Contractions of the Heart The Maury Povich Chapter (part 1), a walking dead fanfic

A/N: And Contractions of the Heart continues! I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 26: The Maury Povich Chapter (part 1)

Damn.

I could tell by how dark the bedroom was that it was too early for me to be awake. I wanted to pull my covers over my head and force myself to go back to sleep, but there was no turning my brain off now. Today was too big of a day.

It was DNA Day!

I did a happy wiggle, yawned and stretched, and reached for my phone on the nightstand to check the time.

6:07AM.

Damn it!

I put my phone back down and silently groaned into my pillow. A good night's sleep and I really weren't on good terms.

At. All.

But…

Rick and I did share my bed last night, so I couldn't be completely frustrated by the lack of sleep.

Because of Rick's injuries, there was no cuddling, no spooning and no touching—not that the man obsessed with giving me the perfect last first kiss would've allowed any of that any way. And yet, even without the fun stuff, spending the night in bed with Rick again felt… good.

Really good.

I wiggled again and turned my head to check on the man who had me grinning for no good reason at six o'clock in the morning.

Except Rick wasn't in bed.

I sat up in a panic, flinging my covers off, and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. I was halfway out of bed when I heard movement coming from the bathroom and noticed the light coming from under the bathroom door.

Oh.

Rick was just in the bathroom.

I lowered myself back onto the bed as my panic fizzled out, though worry and relief replaced the panic. The worry was because Rick had woken up earlier than I had. Apparently, he wasn't on good terms with sleep either. The relief was because he'd gotten out of bed on his own when I didn't think that was something he'd be able to do.

I sat back against the headrest and hugged a pillow to my chest, keeping an ear open for anything that sounded like Rick was struggling and needed my help.

In just a few hours, he and I would be heading to the hospital for his cheek swab appointment. Just an hour after that, we would officially know if Pumpkin was a Grimes or a Walsh. My gut still screamed that she was absolutely, positively, irrefutably a Walsh, and I was 10,000% certain the DNA results would back me up.

After Rick was presented with the biological evidence he needed, Pumpkin would promptly be returned to That Piece of Shit Shane. And then, with Pumpkin's paternity no longer in question and with Panty Man on his way to Antarctica, there'd only be one more obstacle to get through before Rick and I knew peace again.

I rolled my eyes.

Fucking Lori Grimes.

There was still no sign of her around town. The Greenes must not have received any credible tips from their sources, and my own sources—Eugene and Morales—hadn't caught wind of her either.

I'd planned on driving around last night to search for her, but Rick was in no condition to be left alone. I stayed put, which meant That Piece of Shit Shane's threat to find and ship Fucking Lori Grimes back to Florida before Rick discussed divorce with her loomed.

I had to find Fucking Lori Grimes before That Piece of Shit Shane did. I just had to!

Luckily, her MIA status wouldn't have any effect on DNA Day. Before Rick and I left the hospital yesterday, Siddiq helped me track down Dr. Cloyd in one of the hospital's break rooms and I asked her if Fucking Lori Grimes's DNA was needed for testing. She said that it was ideal to have Fucking Lori Grimes's DNA but not necessary to determine paternity.

I rolled my eyes again.

Even her DNA was useless.

Fucking Lori Grimes.

The sound of water running in the bathroom sink pulled me from my eye twitch-inducing thoughts. I hugged my pillow tighter to my chest when Rick started singing "Row Row Row Your Boat."

I knew he had to be missing Nugget if he was singing that song. I missed Nugget too.

We hadn't seen our little guy in person since yesterday's breakfast with Gleggie and the Greenes. Gleggie would've brought him and Pumpkin to us yesterday evening, but as soon as we got home, Rick's pain kicked in and we decided to ask if Nugget and Pumpkin could stay the night at the farm. Gleggie was happy to watch the babies, and they also offered to bring Pumpkin to the hospital since her DNA was necessary for testing.

The support meant so much. We loved Gleggie and the Greenes so much.

I quietly hummed along to Rick's singing and picked up my phone to watch the video Glenn sent of the babies last night. I'd already watched it an obnoxious number of times yesterday, but how could I not when my Nugget looked so cute fighting sleep to keep bouncing in a baby jumper?

As I was scrolling to Glenn's message and wondering if he would send a morning video of the babies, my phone vibrated from an incoming message.

It was a video message from Maggie.

My eyes shot to the bathroom door and back down to my phone. I definitely, probably, maybe should've considered waiting for Rick before I watched the video. But assuming it was another video of the babies, how could I be expected to wait patiently to see my Nugget?

I opened the video and pushed play:

Hershel and Annette were wearing matching blue and white flannel robes and sitting at their kitchen table. Nugget, whose breakfast was smeared all over his face, was in Hershel's lap, and Pumpkin, whose face was breakfast-free, was in Annette's arms. The babies were babbling nonstop to each other, until Nugget held out a handful of what looked like mashed bananas to Pumpkin. She giggled and reached for his hand.

"Glenn, tell us when you're recording, son," Hershel requested in a soft, patient voice.

"I think it's… No, wait… Um, Mag, is this recording?" Glenn asked.

"S-H-I-T! I gotta pee again!" Maggie shouted, running out the kitchen. "Move, Beth!" she shouted off-camera.

A door slammed and Beth walked into the kitchen a few seconds later.

"Remind me never to get knocked-up. Nobody has time for all that peein'," she grumbled, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

She gave Hershel, Annette and Nugget kisses on their cheeks, tickled Pumpkin under her chin and high-fived Glenn.

"Bethy, be a gem and check to see if Glenn's recordin'," Annette said sweetly.

"Recordin' what?" Beth asked Glenn.

"It's a video of Carl and Judith for Rick and Michonne," Glenn told her. "We wanted to send them something to wake up to."

"Awww! That's so sappy! Let me see the phone." Beth took Glenn's phone from him, checked to see if he was recording and turned the camera on herself. "Heyyyyyyy, Richonne! Did you two finally get your smooch on last night? Remember, it doesn't count if there's no tongue." She waggled her eyebrows and kissed at the camera.

"Stop that, Beth! It's too early. Give the phone back to Glenn," Hershel said sternly.

"Geez, daddy! You're no fun in the mornin'! I only asked if they smooched not if they made Richonne Jr.," Beth complained. "But for real for real, Richonne," she whispered, looking into the camera, "it doesn't count if there's no tongue."

"Beth!" Hershel snapped.

