Left to their own devices when their parents went off to meet Uncle Ezekiel, Judith and RJ played a lackluster game of were purely passing time as they waited for their parents return. They could hardly concentrate on much over the last couple of days. Learning how to play different card games had become a favorite hobby of theirs together with Hershel and Gracie. But since Maggie moved away and Aaron went back to Alexandria, it had just been the two of them. They were now hopeful that with their parents back they'd get to see their friends more often.

"You said mama always comes back," RJ recalled as he put down his eight of spades at the top of the pile, "you were right."

She remembered that. It was a few months after Michonne's departure and Judith wholeheartedly believed it at the time. But after days of starvation when they were forced to eat horse meat, after battling a severe storm that threatened to level Alexandria to the ground and after losing their Tia Rosita in this new place that was supposed to be safe, her belief was put to the test. As much as it pained her to even entertain the thought, she had to accept that on one was invincible, not even their mother. She had to make room for doubt. But she kept those thoughts to herself. She was the head of what was left of the Grimes family and she had to hold it together for her brother. Her precociousness was born out of necessity, not choice.

"Yeah. I'm glad they are back."

"Is he… is he like you remember him?" RJ asked his sister.

"A little, yes. But he is also different. Hesitant, a bit tense. It's probably just a lot being back."

"The CRM sounds like a really bad place."

"It does. It must have been awful for him to be stuck there all that time."

"Did you know the woman that took him there, from before? Jadis?"

"Not really, I don't remember her."

Judith noticed the apprehensive look on her brother's face. "Hey, no one is taking him away again. Mom won't allow it, he won't, okay?" She tried to comfort him, to which RJ responded with a half smile. She was not ready to relinquish her role as her brother's protector even with their parents back.

They were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and footsteps into their direction.

"Hi baby!" Michonne greeted them both at the table, Rick trailing close behind her. Judith noticed that her mother was upset and trying to play it off. She had years of experience watching Michonne put on a brave face and could easily see through her tight-lipped smile. What did Ezekiel tell them? She thought, slightly panicked. When Michonne's arm lingered on her left shoulder for a moment, she thought her mother might know about the gunshot wound underneath. Maybe that's why she's upset. But then she let go and her racing heart steadied. She knew she'd have to tell her parents soon, she was simply working up the courage. This would greatly upset them and she was trying not to taint their homecoming with too much bad news.

"I'll get dinner started and then you can tell me all about these records your Uncle Daryl left you." Michonne departed towards the kitchen and Rick was quick to follow, leaving the kids to continue their card game.

Speak!

That is what Lori constantly asked of him. She would demand, beg, and when all else failed, goad him with her harsh words just to get a peek into his head. To try and understand him, what he was thinking, how he was feeling. It took so much effort for them to connect, especially in those last years before it all fell apart. Unlike in their early days when they were two young lovers and parents who couldn't get enough of each other, in the end they hardly talked. She was confrontational, he was avoidant. He would retreat into himself when they fought. He had so many thoughts in his mind but it was like his voice would disappear when he tried to articulate them, already anticipating to be misunderstood, to be misheard. So he would keep them to himself. But if he was being completely honest, it was also his way of punishing her, keeping quiet out of spite, to get back at her for some of the hurtful things she would say. Towards the end his marriage to Lori was a chore to keep afloat.

Rick was committed to not repeating the same mistakes with Michonne. Even though what they had had always felt different, with him feeling completely seen without having to explain himself, he refused to take it for granted. After everything he and Michonne had been through, he owed her that much, and so much more. He wouldn't describe his wife now as confrontational but she spoke her mind, with purpose and conviction. She was upfront about her feelings and thoughts and was always direct with him. So when he followed her into the kitchen with the intention of clearing the air about Ezekiel's offer and she said "Let's discuss it later", he believed her. He knew there was no malice or vitriol behind her words. She simply wanted to enjoy the evening with the kids then have it out with him later, preferably out of earshot.

