet rumble, almost sultry. He finds himself easily distracted listening to her.
Glenn and Aiden drop down in quick succession and Rick tears his eyes off of Michonne to address the group fully.
"The herd's not too big, not too many stragglers, the town's pretty closed off. Now, I spotted a state road heading east a few miles back, tree-lined, cut straight through the woods. We blockade the intersection, lead the walkers east… they won't find their way back to us."
"I know that road," Michonne says, drawing Rick's gaze back to her. "You're right- nothing but woods for miles. There's a backroad- we could swing back to Alexandria from there, I could probably point it out on the map."
"Good," Rick nods. "We drive back, set up the blockade, and camp out for the night. Get to work first thing tomorrow."
Rosita and Glenn nod in assent but Aiden's eyes narrow, mouth pulling unhappily.
"I thought this was just supposed to be a patrol." He's got his arms crossed again, chest puffed.
"Situation's changed," Rick says impatiently. "We don't have time to wait."
"This isn't how we do things, my mom-"
"Put us in charge." Ricks looks over at the sound of Michonne's stern voice. Her expression is sharp, and she gives Rick a small nod. "The herd is manageable, the plan is good. We get ahead of it, that's the smart play."
"I'm sure we could manage without him," Rosita commented, hip-popped, voice bored.
Rick is inclined to agree. They certainly don't need the guy, But then he looks at Michonne, noting the microscopic changes in her expression that communicate so much to him, even still. He knows exactly what she's thinking: this is the moment that they make a point about who they, about what this is. The us vs them of it all has certainly not faded. But Rick's distrust of these people is fading- he fears them, their naivety and inexperience. But he doesn't distrust them. When he looks at Aiden, he sees a scared kid. And, in the tiniest corner of his mind, Rick can muster sympathy for him.
"We do this together," Rick decides. "That's the way this works, that's how we do things."
—
Between the five of them, they manage to create a corral of abandoned cars before nightfall, the task leaving everyone sore and exhausted. But Rick, restless as ever, offers to take the first watch that night.
As the day wore on, the herd continued to draw closer. It would probably be closing in by the morning, an eerie thought. It's not often they sit and wait for the walkers to chase them down. Sitting on the bed of the truck, listening to the hisses and groans of distant walkers, Rick can almost imagine they're cicadas on a summer night in Georgia. Almost. The weight of the rifle on his back and the hatchet in his hand serve as welcome reminders.
He hears rather than sees Michonne approach, doesn't flinch when he feels the truck dip as she hops to sit alongside him.
"Shift's up," she tells him softly, resting her katana across her lap. "You should get some sleep."
Rick sighs deeply, rubs a hand over his face. The sky is clear and the moon is bright, shining crystal blue off of Michonne's skin. The contours of her body are highlighted, her profile striking. She's mesmerizing, always is, and Rick finds himself unable to look away. He can't fucking stand it.
"No use," he shrugs.
"Worried about tomorrow?"
Rick stifles a chuckle. He's worried about a lot of things but tomorrow is not one of them. Maybe it should be, there's plenty that could go wrong. But instead he's restless for a hundred other reasons, many of them concerning the woman sitting beside him.
Things hadn't been so complicated when he was reunited with Carl and Lori, back at the start. Right up until the world ended, Rick had finally had things figured out. He'd long since put thoughts of Michonne away- making room for Lori and the relationship they were trying to forge. Their second chance at being a real family, she'd said.
But then, Rick woke up in that hospital room, two months late to the end of the world, and Michonne had been the first thing on his mind. He'd chased Atlanta in search of his family, but there was also that pulsing, bleeding belief that he'd find Michonne too. It was a stupid hope to cling to- because Michonne had a family of her own, one that had nothing to do with Rick. But he clung nonetheless. It haunted him from the moment he was reunited with Carl and Lori- the way he sometimes imagined another woman there instead. That was when Rick knew he had to give up on Michonne, take it as a sign and stop searching for the woman who'd left him to begin with. She had to be dead to him, it was the only way he could move on. And Rick's felt guilty every day since- guilty for giving up on Michonne, guilty for putting Lori in that position. Now, Lori is gone and Michonne is back from the dead, and Rick doesn't think he'll ever make peace with that.
"Just a lot on my mind."
She straightens at the clear implication, still keeping a watchful eye on the treeline in front of them. He watches her profile and notes the furrow of her brow. "How long are we gonna do this?"
"What?"
She turns sharply to look him in the eye. "How long are we going to pretend nothing's happening?"
"Nothing is happening."
"Oh fuck you, Rick." She looks away just as quickly, leaving Rick staring at the harsh set of her jaw and the tight grip she has on her katana.
Rick shifts so that his back is resting against the side of the truck, one leg bent in front of him and the other dangling over the side. From this angle, he can take in every bit of her, camouflaged by the nighttime, greedily committing every detail to memory. So he'll have it when this all ends. "What do you want me to say, Michonne?" Rick asks indignantly. "What is there to say?"
Without warning, she hops down and readies her sword, moving towards an approaching walker that Rick hadn't noticed. She calmly walks over to it, strikes it clean through its eyebrows, then knocks it off with a kick to its stomach. She stares at him with narrowed eyes as she makes her way back over to the truck, and he follows her gaze intently. Everything about it, down to the way she flicks the blood off her blade afterwards, is alluring.
Michonne sheathes her katana, sets it beside her as she sits cross-legged on the truck bed. It reminds him of before, when she'd do morning yoga on a mat in their bedroom. He would've sworn she did it just to spite him, teasing him right before he headed off to work. She'd tried to get him to try it with her, claiming it would help him destress. But Rick found that just watching her had a similar effect.
