The weather had turned hot again and the ragged group of survivors trudged along another nameless road, putting one foot in front of the other only to keep up their forward momentum.

"How much we got left?" Sasha asked, her voice dry and tired.

"Seventy miles," Maggie replied absently.

"That's not what I meant," Sasha said.

Maggie turned her head to look at her, but didn't have an answer, so they did the only thing they could do. They kept walking. The destination was Washington DC, but no one was entirely convinced they would make it.

At this point it felt like they'd always been on the road. Supplies were stretching thin and, after weeks of running and fighting and walking and fighting again, the hard journey was taking its toll.

Michonne hung towards the back of the main group, keeping an eye out to make sure nobody fell too far behind. Rick stayed closer to the front, his eyes always on the horizon, waiting for the next danger. Carl did his best to pitch in and care for his sister, but the little girl grew heavy fast and Carl was on the edge of exhaustion himself.

Tyreese carried Judith now, letting her head rest on his shoulder. Judith slept fitfully, her cheeks flushed in the heat of the day.

Poor thing, Michonne thought, not for the first time, watching them. Ty was careful to stay closer to the middle of the group, letting the other fighters shield him and Judith from any stray walkers.

They were essentially out of food and Judith had spent the past two days crying more often than not. No one had slept for more than an hour or two at a time. Michonne could see Rick's heart break a little further every time Judith cried, every time he couldn't sooth her pain.

Finally the little girl cried herself to sleep and the group marched on, slow but steady in the hot sun.

Walkers lurched into view, groaning and reaching for their would-be victims.

A well-placed bolt from Daryl's crossbow and a series of vicious slashes from Rick's machete quickly dispatched the threat.

Everyone stood quietly, hands on their weapons, for a few long seconds until quiet descended again. Michonne lowered her hand from the hilt of her sword, her arm feeling heavy, and continued walking again.

The group didn't talk much, ostensibly for improved stealth, but the truth was that nobody had the energy to talk.

Michonne's head bowed under the bright glare of the sun. Her boots were scuffed and ragged. The sole of the left one flapped a little bit when she walked. Needs more duct tape.

Her empty stomach ached, her skin prickled with sweat and bug bites, and there was a sharp pain in her temple.

Focus! She blinked several times, walking carefully as she waited for the dizziness to fade.

Run, run, run the race, she chanted in time to her steps, Keep, keep, keep the pace.

Somehow, the rhyme had stayed with her all these years, stuck in the back of her head, a hazy memory from some childhood summer camp.

Run. Left foot. The. Right foot. Race. Left foot.

Michonne forced herself to raise her head, squinting to focus on the figures ahead of her. Rick's determined march. Carl's faltering attempt to keep up with his father. Daryl's slow trudge. Maggie's dazed amble forward.

Keep. Right foot. The. Left foot. Pace. Right foot.

Her foot caught on a patch of uneven pavement and she stumbled, catching herself on her hands and knees. Carol was the first one at her side.

"I'm okay," Michonne said as her friend helped her up.

"You sure?" Carol frowned, holding on to her arm.

Michonne rubbed her hand over her face, "I don't know...I'm kinda dizzy. Just give me a minute."

"What happened?" Rick walked quickly over to where his friends were stopped.

Michonne was bent over, resting her hands on her legs, willing her head to clear.

"Nothing," she sighed, "I tripped is all. I'm okay."

Carol disagreed, "Rick, we need to stop. We can't keep going like this."

As was his habit, Rick Grimes rested his hand on his revolver while he considered his options. It wasn't safe to stop here. There were too many walkers in the area. But Carol was right.

"We'll go back to those cars," Glenn spoke up, "Lay low, keep quiet. Catch our breath."

Rick nodded. The abandoned cars were a good ten minutes behind them, but they would offer some cover from any passing walkers.

The group switched direction and retraced their path. Rick didn't like how unsteady Michonne seemed or the way her eyes had trouble focusing, so he took her arm and draped it over his shoulders, wrapping his own arm around her for support as they walked.

They made it to the end of a string of abandoned vehicles. Sasha, Glenn, and Rosita took up lookout positions and everyone else found a shady spot to rest. Michonne climbed into the back seat of a minivan.

"I'll go walk about, see what I can see," Daryl said, too restless to stay in one place for long.

