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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


III. 6 mos


"Mommy, my brothers be here soon?" My baby girl asks, kicking her little legs back and forth, as she sits at the kitchen table getting her hair brushed, hands fidgeting in her lap.


"In a few more months, sweetheart." I respond, trying to focus on brushing all of the tangles leftover from a full day of playing, and a night of sleeping, from her wispy hair.


"Will they be able to play?" She continues, "When they come out of your tummy?"


"Not at first they won't. They will be very tiny, but they will get bigger, just like you. That's why Mommy will need your help. That's what big sisters do." I remind her. This is a conversation that we have had numerous times since Rick and I told the kids, and everyone else, that we were having twins. Twin boys no less. Carl was excited to have more boys around, despite the fact that he spends the majority of his time working his daily shifts on guard duty, and at The Hilltop with Enid. Judith on the other hand seems very interested in her role as a big sister, making sure that Rick and I understand that now that she's a big girl, four years old, using the potty and all, that she can help with her brothers.


"I can help like Carl help. I a big sister, Mommy." Judith affirms, pointing to herself and nodding her head confidently.


"Yes you are, sweetheart," I agree with her. "But, Judy, honey, sit still for Mommy, please? We are almost done."


"I want to play now, Mommy." She whines. Her voice airy and sweet, still holding the dulcet tones of toddlerhood.


"I know, just let me brush through these last few tangles, and finish your braid, then you can play. Promise." I bargain, slowly pulling the brush through her fine, sandy brown locks. Her squirming settles down a bit with the promise that she will be free soon. But I know my Judith, and I know her sitting still will only last a few more minutes before her anxiousness to get on with the business of being 3 will take over and send her back to her wiggling ways.


Now satisfied with my answers about the babies, and confirming her very important status as a big sister, she's quietly singing her ABCs to herself. We have been working on them each day, and I'm brimming with pride to witness that she can now repeat them on her own to herself.


She's such a smart girl, so confident with her place in this odd new world. Full of questions, almost inquisitive to a fault, possessing a healthy dose of skepticism, she's also accepting and all encompassing with her affection for certain people. Unexpectedly, at least on my part, I am one of those people. Always gracing me with an unceasing barrage of hugs and kisses, as well as most times being my unwavering shadow, Judith has undoubtedly taken to me as her mother. Never once, given her inquisitive nature, questioning that certainty. For a child that questions everything, from why she has to go to bed, to why she is alive but the walkers are dead, her queries cover a wide array of topics.


While everyone else, Rick and I included, were unsure about Rick's and my relationship, and other women like Carol and Tara were helping with her, Judith chose me. She was so certain about me, about my role as her mother, that she has been calling me numerous iterations of Mom since she could talk. It was one of her first words. And given that Carl has only recently started calling me Mom, I have to assume that she was doing so under the secret tutelage of Rick, or her Ma was initially for Michonne, and has transformed to the more endearing, Mom. Either way it melts my heart every time, and strengthens my already abundant love for my baby girl.


Lost in my own thoughts, and trying to tame these last few flyaways, I can hear Rick's heavy footsteps descending the stairs, announcing that he is awake.


"Morning." He utters on a loud yawn as he enters the room, hair still tousled, voice gravelly from sleep. Sidling up next to me, still in pajama pants and a t-shirt, he leans in and nuzzles his face in to the crook of my neck, tickling me with his scruff and leaving behind a series of wet kisses. With his right hand he slides his hand into the opening of my oversized pajama shirt, the top to his bottoms, and gives my watermelon sized belly a soothing rub. "How are my boys this morning?"


"All over the place, all night. My bladder, my ribs. They are either up all night partying, or they are wild sleepers," I grouse, hating to complain but those little arms and legs are getting out of control.


Scratching at his bearded cheek, he wonders out loud, "Probably just wild sleepers like their mama." He teases, and dodges me playfully swatting at his arm. Crouching down in front of Judith, Rick kisses her on the forehead "How's my Judith?"


"Good morning, Daddy," she responds, puckering her lips to give him a kiss.


Turning his head for his cheek to accept her kiss, he knowingly asks, "Are you being still for Mama?" Taking a seat at the table next to her, eyebrows raised, he leans back, waiting for her answer.


"I'm trying, Daddy. But I wanna play now." She explains, peeking at her father with those big round eyes, hoping to drum up some sympathy from the person she can always count on for it.


Grabbing an apple from the bowl on the table, he takes a big bite, crunching through the skin of the sweet fruit. "I know, pumpkin. I hate when Mama cuts my hair," he claims, quickly glancing to me with humor in his eyes, knowing that he loves any time I have my fingers in his hair. "But try to be a big girl and give your mama a few more minutes to finish, ok."


Reaching for her tiny foot, he gives her a playful shake. "You're coming with Daddy today, so you gotta look your best. We've got lots to do today."


"Ok, Daddy." She nods her head in ascent, and though a tiny impatient huff escapes her, the thought that she gets to spend the day with her dad helps her sit still. Her little legs, covered in her favorite Hello Kitty leggings, keep kicking though, evidencing her apparent restlessness. Rick attempts to distract her by offering her a bite of his apple, which she accepts with aplomb, leaving behind the markings of where her little teeth took a bite.


