Lockdown

Beth Greene was going to freeze if she didn’t get up and find something else to cover up with. She searched her cell but there wasn’t anything but a worn sweater hanging of the back of the chair. She didn’t know exactly what the temperature was but she estimated it had to be in the thirties.

She wasn’t going to get any sleep off she couldn’t get warm do she shrugged on her shoes and sweater and went to the storage room. They’d brought in some comforters and she prayed that there was at least one left.

A big yawn pulled at her lips when she shuffled toward storage. The door was already open. Someone had probably come in search of a blanket just as she had. She pulled the door open and stepped inside.

“Don’t let the door shut!”

Beth frowned at Rick just as the door snapped shut behind her.

“Rick? What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t bring the key, Beth. I just came looking for an extra blanket.”

“It locks from the outside? Oh...” she said, embarrassed. “We’re in a prison. Of course the door locks from the outside. How do we get out?”

“Daryl is gonna bring in last night’s haul in the morning. I’ll still put a red cloth under the door to indicate someone’s locks in.”

Beth still found herself testing the locked door. It wouldn’t budge even half an inch. It was sealed tight.

“I’m sorry Rick. I didn’t mean to get it’s suck in here.”

“Don’t worry about it Beth. Accidents happen.”

The good news was there was a pile of fluffy comforters among the canned goods and bottled water and boxed foods.

“I have a confession,” Rick said, a rare smile pulling at his lips.

“Do tell,” Beth said, as she made a bed on some crates. Rick disappeared into the stacks and came back a few seconds later. Beth’s mouth fell open when she saw the box in his hands.

“Oatmeal cream pies!”

“Still pretty fresh. Wanna share?”

“Hell yeah,” she said, and pulled two from the box.

He grabbed a couple of bottles of water and she sat down to eat. Now that things were quiet Beth took an moment to watch Rick light some candles to save the batteries on the flashlight. He came to sit beside her.

“I keep thinking about it.”

He’d no doubt hoped she wouldn’t bring it up. There was no way she couldn’t ignore the subject.

“Beth, I already told you I’m not upset with you. I’m sorry you caught me...”

“Beating off.”

“I’m only human, Beth.”

“I know. I don’t want you to think I’m disappointed in you. I’m not. I just...I want to see it again.”

By the look on his face he hadn’t expected her to say that. He’d expected anything but that.

“What?”

“I want to see you do it again. I want to see you finish.”

“We couldn’t do that. It ain’t right.”

“But I can’t get you out of my mind.”

“I know you’re curious. You’re bound to be-”

“I’ve done it before.”

Rick felt his jaw clench. Beth was telling him she wasn’t a virgin and she wanted to see his dick. He was locked in the room with her and he was sure she was determined to get what she wanted from him. He was also sure he was going to give it to her.

...

“I think we should just get some sleep. Forget about this.”

Beth wasn’t going to push. Not verbally. She thought Rick was likely to respond to something visual rather than a verbal appeal. She patted the blanket next to her and he frowned.

“We have to sleep together,” she said. “It’s cold. Body heat is what we need.”

Rick eyed her suspiciously. He was a man. A man with sex on his mind, and he had a beautiful girl trying to weasel him into the little bed she’d made up, and he couldn’t think of a good excuse to refuse other than a fear of his own weaknesses as a man.

Rick got up and climbed over her before he settled under the blanket. Beth had bundled up a blanket to use as pillows and he settled down, hoping the niggling stirring in his loins would go away. Then again, he could satisfy it with Beth watching. The idea was erotic to him. Beating off with an audience.

He was just beginning to put such thoughts away when he realized Beth’s breathing was a little rushed, a little heavy. He looked over at her and saw that her left hand was under the blanket, making a kind of rhythmic movement. Suddenly she moaned.

“Oh…God…”

“Beth? What the fuck are you doing?”

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, and her other hand came up to play at her tits.

Fuck! She was masturbating! Right beside him.

That did it. Rick’s dick went stiff so fast it almost fucking hurt. His balls got tight almost at once. He threw the blanket off when he saw that a sheen of sweat had formed on Beth’s forehead. She’d turned  her face away and he saw her pulse thumping hard in her neck.

“Beth…”

Her hand was down her pajamas. She was fingering herself.

“Do it, Rick. Join me.”

There was really no point in denying her now. She was going to get herself off with him watching and his dick was already hard so…

“Fuck,” he whispered, and shoved his pajamas down, freeing his aching cock to the cool air of the room. He could hear the wet sound of Beth’s fingers moving inside her pussy. Her eyes were glued to his flushed, hard cock.