"Eht!" Nugget shouted.

Pumpkin gurgled.

Beth grumbled under her breath and handed Glenn's phone back to him.

Glenn pointed the camera back at the kitchen table. "Thanks, Beth. Ok… Ready, set, action!"

Hershel looked at the camera and said in a soft, cheerful voice, "Good morning, Rick—"

"Dadu!" Nugget shouted.

Pumpkin gurgled.

"Good morning, Michonne—"

"Muhmuh!" Nugget shouted.

Pumpkin gurgled.

"We tried to use a big boy spoon this morning, but Carl was too hangry," Hershel calmly explained. "Your boy threw his spoon down, it bounced off the table, and it almost took Glenn's eye out."

"Oh, I'm ok, guys," Glenn quickly interjected, turning the camera on himself. "I still have both my eyes." He smiled big, waved and turned the camera back to the table.

"Other than nearly blindin' Glenn, Carl has been an angel, and so has Judith," Annette reported with a warm smile.

Maggie strolled into the kitchen and casually commented, "Hard to believe Baby Walsh would be an angel when Olive Oyl and Shit Shane are disciples of H-E-L-L."

"IT!" Nugget shouted.

Pumpkin gurgled.

"Maggie," Glenn groaned.

"Glenn, his name is 'Shit Shane!' What safe words am I supposed to use if that's literally his name?" she argued, her eyes filling with tears.

"IT!" Nugget shouted.

Pumpkin gurgled.

Beth cackled.

The video cut off.

I giggled at how adorable Nugget and Pumpkin were, while also making a mental note to put a pricing chart together for a swear jar. A "shit" would cost at least three dollars… maybe five. I was debating on charging ten dollars when my phone vibrated from incoming text messages.

Maggie: Carl is good

Maggie: Baby Walsh is good

Maggie: See u at the hospital!

I reread Maggie's texts and grunted. I genuinely appreciated her updates, but something was off.

I'd only spoken to her once after she, Glenn and Beth rushed out the King County Café, and that was when we discussed the babies staying at the farm for the night. Maggie was very tightlipped for the duration of that short conversation. She didn't demand any details about what happened at the café. She didn't demand any details about what happened at the hospital. She didn't make any inappropriate comments about me and Rick having naked fun time. She didn't call me and Rick "sluts."

And when I asked what happened at the farm, she shouted, "What happened at your farm!" and hung up on me.

Now that she was texting, I was hoping she'd finally have a real conversation with me.

Michonne: Good morning!

Michonne: Happy DNA Day!

Maggie: …

Maggie: Hey

That wasn't much of a response, but I could work with it.

Michonne: Thanks again to everyone for watching Nugget and Pumpkin :)

Maggie: …

Maggie: (thumbs up emoji)

That still wasn't much, but I could still work with it.

Michonne: If you want, Rick and I can swing by to pick Pumpkin up for the DNA test

Maggie: NOPE!

My eyebrows rose in surprise.

That was an unexpectedly quick response.

Michonne: Ok.

Michonne: Let me know if you change your mind

Maggie: …

Maggie: I won't

Maggie: We'll meet u at the hospital

Maggie: Happy dna day

Shit.

Maggie was trying to end the conversation. I'd have to bait her into calling me.

Michonne: Maggie, I have big news to share!

Michonne: Major news!

Michonne: From last night!

Michonne: I can't talk about it through text…

Michonne: It's about me and big Rick!

Maggie: …

Maggie: LIAR!

Maggie: See u later

And the conversation was over. I dropped my phone on the bed, feeling slightly offended that Maggie had called me a liar.

Rude.

While I was in the middle of a very long eye roll, I heard Rick open the bathroom door.

"Shit. Did I wake you up? Sorry, darlin'."

"You didn't wake me," I said after I finished my eye roll. "And that eyeroll wasn't for…"

The sight of Rick standing outside the bathroom made my mind blank, and then I gasped. Loudly.

Rick took a breath and winced from the effort. "Michonne, I'm fine."

Tears sprang to my eyes.

"Michonne, stop," he said in a pained voice. "Don't do that. Don't start cryin'. Remember what Siddiq said… It looks worse than it is." He tried to walk over to me, but taking a few steps left him cringing in pain and holding his side.

I rushed over to him, trying to hold back my tears.

It may have been true yesterday that Rick's injuries looked worse than they were, but today was a different story. His entire face was swollen and had a purplish tint to it beneath his band-aids. His left eye was now completely red and almost swollen shut. He had a slight wheeze from the step he'd taken.

"I'm fi—"

"You're not fine!" I choked out, unable to keep the tears from spilling down my cheeks. "You're not."

He couldn't possibly be.

I wiped my tears, positioned myself under his right arm and carefully wrapped my arm around his waist. "Let's go."

"Go where, Michonne?"

"The hospital," I told him, sniffling.

Rick wouldn't move, but I was too scared that I'd hurt him if I tried to force him toward the door.

"Rick, move," I ordered.

"I don't need to go back to the hospital," he said gently.

I ignored that. "Stop being stubborn, Rick! Move. Now."

He didn't.

"Why are you always tryin' to rush somewhere when you're barefoot and in your pajamas?" he asked.

I heard the amusement in his voice, but this was no time for joking around. "You can barely take a step without wheezing! You can't stand without holding your side! Your face… Your face is..."

I squeezed my eyes shut to stop more tears from falling.

"You still love my face," Rick whispered.

I did.

I still loved his face very, very much.

But he was being ridiculous right now.

I opened my eyes, wiped my tears and sniffled. "We need to get you to the hospital. Siddiq needs to make sure everything still just looks worse than it is."

I thought I'd gotten through to him once he finally took a step, but he only shuffled around to stand in front of me.

Oh my God.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in frustration.

"Uncross these," he murmured, pulling at one of my arms with his uninjured hand.

I crossed my arms tighter. If he wasn't going to the hospital, I wasn't uncrossing my arms.

Rick sighed, which came out as a wheeze. "We don't even know if Siddiq's on duty—"

"Then someone else can examine you!"

"—and everythang's as ok as it can be right now. I don't need to go back to the hospital."

I blew out a breath of annoyance and ignored how gently Rick's hand slid to my elbow.

"Michonne, my face was punched, headbutted and cut up from glass. It was always gonna get this bad, sweetheart. It's gonna stay this bad for a few days… And I'm holdin' my side cuz it's hard to walk and breathe and do anythang with bruised ribs. Believe me, I was prepared to wake up lookin' and feelin' like this."