Smiling at the sight of these two, I am reminded that she's so much like Carl. Neither of them can bear taking the time to slow down for mundane things like getting their hair cut or combed, with Carl commenting more than once that it's a waste of his time. I offer to cut his hair whenever I cut Rick's but, he always declines, and at this point it's a battle not really worth fighting with him, as I think I've figured his true reasons for keeping his hair long, but I keep it to myself.


"I'm going to head over to The Hilltop today. Pickup Carl. See Maggie and baby Hershel. There is a lady there who is going to twist my locs for me. I should be back tonight, if not first thing tomorrow." I casually mention while Rick is somewhat distracted with Judith, hoping not to get too much resistance from him. Since we found out about the twins a few months back, he has been very attentive, extra protective. Everyday it seems like my stomach is bigger than the last, and proportionally his desire to keep me in his sights increases. Everyone knows about the babies as well, and dare I say they are all equally complicit with my husband in their own levels of attentiveness.


"Uh huh," he utters in that deep voice of his. The one that rumbles in his chest, the raspy gruff of it always sparking my arousal. "How're you gonna get there, Chonne? Who's going with you?" He questions. Tilting his head to the side, eyes narrowing and focusing on my face. Sucking his pink lips between his teeth, he's awaiting my answer. I know why he's asking. The other day I went to help Francine move one of the cars used for extra protection around the gate, and well, I had some difficulty fitting my stomach behind the wheel. I see that Francine has shared this bit of information with my husband. Complicit, all of them.


"I can drive myself over, and Carl can drive back, get some more driving practice in." I shrug and reason off the cuff, actually surprising myself with how quick I am with the Carl driving back part, figuring it will help ease my husband's protective concerns. "And, I think it's time to have a discussion with C-A-R-L about E-N-I-D anyway," I spell out, well aware of the little one that is always listening, and like a parrot, constantly repeating what they have heard.


"Hm." He grunts, adding nothing more to the conversation.


Finishing up Judith's hair, I place a tie at the end of her French braid, and kiss the top of her head. "Alright, baby girl, all done. Now you can go play."


"Yay! I'm free!" she jumps down from her chair. Turning towards me, she jumps up on her tip toes, and throwing her arms around my waist, as far as my stomach will allow, places a loving peck to my tummy. "Bye, brothers!" She yells at my belly button. Raising her head and eyes upwards to me she demands "Kissy, Mama." Leaning over to her, Judith extends her diminutive hands up towards my face, commanding my affection. She puckers and lays the sweetest little kiss on my lips, then takes off upstairs, as fast as her tiny feet will allow.


Chuckling at her antics, I shift to take a seat in Judith's now abandoned chair. Patting his lap Rick signals for me to take a seat there instead. Seated across his thighs, leaning into his solid chest, Rick has his arm around me, a handful of my ass in his right hand, firmly squeezing. With his left hand he offers me the last bite of the apple that he and Judith nearly devoured. Accepting the last of the apple, I snuggle further in to him. Slowly chewing, I'm enjoying my husband's attention, reveling in the unique masculine scent and feel of him. Though lean, Rick's muscled body is strong and firm, having endured and weathered the most dangerous of encounters, and I take comfort in both the protection and pleasure it provides.


In the serene quiet that now blankets the room, my head laid against his shoulder, my fingers running through the thick curls at his nape, I'm taking the time to appreciate the profile of Rick's handsome face, his aquiline nose, and chiseled features. Given my relaxed mood, I'm slow to realize that he hasn't said much since I mentioned my excursion for today, which can go either way when it comes to him.


"You don't have anything to say about my plans for the day? About me driving myself?" I ask with a hint of disbelief.


Rick takes his time to answer me. Resting his head on his left hand, arm planted on the table, he maneuvers his head to make eye contact with me. With those clear as the ocean eyes locking on to mine, he questions, a hint of exasperation evident, "Would it matter if I did, Michonne?"


"Maybe, depends on what you said, Rick," I tease on a small chuckle.


"My wife, who is 6 months pregnant with my babies, is telling me that she's going to drive herself over to The Hilltop, alone. And that she may be home tonight or tomorrow, with our 17-year-old son driving her back. I got that right, Michonne?" Despite the coolness lacing his heavy southern drawl, I can sense that he's not really that calm about this at all. I know Rick. He's always telling me how much he knows me, but I know him too. I know that the man in front of me right now, hates not being in control, tries hard to maintain it when he can, and lets it go only when he must. Most importantly he called me Michonne, not Chonne, so I know for a fact he's not happy about this.


"Yes, Rick. That's right." I reply, not backing down, knowing that if I give an inch he will take a mile.


