Boats crowded the oceanfront, stretching across the horizon like a floating mosaic. Sleek sailboats with crisp white sails, rusty old fishing vessels with nets draped like tired arms, polished speedboats that gleamed in the sun—every kind of boat bobbed gently in the water. The air buzzed with movement and voices, gulls circling above as if drawn to the energy. It was the liveliest place she'd seen in town, pulsing with color and motion.

"So, it's a real marina," Michonne acknowledged, eyeing the nearest vessel. Two silver-haired men whistled and catcalled her while raising bubbling glasses of champagne.

"Told you," Rick waved at the lively men over his shoulder.

"Friends of yours?" Michonne asked as they kept walking down the pier.

"Yes. Great guys."

There was a rowdy party going on upon a bigger boat, where classic rock music was blasted from unseen speakers. Men and women, all in their sixties, were having a good time.

"Oh no, they not... do I smell weed?" Michonne snorted as they walked away.

"I'm sure it's for medicinal purposes!" Rick widened his eyes in mock concern.

Michonne raised her hands, shaking her head. "Hey even if it wasn't legal, I'm off duty."

They chuckled and continued walking by more boats and several people waved at Rick, including some very pink-cheeked older ladies who, Michonne would swear to God, giggled like school girls the moment he had his back to them.

"Here we are," Rick waved at the sailboat in front of them.

"Oh wow..." Michonne paused as she took in the sight of it, bigger than most of the sailboats on the dock but still modestly sized if you considered the owner. "That's a catamaran, right?" she asked as she followed him up the steps.

"Yep," Rick turned to her and then waved around them. "We've been repairing it for over two months. Looks good though, don't you think?"

"Repairing?" her eyes widened as she took a better look around.

That was true, the boat did not look sparkling new; but it wasn't until that moment did, she noticed the smell of fresh paint and some corners looking sanded in preparation for more paint. The sails, folded as they were, looked pristine though. "You bought the boat used?"

Rick nodded. "Used, nearly condemned, same difference." when Michonne's eyes widened even more he laughed. "It wasn't that bad. It was just neglected for a few years. I never really thought about buying myself a boat at all. But suddenly the idea of having something to work on, to fix, sounded fun, you know?"

"Uh-huh..." Michonne turned around, looking at the cream-colored plush seats and shiny, smooth surfaces. It wouldn't have been her idea of fun, "…Who's we...?"

"Hershel...he was one of the fellas whistling at you…" he nodded in the direction of the party boat. "It used to be his. He thought I was crazy when I offered to buy it from him so he offered to help with the repairs. Plus, he taught me how to sail."

"Nice... I can see what's been keeping you now." It was better than thinking of him staying in that dreary hotel and moping on the beach for three months.

"Come have a better look," Rick waved her along, taking the steps to the upper deck where they had a nice view of everything. He showed her below deck as well where she was impressed with the work he'd done. Maybe she should get this Hershel guy and Rick to redo her living room.

Hershel had made sure the engine was in perfect condition before he sold it to Rick. The exterior of the boat needed new sails and some touch-up paint on a few areas. It was the interior of the boat that needed some repairs. With the helping hand of Hershel Greene, Rick had removed, replaced, and varnished most of the floorboards. All of the cabinet's hinges required replacement and varnish, the same with the drawers. Single-handedly, Rick removed and replaced the piping in the kitchenette and bathroom, installing trendy faucets and fixtures throughout. He did the same for the outdated lighting, tables, and the furniture's upholstery replacing them with modern, contemporary pieces.

When they returned to the upper deck, Rick went into his mini-fridge and they cracked open a couple of beers, Michonne could see the pride simmering beneath the surface when Rick talked about his handy work.

Fixing the boat made him happy for a while, but the feeling had begun to decline. Seeing Michonne's reaction, renewed him and he felt joy again.

"It's nice! Did you take it out for a spin yet?"

"We've been too focused on repairs but we did sail some so I could learn."

"Where do you plan to keep it?" Michonne asked offhandedly, taking another sip of her beer. But she could see the question was harder to answer than she'd thought.

Rick frowned thoughtfully as he looked down at the deck floor. Leaning back against the rail as he was, he'd looked relaxed. But tension quickly appeared on his shoulders as he pondered her question, swishing the beer in his mouth slowly before swallowing.

"I don't know," he admitted with a shrug as he looked around them. "Guess I hadn't thought that far."

Michonne nodded, thinking of his impromptu extended vacation.

Did he see an end date at all? Was he reading any scripts? Or had he just walked out one day and decided he'd see how long he could just be by himself? And God why did that sound so wonderful? Would I do this if I could pull it off...?

As if in response to her unvoiced question, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She swept it up automatically. Abe Ford: Taylor, seriously what's going on? Abraham was checking in again, slightly more concerned since she hadn't replied last night. With a sigh Michonne pocketed her phone again, still offering no response.

"Hey, is everything alright?" He asked Michonne, thankful for being saved by the ringing of her phone.

She looked up to find Rick watching her - a small frown on his forehead. God, had her feelings been plain as day on her face? She noticed his eyes dropping to her neck and realized he'd probably seen the vein jumping just under her skin as her heart accelerated.

"Yeah!" she laughed nervously, innocently rubbing her hand just over the throbbing spot to conceal it. "It's just Abe," Why did she say that? It invited so many questions.

"Your partner?" Rick asked, but he was already nodding, he knew who Abe was even if they'd never personally met.

"Yup."

"Work calling?"

"Nah, just saying hello."

"Let's go back below and you can call him," his eyes took on an even more inquisitive expression as they roamed freely over her face.

Michonne was relieved, he didn't ask anything else, "I need to do some stuff...see about things..."