She shocked him by pulling her dripping wet fingers from her pussy and reaching for him. She took him in her hand and began to pump him.

“Finger me,” she gasped. “Please…”

Rick shoved his hand down her pajamas. She was dripping wet. His fingers slid in so easily that he couldn’t help but imagine how easily it would be to slip his cock into her. He pulled his hand free and removed her hand from his dick.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

Rick didn’t answer. Instead he shoved her over onto her side, yanked down her pajamas and drew her ass right up against him. He pulled her left leg up and over his hips and then pushed himself against her.

“Yes, do it,” she encouraged him, when she thought he was hesitating.

Rick positioned himself and then slammed into her, making her cry out. He withdrew slowly and then slammed into her again. He felt his balls tightening but he wasn’t going to come until he got her off first. She placed her hand over his and moved it from her thigh to her clit where he circled her clit under her guidance.

“Rick…Rick!” He watched her juices spray out over his cock, which was thrusting hard and fast into her wet folds. Every time she gushed she screamed his name. It was too much to hold back and Rick hurriedly pulled out to shoot his load between her sweat slicked thighs.

Family - Chapter Two

Seven Months Later

Judith Grimes had not initially taken to having her position as the baby of the family usurped by the arrival of her baby brother. She’d greeted Russell with curiosity, looking down at the cute little boy with the head full of curly black hair with a mixture of curiosity and unease. Michonne could read Judith and she was pretty sure the little girl was confused as to why Beth and Daryl didn’t take the baby with them when they left on the first day.

She immediately cried whenever Michonne, Rick, or Carl would hold him, and would attempt to pull the baby from their arms to be held in his stead. When she didn’t get her way she would become furious, cry, and stomp her feet. A few times she attempted to point Beth or Maggie toward the door when they held Russell, trying to get them to leave the house with him. It wasn’t until she was made to feel needed that Judith began to warm up to and accept that this baby was a member of the family and he was there to stay.

Now, at two years of age, Judith rarely let her baby brother out of her sight. She insisted she help feed, bathe, clothe, or change him. There were times when Michonne and Rick were convinced that Judith thought Russell was her baby, not theirs. It was a welcome change.

Carl also took to the task of being a big brother to both his siblings. He took them on walks in the double stroller, took them to the park, and read them bedtime stories. As much as Rick loved seeing Carl step up to the plate he also felt he’d started to neglect his eldest. It wasn’t easy working, being a lover to Michonne, and a father to two very young children.

“I need to spend more time with Carl,” Rick said, watching his eldest pass ball with two of his friends in the back yard while he added the fish to the oil so they could fry.

“I think that’s a good idea, Honey,” Michonne agreed.

Soon she looked up from the case she was working. Attempted rape. Banishment was the penalty and oddly enough she wasn’t convinced of the man’s guilt.

“What are you frowning at?”

“The Marla Benson case. The evidence doesn’t line up with the alleged victim’s story.”

“Oh yeah. I agree. Something weird there. I mean, she was raped, no doubt about it, but I’m not convinced the man she’s accusing is guilty,” he said.

“Me too. She had severe head trauma. She could be pointing the finger at the wrong man…”

Michonne looked up from her papers.

“Do you hear Judith?”

Rick listened. “No.”

Michonne sighed and got up. “She better not be swishing around in the toilet again.”

“I wonder what’s up with that?” Rick said aloud, and started seasoning the fish Carl had brought home fresh from Fisherman’s Pond.

Michonne returned a minute later with Judith screaming angrily in her arms. She was soaking wet and fought Michonne putting her in the time-out chair near the refrigerator.

“Mean!” Judith wailed.

“I’m not mean,” Michonne replied, a little amused by the scrunched up face her daughter was making at her. “You can’t play in the toilet, Judy. It’s dirty. Time out.”

“No!”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. You stop playing in the toilet you won’t get time outs.”

“No! Mommy!”

Michonne refused to pick her up and returned to the table, allowing Judy to cry and kick her feet in the high chair.

“Crying won’t get you out of punishment,” Rick told her.

“So, what did you have in mind?” Michonne asked.

“Whoopin’ that ass if she does it again.”

“I was talking about Carl. You’re not hitting Judith.”

“I wouldn’t actually spank her. Sometimes I want to, though. She damn near killed me two days ago. Snuck up on me while I was napping and hit me on the head with her rattler.”