Stopping the rhythmic massage of my ass, never breaking eye contact with me, he rubs at his bearded chin with his left hand for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts. His stroking is drawing my attention to his bearded cheeks. Nearing the end of my second trimester, my libido is increased, and among other things about Rick, I greatly adore that beard. How it frames his luscious lips, how rugged it makes his beautiful face, the exquisite sensation it causes when its between my breasts or thighs, abrading my sensitive neck. In a sudden but fluid motion, he unbuttons the top few buttons of my shirt, and places his warm palm to my sensitive breast, kneading and lightly thumbing my sensitive nipples. Sedated by the rhythmic caress of his calloused hand, he raises his head to mine and surprises me with wet, apple laced kisses to my lips. Plying them apart he's pushing his tongue into my mouth, tangling it with my own, stealing my breath. Growing hot all over, my other nipple is brushing painfully against my shirt, arousal causing me to squirm in his lap. Ending the kiss and pulling away from me before I'm ready, he leans back, licking at those perfect pink lips of his, never stopping his steady brush over my breast, he quietly murmurs in a deep rumble, "Ok. Have fun." Grinning mischievously, softness in his eyes, he adds, "You're as much in charge around here as I am, you don't need my permission. You've got things to do, and your boyfriend said as long as you have the energy to do it, it's ok. So, I'm ok."


Rolling my eyes because I know when he says my boyfriend he's referring to my doctor, Corey, I move my head to allow myself to search his face for his angle, trying to focus through the excitement he has sparked in me. There has to be one, he's giving in too easily.


Removing his hand from my breast, he remarks, "Just so you know though, if you show me how, I can do it for you. Twist your hair up." He makes a twirling gesture with his long index finger, making me laugh. "Soon you're not going to be able to get over to Hilltop for that anymore."


"I know you can. I'll show you sometime." I agree, trying to calm myself and collect my thoughts, I also recognize the truth in his words, but also the pang of hurt it causes. Sasha used to help me with my hair, twisting and oiling my dreads. I used to wash and oil her hair in return. It was a luxury that being on the road never afforded, but at Alexandria we made time for it, using what products we could scavenge and find. It was also a time for us to do something that reminded us of the world before. Of a shared culture and sisterhood, that even two people who were strangers before, still had in common. My hair has not been properly twisted since Sasha was alive, and in a way I refused to bother until that bastard Negan paid for what he did. What he forced her to do. The war is over now though. Negan is dead. And heading into my last trimester, I know I need to begin preparing everything, for when I will need more help to care for not only the babies, and the rest of my family, but also for myself. So, when Bertie, a black female Hilltop resident, offered to twist my hair with an almond butter that she makes, I accepted.


Running his gaze slowly from my face down to my stomach, laying his large rough hand there, long fingers splayed across it, he rubs the warmth from them slowly over my hard bump. Sensing the sudden tension set into his posture, he firmly asserts, "I trust you, and I know you will be careful. Take care of yourself, and our babies, please."


"You know I will," I promise.


"I know you will," He agrees, kisses my belly, and pats my hip to signal for me to rise from his lap. Both now standing he reaches his fingers towards me. Taking hold of my hand in his commanding grasp, we begin to walk towards the stairs when he abruptly stops, and turns to me. "It's hard for me sometimes, to let go. To have faith that you will come back to me, that this world won't try to take you. That you can take care of yourself, that you don't really need me to protect you. It doesn't stop my need to. To protect our family." He admits, patiently revealing his words with care, always trying so hard to communicate what he's feeling to me. Blue eyes focused intently on my own, I can sense the vulnerability there that he never wants anyone to see. As if somehow he will be punished for it, for being human, for having faults. I have heard from Maggie how Lori had a way of pushing him away, not allowing him to be anything but perfect, her love and affection so conditional, easily swayed by her fickle judgment. But that's not me, it never has been, and I won't let her memory ruin this moment for us. My love for this man is without limits or conditions, and I would never have him believe otherwise.


"I do need you, Rick, and I need that from you, your protection." Looking away from me for a moment, as though he can no longer allow me to see him, I press my body, my stomach and breasts to him, to get his attention and remind him of what he has, what he will always have. Delicately I take his face in both of my hands, and kiss him, hard and with intent, allowing him to be enveloped by the certainty of my love for him. "Sometimes I feel the same when you are away, when you have to leave. Uncertain. Especially now when I'm so emotional all the time. When my own body is expanding, making me question my own ability to protect myself, our family. But, you always come back to me, and I trust that you always will. And I will always come back to you, Rick Grimes. Always."


"Right." He clears his throat, "You're always right." He replies, and slightly tilts his head to the side as if escaping some hypnotic trance. Coming to some realization, he releases a slow breath, his chest bulking, easing his tension. Reaching up I smooth my fingers across his forehead, over his graying eyebrows, urging him to release his frown. Gradually his face relaxes, and my favorite smile, the one that animates all the lines of his face, graces me with its presence. Grabbing my hands, he places a kiss in the palm of each. "And," he says, his voice coming out in a sexy rasp, moving his hands over my swelling hips and ass, grabbing a handful in each, "You're expanding beautifully in all the right places, Chonne. Come on, let me help you get dressed."