"Okay, later." Rick indicated his understanding with a kiss on the cheek which Michonne gladly leaned into. He then grabbed a cutting board and a knife with the intention of helping prepare some of the ingredients Michonne had laid out for their meal. This had been their routine since they got to Alexandria years ago. Rick was a terrible cook, therefore Michonne relegated him to sous chef duties. He would prepare the ingredients, cutting and dicing away and that would be his contribution to the meal. He looked forward to those evenings with her after a long day of strategizing their survival. They didn't get to do it every night but when they did he cherished those moments. When they first got to Alexandria it was an opportunity for them to get to know each other better, talking about their past lives. When they finally became a couple, Rick was more a distraction than a help, constantly brushing against Michonne's backside and stealing kisses. After Carl, this time served more so as a mourning meeting, grief lying heavily between them as they prepared a meal for Judith, their own appetites gone. And then Rick was gone, and it was just Michonne doing the cutting, dicing, cooking and cleaning. All her, alone for years. Sometimes she heard the echo of his melodic drawl cracking one of his corny jokes bouncing against the kitchen walls. It would give her momentary reprieve from her anguish while also having her feeling like she was losing her mind.

Now that he was back, slowly remembering the life they had, Rick was desperate to fall back into their routines. But as he grew frustrated trying to keep the butternut squash stable with his forearm and attempting to carefully cut into it, it was becoming increasingly clear that he could not just pick up where he left off. He was not the same man. On his third attempt, as he avoided meeting Michonne's eyes, afraid of what he might find there, the vegetable slipped from the cutting board and fell on the floor with a thud, the knife nicking him. The giggles from the table where the kids carried on with their card game died down as they sought to investigate the source of the noise.

"It's okay, we just dropped something. Keep playing." Michonne dismissed them as she quickly walked around the counter and picked up the bruised squash. It was dawning on Rick that he only knew how to be a one-handed soldier. That is what the CRM prepared him for because that was all he was ever going to be to them. He knew how to switch between the helicopter yoke and the controls while maintaining altitude, he knew how to load his assault rifle efficiently in a pinch, he knew how to disarm an enemy with his prosthetic which doubled as a weapon. He was still lethal on the battlefield despite his disability. But he had no idea how to be a one-handed husband and father. He couldn't even help his wife prepare dinner. He was still avoiding Michonne's gaze, feeling embarrassed and ashamed, when he felt her hold a dish cloth over his cut and place his impaired arm to his chest.

"Look at me, please." She implored, gently caressing the nape of his neck. When he finally mustered up the courage to do so, his eyes revealed just how exposed he felt.

"Thank you. I'm sorry." Sorry for not being the same.

"You don't have to be." Michonne lovingly caressed the stubble on his face as she gently put his head on her shoulder, holding him. "It will take time but you will figure it out. We will figure it out." she whispered in his ear. "You are here, with us. That is what is most important."

"I know."

"Plus, you have to at least maximize your 'Guest Privileges'." Michonne winked as she pulled away and proceeded to rinse off the squash.

"Guest Privileges?" Rick raised his eyebrow giving her a squinted look.

"Yeah, you know when you are back home after a long time and everyone treats you like a guest, making your favorite meals, giving up their seat for you, catering to your every need. My mom used to do that for me every time I went back home from college." She paused with a longing look on her face, remembering her mother. Rick was engrossed, he loved it when Michonne talked about her life. "It usually lasted about three days, then the novelty wore out and she'd have me scrubbing the bathtub." She chuckled wistfully.

"Enjoy it while it lasts Rick. I will be putting you to work by next week."

"You can put me to work anytime darling" his eyes gleamed with flirtatious mischief. They continued their lighthearted banter as Michonne prepared their food. Rick still insisted on helping where he could but he avoided any sharp objects.

Later as they settled down for dinner, Rick was still feeling vulnerable about his hand. And while he understood and appreciated Michonne talking him down earlier, he did not want to think of himself as a guest in his children's lives even for a second. He had already lost so much time. He wanted to know them fully. He wanted them to know him. So as they were wrapping up, he decided to lay himself bare in front of his family.