I blew out another breath of annoyance. He should've done a better job of preparing me.

"I should've," Rick agreed.

I sniffled and looked down at his wrapped hand.

"My hand's fine. I checked the stitches when I was in the bathroom. I rewrapped it. It's fine. I'm fine."

Oh.

My.

God.

If Rick used that F-word one more time, I was going to turn into a blubbering, teary-eyed, snotty-nosed mess. It didn't matter how many times he claimed he was fine. I knew that he wasn't ok because I wasn't ok.

But since I wasn't strong enough to pick him up and put him in my car against his will, there would be no going to the hospital.

"You let me know the second anything changes," I demanded.

"I'll let you know."

"I'm serious, Rick."

"I know it, and I promise I'll let you know," he said earnestly. He rubbed his thumb up and down my elbow, making me feel just a tiny bit better. "And I took my meds when I was in the bathroom. I'll be walkin' on cloud nine in no time."

I believed that. Siddiq prescribed Rick the good stuff.

I gave him a little nod, and he gave me a small smile.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome." I kept my arms crossed because his body couldn't handle the hug I desperately wanted to give him and also because I objected to something he'd said a few minutes ago. "And I'm not always barefoot and in my pajamas," I grumbled. "I was wearing boots on Saturday when I was leaving to see you and Nugget."

"My mistake. You were wearin' rainboots with your pajamas," Rick deadpanned.

"And a cashmere cardigan," I reminded him.

"That's right… And a cashmere cardigan."

He looked like he really wanted to laugh at that memory.

Rude.

I looked him up and down to point out the flaws in his pajama choices and noticed for the first time that he wasn't wearing his pajamas.

"You're dressed," I said in surprise, glancing at his black t-shirt, khaki shorts and sandals.

"I am."

I responded to his response with a very unimpressed look. "Why are you dressed already? You should have asked me for help, Rick! Why didn't you ask me for help?"

He'd done alright without my help, but that was beside the point. He was hurting, and I was here for him. He didn't have to do anything alone. I raised an eyebrow and waited for him to answer my questions.

Rick's short sigh came out as a soft wheeze. "Michonne, I didn't ask for help cuz I know you haven't been sleepin' well and I didn't wanna wake you up."

Oh.

"But if you were awake, I would'nt've asked for help. The bruises are a lot worse under my clothes. You don't need to see all that and get upset," he said tenderly. "You know how much I hate it when you cry."

Rick was making it quite difficult for me to stay upset in any way this morning. I uncrossed my arms and wrapped my pinky around the pinky of his uninjured hand.

"Thank you for being so considerate, but wake me up next time," I insisted.

Rick's eyes held mine for a beat before he replied with, "Ok."

I didn't believe that "ok" for a second. I had to let it go, though, because I suddenly became aware of how full my bladder was.

"I'll be right back, Rick. Do you need to sit down?" I asked, bouncing in place but prepared to help him take a seat before I went to the bathroom.

"Nah, go on and go to the bathroom. It looks like you need to sit down more than I do," he joked.

I should've darted to the bathroom, but I had to roll my eyes. "Really, Rick?" I asked, bouncing in place a little faster.

Rick chuckled very lightly, which came out as a light wheeze. "You might not find me funny, but we have a one-year-old that does," he retorted with glee. "He thinks I'm hilarious."

I wanted to tell him that Nugget thought it was hilarious when we turned the lights off and on, but that would've made me laugh. My bladder couldn't handle laughter right now, so I pressed my lips together, looked away from Rick and rushed to the bathroom. I was in and out quickly, making sure to also brush my teeth and tighten the low ponytail my locs were in.

Rick was no longer standing between the bathroom and the bed. He'd moved to the bedroom doorway where he was leaning against the doorframe and holding his side. I quickly walked over to him, noticing the effort it took for him to stand up straight.

Before I could grumble about how he should've been sitting down, he wrapped his hand around mine and gazed into my eyes. "I don't think we've said good mornin' yet, have we?" He tugged me closer. "Good mornin', Michonne."

His greeting caught me off guard.

My breath caught in my throat.

In that moment, I didn't see the bruises or the cuts or the swelling or the discoloration on Rick's face. I just saw Rick.

And Rick woke up butterfly after butterfly in my stomach.

Fuck.

While wondering if I was going to have to take a long shower so early in the morning, I somehow managed to say, "Good morning."

A smile spread on Rick's face that grew bigger and bigger until his face twisted into a grimace. I grimaced in empathy. We learned yesterday that if he smiled too big, he felt a searing sting from all those little cuts on his face.

I held onto Rick's hand tight since there wasn't much else I could do to help him through his discomfort.

"Was smiling as painful as it was last night?" I asked once his face relaxed and I knew the pain had passed.

"As painful as when I was laughin' because you were ticklin' me?" Rick asked, starting to smile again. "Nah, it wasn't that bad."

I scoffed at that. "I didn't tickle you, Rick." I'd barely touched him. It wasn't my fault he started giggling when I was checking the bruising on his chest and torso.

"You gotta stop makin' me smile so much. It ain't good for my recovery," he teased.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I playfully grumbled, squeezing his hand. And then I thought of something that was going to put another smile on his face. "Guess what!" I said excitedly. "Maggie sent a video of Nugget and Pumpkin this morning!"

Rick's eyes lit up. "Did she? And how many times have you watched it?" he asked as I walked over to the bed to get my phone.

I smiled at him over my shoulder. "Just once so far."

"Is it as cute as last night's video?"

"It's cuter!"

I played the video for him and watched him watching it. He had to fight hard not to grin at what he was seeing. My eyes moved down his body, and I was reminded of what we were discussing before I went to the bathroom.

"Rick, why are you dressed?" I asked after we watched the video three times.

"Yeahhhhhh… about that," he said, handing my phone to me. "Remember how Daryl was at work yesterday instead of with us at the café?"

"Yes," I said suspiciously.

"He wants to see."

"He wants to see what?" I asked suspiciously.

"The café."

I stared at Rick a long beat and then rubbed the bridge of my nose. I just wanted to kick off DNA Day with a nice, quiet, relaxing breakfast at home with Rick.

But Daryl wanted to see the café.

Since Rick was asleep when Daryl stopped by the house last night with clothes from my condo and the box of Big Kats he owed me, those two must have talked this morning while I was asleep. And knowing Daryl, he wouldn't just want to see the café. He'd want a reenactment of everything that happened at the café—and Rick would oblige, to the best of his ability.