Sitting in Bertie's trailer after getting my hair washed, and now re-twisted, the experience is almost surreal, like so many are as we actively attempt to rebuild some semblance of civilization. This all feels like a regular Saturday back in Atlanta, in my old life. Sitting in a chair, taking part in the cherished, but easily forgotten tradition of allowing someone else to take care of me, to take care of my hair. Once again taking pleasure in time spent bonding with friends, with other women. Maggie is here laughing and joining in on the lively conversation, bit of gossip sprinkled here and there. Baby Hershel is quietly asleep in my lap, everything seems so perfect. But Sasha isn't here, and though neither Maggie nor I have mentioned her, her presence is so sorely missed, and never forgotten.


"Twins. Wow. Leave it to you and Rick to have to outdo everyone and have twins." Maggie says, astonishment clearly in her voice. "I guess I shouldn't have expected any less from you overachievers, huh?"


"It's not like we did it on purpose, at least I didn't."


"Can Corey tell if they are identical or not?" Maggie asked.


"No. Guess we'll find out soon, though. I've only got a few more months to go."


"That Corey is a good looking man. Not a lot of those left." Bertie adds, working on the last few locs around my hairline. "I might need to find a reason to see the good doc myself."


"He is good looking." Maggie agrees, nodding her head. "I'm surprised that Rick has let him near you."


"Maggie!" I can't believe what I'm hearing. Since Glenn's death, I have never heard Maggie hint at even the slightest inclination of noticing another man. Not a peep.


But, if I'm being honest, Corey is good looking. Very good looking. And God help me, but when Rick and I met him the first time I was a little stunned by him. He seemed to have dropped right out of a men's magazine. He easily ticked off every one of my past favorite male attributes: tall, dark, educated, nice teeth, good manners. It was kind of like waking from some awful dream to find that I'd been rewarded with this man for all of my dream-state suffering. My brain struggled with whether or not I was awake or not, if I was seeing a ghost. It's happened before. But no, this was real, and thankfully I gathered my wits about me, after probably allowing him to hold onto my hand for a second too long, to break free of the fog his presence had me in. But Rick had already taken notice of my response to Corey, hence possessive posturing that followed.


"What?" She quickly responds. "I'm not blind, Michonne. He's hot. Reminds of this guy who used to be an actor. What was his name?" Snapping her fingers, she's trying to remember, to jog her memory from the many years that have since gone by. "British guy, black…he was going to play James Bond, and then well, the world fell apart. Damn, y'all, what was his name?"


"Idris Elba!" Bertie and I both say at the same time, laughing so loud poor Hershel opens his sleepy eyes a moment to warn us to quiet down. Rubbing his back in little circles, he's settling back down, snuggling as close as he can on my lap with my belly between us.


"Yes! So handsome. I wonder if he's alive?" Maggie's Georgia accent trails off in remembrance, sending Bertie and I back into fits of laughter, incredulous at her wondering something so odd, yet so intriguing that now we're wondering too. I'm back to soothing Hershel again, trying to keep him from waking back up, and admonishing me with dark eyes so much like his father's.


"Doesn't matter now I guess. We've still got Corey though," says Bertie whimsically. "And I think I'm catching a cold!" She fake coughs, threatening to send us all cracking up again. "I'm just joking, maybe." Pulling my dreads into a band, and piling them atop my head in a bun, she nudges me with her hip and continues with a hint of admiration in her voice. "You've got Rick though, girl. That man is nothing to sneeze at either. He's got that cowboy thing down, the swagger, boots and all."


Not one to talk too much about my relationship with Rick, I nod my head, and catch Maggie giving me a mischievous little smile. She knows me well, and that while I'm usually reserved around strangers, my adoration for my Rick is both serious and real. While self preservation may keep me from exuberantly claiming him to anyone who will listen, there is no man, Idris Elba lookalike or not, that could come in between us. I don't want my hesitance to talk too much about Rick dampen the mood, so keeping with the light tone of the banter I nod and agree with Bertie's assessment, "That he is. Rick is handsome indeed."


Patting my shoulder, Bertie draws my attention. "Alright, Michonne, you are done. Here is a little almond butter you can keep for your hair or skin. Your hair is growing fast, so you might want them twisted once more before the babies come."


"Yes, thank you. And Corey gave me some coconut oil I've been using on my stomach and hair, so I guess I'm good for awhile now."


"Oh he's giving you gifts, huh? Handsome and thoughtful. I definitely have a cold now!" Bertie laughs.


"You didn't have to come get me, Mom. I could have made it back on my own you know."


"I know. But, I had to get my hair done, and I wanted to see Maggie and baby Hershel while I've still got the energy. And, it allows me to spend some time with my favorite young man."


"Mom, I thought Dad was your favorite man?" Carl looks away from the road and over my way momentarily, eyebrows furrowed over the same blues he shares with his father.


"I said young, Carl." I tease, making eye contact and sharing a quiet laugh with my son from the passenger's seat.


"Aw! I'm telling Dad you think he's old!" Carl snickers loudly. We both know that he won't tell Rick, but even if he does, Rick is well aware of the jokes Carl and I share about Rick's rapidly graying beard prematurely aging him.