Michonne puckered her lips, trying not to grin.

“You think that’s funny?” Rick asked. “I had a knot on my head for two days.”

“No, Baby, it’s not funny.”

She dissolved into laughter so Rick came over to her, his flour covered hands reaching for her.

“Don’t you dare! Rick!”

She tried to dodge away but he grabbed her and rubbed his hands down the side of her blouse.

“Oh, gross! You’ve been handling raw fish. You’ve got flour all over me!”

He started kissing her neck. Judith stilled in her crying to watch them, trying to decide if they were fighting or not.

Rick’s hand came to cup her right breast while his lips worked their way to her ear, making her feel warm in her belly.

“Not in front of Judy.”

“She’s two, she doesn’t know what we’re doing,” he said, feeling himself get a lot more excited than he should while he was cooking. He turned her to face him and pressed her against the counter, claiming her mouth with his and slipping his tongue inside. He moaned and Michonne had to literally push him back.

“Carl and his friends are outside. Judith is right there and you’re going to burn the food,” she told him.

“Let it burn,” he said, and moved in again.

“Rick, get control of yourself.”

He sighed, then groaned, and decided he’d better turn the fish before it did indeed burn. Michonne went back to the table.

“Now, about Carl?”

“Oh yeah. He’s coming up on sixteen. He should learn to drive.”

“Well, we’re all using real cars again,” she said. “The kids drive the old carts. We could give him my old cart. It’s just collecting dust in the garage.”

Rick nodded. “That sounds good. I’ll give him lessons on how to drive both a car and the cart. I know  he said he wanted to get his learning permit so I’ll talk to him about it tonight at dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan. He’s a responsible boy. He’ll be a good driver. What do you have planned for dessert?”

“Me,” he said, winking.

Michonne shook her head and laughed.

…

While Rick spent the week teaching Carl the ins and outs of driving Michonne spent the time getting the final preparations for the wedding complete. The catering was settled, the flowers ordered, the old hotel ball room in town had been renovated and she’d scheduled it for the reception. The guest list wasn’t extensive. She didn’t want a lot of people she didn’t know attending her wedding. She and Rick had made new friends during their time in the Sanctuaries and they, along with the people from what she still called the Family, were going to attend. There would be roughly thirty-five people in all.

Carol and Tyreese were due to arrive from Sanctuary Two the next evening, Friday night, and would be staying with Daryl and Beth. Bob and Sasha were going to stay with Glenn and Maggie. Abraham and Rosita were coming in from Sanctuary One to stay with Rick and Michonne. Eugene and Tara were going to travel from Sanctuary Two with Carol and Tyreese but they would stay at the hotel in town since no one else had room in their houses.

Now Rick stood rocking his son to sleep. He could see so much of himself in Russell that it amazed him. Carl and Judith both looked so much like Lori but Russell was his spitting image. He moved the long mop of curly black hair from his son’s forehead. He had the most beautiful dark bronze skin, really the only sign Rick could see of Michonne in him. The boy looked damn near like a clone of Rick and he got a secret kick out of seeing himself in his little boy’s face.

“The others will be here tomorrow,” Michonne said excitedly. “Then, on Sunday we will become Mr. and Mrs. Patrick Grimes.”

“I can’t wait,” he said, genuinely enthusiastic. He’d crawled into bed behind her, and turned out the light, casting the room into darkness while he waited for Michonne to turn on the fan to circulate the air in the stuffy room. She put the fan in the window and it drew the cooler night air in.

“Come here,” he said, pulling her bottom against his front and playing his fingers over her belly. At first she thought he wanted to fool around but he was clearly tired, as was she. It had been a long day for both of them and it felt good to lie down and feel the cool air circulate around the room.

“Rick?” she said.

“We can fool around if you want. I got enough left in me for a romp,” he said.

“No, that’s not what I was going to ask,” she said.

“Oh, okay. Shoot.”

“You’re not having second thoughts are you?”

This made him open his eyes. He looked down at her with a frown. “Of course not, Baby. Why would you think that?”

“You just don’t seem really into this. The planning.”

“I thought you wanted to handle it. I thought that best seeing as I’m likely to fuck everything up.”

“You’re an excellent strategist,” she said, turning on to her back so she could clearly see him. “I thought maybe…”

“What? You can tell me anything.”

“Maybe you were worried about giving marriage another try.”