They were both so ridiculous.

I really needed to start making new friends.

"I'm not going to the café, Rick. It's too early," I complained.

"Well then, it's a good thang you weren't invited and I don't have to feel bad about you not taggin' along."

My jaw dropped.

Rude.

"Don't look at me like that," Rick said, trying not to smile too big as he slid his index finger under my chin to close my mouth. "We just talked about how I wasn't gonna wake you up early because you needed sleep. And when me and Daryl meet to discuss thangs, you don't like hangin' out with us anyways."

That was true, but I laughed at Rick's word choice. "You mean when you and Daryl meet to gossip."

Rick gave me a look. "It ain't gossipin', Michonne."

"Uh huh. And what time is Daryl dropping by to get you?"

"Yeahhhhhh… about that… Daryl's just gonna meet me there cuz he's gotta go to work after. I'm takin' my truck."

WHAT?!

He could barely walk!

"Rick, I need you to think very carefully about this," I said in a deadly serious voice. "With your body being in the condition it's in, are you sure you should be driving across town, over bumpy roads, all alone?"

I could tell he was only pretending to give my question any thought, and I accepted that nothing was going to stop the gossipfest. I don't know why I thought I even had a chance of coming between Rick and Daryl and their favorite pastime.

"Take my car instead of your truck. It'll be easier for you to get in and out of," I murmured, defeated.

"I can do that," Rick readily agreed.

"And no speeding, Rick!"

"Yep. No speedin'."

"And call me if you need anything."

"Daryl'll be there, Michonne."

"Call me," I repeated.

The corners of his lips rose slightly. "Yes, ma'am. I'll call."

"Good."

I tossed my phone on the bed and carefully lifted his injured hand to inspect it. Once I was satisfied that he'd done a good job of rewrapping it, I started looking at all those little band-aids on his face to make sure they were still intact.

"You and Daryl are good?" I asked, looking at the tiny band-aids under his right eye.

Daryl and I talked for a while last night, and the heated conversation he had with Rick at the hospital was weighing heavily on him. He hated how they'd raised their voices. He hated how he'd stormed out of Rick's hospital room. His stomach was twisted in knots over it.

"We're good," Rick confirmed as I completed my visual assessment. "Yesterday was just a crazy day," he said, sounding so drained. "It's been a crazy few days. I'll be glad when everythang gets back to normal."

I glanced at the black garbage bag full of clothes resting against the dresser. "Me, too. But what does normal even look like?" I murmured under my breath.

Daryl had randomly grabbed clothes from each of my dresser drawers and from my closet in my condo and shoved them in a garbage bag because of course he wouldn't just put them in one of my suitcases. And now I was basically living out of a garbage bag for the day.

Fucking Lori Grimes.

That Piece of Shit Shane.

"Normal is you, me and Carl doin' you, me and Carl thangs," Rick said softly. "It's us eatin' breakfast together in the mornin'… sittin' on the couch together at the end of the day… goin' on our weekend adventures…"

I adored doing me, Rick and Nugget things. That was a normal I would happily return to.

"Normal is you and me doin' Richonne thangs, Michonne…"

My eyes flew to Rick's.

"Romantic thangs… date night thangs… borin' couple thangs. If that sounds like a good kinda normal to you," he added, his cheeks suddenly flushing pink behind all those little band-aids.

The softest, fluffiest feeling washed over me. "Yeah, Rick," I professed. "It does."

Despite the pain he knew would come from doing it, Rick gave me a huge smile… and immediately groaned.

"You really have to stop smiling," I teased.

"I know, I know," he said when he was able to speak again. "But you make it impossible," he whispered, his eyes boring into mine.

Fuck.

The butterflies were fluttering again.

I was definitely taking a long shower this early in the morning.

Mind out of the gutter, Michonne.

I tried to get my mind out of the gutter, but my butterflies wouldn't let me. They just fluttered around faster.

Focus, Michonne.

I tried to focus on Rick, but as he continued speaking, I couldn't help but watch his lips move.

His perfectly pink lips.

"'Chonne, are you listenin'?"

Huh?

"What?"

"I said I probably should get goin' so me and Daryl have enough time to discuss thangs. Do you want me to come back home when I'm done so we can drive to the hospital together?"

I was snapped out of my perfectly pink lips stupor. "What? No. That's too much trouble. It makes more sense for me to meet you at the hospital. I'll just meet you at the hospital." I walked over to my garbage bag of clothes. "Let me put some shorts on and help you outside."

"You don't have to—"

"It's not up for discussion, Rick." I sat on my knees in front of the garbage bag with my back to Rick and started pulling clothes out. "Make sure you give Daryl a big hug for me, and if Tammy Rose and Earl opened the café today, make sure you bring me a chocolate muffin."

"The muffin was already on my list. I remember what happened the last time I didn't brang you a chocolate muffin."

I stopped pulling clothes from the bag to look back at Rick. "I was four months pregnant! You stopped by with chocolate on your breath and crumbs all over your mouth!"

He wheezed as he laughed. "There were so many tears over a muffin."

"Change the subject, Richard," I griped with a smile, turning back to my garbage bag.

I pulled more clothes out and finally came across a pair of shorts. They were the teeny, tiny shorts I used to only wear around the house because of my pregnancy weight. I stood up and shimmied into them so I wouldn't be outside in just my oversized "Every day is Caturday!" sleep shirt. Because my shirt was so long, no one would realize I had shorts on if they saw me, but I wasn't going outside in just a shirt and panties.

I slid my feet into my slippers, hurried back over to Rick and positioned myself under his arm.

He looked a little dazed.

"You good?" I asked, wrapping my arm around his waist.

His mouth opened like he was about to say something, then it closed and then it opened again.

He stared at me with a glazed-over look in his eyes.

"Rick?" I asked in concern.

He looked away from me and let out a shaky, wheezy breath. "We should… Daryl," he mumbled.

He took a step forward, and I had to focus on coordinating my steps rather than question his baffling behavior.

DNA Day was not at all off to the start I expected, but I had no doubt that the day would only get better.

I entered the hospital's DNA Diagnostic Center about ten minutes before 9AM. Rick had texted me about fifteen minutes earlier to let me know he made it, so I was a little surprised to see that the waiting area was empty.

"Good mornin'!" a bubbly redhead at the front desk called out.