"No, no, no. I'm just kidding! And he's not old, he's, handsome, mature…distinguished. I love your dad's gray beard, very fond of it actually"


"Gross, Mom. Just, blech!" He pretends to wretch, sending us both into raucous laughter at my poor husband's expense.


Turning back to Carl, my eyes take in his profile, trying to get a look at him through the hair that he is insistent on keeping, probably to diminish the presence of the patch over his right eye. Determination and focus is set across his face as he steers the car on the deserted road, guiding us away from The Hilltop and back to Alexandria.


"Easy on the gas, ok, slow down. So, did you have a good time hanging out with Enid?"


Responding just like Rick would, a scarlet blush overtakes his handsome features at the mention of Enid. He is so much like his father, constantly struggling with a lot of the same things, some of the same vulnerabilities. Who he is, what this life makes him be, who he wants to be, and regardless of all that, who he is becoming. With them both there is a constant struggle between the light and the dark parts of being, surviving. But for Carl, attempting to find the proper balance, as he is swiftly becoming a man, is difficult.


Carl is no longer that angst filled boy who met me at the fence, shaking his father out of his stupor to save me, and take out a few walkers on my behalf. No, this man beside me, sporting a few hairs on his chin and a smudge of them over his lip, is Carl, my son. But now his voice has deepened, and that angst has transformed him into a protector, a warrior, and like the rest of us, a killer.


This realization is not something that crosses my mind lightly at all, and it has kept Rick and I up many a night talking and wondering what it all means for Carl's future. He was so young when everything fell apart, that he has very few memories of life before, and his appreciation for old world morality is nearly non-existent. On one hand it saddens us that the innocence of that kind of life is lost on him, but on the other we are abundantly proud and overwhelmed by how magnificent his instincts are to adapt and to survive. Without Carl's quick thinking, and nerves of steel, the confrontation with Negan at the gate could have gone drastically different. And at times, his capacity for brutality has given us pause. But together, we decided that what's most important about it is that it only manifests itself when he's threatened, or to protect those he loves, those who can't protect themselves. Maturity is what helps him understand the difference, and it's attributes like that, that separate the Carls from the Negans. It's also for these reasons, and many others, that we often forget he is only 17, and that there is still a lot of emotional and physical development to come.


Breaking me away from my thoughts, Carl interrupts the silence, "Mom, can I ask you something?"


"Anytime. What's up?" I ask, curious at the seriousness that has overtaken his laughter and mirth from before.


"How did you know when you and my dad were ready to have sex with each other? When did you know you loved each other?" Always so direct and to the point, Carl's candidly asked questions cause me to completely freeze. I guess it's to be expected given his age, but I'm also unsure about how to proceed. Should I tell him to talk to Rick? Should I tell him to read a book about it? Send him over to the infirmary at The Kingdom to talk to a doctor? I've never been a teenaged boy, and frankly I'm a little afraid to hear the rest of this conversation.


Unsure as I am of how to proceed, I do what I hate to do and answer his question with a question. "Why?"


"Um, I just…I think I love her, and I get this feeling when I kiss her that I need something more, but I don't know what more is. She makes me excited, and I just, I want to be with her all the time. I know what sex is, I think. I mean, not the specifics I guess." Uncharacteristic uncertainty is coloring his words as he rambles on. Nervousness is oozing off of him as he continues to drive, looking straight ahead, both hands on the wheel. "I asked Glenn once before about sex, when I caught him and Maggie-"


"Wait, what? You caught Glenn and Maggie doing what? When was this?"


"At the prison I caught them in the guard tower, together. Glenn said they were just kissing or whatever, but he answered a few questions for me. About girls and kissing and stuff. I told him I wanted to kiss Beth," he pauses on a chuckle, giving me a tentative glance from under his ever present sheriff's hat. "He laughed at me though, told me I was too young for that, and that when I'm old enough and have met the right girl, I'll understand."


Glenn. Though he is gone, he is always still with us, the specter of his goodness ever present. Having left such a huge impact on all of us, in so many ways, we find ourselves speaking about him, something he did, something he said, almost daily. That is one way we honor our fallen family members, Glenn, Sasha, Abraham, the never ending list, by never shying away from memories of them, speaking of them often.


"I think I understand now, Mom. Dad and I had a talk about…" he pauses and clears his throat, "how guys have a penis, and girls have vaginas, but I don't really understand sex. And he has told me numerous times how much he loves you, respects you. How he knew he liked you at the prison, but he was still sad about my bio mom dying. How he fell in love with you on the road, but he's sometimes an idiot and it took him too long to tell you. But I don't know what any of that means for me, like for how I feel about Enid. And I love my dad, but I don't want to be an idiot."


"Ok. Wow." I'm at a loss for words. Is any mother ever ready for this? Andre was so little when I lost him that this conversation, though inevitable, never crossed my mind. But here I am, my son being so honest and open with me, and eagerly awaiting my answer. And of course these little Rick Grimes revelations are interesting as well, but I will save those for later.


Pulling up into the gates of Alexandria, Carl turns off the car and turns to me, obviously invested in and hungry for my feedback.


