Day 63
Rick noticed it immediately.
He'd slipped out of bed before sunrise to help Aaron with a run, the inner call to reorient himself to ASZ and the surrounding area growing louder over the last few days. Now, hours after he'd placed a kiss on his sleeping wife's shoulder, he was back and he couldn't believe his eyes.
"Is that my shirt?"
Michonne looked up from the paper she was leaning over, pencil stopping mid-mark.
"What?"
Rick made his way from the front door to the dining room table where she sat, notebooks and folders scattered in organized chaos in front of her.
"Is that my shirt?" he repeated, each word punctuated by a step in her direction.
His wife looked down at the well-worn denim fabric wrapped around her arms and torso before looking back at him.
"Yes."
He smiled at the single syllable which left no room for doubt. She kept his shirt. In fact, judging by its condition, she more than kept it—she wore it often.
His favorite shirt—one of many things left behind that fateful day on the bridge—was well loved. He was well loved.
It had been several weeks at this point, but at random moments throughout the day, the reality of it all still took his breath away.
"It looks good on you," he said, his voice catching slightly.
When Rick reached her side, Michonne pushed her chair away from the table and turned her body to face him, lifting her head to give him her full attention, her face softening as she reached up to cup his cheek.
"You can borrow it whenever you want."
They gazed at each other for several beats before he turned his head to kiss her hand and then shifted his eyes to the materials on the table.
"What are you working on?"
She sighed, dropping her hand and turning so that she again faced the table and the documents strewn about, the possibilities for the place they called home spread out in front of them.
"I'm looking over Deanna's plans and some of the documents we took from Cascadia. I know these other communities have a lot of resources and plans of their own to offer, but…"
Rick raised an eyebrow.
"So we're going in that direction, huh."
Michonne shrugged. "I don't know, I just…"
"... have to do something?" he finished for her.
"Have to do something," she said on another sigh.
Rick pulled out the chair beside hers and sat down, reaching over to pick up a sheet of paper closest to him, his eyes immediately falling on a familiar phrase.
Dolor hic tibi proderit olim.
Someday this pain will be useful to you.
"No, I get it," he said slowly, "I mean I went out with Aaron and…" he trailed off as he looked at his other hand, the empty space now filled with a prosthetic that structurally was similar to the one he received from the CRM, but different in all the ways that mattered. "They're deciding how to partner with more communities and build up defenses. How to work with the Civic Republic without giving up too much power. Aaron laid out some ideas, as well as the role we can play."
"And?" Michonne prompted.
Rick had known, of course, that sharing what they discovered about the CRM and the Echelon Briefing with Esteban's girlfriend for her article would open a Pandora's Box. He had hoped—perhaps naively—that simply answering the questions asked of him would be enough.
Of course it hadn't.
"And it could be something if we wanted it to be," he continued. "A seat on the council here. A position with Ezekiel over there. Even something with the oversight committee. They think my experience these last few years can be helpful…"
"And this is the shit we do," Michonne finished.
"This is the shit we do," he echoed.
They sat silently for a moment. They both knew, even without saying it, that Beale's warnings about increasing herds and diminishing resources were a very real threat to the future they were building, a real threat that they'd have to deal with, and they both knew that, at the core of their beings, they would. Eventually. Soon. But for now…
"Hey," he said, changing the topic and waiting until her eyes met his before continuing. "Why don't you…"
He dropped the sheet of paper he was holding and reached over to shut the notebook she'd been writing in, hiding the scribbles and lists from view.
"... take a break."
He watched her watch his movements, a sense of relief coming over him as the whisper of a shy smile replaced the tension in her face.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
He made a show of picking up the pencil she'd long since abandoned and flicking it to the other end of the table.
"You do know what happened the last time you pulled that move, don't you, Grimes?"
Rick raised a shoulder, shrugging as he feigned ignorance.
"Why don't you remind me?"
His pulse picked up as she sized him up, another one of her smiles showing itself in response to his challenge. This one was filled with promise.
"Okay," she said as she slowly rose from the table.
Rick stood up from the table to follow her, quickly closing the distance between them and bringing his lips to the back of her neck as she made her way up the stairs.
"Let's keep the shirt on," he whispered, earning him a giggle that soon turned to a moan as he ushered her into their room and shut the door.