AN: Set Post-TOWL Episode 6. About two months since Rick and Michonne's return to Alexandria. Michonne unpacks an old hurt that resurfaces in light of a potentially life-altering situation. Unbeta'd, all errors are mine. Some light angst, a lot of comfort, and always love. Rated T for discussions of pregnancy and related trauma/PTSD.

The hot water soothed the ache in her lower back and thighs, and Michonne sighed at the relief. This was a good idea. No matter if she required a deep think or just to turn her brain off, she could always count on a steam-filled shower to be what she needed in the moment.

Lately, her mind was scattered, finding her attention wandering at the strangest times, a serious drain on her typical 'get up and go' vibe. And she wondered if it was simply the aftereffect of the after. Finding her husband, taking on a formidable military power, and all the inbetween it entailed. Coming back to Alexandria, reuniting with their children and friends, seeing the changes and taking it all in, while trying to adjust to their new normal…it would be a lot, for anyone. Definitely for Rick. And especially for her.

She was distracted, brain feeling stuck in a fog, and she was drifting through her daily tasks as if on autopilot. Hard to shake, and incredibly confusing. She was busy as hell and bone-tired to boot, sore and weary even with the late mornings she'd been recently taking to savor the sleep-ins Rick insisted she deserved (and that she secretly agreed with, even if she shook her head at his adorable, well-meaning hovering)

Through the comforting fall of water, and the scent of soap, she could hear footsteps, knowing Rick had more than likely returned. It had been a task to get the kids together for the invite they'd been buzzing about all week. Prepping their backpacks and sleeping bags for the game night sleepover Jerry and Nabila were hosting for the youngest Alexandrians. Her mind jolted back to another familiar, unpleasant incident involving overnight stays out of her hawkeye sight, resulting in stolen children, old friend betrayal, and unsightly scars on her skin…

…But Michonne wasn't going to overthink it. Jerry and Nabila were parents themselves. They were friends, part of the collective who had looked out and cared for her children while she'd been away. And they weren't Jocelyn.

Still, the uneasiness lingered, and she wasn't sure if she could even pin it all on the sleepover. Something was off, and it wasn't with anyone else. It felt like…her. She could feel it, she was mentally and physically dragging.

Distractedly, she soaped up her washcloth and scrubbed at her skin, inhaling the clean peppermint scent. It seemed stronger somehow, but she chalked it up to the hot water and perhaps Nora getting heavy-handed with the oils during her soapmaking endeavor.

It wasn't until she was rinsing off, her hand slipping down her flat stomach, ghosting over the thin brown scar beneath her belly button, did the stray thought come to her. Wild, unprompted, ridiculous…and yet…not entirely out of left field.

The brain-fog, the soreness, the exhaustion, the overpowering peppermint…

… Shit.

Rick stepped through the front door, a plastic takeaway container balanced precariously on his residual arm and he leaned in to secure the lock behind him before heading to the kitchen.

"Chonne?"

He paused, noting the quiet throughout the house, though considering he'd just dropped off the kids, quiet was to be expected. Savored, actually. Placing the container on the kitchen counter, he headed towards the steps, searching out his wife.

The shower in the master ensuite was running, and Rick kicked off his boots, setting them near the closet before pushing open the bathroom door with a soft knock. "Sweetheart?"

"Yeah." Her husky voice barely rose above the sound of water, and he could just make out her shape beyond the steamed glass, but she had turned her head ever so slightly towards him.

"Just wanted to say I was back."

"Okay. I'm finishing up."

The brief response was more of the same, unusually distracted in a way that had him puzzled as of late. Michonne's razor sharp sense of focus had always been something he noticed, as far back as their first meeting. Something to be wary about, watching her wheels turning in real time, and then something to admire, as their relationship shifted to friendlier territory. The voice of reason, she balanced out his hellfire with her impossible cool, and as his feelings shifted, growing deeper into life-altering love, he found her steadiness something he couldn't live without. She was, in her own words, 'always on her shit'. And while she hadn't fumbled, Rick could tell that something had her a little spaced. Present, but very much deep in her own head. But he simply nodded at her reply, despite her focus already back on the showerhead.

"Alright, baby. I'll be downstairs."