I liked her energy. It matched my DNA Day energy perfectly! I walked to the front desk with a pep in my step and a big smile on my face.

"Good morning! Rick Grimes has an appointment this morning. I'm here with him."

A look of recognition flashed across the redhead's cheerful face. "You must be Michonne Danvers! Deputy Grimes said we should be expectin' you! He also said a Maggie Greene and a Glenn Rhee would be here with the baby whose paternity is in question?"

"Yes, I'm Michonne. And Gleg… Glenn and Maggie should be here soon with Pump… with Judith."

I hadn't heard from Gleggie since Maggie texted that I was a liar, but I was sure they'd be here in the next few minutes.

The redhead beamed at me. "Great! If you'll just sign in, I'll get you up to speed on what's goin' on."

"Sure thing," I replied, picking up the pen attached to a sign-in clipboard on the counter. I signed in under Andrea's name, which was under That Piece of Shit Shane's name, which was under Rick's name.

I glanced at the redhead's nametag.

"Francesca, it looks like That Piece of Sh… It looks like Shane Walsh and Andrea Harrison have arrived already," I said pleasantly, maintaining my sunny DNA Day disposition.

"Please, call me Frankie. And that's correct—Mr. Walsh and Ms. Harrison got here a little while ago. Unfortunately, there was a minor altercation shortly after they signed in."

My grip on the pen tightened. "An altercation?" I asked as calmly as possible.

"Unfortunately, yes." Frankie squirmed in her seat. "It was a verbal altercation between deputy Grimes and Mr. Walsh instigated by Mr. Walsh. Ms. Harrison did try her best to calm Mr. Walsh down, but the staff had to intervene to stop things from getting physical between Mr. Walsh and deputy Grimes. They're currently in separate rooms while they wait for their cheek swabs to be taken."

I stared at Rick's signature, processing what I'd just been told. "I see," I said as calmly as possible.

I gave Frankie a small smile of appreciation for sharing what she had and very carefully placed the pen on the clipboard before I snapped it in half.

That Piece of Shit Shane!

I had assumed, very stupidly it turns out, that That Piece of Shit Shane wasn't going to cause problems today. I thought he would show up today with his tail tucked between his legs after his run-ins with Rick and Daryl left him with glass in his side and a busted-up face.

But instead, he chose violence on DNA Day.

And now, I was forced to choose violence as well.

"Michonne," Frankie said timidly, "deputy Grimes said I should give you this note if your eye started to twitch or your head started to tilt, so…" She handed me a folded piece of paper.

I took the note but was torn between reading whatever it was that Rick had written and going on the hunt for That Piece of Shit Shane.

Frankie cleared her throat. "Deputy Grimes said if you didn't start readin' the note, I should give you this second one." She handed me another folded piece of paper. "He said you should read it first."

What the…

Rick was always coming between me and violence! That was getting real old real fast, but I took the second note from Frankie and opened it. Seeing Rick's very messy handwriting was enough to stop my eye from twitching.

I sighed to myself and read his message: No hulking out! Rumors will start and the hulk rumors are mine. Get your own! Now read the first note.

Oh my God!

Even in the form of a note, Rick was so bossy.

I rolled my eyes and opened the first note: Breathe, Michonne. I'm OK. Shane didn't say anything that hurt me. I didn't let my anger make me stupid. Just wait for Gleggie and Judy-pie to get there. Please.

PS. I missed you at the café. Can't wait to see you again : ) And the café was out of chocolate muffins. I got you a lemon poppyseed.

I read the last line twice.

What.

The.

Hell?!

Lemon poppyseed?

I hated lemon poppyseed.

Rick knew I hated lemon poppyseed.

Frankie cleared her throat. "Deputy Grimes said once you made that face, I could tell you he was jokin' about the lemon poppyseed. He said he got you two chocolate muffins."

"Thank God," I mumbled in relief. But I was going to need more than two chocolate muffins to completely calm my nerves.

At least I could be relieved that Rick was ok. I looked at his chicken scratch writing and focused on the "PS. I missed you at the café. Can't wait to see you again : )" part. My inner teenage girl with a crush wanted to run to the hallway, call Maggie and squeal about Rick missing me.

"And now that you're smiling, I can assure you that everyone will be swabbed as quickly as possible," Frankie told me. "The procedure itself is quite simple, but the staff is checkin' on Mr. Walsh to make sure he didn't rip open his stitches from gettin' so worked up."

I hoped beyond hope that each and every one of That Piece of Shit Shane's stitches had ripped open. I kept that hope to myself, slid Rick's notes into the back pocket of my jeans and thanked Frankie for the update.

She smiled and leaned forward with a bashful look on her face. "I hope this isn't inappropriate," she said in a low voice, "but I got a little excited thinkin' I was about to see Rick Grimes hulk out."

Oh.

Wow.

The hulking out rumors really were sticking to Rick like glue. I kind of hated that for him but was so grateful he'd compromised his reputation to protect mine.

And maybe once we made it through all this Fucking Lori Grimes and That Piece of Shit Shane drama, I'd spend some time reflecting on the ways Rick had hulked out. Maybe I'd think about how his body was poetry in motion when he flew across the table at the café and tackled That Piece of Shit Shane. Maybe I'd think about how Rick's arm and shoulder muscles bulged when Daryl held him back from Panty Man in my condo.

Maybe I'd think about these things and get excited in a completely different way than Frankie had gotten excited. But right now, I couldn't find anything exciting about seeing Rick so feral. I just wanted his body to heal from all his injuries. I wanted him to be able to smile without feeling pain.

Frankie cringed and covered her face with her hands. "Oh, my gosh! I don't know why I just said that. It was so out of line and inappropriate." She peeked at me through her fingers. "I'm so sorry, Michonne. I normally don't listen to gossip. I hate gossip! I always have! But I heard four different hulking out rumors yesterday and got caught up in 'em." Frankie lowered her hands and looked at me somberly. "Will you accept my apology?"

Wait. What?

She'd only said she was excited about seeing Rick hulk out. I didn't think an apology was necessary, but she looked so distraught.

"I accept your apology, Frankie. There are no hard feelings."

Frankie's face was a picture of relief. "Thank you, Michonne! And honestly, if any of those rumors have a grain of truth to 'em—and I'm not askin' if they do—it sounds like y'all had a pretty rough weekend."

I mentally ran through everything that happened since Rick and Nugget showed up at my front door on Saturday morning.

Jesus.