He gazed down at her and didn’t fight the smile that came to his lips. “If I’ve seemed distant I’m sorry. I’m not scared to be married again, especially to you. Lori and I had a rocky marriage but I don’t think marriage is bad. I can’t wait to introduce you as Mrs. Grimes. I can’t wait to say ‘my wife’ when I refer to you, or have people call you such. I love you.”

She seemed more at ease by that. “What would you say if I told you we may be expecting another baby?”

His mouth dropped open. “What?”

She kind of grimaced. “I’m not a hundred percent sure. I’ve just been getting symptoms and…It’s so soon after Russell--”

He pressed his lips to hers, silencing her nervous chatter. “I want to have ten babies with you.”

“Whoa there, devil,” she said, laughing.

“We can find a bigger house or add on to this one. We could even convert the downstairs den to a bedroom for Carl and use the other one for--what?”

She’d started laughing. “Nothing. I just love you too damn much.”

“Impossible.”

He stroked her belly and felt her quiver under his touch. “So, you sure about that fooling around?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a romp left in me,” she said, and pushed him onto his back to climb atop him.

The Good Life - Chapter Ten

A/N: Hi guys. I don't know when I'm going to be able to update this fic again, or any of my others. I'm caring for my father. He had a stroke and when I get time to myself I just don't have the energy to write. I'm going to update asap. I'm sorry to leave you hanging but real life trumps fandom. 

...

“She escaped from a group of about thirty people,” Maggie explained. “They’re mostly men. Cutthroats. She says they’re close and if they find this place her people will attack. She’s trying to get herself and her niece and nephew away from them.”

Rick nodded his understanding. “Okay. Get the kids cleaned up put them in some fresh clothes. They’ve got bunk beds in their room so they’ll be able to stay together. She’s too weak to come down to dinner so we’ll make them trays. Tara, you mind bringing them up?”

“Not at all.”

“What are you gonna do?” Michonne asked. She could tell Rick was ready to take some kind of action. She was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be good for the man they were holding in the den.

He looked somber when he looked into her eyes. “I’m gonna do what needs to be done. Daryl, you’re with me. The rest of you finish getting dinner ready.”

“Should we post lookouts on the guard towers?” asked Glenn.

“Yeah. One man on Tower 1.”

“I volunteer,” said Maggie.

“You’re pregnant,” Glenn said, looking worried.

“Pregnant doesn’t mean useless.”

“I just don’t want you out in that cold. It’s windy and snowy. I’ll go. You stay warm.”

“You’re not gonna start treating me like I’m made of glass are you?” she asked in annoyance.

“Yes,” he said honestly, drawing chuckles from the others.

“Dad!” Carl’s voice was distant but urgent.

“Shit!” Rick cursed, and started for the stairs. “Maggie, stay with the guests.”

Daryl and the others rushed after Rick. They hurried downstairs and hear what had Carl alarmed. There was a slamming sound coming from the den. Carl handed his father the gun and Rick went to the door, shoving it open to see Joe was slamming the couch against the wall in an effort to break free from his cuffs. He stopped upon seeing Rick.

“Daryl,” Rick said. He turned to the others. “I’ve got this.”

He shut the door and they looked worried as he did. Once the door was closed, Michonne motioned to the kitchen. “Let’s keep on. Rick will handle this.”

She followed close behind, casting one last glance at the door to the den before she left, her hand on Carl’s shoulder.

…

“Can’t blame a man for trying,” Joe said, once Daryl and Rick were in the room with him.

“I have a few questions.”

“Such as?”

“How many people in your group?”

Joe shrugged. “Ten.”

“Liar,” Daryl said, and Rick felt a shiver, remembering the Governor speak those same words just before he took Hershel’s head off.

“We hear it’s more like thirty,” said Rick, standing over him. “I hear you’ve got thirty aggressive men who’ll want to try to take what we have here.”

“Look, man, whatever that bitch told you is a lie, okay? We’re not aggressive, bad people. All I want to do is take my family and go home. That’s not too much to ask for.”

“I think you know I can’t allow that. Not only do they not want to go with  you, I can’t have you walking out of here to lead an army back to my door,” Rick told him.

He took a breath and pulled a knife.

“I saw the tree. I smelled the dinner. I saw the presents and the stockings in the living room. It’s Christmas day,” Joe said, a pleading tone in his voice. “You wouldn’t kill a man on Christmas day, would you?”

“It’s just another day,” Daryl said in a cold voice.

Rick tilted his head and shrugged. “This is Jesus’ birthday, not yours.”