Rick shuffled back to the kitchen, unsurprised to see Ramona curled up in her favorite lounging spot, greenish-gold eyes peering out from under the kitchen table. With a small chuckle, he reached for the bag of treats atop the fridge, taking out two and shaking them in his palm, knowing the sound would be the only thing to make her move.

Sure enough, the black kitten came trotting over, meowing indignantly as she allowed herself to be picked up, and Rick laughed when she gobbled up her prize and gently headbutted his hand. "Spoiled already, huh? Yeah, you are." She cuddled up to his shoulder, safe in his hold as he carried her to the couch.

The latest addition to the Grimes family had been extra clingy; understandable with her sister now officially moved in with Aaron and Gracie. Though the kids managed a few playdates for Ramona and Beezus, with Judith and Gracie making matching collars for them. Rick fingered the thin cord of brown leather around Ramona's neck, and tapped the thin piece of copper that served as a name charm, the 'R' initial hammered into the metal by Eugene.

Eventually Michonne appeared, freshly showered and smelling of the homemade peppermint and almond oil soap their neighbor Nora made that everyone more or less used around town. Rick loved it the most on his wife, though, and he smiled at the sight of her, clad in an oversized rust-colored sweatshirt and black leggings, thick gray socks on her feet. "Evenin', beautiful," he told her, loose with his compliments because she looked lovely. Skin glowing in the low lamplight of the living room, even if her eyes were tired.

Her smile was slow to show, and smaller than he expected but he was happy when she moved closer, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss him. "Hey, love. The kids get off okay?"

"Yeah, they're okay. Can't say who's more excited about the sleepover, them or Jerry. He's got 'bout every board game you can think of, and Nabila made pizza." Rick shook his head, smiling. "Goat cheese and basil. Sent me home with a coupla slices, if you're interested."

Michonne's unsettled stomach seemed at war with the idea of food, despite how good an actual pizza sounded at the moment. "Maybe later," she replied, briefly pressing a hand to her middle. "I was going to make tea. Would you like any?"

"Sure. I can make it."

She stilled his movements with a brief pat to his shoulder, lingering long enough to gently scratch behind Ramona's ear. "I'm already up. I got it. Besides, you're looking real cozy with your new lady."

Rick chuckled at that, calling out to her retreating back. "You're still my favorite."

Her voice echoed from the kitchen. "Mmm, I know it."

She returned a few minutes later and passed over one of the mugs. "We only had the green jasmine left," she told him, gripping her own mug while settling beside her husband on the couch.

Ramona had moved to busying herself with a scrap of paper left on the couch, which left Rick's hand free to grab his cup, and he hummed as he took a small sip. "That's fine. Tastes perfect. Thank you."

She smiled, softly. "Of course. Aaron says Mrs. Chadha on Cardinal Street makes her own chai blend. I'm trying to be her new best friend."

"Sure she'd share with you, no questions asked. You're pretty damn popular lately 'round these parts." Rick's grin was wide as he set his mug down on the coffee table. "The famous Michonne Grimes…"

"Oh my god, I know you've been itching to use that one," she told him, laughing in spite of her funk. He had that effect on her, bringing out smiles she didn't realize she'd been holding onto; it seemed she always had a reserve of them, just for him.

"I have," he admitted with a shrug. "Been waitin' for the right time. You've been workin' hard these past few weeks. Right back in the mix."

"We both have," Michonne reminded him. "How's the treehouse coming along?"

Rick sipped at his tea and returned the mug to its spot on the table. "Well it's no town expansion, but I think my foreman's pleased with the progress."

Michonne shook her head. RJ's excitement over the project was still going strong. Though she knew the same could be said for Rick. She knew keeping idle and taking breaks was as foreign to him as it was impossible for her. And figured, perhaps something low-stakes like building and bonding with his son would help with the transition back to civilian life. "That's good to hear, baby."

A quiet settled between them while they finished their tea, comfortable enough as she typically was with her husband, but she didn't miss the looks he sent her way. Head tilted, studying her profile while she let Ramona nibble and paw at her fingers. But he wouldn't press her on it. He simply waited for her to speak again.

And Michonne, never one for sitting on important shit for too long, decided it was best to simply put it out there, so they could assess it together.

"I think I might be pregnant."

The dull thud of his porcelain mug hitting the wooden coffee table was the immediate reaction to that unexpected news and Rick glanced over at his wife, affecting a calm expression that didn't quite reach her dark eyes, looking a bit weary and slightly strained.