Having no idea what that meant, Michonne just nodded and followed him down the steps, finding herself a comfortable seat while Rick disappeared somewhere deeper into the belly of the boat. He'd said his car had been at the marina. Maybe he'd been sleeping in the boat too?

She sat, peeking over her shoulder through the windows at the view of the dull sky. She could see the wind growing harsher, the water getting more agitated - even below her, she felt the boat undulate. This was no tropical paradise - yet its inhabitants didn't seem to notice.

Her phone buzzed again in her back pocket and she shifted to pick it up, ready to tell Abe that whatever it was it could wait or he could handle it. But it was Maggie. She frowned and hesitantly answered her phone.

"Yeah, hi…" she looked in the direction Rick had disappeared to. "What's up?"

"What's up? You tell me what's up!" Maggie piped back impatiently.

"Didn't you just talk to him?" Michonne shook her head utterly confused.

"Yeah, but he was vague and unhelpful! What's he doing over there...Concorde, right? I googled the place, Michonne! It's nothing there!"

"Well…" Michonne hesitated, thinking of the partying retirees a few boats down, "Not exactly."

Maggie continued to talk, more like squeaked and Michonne breathed deeply. Every family had someone like Maggie. In Michonne's family, that someone had been Aunt Jacqui, God rest her soul.

"Hey, deep breaths. He's fine. He bought a boat. That's what's been keeping him busy. He bought a used boat and he's been working on it. He looks relaxed. Your brother's just really doing what he says, he's taking some time off and doing things that relax him. Trust me."

She wanted to add that part about how he was an adult and all, but it would probably be too much for his sister's frazzled nerves. Aunt Jac never really took people being adults as proof that she shouldn't tell them what to do either. T

To her surprise though there was only a long silence on the other side before she heard Maggie taking what sounded like a big, relieved breath.

"He bought a boat…?"

"Yes, a sailboat, a catamaran to be precise, and he's done a fantastic DIY... I'm on it right now!"

"Rick doesn't have a boating license…" Maggie retorted though her tone was less desperate now.

"Not a lot of states require one to have a license. He has someone teaching him though."

"Huh…" Maggie went silent.

"Yeah… he's alright, Maggie. Hey, even if he's working some things out, he's allowed, right?"

Another long, thoughtful pause.

"Yes, yes of course he is."

Wow, she hadn't thought it'd be this easy.

"I- I'm sorry I'm just overreacting," Maggie sighed. "He's never… relaxed before, you know?"

Michonne laughed, nodding even though her friend couldn't see her. "Yeah, I know."

They exchanged a few more friendly words and ended the call. Michonne got up and climbed to the upper deck, just wanting a better view of the gathering clouds. She leaned over the rail and watched the other boats bobbing up and down in the water. She was glad she wasn't prone to seasickness.

"Oh, there you are…" Rick surged from downstairs, and to her surprise he was empty-handed.

"Hey…" she turned fully to face him. "Full disclosure: Maggie called me. But I think I put her at ease."

Rick arched his eyebrows, nodding. "I expected her to do something like this. I'm sorry…"

Michonne waved him away. "It's fine. I have a brother. I understand."

Rick smiled and nodded. "So. It's past lunchtime. Have you been to a yacht party before?" He gestured to the steps on the bow leading to the pier.

"Uhm… yeah a few times actually…" Michonne shrugged, thinking of her ex-boyfriend Negan Dubois and his expensive toys.

"Ah yes…" Rick said behind her, a teasing tone to his voice. "The Frenchman."

Michonne looked over her shoulder surprised. "You met Negan?"

"Fourth of July party at your parents a few years ago. I think you got called in at the last minute. He was there though."

"Oh yeah…" Michonne nodded, remembering the date vaguely. They were walking side by side on the pier now, heading away from Rick's sailboat and the others she'd seen.

"Well yeah, he had a yacht. He loved his parties."

"He would have a freakin yacht…" Rick muttered under his breath, but the corners of his lips showed he was teasing.

Michonne laughed. "Not impressed, huh?"

"Oh, no, he was very impressive!" Rick chuckled and then shrugged. "He just…"

"What?" Michonne asked curiously. She never knew what Rick thought of any of her exes. It had never been a topic of conversation.

Negan had been almost unanimously hated by his family and friends, so she was curious as to his opinion.

"He didn't seem like your type," he shrugged.

Michonne's eyes widened in surprise, making him laugh. "I have a type?"

"Everybody has a type," he shrugged again.

"What's my type?" Michonne asked laughing, her mind surging with curiosity.

Rick hesitated to answer, looking somewhere ahead of them, he honestly thought Michonne was too good for Negan, she was too good for any of those guys...even him.

"They have to make you laugh; you love to laugh."

Michonne opened her mouth to respond and laughed, shaking her head. She supposed that was true. She usually went for the smart, goofy types - smart and goofy was just… sexy as hell.

"Negan wasn't fun, you're saying?"

"I talked to him for maybe five minutes…" Rick admitted with a shrug. "He tried...But he seemed too intense and…"

"And?"

"Old...Older…" he shrugged. Rick recalled the moment he saw them walk into The Taylor's backyard that the guy holding Michonne's hand was not her type.

Michonne nodded. "He was older than me by ten years, yeah."

"What happened to him anyway?" Rick asked.

"Last I heard he got into some European car racing thing…" Michonne shrugged and thought about it; it was true, they hadn't had a lot in common.

Rick nodded, all that older man's suaveness must have been the appeal.

"So, what's your type?" she prodded him, suddenly very curious herself.

"Hmmm…"

It was cute how much he looked like he didn't want to answer that question. Then Michonne thought of how many times he probably had to answer that question in silly interviews over the years and she wished she hadn't asked.