Before he could make another plea for his life rick drove his knife down into the top of Joe’s skull, ending him as four inches of cold, hard steel pierced his brain. Rick pulled the knife and wiped the blade on Joe’s pant leg.

Daryl was watching him. Thankfully there was no condemnation in his eyes.

“What?”

“This just made me wonder what would have happened had we killed Randall.”

“Shane and Lori would still be alive. So would all our people. Those shots wouldn’t have been fired. That herd wouldn’t have been drawn down on us,” said Rick. “Life would be very different right now.”

“You don’t know that,” Daryl countered. “Shane would have tried to kill you another day. Maybe even succeeded. I have a feeling that herd would have eventually found the farm and maybe we’d have all died there and we wouldn’t be here now.”

“You think maybe this was a bad call?”

Daryl immediately shook his head. “No. He absolutely had to die. I woulda done it myself if you hadn’t. I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ happen to Sasha. I won’t go through that again.”

Rick nodded his understanding. “You’re with me, then.”

“All the way, brother,” he said, shaking Rick’s hand in a sign of solidarity and trust. “Now let’s go eat. I’ll help you get rid of him later tonight after everybody else goes to sleep.”

…

The kids were curious about the house and the dinner that was being served so, with Tara and Maggie’s help, Kyla was able to walk downstairs to the dining room. The kids had been dressed in the same kind of ugly Christmas sweaters that Tara had browbeat everyone but Daryl into wearing. The poor things were so skinny the sweaters looked ten sizes too big. They eyed the food with wide eyes that belied the fact that they couldn’t believe it was all real.

“Hard to believe it’s real, huh?” Daryl said to Jack, who was sitting next to him. The boy nodded but looked too afraid to speak.

Even time in the wild hadn’t robbed the kids of table manners. Jack was practically salivating as food was loaded onto his plate by Daryl of all people. He was eyeballing the drumstick.

“Normally I eat that,” Daryl said. “How about you take it this time?”

“You sure, Mister?”

“Daryl,” he said, giving the boy his name.

“You sure, Mr. Daryl?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Just Daryl, not Mr. Daryl.”

He cut the drumstick and put it on the boy’s plate. As soon as they were allowed to dig in he picked up the leg and began chewing into it with relish. Rick watched Daryl eye the boy with a kind of tenderness he’d never imagined Daryl would be comfortable displaying. Something about the kid obviously drew Daryl.

“Ow!” Jack suddenly said, and rubbed at his back with a pained expression.

“What’s wrong?” asked his sister, Li. Carl had his eyes glued to the pretty girl, his fork missing his plate most of the time.

“My back.”

“What’s wrong with your back?”

“It’s pretty bad,” Maggie caged. “I don’t know if it needs…stitches…”

Daryl was the first to move. He gingerly lifted Jack’s shirt and his eyes went hard, looking like cold shards of ice as he gazed at the many scars there. There were three fresh wounds that Maggie had bandaged but one had started bleeding.

“Yeah, this one needs stitched up. It’s bleedin’.”

“I don’t want no stitches.”

“We got pain killers,” Daryl said. “You won’t feel a thing. We gotta take care of it now. Don’t want infection settin’ in,” he said to Kyla, who nodded. She looked ashamed but everyone knew if she could have prevented it she would have.

Jack rubbed at his eyes, trying to hold back tears, and he was successful. None fell but he looked at his plate with longing.

“You finish eating first, if you want,” Daryl relented.

“Thanks Mr…I mean, Daryl.”

He dug in, eating as quickly as he could until Daryl told him to slow down. They’d worry about stitches later.

“How about you?” Sasha asked Li.

“Mine are all healed,” she said quietly. “Aunt Kyla’s, too.”

Even as hungry as they were their stomachs had shrank so that they couldn’t eat as much as they’d probably have liked. Their eyes still lit up when Abraham brought out pumpkin and sweet potato pies, as well as an assortment of festive cookies. They ate what they could and then Daryl said he’d be up with a kit later to work on Jack’s back. He was, he said, good with stitches.

Kyla asked to speak with Rick in the hall as the kids were led up to bed with Maggie.

“Would you be willing to part with some supplies when Joe takes us back?” she asked.

“Do you want to go back?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “I don’t know you. Seems like you’re good people but then again, Tom seemed like such too, at first.”

“Tom your husband, boyfriend?”

“Keeper,” she said. She visibly trembled at the man’s name. “I belong to him. He’s not just going to let me leave. He’ll come straight here as soon as Joe tells him about this place.”