"Well, Carl," I haltingly begin, "I love your father, too. And I guess I knew that I wanted to be intimate with him, that I loved him in that way, when we got to Alexandria, and I had a moment to catch my breath. To really sit back and think about what I like about him, why I like those things, and if I thought he would be worth taking a chance, making a conscious choice that he is who I choose. Ultimately that answer was yes, I chose him, I just didn't want to be without him. We had other options, but we chose each other in the end. But you know, grown ups, we had so much other baggage, Carl. It's hard to use me and your dad as any kind of example."


"No, Mom, you guys are the example. I want that. Like that goofy smile my dad always has when he looks at you? Everyone sees it. You guys just make sense. How you care for Dad, how you look back at him, how you see him. That." His voice is now slightly elevated in his excitement. Looking down at his hands for a moment, he continues in a softer voice, "She likes me, Mom. Just like I am, and I don't have to apologize or explain myself to her. She gets me, cause she's like me. She's been out there, she's a survivor, a fighter, she's one of us. I think…when she looks at me, I just feel like she sees who I am and she's ok with that. She likes me, she chose me."


There is that vulnerability he shares with his father. All of the things he just said about Enid are probably true, but part of it, the part that my sweet son is missing is that, there just aren't many other girls his age to even have this experience with, to choose from. I guess I think of that in this moment to connect in my brain that, it's good that Carl and Enid have found each other in all of this, but it's also kind of sad that they only have each other in all of this. That circumstance is shaping their preferences, instead of them being able to truly choose what their souls need. I hope that eventually this world will allow that for each of them, will give them the freedom to find their soulmates. But maybe they already have.


"Carl, if you feel that strongly about Enid, if you also choose her to share something so serious as a sexual experience with her, then you need to talk to her about it. Don't be an idiot and not have the courage to say something before some other guy does." Suddenly feeling the dull sting of an uncomfortable jab to my bladder, I place my hands on my stomach, hoping to settle my boys down. My movements draw Carl's attention to my stomach, and I am reminded of another important point to make. "Whatever you decide, and whomever you decide it with, be safe. The world has changed a lot, but one thing remains certain. Sex usually leads to babies. So unless you are ready for this," I say, nodding down towards my substantial stomach, "Be safe."


"I'm not ready for that, at all." He's says, adamant in his admission. "I'm going to talk to Enid, soon." He decides. "Thanks for the advice. For not talking to me like I'm a kid."


"I know you're not a kid anymore, Carl. That's why I don't want you to make a grown up decision, like a kid would. You're a wonderful young man, and Enid, or any woman would be grateful to have you." I offer in all seriousness, leaning over to embrace my son.


Hugging me back tightly, Carl responds, "Here comes Dad and Judith."


My car door opens, and Rick reaches his hand inside to help me out of the car.


"Welcome back, beautiful." Rick says, assisting me as I try to balance myself and move away from the car.


"Mommy, you brought Carl!" Judith exclaims, running full speed to her brother, jumping into his waiting arms.


"Hey, Judes! I was only gone for two days."


Lip poked out, Judith pouts, "It was a long time."


Laughing, happy to be together, our family begins the short walk to our house.


Head bent forward, crossed legged on the living room floor, between Rick's legs, I'm enjoying the firm massage he's gifting to my shoulders, kneading my muscles. Moaning in satisfaction and contentment, my eyes lazily droop towards sleep.


Breaking through my impending doze, Rick asks, "So, did you have your talk with C-A-R-L about E-N-I-D?"


I laugh at him spelling it out even though Judith and Carl have long gone to bed. It's just us now, Rick enjoying a beer from the most recent batch that he and Daryl have been brewing.


"Yes, I did. It was a good talk. Apparently he and Enid are pretty serious, thinking about having sex."


Immediately stopping his ministrations, Rick is apparently stunned. "Huh. And what did you tell him?"


"Just that he should talk to Enid about that. You know, Rick, it's a little sad that neither of them have had too much opportunity to know other kids their age. They really don't have a lot of options. I don't know that it's a bad thing, it's just so different from before."


"I knew this was coming. I was about his age when I lost my virginity. It was bound to happen. You gave him good advice, Mama. They will find their way together, maybe not forever, but for now." He pauses, then continues. "Thank you for talking to him about it. I don't always know how to do that, how to connect with him on certain things."


Letting his statement settle between us, giving it some thought I respond, "You're welcome. We're a team, it's what we do, right?"


"Indeed," he responds. Placing a few soft kisses to the back of my neck his voice grows lighter. "Did I tell you how much I like your hair up like this? It makes it easier for me to get to your neck. I will have to thank Bertie."


Smiling from the compliment and his adoring affection, I respond. "It was nice to spend some time with her and Maggie, and Hershel. It was just another thing that felt so normal again, old world normal. I like Bertie, she reminds me of friends I had before, it was nice, familiar."


"Is that why you and Corey get along so well? The same familiarity?" he questions, the mood becoming more serious.