"'Might'?" he asked, unsurprised when Michonne shrugged at the question.

"Maybe. I won't know for sure until I take a test. So I guess it's just a feeling."

"Like a gut feeling?" Rick extended his hand towards her, palm side up, closing his fingers around hers when she finally scooted closer. "'Cause I usually trust yours more'n mine."

"Don't think my gut's in any position to give a firm position either way right now."

"So what's makin' you think this, then?"

Michonne leaned over, placing her mug next to his. "The exhaustion and brain fogginess, for one."

"You did look a lil green 'round the gills when I mentioned the goat cheese pizza," Rick pointed out.

"That too. Plus, I'm late. Two weeks, by my count. Which is…so unlike me to lose track."

Rick gazed at her, his expression thoughtful, and a little sheepish. "You've had a lot on your plate, sweetheart. And we ain't exactly been careful much…"

"Or at all," Michonne amended, her look as pointed as her words. Not accusatory, but definitely amused. The complete recklessness could certainly be blamed on making up for lost time.

"Hey now, I wasn't doin' all that by myself," he teased, arching a brow and waiting for the smile he knew his joke would get. Sure enough, he saw her full lips twitch, unable to stop the little grin and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "We have been all over each other."

Michonne exhaled. "Understatement." And it really was. Their honeymoon period had shown no signs of slowing down, despite their new normal of kids and obligations, and everything in between. He was as greedy for her as she was desperate for him, and they happily indulged in being all up on each other after years of being denied that physical closeness. One of the best parts of her day was being in Rick's arms, eager to make up for all the lost time.

Even now, a small part of her was annoyed, because any other time, they would have certainly taken advantage of having a kid-free house for the night. She should've had her knees to her ears, indulging Rick in his favorite way to please her, gripping his pretty curls while his mouth was between her thighs.

But there they were, drinking green tea on their yet to be defiled sectional couch and discussing another major (potential) life change.

"How're you feelin' about this, sweetheart?" Rick asked, curious at her contemplative silence. "'Cause I get bein' surprised by what could possibly happen. Seems like there's more goin' on here, though."

Her thumb traced circles on the inside of his palm. It was the right question, and she loved him for it. He knew her so well. "It'd be easy to say 'jumbled', but I'm not," Michonne replied, the tension easing from her shoulders at his pensive look. "I can't help but think about the past. With Andre, pregnancy was easy. Even through the morning sickness, the cravings, everything. Mike was a great partner through it all, and we had our families. But it was still hard, because my mom wasn't there. It was yet another milestone I couldn't have with her. It made me miss her so much. And then, with RJ…"

His grip tightened on her fingers, and he tugged her closer, Ramona hopping off the couch as Michonne settled at his side, his arm curling around her shoulders. "You needed that support, then."

"Yeah," she replied carefully, voice trembling under the weight of swelling emotions. "I was so scared when I found out. More than I was with Dre. Grief made everything bigger, even the happiness. He was a piece of you, and part of the future happiness we wanted for our family. I needed him and Judy to be safe. I could do it alone, but-"

"They were our plans. It should have been us, together."

Michonne nodded. "And then Jocelyn…"

Rick watched her hand, slim fingers hovering unthinkingly over her stomach, where he knew the faint scar resided, a dark reminder—like the brand on her back—of the fight she'd endured to save their daughter and the rest of the town's children, while heavily pregnant with their son. His anger was always immediate whenever he thought too hard on the incident. And especially now, seeing his brave and brilliant wife pouring out her feelings about the memory that carried a pain that still lingered, despite the passage of time.

"You've got good reasons to feel how you're feelin', Chonne." He pressed the words into her sweetly scented hair, then kissed her forehead for good measure.

"I suppose it didn't hit me until the possibility of another pregnancy, how much I was holding onto," she reasoned. The residual fear, the grief, and loneliness. Savoring the milestones of pregnancy and motherhood, and at the same time, having to navigate it all, by herself. Surrounded by friends and found family, but missing her man.

"Think that's natural, sweetheart. It can be a good thing but also a worry. Doesn't seem like that's changin', no matter how much the world does."

Michonne leaned back slightly, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze. "Are you worried?"