"I didn't tell you how I lost my hand," he started, nervously clearing his throat. He glanced at Michonne to gauge her comfort, to which she responded with a slight nod. "I…I cut it off, myself. I cut it off to try and get away, to try and get back to your mother and to you."

Michonne tried to keep calm as tears shimmered in her eyes. Even though this wasn't news to her it still hurt her deeply to think about everything Rick had been through. And to see that pain reflected in her children's eyes only compounded it.

"I don't think I was in the right state of mind at the time," Rick continued over the chilling silence. "I was desperate, at my wits end. I had tried to get away several times at that point but everything failed. I thought it was the only option I had left, but even that wasn't enough."

The kids oscillated their terror-filled stares between their parents for what felt like ages before Judith reached out to gently squeeze her father's wrapped stump. Even though she was momentarily speechless, her glistening eyes conveyed her compassion and Rick understood.

"I'm okay now Judith. I'm okay."

RJ on the other hand, though also shaken and terrified, had a glint of admiration in his eyes. What he viewed as his father's bravery constantly left him impressed. This man, who he had just met but had always known about, had so far surpassed all his expectations. Rick recognized the look in his son's eyes, he had received it from Carl too. The look of pure awe, of a child completely mesmerized by him, a child who thought he could do no wrong. He had also gotten other looks from Carl, some he'd rather forget. And he prayed it would be a long long time before he lost his shine in RJ's eyes.

"Judith got shot!" the seven year old blurted out without warning. He figured since everyone was sharing cool things that had happened to them he'd contribute. And because he had no stories of his own, he offered up his sister's. His sister who was now glaring at him with a look that suggested he might have misunderstood. Judith could not fathom how he seemed completely oblivious to the implications of that revelation, the hurt it would cause their parents. He was so mature sometimes it was easy to forget he was still very much a child, a little boy who thought having a gunshot wound was 'cool' just like having a stump because you literally cut off your own hand was also 'cool'.

"What?" Michonne immediately shot up from her seat and moved to her daughter's side.

"Mom, it's okay. I'm fine." she futilely tried to pacify her mother as she frantically looked her over for the signs she'd missed.

"Where Judith? Who shot you? Why?" The questions kept pouring out of her, barely giving her daughter a moment to respond. Only a handful of things could have Michonne acting so erratic, and her children were at the top of that list. Rick, second on the infamous list, was also on his feet now, his hand on RJ's shoulder, trying to console him as the realization hit him that he might have said something he shouldn't have. He hated that he upset his mother so much.

Looking hesitantly between both parents, Judith reluctantly lowered her top over her left shoulder to reveal the ragged discolored scar left behind. As she told them what happened, Michonne kept hovering her trembling fingers over the scar as if she was afraid she'd hurt her, occasionally looking at her daughter's face and then her husband's. They both shared a look of terror, pure fright of what could have been. Past the who and the how, Michonne barely heard the rest of the story. She was lost in thought, praying. Beseeching God to please, please not take another child. She couldn't survive that, neither of them would.

Her mother, Annalise Hawthorne, had always been a religious woman who raised her children in church. But as Michonne grew up and developed her own agency she stopped believing, and Annalise never pushed. Her philosophy was that she'd given her children all the tools to navigate the world and if they needed to they'd come back to it. But that never stopped her from doling out nuggets of wisdom randomly. Once she had told Michonne, "Nothing tests your faith like parenthood. It's easy to deny the existence of God when it's only you who has to answer for it. But once you have a living extension of yourself who you can't always be there to protect, you will find yourself begging a God you might have never believed in to watch over them when you can't."

That was a truth her and Rick had come to learn the hard way in this life. And she continued her prayer that they'd never have to endure another lesson later in their bedroom as she waited for him. Dinner had obviously come to an emotional end and she quickly retreated to their room and left Rick to clean up and put the kids to bed.