"Maybe, that could be part of it." I admit, growing somewhat uncomfortable with the direction this is taking, but realizing it's probably time for us to have this discussion. "Maybe it's why you liked Jessie as well?"


Discomfort is clouding the room now. I turn my body towards Rick, but back away some, putting distance between us. Tucking my legs beneath me, steeling myself, my emotions, from whatever his response may be. But he doesn't respond immediately. He leans back on the couch, now nervously running his palms across his jean clad thighs.


Clarifying my question, hoping to prod him to answer, I proceed through his silence, "I understand, Rick. Whatever you say here isn't wrong, I understand."


"When we got here, to Alexandria, the way things were, was…confusing for me. It was like stepping back in time, or waking from a dream." He says, echoing a sentiment I also had when I met Corey. Halting to let that sink in, he nervously continues. "We were at Deanna's party, and it was like before. She was like before. It was almost like I had a chance to forget everything that happened since I woke from that coma." His words sting a little, recognizing that I would be one of the things that would have been forgotten. Not recognizing the agonizing effect his words had on me, he continues. "Then it just kind of got out of control. And she needed me. To protect her, her kids. I guess that spoke to me, who I was, a cop, a protector." Leaning towards me, elbows on his thighs, "But of course there you were, my Michonne, to really wake me up. To show me what was real. Honestly, I didn't think that you really knew about all of that mess. How fractured my mind was then." Hanging his head, as if ashamed, he's slowly running his hands back through his hair.


Controlling my emotions with deep meditative breaths, in and out, I can't say anything just yet. Confirming most of what I already knew, and some of which I didn't, my first inclination is to withdraw from this conversation, to just head up for bed. But, as I continue to center myself to think this through, my desire to be fully honest with Rick supersedes my need to protect my feelings from his admission.


"Yes, I knew about Jessie, and it hurt me, Rick. It's hard for me to admit that. Very hard." I have to stop, take a moment to focus. The dull ache in my chest is pushing me to retreat, but my head, logic, is pushing me forward. Even carrying the reminder of Rick heavy in my swollen stomach, my instinct is to pull away from him right now. "Since the prison I thought we had a connection, an understanding. When we got here, and you started chasing after that woman, I felt ashamed and foolish, stupid that I had read it all wrong. It was obvious that you hadn't chosen me. I was so optimistic that once we had a time and a place to settle, to get our bearings, that you would."


"Chonne-" He pleads, my name falling off his lips in desperation to stop my confession. But I stop him.


Shaking my head I tell him, certainty in my voice, "No, Rick. Let me finish. I guess the reason I pushed Carl to talk to Enid is because you didn't talk to me. I was trying to adjust when we got here too, Rick. I wanted this, I wanted a real chance, a life, but I wanted it with you. But, you not talking to me, withdrawing from me, let me know that everything I thought I knew about you, the connection I thought we had, it was all about proximity, circumstance." Feeling myself getting amped up, my emotions are running high now. Everything is spilling out, every admission of vulnerability, and bitterness is showing its ugly head, and I can't stop it. "I've never been a woman that couldn't have any man she wanted, and I wanted you. When I couldn't have you, I wasn't going to wallow in that, I just moved on."


"Wait! Just stop for a minute, please." Rick commands, raising his voice in frustration. Licking his tongue across his lips, brows furrowed, he seems to be trying to put together what I'm telling him. "What are you saying? That's not what happened, I never meant to hurt you. I would never do that, you know that!"


I'm ignoring his adamant profession now. I know he wouldn't hurt me on purpose, but he did. "Scott and I were close for awhile. Being totally honest, he and I probably gravitated to each other for the same reason you went after Jessie. Like Corey, Scott is…familiar. He was familiar, the kind of man I would have gone for. He reminded me of Mike, they both do. But there was no real emotion there. If it didn't work out, I would be fine. He couldn't hurt me like you did, I wouldn't let him. But it felt good to be desired again."


"I can't believe what I'm hearing. Michonne, this is… Gotdamn it!" His voice is angry now, defensive. He is leaning back on the couch again, arms crossed over his chest. Clenching his jaw, his eyes closed, I can almost see the steam coming off him. Launching from the couch into a pace that sends him back and forth in front of me, struggling with my confession. "You were going to leave me. To move out? Leave us, me, Carl, Judith?" He asks, finally putting it all together, his realization draped in anguish.


"Scott and I talked about it. I thought about it. But, as you know, Rick, obviously Scott and I did not work out, and I didn't move. We tried, we liked each other, but you barged back into my heart and took over. I don't say that to make you jealous, it's just true. He wasn't you and that's probably why it never would have worked for us. My heart was set on you, it still is. But, I realized today, talking to Bertie and Maggie, that I often feel reluctant to talk about you to others, to as you put it 'claim' this thing between us, because I don't want to wake from this dream again, Rick. To wake up and you're not there. But I'm also afraid to get too used to being in this dream with you again. God I hate this!" I yell, but in a soft tone, as I don't want to wake the kids. I don't want them to see me like this, so on edge, my emotions so raw and open.


"Go on." Rick prods, nodding his head down towards me, his right eyebrow raised. I guess he can tell that I'm not entirely done, that there is more to this cathartic rant I'm on.