Rick considered the question, his focus briefly shifting the frame hanging above the television. The small metal license plates bearing the names of their children hanging proudly beside the slightly faded handprints of his eldest son.

"I'm always worryin' about somethin' or other," he replied, rumbling voice slightly hoarse. "But we've gone through enough bullshit lately, we're kinda owed some good, right? Whatever that good looks like. Whether it's growin' our family, or lovin' on the one we have now. Either way, it's us in it together."

Cupping his cheek, Michonne brought him down for a kiss. Tender and loving, and so reassuring, she couldn't help but sigh against his lips. "You do realize you probably jinxed us, right?"

Rick grinned, and followed it with another kiss. "What's gonna happen, Chonne? We end up with twins?"

She whacked him across the chest, ignoring his very dramatic grunt. "Why would you say that? Don't put it into the universe."

"Think you caught my shirt button with that hit." Rick rubbed at his denim-covered chest, bottom lip poked out in a pout.

"Yeah well, you knocked me up."

He caught her grin and he snorted with amusement. "You can't blame me for somethin' we don't know for sure is goin' on."

"Well I'm gonna." She couldn't resist kissing him again, giggling as the glare melted from his handsome face as soon as their lips met. "You're so easy."

"Know what I like, sweetheart," he rumbled, sneaking another taste of her, tongue softly teasing her own with a muted moan.

"That's how we got here, cowboy," Michonne warned, but it didn't stop her from cupping his cheek, thumb skimming his salt and pepper beard while she deepened their kiss.

They savored the moment, sinking into the slow, drugging kisses as only two adults in a temporarily kid-free home could. The uncertainty of what lie ahead for their family slipped into the background. Michonne relaxed into her love's embrace and indulgent kisses, his rumbling groans and her quiet sighs that slipped in between heated presses. Eventually they parted, Michonne licking at the taste of him as she thumbed his bottom lip, perfectly pink and kiss-swollen.

"We'll make an appointment with Doctor B.," Rick said, all hoarse-voiced and warm-eyed as he gazed down at his wife.

"Sooner rather than later," Michonne agreed with a nod. "And if it's positive—"

"—Then we celebrate," he finished, with a small smile she couldn't help but return. "And if it's not—"

"—We're breaking out the Black Label, again."

He laughed. "Think Black Label might be the culprit in this situation, so that's fittin'. Full circle moment."

"We might need a plan of action moving forward. Making sure we don't end up making our own basketball team."

Rick snorted. "Like takin' a break?"

"I didn't say all that," Michonne pursed her lips, glaring at the teasing glint in his eyes. "But maybe, other things…"

A knowing grin tugged at his lips then, and her stomach did a flip for a different kind of reason. "I love some of them other things," Rick told her, his drawl thick and honeyed as he perused her shamelessly. "One in particular, I'm always thinkin' 'bout."

"Alright now." She swatted at his chest, knowing it would do little to stop him, especially since they both knew she enjoyed that particular skill…a lot. Dark eyes dropped to his mouth when he licked his lips, watching as his smile grew wider because he caught her and knew her thoughts had wandered exactly where his own vivid imagination usually resided. "You're being bad."

"Or a good distraction," he countered, seamlessly shifting from teasing to sweet concern. "How're you feelin'?"

"A little better," she replied, warmly.

Michonne's smile was soft and wide and so pretty he couldn't help but kiss it. Forehead pressed to hers, they sighed. Whatever the outcome, they were in it together. The surety of his presence, the safety that came with his brand of comfort was simply unmatched.

Her mind and body weren't at ease, and wouldn't be until they knew for sure what was going on. But Rick was solid and real, and present. Whatever her fears, or the nerves that jumbled her, he was with her.

"Thank you," Michonne whispered, knowing he would get the why.

"Thought I told you," Rick said, his voice a low hum and he gently nudged her nose with his. "You never have to do that, ever."

She didn't argue. Instead, she kissed him.

Two days and one doctor appointment later, the test came back negative.

Three days after that, her cycle.

And with it, a feeling of relief.

AN: My personal headcanon is that Michonne might have reservations about possibly being pregnant, considering what she went through mentally with losing Rick and being alone, and also the physical harm with Jocelyn. That something happy could also be bit panic-inducing, as well. And while things could change in the future, she's happy with their family unit remaining as it is, for now.