The past few days had truly been mind-bogglingly insane.

"Yeahhhhhh, it was quite the weekend," I replied, leaving it at that. "And how was your weekend?"

Frankie cringed and very apologetically said, "It was pretty amazin'."

I had no problem with her sharing details about her weekend with me. I was eager to hear about someone else's non-insane reality. "Tell me all about it," I encouraged.

"You're sure?" she asked. I nodded, and her face lit up with enthusiasm. "It was a spa day weekend! Me and my two girlfriends always get together and go to the spa once a month. We go on Saturday, so we call it Spa-turday—that's silly, I know!—and we always get the body massage and mani and pedi package."

She held up a hand and wiggled her fingers, displaying her sparkly purple fingernails. "My toes match!"

Wait. What?!

"You and your friends didn't get kicked out the spa?" I asked in disbelief.

Frankie shook her head with a confused look on her face. "We didn't. We spent most of the day there."

Wait. What?!

Most of the day?

"That sounds nice," I murmured, imagining what it would be like to spend a girls' day at the spa.

"It was great! It's always a great time!" Frankie beamed.

She started talking about something funny her friend Tanya did, and I stared at her in wonder.

I'd been threatening to find new friends all weekend...

Was Frankie my perfect new friend match?

She didn't get kicked out of public places.

She didn't like gossip.

She clearly had good taste.

I was so giddy about the prospect of Frankie and I becoming friends that it took me a moment to realize she'd stopped talking. She was staring past me with her brow furrowed in concern.

"Michonne, do you know the person at the door?" she whispered, barely moving her lips.

I looked over my shoulder and immediately recognized Maggie's scowling face peering into the small, square window on the door. Our eyes briefly met before her face disappeared from the window.

Shit.

Something was wrong.

"Should I call security?" Frankie whispered.

"No! She's not a danger," I quickly told her. "She should have Judith with her."

"Oh, thank goodness! She looked so intense. Maybe she just needs some help with the door or somethin'?"

"I'm sure that's all it is," I replied, but I was certain the look on Maggie's face had nothing to do with needing help with the door.

What if something was wrong with Nugget? What if something was wrong with Pumpkin? What if there was news about Fucking Lori Grimes?

"Great! I'll let the staff know Judith's here," Frankie chirped, reaching for the phone on her desk.

Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

Somehow, I managed to stay calm. Instead of running to the door, I fixed a smile on my face, nodded at Frankie and strode to the door with what felt like an appropriate degree of urgency.

I pushed the door open, and my smile fell.

Maggie did not have Pumpkin.

I looked around for Glenn, expecting to see Pumpkin with him, but he was standing down the hallway by himself. He gave me an awkward little wave, shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts and turned away.

Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

I stepped out of the DNA Diagnostic Center and closed the door behind me. "Maggie, where's—"

"She's with daddy and Annette," Maggie interrupted, crossing her arms. "Who were you talkin' to?"

The demanding question along with the fire blazing in Maggie's eyes threw me for a loop.

"That was Frankie. But Maggie, why—"

"That's a dumb name," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Here." She pulled something from the back pocket of her jean shorts and held it out.

What the…

I stared wide-eyed at the plastic baggie Maggie was holding. Or rather, I stared wide-eyed at the Q-tip secured in a vial inside of the plastic baggie.

"What is this?" I asked, tearing my eyes away from the vial to look at Maggie.

"Judith's cheek swab," she snapped.

WAIT!

WHAT?!

"Beth said you were gonna make that face," Maggie grumbled, rolling her eyes again. "It's not that serious, Michonne! Birdie had some spare DNA kits. The sample's good. Go give it your new best friend… Frankie."

WHAT THE FUCK?!

"Where's Judith? Why did you bring Judith's DNA sample instead of bringing Judith?" I asked in a very fast, very high-pitched voice.

"It's Carl's fault, Michonne! Your kid has a sixth sense or somethin'. It's like he knew his time with Baby Walsh was over cuz he screamed like crazy every time me and Glenn tried to get her. Birdie had the DNA kits, so we used 'em and let the babies hang out a little while longer." Maggie's face softened when she said, "You better prepare yourself. Carl won't be happy when his sister's gone."

My heart ached for my Nugget. I considered leaving the hospital that second to go to him and comfort him.

"Oh yeah, you need this too." Maggie pulled something else from her back pocket and handed it to me. "Here."

WHAT.

THE.

FUCK?!

It was another plastic baggie, but there wasn't just a vial with a Q-tip in it. This baggie also had nail clippings and a few strands of long, brown hair.

I knew that hair.

My jaw dropped.

"I told you I'd make sure you got her DNA. You got it. You're welcome."

Maggie stomped over to Glenn, not at all caring that she'd left me standing with two bags of DNA—one of which contained Fucking Lori Grimes's DNA when Fucking Lori Grimes was supposed to be missing.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Fuck! Shit! Shit!

Maggie furiously mashed one of the elevator buttons, and I composed myself. There was no way I was letting her leave without giving me some kind of an explanation.

"Gleggie! Meet me in the stairwell" I whisper-hissed.

Maggie continued mashing the elevator button, but Glenn gave me a thumbs up, took Maggie's hand and pulled her to the stairwell.

Shit!

On the one hand, Maggie somehow getting Fucking Lori Grimes's DNA could only be very, very bad.

On the other hand, Dr. Cloyd said Fucking Lori Grimes's DNA was ideal to have.

I let out the world's longest sigh and walked back into the DNA Diagnostic Center.

"Everything's ok? Judith's here?" Frankie asked, giving me the biggest, warmest smile.

Her eyes drifted to the plastic baggies, and I said a silent goodbye to the friendship that would never be because I was about to look Frankie straight in her eyes and lie.

"Everything's fine, Frankie. Funny thing, though…" I chuckled and hoped it sounded natural to Frankie because it sounded awkward to my ears. "Rick was actually mistaken about Maggie and Glenn bringing Judith in this morning. Lori Grimes, the maternal party, which I'm sure you're already aware of, well, Lori Grimes, decided she'd bring Judith in herself, which Rick forgot because… because of all the hulking out. The thing is... Lori got cold feet this morning. Apparently, she was too embarrassed to show up on account of being a big whore."

Oh, no.

Frankie looked slightly taken aback.

"I'm not calling Lori a big whore, Frankie. I'm saying she thinks she's a big whore and is too insecure to be seen in public because of other people may also think she's a big whore. Apparently, she bought some DNA kits and asked Maggie to bring these samples in so that she wouldn't have to show her whore face in public."