"Alright," Rick acknowledged, noting which direction his friend headed off in.

He looked around, checking that everyone was settled, before joining Michonne in the van. It was a bit stuffy but the windows were cracked and it was good to get out of the sun.

Rick sat next to Michonne on the dusty seat. This is about the time she would say something to make me or Carl smile, Rick thought, remembering their journey to Terminus, but the warrior woman didn't seem to be in the mood to talk.

It occurred to him that maybe this time she was in need of cheering up; Michonne, who he relied on as if she was an extension of himself, who never complained and never faltered.

"She's right, you know. Carol. We can't keep going like this," Michonne said, her voice tired, "Something's got to give."

She didn't mean it as a criticism, but rather an observation. They were in trouble.

"We'll find something. We always do," Rick answered.

"Here, rest," Rick said, scooting closer to her and tapping his shoulder to indicate that she should rest her head.

Michonne shook her dreadlocks back behind her shoulder and relaxed into him. Her brown eyes fell closed as her head met his shoulder. Rick should have closed his eyes and tried to get some rest as well, but he couldn't stop thinking about the sadness that hung a little heavier on Michonne every day.

He had agreed to try to go to Washington because of her. Not because he was convinced there might be something there, but because he couldn't stand to see the desperation on her face that day outside Noah's ruined home.

In the quiet air, his thoughts circled back to the night in the barn, waiting out the storm by a small campfire.

Rest in peace, now get up and go to war. We do what we have to and then we get to live. That was how Rick could keep walking day after day, by telling himself those words. And Michonne was like him in so many ways, but she was also different.

She needs more than that.

Every so often a stray walker or two wandered into view but they were easily dispatched by the people standing guard and nobody gave the call to move, so Rick let Michonne sleep. The day stretched into early evening.

Michonne's breathing became anxious and her hands tensed into fists. Rick was about to shake her shoulder when she woke with a start, gasping for breath. She sat up straight and looked around quickly, as if she had momentarily forgotten where she was.

Her eyes settled on Rick's concerned face. She sighed and leaned back against the seat again.

I was dreaming about Andre, she realized, fragments of memories floating up and, as she adjusted to the waking world again, sinking back down again.

Thankfully, Rick didn't say anything. She was not prepared to explain.

It'd been a while since she'd had a dream like that, one of the bad ones. Probably because I'm worried about Judith...and the rest of us... She leaned forward and covered her face with her hands.

"Michonne," his voice was low and held a note of tenderness that felt new and familiar all at once.

Rick gently put his hands on her arms and pulled her hands away from her face. She turned to look at him, waiting for him to say something. His blue eyes held hers for a long moment and then he tilted his head a little bit and kissed her.

The pressure of his lips against hers was warm and electric. Michonne closed her eyes reflexively, letting the kiss linger.

Too soon, Rick pulled away and Michonne opened her eyes and returned to the real world.

"What was that for?" she asked.

Rick glanced out the window and then back at her, the barest hint of a smile on his lips, "Do you feel better?"

"...what?" Michonne looked genuinely confused.

Rick cracked a smile, his eyes crinkling in amusement at her bewildered reaction, "See? My kiss has energized you!"

He put his hand on the edge of the door for balance and climbed out of the van.

"Rick?" Michonne called after him.

For a second she thought he was going to pretend nothing happened but he paused, ducking his head to peek back into the van.

"I was just, ah, trying to cheer you up a bit. I hope you don't mind," he explained, barely able to look her in the eye.

He fiddled with his holster, adding, "Because I'm no good without my samurai at my side."

Rick turned and walked over to where Carol and Daryl were talking.

"Oh," Michonne said belatedly.

Daryl tossed something to Rick by way of greeting. Rick caught what turned out to be an overripe tomato.

"Found a housing development over a ways. Big, rich people houses all with fences or lines of trees around 'em. One has what used to be a greenhouse out back," Daryl explained.

"That's good," Rick said.

Once again, Daryl's restlessness had paid off. Rick took out a small pocket knife and cut out a chunk of the juicy tomato so that he could feed it to Judith.

"Let's go," Carol agreed, and the group prepared to get moving again.

Michonne slung her sword over her shoulder and followed her family through the woods. Rick walked a little bit ahead of her, his eyes sharp for danger. She watched him thoughtfully. Just when I think I have him figured out...