“That won’t happen,” he said. “Joe was a threat. He’s not now.”

She understood immediately and she paled. “Are the kids and I a threat too?”

“Are you?”

“I’d rather run in the snow and die of cold than go back to Tom.”

“You don’t have to run. You and the children are welcome to stay. All you have to do is pull you weight.”

Kyla hugged her arms and stared at him. “Look, I can pull my weight. You can use me and pass me around and I’ll pull Li and Jack’s weight too. Just don’t hurt them.”

Rick realized what she was saying and he felt disgust in his belly that someone had done that to her and the children. “We don’t use people like that. You don’t trust easily and I don’t blame you. I don’t either. You choose to stay you’ll come to see we’re honorable people. We’ll kill to protect our own but we don’t rape and we don’t murder. We don’t abuse. You, Li, and Jack won’t be used that way. All we ask is that you earn your keep by helping out.”

He could see she wanted to believe him but she had lingering doubts. He could also sense she wasn’t going to leave because she feared he’d execute her.

“My gut tells me you wouldn’t tell your people about us. If you want to leave I’ll give you supplies, weapons, but you’re better off making a home here with us. Think about it tonight.”

She nodded.

“I’ll have to confine you to your room at night. You’ll have an escort in the day until we get to know you, should you decide to stay. One thing I can promise you, Kyla. You’re safe here.”

“Thanks for all you’ve done. I’m grateful.”

“You’re welcome.”

…

The disposal of a body was never an easy job. Rick decided to leave it wrapped near the shed. When the threat of passersby from Joe’s group lessened he’d burn the body and hope that they didn’t see the smoke, or smell the burning flesh.

“How is Jack?”

“I got him stitched up. He took it like a man. He’s big for his age. He’s only ten. I thought he was twelve,” Daryl looked at his feet. “I showed him my scars before I stitched him up. He seemed okay with me doing it once he saw how much alike we are.”

“You ain’t careful you’re gonna get attached to that kid. No guarantee his aunt will want to stay,” Rick warned. “And he could wind up attached to you, too.”

Daryl shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I think she’ll stay. As far as attachments...” he shrugged again. Rick understood. Daryl wasn’t put off at the idea of the boy being attached. In fact, Rick suspected that Daryl was drawn to the boy who reminded him so strongly of himself.

He and Daryl were heading inside when their radios crackled. “There’s flashlights near the road,” Glenn reported.

Daryl and Rick shared a glance.

“They following our tracks in the snow?”

“I don’t think they see them. I hear them calling for Joe and Kyla. They’re moving on.”

“We’ll need to man the other two towers,” Daryl said. “I’ll take tower two.”

“I’ll take tower three.”

“You should take the gate,” Daryl said. “Tower three is way off, probably away from the threat. Put someone else there. If the shit hits the fan you’ll be needed on the first line of defense.”

Rick nodded. He was going to call out Abraham and then work up a rotating shift on the towers. Four hour watches each person. Carl insisted on being to man tower three at least, so Rick let him take that tower while he took watch on the gate. He didn’t want to be inside, in bed asleep with his son out on a tower. He wasn’t that grown yet.

He was surprised to see Michonne approaching with a thermos full of coffee. He kissed her forehead, nearly knocking off her hood.

“Baby, you should be in bed.”

“It’s colder in bed without you than it is out here.”

That warmed his heart and he moved to kiss her lips. They sat on a bench he’d swept snow off of. They shared a few moments of companionable silence before Rick broke it.

“I really didn’t want this to start up again. I wanted us to be able to hide away here, safe and happy, for the rest of our lives.”

“Me too,” she said, her mittened hand rubbing his back. “We’ll still be happy. We’ll just have three more people to share it with.”

“Thirty men. They’ll add to their numbers as time goes by,” Rick worried. “I killed Joe.”

“I figured.”

“We once took shelter on a farm. We had a prisoner named Randall.”

“I know. Andrea told me all about that,” Michonne said. “You did tonight what you think you should have done then.”

Rick nodded. “Yeah. I’m just afraid it won’t be enough this time.”

Michonne urged Rick to look at her. “Whatever happens we’ll face it together. We’re strong, Rick. We’ll get through this. We’ll persevere.”

With Michonne by his side Rick sat there in the cold, feeling oddly warm, feeling a sense of calm overtake him. She was right. No matter what happened they’d face it, together. They’d persevere. 

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