I held the plastic baggies out for Frankie to take.

"The bag with just the Q-tip is Judith's," I told her.

Frankie stared at the baggies in shock before taking them.

I started backing away to the door.

"Frankie, I don't know if Rick mentioned it, but I'm an attorney, and I have a very important attorney phone call to make. So…"

I turned and rushed out the door.

Nailed it!

And now, it was time to get answers from Gleggie. I wiped my sweaty palms down my jeans, praying that whatever Gleggie was about to tell me wasn't catastrophically bad. I joined them in the stairwell, and their intense whispering immediately stopped.

I put my hands on my hips. "What happened? Where is she?" I asked, diving right into it.

Maggie crossed her arms and stared at me with an unimpressed face that gave away nothing. Glenn's eyes darted around, avoiding mine completely. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

My chances of breaking Maggie were more than likely slim to none. Breaking Glenn was the sure thing. I stepped to the side so that I was standing in front of him.

"Glenn," I cooed.

He swallowed hard, looked at me and then looked at Maggie. She looked at him and slowly shook her head no. Glenn wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Glenn," I cooed again. "You can talk to me. Whatever happened, you can tell me."

He looked at me again, looked at Maggie again and then looked up. He was breathing so hard that I feared he was about to pass out.

"Use your words, Glenn," I urged. "Do it for Nugget. His middle name wouldn't be Glenndrick without you."

"Uh uh! Do not use your words!" Maggie objected.

"Use your words, Glenn!"

"Don't use your words, Glenn!"

"Use them, Glenn!"

"Don't use 'em, Glenn!"

"Stoooooop," Glenn groaned. He took a few more ragged breaths and looked at Maggie. "She needs to know, Mag. We have to tell her."

"Glenn!" she gasped.

"We have to," he insisted, putting an arm around her shoulders. He whispered something in her ear that initially made her scowl, but she gave him a curt nod and Glenn hurriedly told me, "Lori's tied up in the barn, and she's being injected with horse tranquilizers every four hours to keep her quiet."

My eyebrows shot up.

Tied up?

In the barn?

Horse tranquilizers?

"What?!" I whisper-shrieked.

"It's her own fault," Maggie grumbled.

"What?!" I whisper-shrieked.

"You should tell her everything, Maggie," Glenn insisted in a quiet voice.

"Fine," she grumbled. "Michonne, that night we all spent the night at yours and Rick's house, Birdie went to the farm to feed the animals and secure 'em in the barn for us. She caught Olive Oyl sneakin' around."

"What?!" I whisper-shrieked.

"She was lucky me and Beth weren't the ones to find her," Maggie grumbled.

My hands balled into fists.

My blood was on its way to boiling.

Fucking Lori Grimes.

"Why was she there? What did she want?" I asked, trying not to explode, trying not to lose my shit.

Maggie shrugged. "Birdie didn't ask. She doesn't take trespassin' lightly, and you know she already feels some type of way about Olive Oyl."

"Meaning?" I asked.

"Meanin' Birdie neutralized her."

"Meaning?"

"Meanin' she took her down, tied her up and put her in the barn," Maggie said as if that was the only possible thing "neutralized her" could mean.

Oh my God.

"I'm assuming after Fucking Lori Grimes was neutralized, Birdie didn't call the sheriff's department?" I asked.

Maggie's face scrunched in confusion. "Why would she do that?"

"Because of the trespassing, Maggie."

Maggie's scrunched face scrunched even more. "You don't need the law for that. Besides, Birdie couldn't call the sheriff even if she wanted to."

That didn't sound good. I glanced at Glenn to confirm that that didn't sound good. He averted his eyes.

Shit.

"Why couldn't she call the sheriff, Maggie?"

"It wasn't her fault, Michonne! Olive Oyl wouldn't quiet down after she came to..."

"Okay," I said slowly. "And?"

"And all the animals were gettin' worked up..."

"And?"

"And Birdie had to use the horse tranquilizer..."

"And?"

"And Birdie and Annette already have two strikes against 'em with the law! They can't be caught with black-market horse tranquilizers, Michonne! The sheriff would put 'em in jail! Or make 'em do community service!"

Black-market…

What?!

Did I even want to know? I wasn't sure that I did, but I couldn't stop myself from asking, "Why do they have black-market horse tranquilizers, Maggie?"

"For situations like this, obviously. And Birdie and Annette have enemies."

Oh my God!

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "What enemies, Maggie?"

"Enemies from the rodeo."

"What rodeo?"

"The King County Rodeo."

"There is no King County Rodeo."

"Yeah, not anymore. Annette and Birdie basically shut it down back in the seventies. That's why they have enemies."

WHAT?!

"It's really not that big of a deal, Michonne. Annette says their enemies have been quiet since the late eighties. The tranquilizers are just in case," Maggie explained. "And also for trespassers."

Oh my God.

There wasn't enough room for me to pace in the stairwell, so I sat on the top step of the stairs leading to the floor below and buried my face in my hands.

DNA Day was supposed to be a simple, celebratory day.

But now there were baggies of DNA…

And rodeo enemies…

And black-market horse tranquilizers…

AND FUCKING LORI GRIMES TIED UP IN A BARN!

"Oh my God," I groaned.

Maggie sat beside me, leaving no space between us, pried one of my hands from my face and linked her arm around mine. "It's really not that serious, Michonne."

I lowered my other hand and stared at her in disbelief. "Fucking Lori Grimes has been tied up in your barn since Monday night," I said in a low voice.

"Yeah, but we've been givin' her food and water between tranquilizer shots. She's fine."

"It's Wednesday! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Me, Glenn and Bethy only just found out when we were at the café yesterday!" she argued. "And I wanted to tell you, but we're still votin' on whether we should handle her or let you and Rick handle her! The vote hasn't been unanimous yet!"

Oh my God!

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. This situation was bad. It was really, really bad.

But…

It wasn't exactly catastrophically bad.

I knew where Fucking Lori Grimes was now. That Piece of Shit Shane didn't. I had an advantage, and I wasn't going to squander it.

"Forget about the vote, Maggie." She looked like she wanted to argue about that, but I cut her off before she could. "Forget about it. I'll be handling Fucking Lori Grimes."

"Fine," she grumbled, "but Beth and Birdie are gonna be pissed."

"I'll talk to them, Mag," Glenn offered.