"Sometimes I feel like if I'm too happy, too outwardly happy, fate will steal it all away again. Mike and I were so happy, we had Andre, we were a family. Then it was cruelly snatched, just taken from me. Andrea was my friend, taken from me. You were my friend, you and Carl and Judith were my family. Everyone could see it. And you left me alone to figure this out by myself. I don't know if I can survive that again. I told you before, I can't lose you. So, maybe it doesn't make sense, and I'm sorry if it hurts you, my hesitance, but I have to take care of me, Rick. At the end I might be all I have." Completely spent, I have nothing left but tears that drop from my eyes in fat bulbs, leaving a trail down my face. I'm furiously rubbing at my cheeks, trying my best to hide them from him, hoping that the low lighting in the room will offer me some cover.


"Please, baby, stop. Just stop, come here." Taking a seat on the couch in front of me again, he beckons me to come closer to him, reaching his arms out to me. But I won't budge. I can't. Silence engulfs the room, and I don't move. Dropping his arms to his lap, he gives up. "I have loved you for so long. I would be so excited when you would return to the prison, and so devastated when you would leave. Those feelings were constantly at war with my grief over Lori dying, and the demise of our marriage. Then on the road we just needed to survive. When we got here it was just crazy. I don't know how else to put it. I was crazy. Now to hear this. That you were comforted by another man, that I almost lost you..." Hands over his heart, his blue eyes have transformed to a stormy grey, clouded with the depth of his emotion. "It should have been me comforting you, helping you adjust. I'm sorry it wasn't. But, for the rest of my life it will be. At the end you have me. I promise. Let's be in this dream together, baby, please. I'm in way too deep to wake up, I don't want to wake up either. I won't. Say you won't."


"Rick."


"Say you won't, Chonne. Whatever happened between you and Scott, I don't want to know too much, I don't care. If he made you happy, I should thank him, but I can't. I want to be, I have to be the man who makes you happy. I want every one of your smiles for myself. I'm greedy, and I don't apologize for that." Smiling sadly, eyes intensely focused on me, making me feel as though he can see the pain he caused swirling around my heart, breaking it into pieces.


"I promise to you, Chonne, nothing more than an uncomfortable peck on the lips happened with Jessie. She did not make me happy. I never left you, I'm here, I choose you, and I hope you continue to choose me. Say you won't leave me in this dream without you." His eyes are as glassy as mine are now, breathing deep I can sense the regret coming off him in waves. I know hearing about Scott would hurt him, but I think a part of me wanted it to, for him to hurt like I hurt when I found out about Jessie.


The room is once again silent, and my inability to answer him, to give him what he's asked for weighs heavy on us both. Depleted, my head feels heavy, my heart is overcome. Attempting to rise from the floor, Rick rushes from the couch over to me, to help me up.


"Chonne, what are you doing? Let me help you." He says, exasperation in his voice. Grabbing on to my hand and elbow, he hoists me from the floor. Now standing in front of each other, I don't know what to say, or do. I can't walk away from him, weariness keeps me planted where I stand.


"I'm tired, Rick."


Slowly lowering his forehead to mine, his handsome face is red, flushed, eyelashes spiky with his tears, and his hair is disheveled from constantly running his hands through it. He takes my left hand and kisses the knuckle of my ring finger. Turning my hand over to also kiss my palm, he then places it over his heart. Closing his eyes as if gathering his thoughts, he proceeds. "In my heart, my soul, you are already my wife, my soul mate, my absolute everything. I am imperfect, and I've told you before I have so much to make up for with you, to deserve you. And I won't give up. But there will never be another man for you, ever. My soul belongs to you. There is no woman who could ever take my Michonne's place in my heart, it's impossible. Let's stay in this dream together, baby. Forever." He whispers, hope and love warming his breath that covers my lips. Tears once again are falling from his face, landing on my cheeks to mingle with my own.


His earnestness and honesty touches me somewhere deep. In the place that knows that Rick would never hurt me on purpose. That he is my soul mate, the love of my life, and that we have to move on, together. "I will. Forever." I promise. And I mean it. It comes from the part of my heart that only Rick Grimes has ever touched, that belongs to him.


Dropping my hand, he raises both of his and grasps me behind my neck, wiping away the wetness from my face with his thumbs. Fervently he searches my face to confirm the certainty in my promise. Seeing the truth of my feelings for him, the vulnerability in its depth, he kisses me everywhere, my neck, my cheeks, my nose, finally settling on my lips. There is so much strength and love in his kiss, in the plush firmness of his blush colored lips, that my body and resolve soften to him. I wrap my arms around him, returning his embrace, using my body to confirm my pledge to him.


"Thank you." He gasps, relief evident, my assent relinquishing the stifling hold that my confession held around his heart. Our promise of forever strengthening our ever growing bond. Whispering into my hair, inhaling me, Rick continues, "Let me just hold you for a moment. Give me a moment." He asks, emotion straining his words.


"I'll give you forever." I promise again, and I mean it.












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