"She's okay Michonne." Rick sat next to her on the edge of the bed where she was lost in thought.

She turned to him with a blank stare, it was evident she had been crying. "But it could have been worse. Anything could have happened to them and I wasn't here because…"

"Because of me."

"You needed me Rick, don't blame yourself." she hated the tinge of regret in his voice.

"I won't let you blame yourself either." He placed his hand on her thigh and gently rubbed soothingly, trying to calm her down. "She's okay. They both are. We are here now, we will never leave them again. Don't let the 'what ifs' eat you up. She's okay, and that woman who shot her is paying for it." He could feel his anger flaring just thinking about Governor Milton. He made a mental note to ask Ezekiel if they could see this woman.

"Ten years Rick! Ten years into this apocalypse and we still can't keep our children safe." Her voice trembled at that declaration. "Even behind walls, even in a place like this. Who are we if we can't protect them? We have to protect them." She broke down in pained sobs learning into Rick who wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

Carl…I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. A father's job is to protect his son.

Love. It's just to love.

Rick could feel that familiar tightness of his chest constricting as he remembered one of his last conversations with Carl. She was right, they had one job and that was to protect their children. Otherwise what was the point of it all? As Michonne slowly centered herself again, she raised her head from where it was resting on Rick's shoulder and met his forehead. "What are we gonna do?" she whispered, referring to multiple different things at once. But for now she chose to focus on one. She slowly stood up and walked towards the bathroom, Rick holding on to her hand until she was out of reach. She then came back with a medicine bottle with the Civic Republic branding on it. It was just some painkillers. She leaned against the bathroom door looking down at the bottle in her hand and then up at Rick. The question was clear, "What are we gonna do?"

Having developed a slight migraine from all the bombshells of the day, she sauntered to her side of the bed, past Rick who silently followed her every move, opened the bottle for two tablets and swallowed with the glass of water sitting on her end table. After a few more gulps she placed the glass and pills down and went back to join Rick where he was waiting for her.

"Just a headache." She assured him as he reached out to place the back of his hand on her temple, solely trailing down her cheek.

"You wanna go back?" Her tone this time around was gentle, perhaps because she had been worn down by everything that had transpired at dinner.

"No Michonne, I don't want to go anywhere. What I want is for us to be honest about what we can do to build the safest future for our children and give them an opportunity to do more than just survive. We can't be going through all this to just survive."

"I know."

"Judith was shot here and that scares the shit out of me. But she was also able to get the medical attention she needed here from a surgeon. And that possibly saved her life."

"I know."

"The Commonwealth, The Civic Republic, whatever is going on in Portland, they are a work-in-progress and far from perfect but they are the best hope we have right now. Our small communities have seen us this far, but we need a larger scale strategy to beat the dead. Otherwise we are just delaying the inevitable."

"I know."

Michonne intertwined her hand with his, kneading their palms together as she exhaled all her tension.

"They took you from me." her voice broke, thinking back to the day she thought she'd lost him. "They took you from us. It doesn't matter if the people responsible are no longer here, it still hurts me." She placed their connected hands over her heart. "I'm still angry."

"So am I Michonne! Every time I look at that little boy's face, every time Judith hugs me and I'm startled by just how big she is I…I want to burn it all down again. I'd burn it all again." His eyes bore into her, imploring her to believe him, to know that she was not alone in her anger. "But we already did that, there is no one left to punish. And we can't let this rage consume us until we lose sight of what's right in front of us."

"It will take time." She spoke softly. Knowing that Rick was still battling the same feelings of resentment towards his captors reassured her greatly. This was her Rick, and they just needed to help each other through this while still making the best decisions for their family and community.

"It will, but we will figure it out, together!" He leaned in and captured her lips in a tender kiss, affirming his words.

"We can talk to Ezekiel again, hear him out. But we set the terms, and whatever we do, we do together!" Michonne murmured against his cheek, holding on tightly with her arms around his neck.

"I told you, I'm never letting you or the kids out of my sight ever again!"