Maggie and I looked at him over our shoulders. I'd be worried about anyone else delivering bad news to Beth and Birdie, but no one could stay mad at Glenn. Everyone really did adored him too much.

"Thank you, shmoopykins. You're my hero," Maggie gushed.

Glenn beamed at her, and I swear I could see hearts in his eyes. "You're welcome, Maggie."

Gleggie being Gleggie was one of the cutest things in the world to witness at times, and I would've swooned over their exchange, if not for very pressing matters at hand.

"Who all knows about Fucking Lori Grimes?" I asked.

"Um… not too many people," Glenn answered. "But almost everyone?"

Oh my God.

What did that even mean?

I turned my gaze to Maggie.

"Just me, Glenn, Beth, Annette and Birdie know," she told me. "Obviously, we didn't tell you, Rick and Daryl."

Obviously.

It took everything in me not to roll my eyes.

"Daddy's also in the dark. We decided it's best not to tell him yet cuz he gets real sensitive about certain thangs. We're not sure how he's gonna react to this," she said delicately.

Oh.

They were worried Hershel would start drinking again after finding out Fucking Lori Grimes was tied up and being injected with black-market horse tranquilizers in the barn. That made sense. I was tempted to get a drink after having this conversation.

"He'll stay in the dark," I reassured Maggie.

"Thanks, Michonne. Cuz we have to protect daddy," she stressed.

I gave her arm a supportive squeeze. "At all costs," I said.

She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "So what's the plan with Olive Oyl? What do you need us to do?"

Considering how much thought I'd given last night about what I'd do when I found Fucking Lori Grimes, those were very easy questions for me to answer.

"I need her awake and alert," I instructed.

"She will be," Maggie confirmed. "What time do you need her up?"

"Late. I'll probably need to sneak out the house when Rick and Nugget are sleeping."

"Wait… so, you aren't telling Rick?" Glenn asked. "Because… I just think… well, if Maggie was you, and my ex was tied up in your family's barn, and you and Rick told Maggie… I'd want Maggie to tell me. I mean, I get why we're not telling Hershel, but Rick is different. I just think he'd really, really want to know as soon as possible."

I didn't disagree with Glenn. He and I just had a difference of opinion about what as soon as possible meant. To me, it meant after I had uninterrupted time with Fucking Lori Grimes.

Maggie and I looked at each other, and she seemed to understand what I was thinking.

"Michonne'll let Rick know," Maggie assured Glenn.

"I will, Glenn," I promised.

"And she'll probably let her new best friend know too," Maggie said with attitude.

What?

"Huh?" I asked.

"Your knew best friend," Maggie repeated with attitude. "Frankie."

Oh.

It seems that Frankie was the root of Maggie's prickly attitude.

"Frankie's not my new best friend, Maggie."

"I don't care if she is or isn't," Maggie huffed. "But I saw you were with her, Michonne! Talkin' and laughin', lookin' as thick as thieves. And that makes sense. She has a fancy pants job. She's probably got three degrees. She's not the 'girl gone wild of King County.' You won't be embarrassed to be seen with her."

I was momentarily left speechless.

It never occurred to me that Maggie would be affected by what That Piece of Shit Shane said at the café. If anyone was affected, I thought it would've been Rick after being told he wasn't man enough to satisfy Fucking Lori Grimes and being called vanilla, mediocre and forgettable. But when Rick and I got home yesterday, I asked him if he was bothered by what That Piece of Shit Shane said about him. He scoffed, pulled me close by the hem of my shirt, and whispered in my ear, "Stamina and creativity in the bedroom have never been a problem for me, sweetheart."

I doubted he remembered saying that. He was woozy from his medication and very out of it at that point.

And I ended up having to take a long shower last night.

A very long shower.

But now was not the time to think about that. Maggie needed me.

"Maggie, nothing that That Piece of Shit Shane said mattered. He's a piece of shit. We don't listen to pieces of shit because they're full of shit! He could never say anything to change how I view you. You meant the world to me before we went to the café, and you mean the world to me today. That Piece of Shit Shane will never change that. Ever."

Maggie stared at me with tears in her eyes. "I m-m-mean the world to y-y-you?" she asked, sobbing.

oh no.

I forgot about her hormones.

"Yes, Maggie. You do."

Her sobs grew louder, echoing in the stairwell. Glenn sat down on the other side of her and rubbed her back.

"Mag, it's ok," he whispered. "I told you she wouldn't care about what he said."

That just made Maggie sob louder.

A few minute later, when she was all cried out, Glenn offered her his shirt to use to wipe her wet face and runny nose on.

It was both disgusting and sweet to watch.

"That Piece of Shit Shane," Maggie grumbled.

"That Piece of Shit Shane," I agreed.

"I'm glad Rick tackled him through the café's window," she mumbled, sniffling.

Of course she knew about Rick's fight with That Piece of Shit Shane.

"Me too," I agreed.

"And I'm glad Daryl punched him yesterday," she mumbled, sniffling.

Of course she knew about Daryl's run-in with That Piece of Shit Shane.

"Me too," I agreed.

"Maybe you can have him sent to Antarctica too?" she asked hopefully.

Of course she knew about Panty Man.

"I don't think I can," I told her.

"Why not?" she whined.

"I'm pretty sure that was a one-time thing, Maggie."

"Can you double check?" she asked.

"Um, guys, I don't mean to interrupt," Glenn said, leaning forward to look at both Maggie and me, "but we should get back to the farm, Mag… And you should check on Rick, Michonne."

Shit!

Rick's cheek had probably been swabbed by now, and I didn't want him finding us in the stairwell.

"He's right," I said to Maggie. "You're right," I said to Glenn. "I need to go!"

I gave Maggie a quick hug and reached across her to squeeze Glenn's hand before standing and rushing to the door.

"Michonne!" Maggie called out before I could push the door open. "Text me tonight when you leave, and I'll make sure she's awake."

"Thanks, Maggie."

"And we'll take the stairs down in case Rick's out there looking for you," Glenn added. "And we'll be back with Judith in an hour."

"Thanks, Glenn. Love you, guys."

"Love you too," Gleggie said.

I pushed the door open a crack to make sure Rick wasn't looking for me and breathed out a sigh of relief when I saw that he wasn't. But as I left the stairwell, I felt very, very conflicted about what exactly I would say to Rick when I saw him.

Fuck.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please take the time to leave a review. It's appreciated!