Michonne stares at him for a long moment, her expression utterly unreadable, before she finally speaks.
"Why haven't you mentioned Judith?"
Rick sobers instantly.
It's a punch to the gut, his daughter's name out of Michonne's mouth, made foreign by the fact that she's speaking it. "Didn't come up."
She laughs- a short, jagged sound. "It didn't come up? That you have a daughter now?"
The truth is, Rick's made a point of not telling her. He'd even gone so far as to advise Carl against mentioning his sister as well. It was a double-edged sword, a combination of his grief for Lori and Michonne's unspoken loss of Andre. It felt inappropriate to mention it, felt impossible.
He shakes his head, forces himself to look away from her. So he's unable to prepare himself for the next words out of her mouth.
"I'm sorry about Lori. She was an amazing mom, I know you and Carl loved her."
It aches distinctly, and his chin drops to his chest as he sucks in a sharp breath. More than the dull ache of loss, Rick is overwhelmed by his guilt. Guilt at knowing she's acknowledged a grief in him that he's far too terrified to acknowledge in her. It makes him angry; at her or at himself, Rick's unsure.
"We did," he replies coldly, knowing that it's a sharp reminder for her. He knows it must have hurt her that he went back to Lori after they broke up, he knows that. He knows because he tortured himself thinking about her and Mike, a man he'd never even met.
Michonne sighs shakily. He knows he's hurting her, and the guilt is clawing at him. But with grief numbing him and anger blinding him, Rick finds it hard to stand down. Part of him wants to tell her everything. He wants to tell Michonne about waking up from his coma, finding his family, thinking of her constantly. He wants to tell her about Lori and Shane, how he knows Judith isn't his. But he thinks scornfully that she'd find satisfaction in that knowledge, and he holds his tongue.
"If you don't want me around Carl anymore, I'll respect that. I should have brought it up with you before-"
"It's that easy for you, huh?" Ricks cuts her off smoothly. "To walk away from him?"
Something akin to betrayal contorts Michonne's expression and all Rick can think is bullseye.
"I never walked away from Carl."
"Just me then."
She freezes, mouth gaping, eyes shimmering. Then, she pulls her knees up and turns away from him. "We're not doing this."
The sight of her tears bring Rick to a halt, shaking him back to his senses roughly. He's never been good at handling her pain, has always felt paralyzed by it. When it comes to Michonne, Rick loves to the point of avoidance. It's what holds him back even now.
"You're right," he whispers, rubbing a hand over his eyes tiredly.
"You should go get some sleep." Her echoed words are accompanied by the din of walkers. Their distant, muffled groans seem to crescendo in the silence. Rick's head pounds and he knows he couldn't sleep if he tried.
"I'm fine with it." She looks over at him, confused. The sheen of tears is gone, much to his relief. "You and Carl. I'm fine with it."
"You weren't before."
He deserves the dig, he knows he does. Rick has regretted cutting her off from visiting Carl from the moment he did it. With an amenable incline of his head, Rick settles it simply. "Things are different now."
She huffs, nods slightly, surveys the treeline with keen eyes. Then she very suddenly jumps down, murmuring, "Do you see that?"
Rick is on his feet in an instant, rounding the truck to stand beside her. Silently, she points out the area of movement. It's pitch black and shrouded in shadow, but he can make out a figure. Rick takes a few quiet steps forward to get a better look. The figure steps further out of the trees and Rick recognizes it in an instant.
"A deer," he whispers over his shoulder, retreating back. Neither of them goes to sit back down immediately. Instead, they lean against the truck, side by side, and watch the animal.
"We can keep pretending nothing's happening," she whispers, close to his ear. There's that unfamiliar, obfuscating sultriness again. He finds himself turning to at her closely, trying to force his eyes to decipher details they can't quite make out in the dark. He needs to see for himself what he feels pulling in his gut. "Maybe that's better."
"Better than this?"
They're faces are close enough that he can feel her breath on his cheek.
"Anything's better than this."
In an instant, they've closed the gap, lips meeting forcefully. It's a ridiculous, needy kiss. Michonne's hands find his hair immediately, pulling tight at the nape of his neck as Rick cradles her head between his palms. Within moments, he's got her pushed up against the side of the truck, their lips and tongues chasing one another furiously. It's angry and desperate, familiar and foreign, lustful and vengeful. Rick's body responds to her innately, instantaneously, as if it has retained the memory of Michonne.
He finds his hands wandering, trailing over her body reverently, practically enveloping her. She pushes closer, hitching a leg over his hip and prompting him to lift her up. He obliges, hands palming her ass and thighs the whole way. The change in position brings them impossibly closer, a proximity unlike anything he's felt in a long time. It's all-consuming, ready to swallow him up. He bites her bottom lip, reveling in her surprised gasp and the harsh pull of her hand in his curls.
Snap!
The sound has them clambering apart instantly, hot and breathless and poised for attack. Rick turns around just in time to see the deer from before prancing elegantly away, the moment passing with it. His shoulders drop at the sight, relieved it was nothing worse, disappointed it wasn't something worse. It's hard to tell. He's still starving for breath and aching with desire.
He stares at the place where the deer used to be, trying to recover, knowing that everything will be different when he faces Michonne again.
He doesn't have to wait though. "Go to sleep, Rick," she calls out quietly. Rick looks at her- she's gone back to her post in the bed of the truck, back straight and katana in her lap once again. Like they've reset the clock.
Rick can't make out her face anymore. She's backlit by the moon now, a shrouded figure just like the deer. He's grateful he can't read her expression, knows that if he could, he might not be able to walk away.
"Goodnight Michonne."