"It's clear," Rick reappeared on the front porch of the houseboat, followed by Michonne.

"Someone was living here," Michonne said, frowning, "and recently."

Carl tossed a rope from the small boat to his dad, who tied it up securely.

"Maybe it was those men, from before," Carl said once he climbed up onto the larger boat.

"Let's hope so," Rick said, somewhat subdued. If that was the case, they probably didn't have to worry about anyone showing up unexpectedly.

"We'll stay here for a while," Rick decided, looking to Michonne for approval, "If we can catch some fish, this'll be a good place to hole up for a while."

They did find several fishing poles and lures. The rooms were dry, sheltered from the elements, and moderately clean. It felt like a much needed breath of fresh air.

After several days of feasting on fried fish and sleeping for more than the usual three or four hours at a time, Rick finally felt his concussion receding and his strength returning. He wasn't quite back at a hundred percent yet, but he was getting there.

One night the three survivors sat together on the front porch of the houseboat, watching the sun set over the lake.

"Carl, why don't you take a break?" Rick asked Carl, who was getting ready to cast his line again.

The boy had already spent most of the day fishing and the three of them all had blessedly full stomachs for what felt like the first time in weeks.

"I like fishing, Dad," Carl replied. He was good at it, too.

"Well, I can't complain about that," Rick smiled at his son affectionately.

He took another sip from the flask that Michonne had found and passed it back to her. At first he'd been reluctant, saying they needed to be alert in case of danger, but they hadn't seen a single sign of life on this lake, besides the fish, since arriving on the boat.

Rick felt more relaxed than he had in...well, he couldn't remember when. Carl was safe and happy. Rick was sharing a drink with Michonne on the deck of their houseboat on a picturesque lake. He couldn't know what tomorrow held but, all in all, in that moment, he couldn't find a reason to complain.

"This is nice," Michonne said, echoing his thoughts. She stretched her legs out and leaned back in her plastic fold-up chair.

"Yeah," Rick agreed, watching her profile as she stared out over the open water.

Rick's thoughts, as they inevitably did whenever he ran out of survival-related tasks to think about, fell back to what happened in the tree house before the big fight. We kissed. But they hadn't talked about it once since then.

Is she going to pretend it never happened? Does she regret kissing me? Did she only do that because she thought we were about to die?

Doubt nagged at him, but at the same time he remembered exactly what it felt like, Michonne's soft lips against his, her fingers tangled in his hair.

No. She isn't the type of woman to do anything she doesn't want to do, least of all kiss someone. She meant it.

Rick belatedly realized that Michonne was looking at him with a small smile on her face; she'd caught him watching her. Again. This time, though, there was something about her expression that made him think she knew exactly what he was thinking about.

This is it! We're finally going to talk about the kiss! Hope beat faster in his heart. He'd been waiting until the moment felt right, and now here it was.

"Rick, I want to check your bandage," Michonne started to get up, "Come on."

And like that, his hopes were dashed.

"You fixed it yesterday. It's fine," Rick said. He was comfortable where he was. Couldn't they stay out there a little while longer, enjoying each other's company, not talking about survival?

"Come on," Michonne repeated, nodding towards the room.

"Nah, it's fine," Rick repeated, "My leg's pretty much healed anyway."

Michonne sighed and rolled her eyes with mild annoyance, which confused Rick because it wasn't like her to get irritated at him.

She glanced at Carl, who was preoccupied with tying a lure onto his fishing line, then leaned over to whisper in Rick's ear, "I want to be alone with you, Rick Grimes."

Rick's eyes widened in comprehension.

"What, too subtle for you?" Michonne smirked.

"Apparently," Rick said, unable to damp his grin as he got up to follow her into the house.

Rick closed and, on second thought, locked the bedroom door behind him. He turned around to face his dreadlocked warrior woman. Her teasing smile lit up her face and Rick couldn't look away.

Suddenly nervous, Rick tried to say, "Michonne, I uh, I wanted to tell..."

Michonne didn't wait for him to become un-tongue-tied, which might have taken quite a while. She cupped Rick's face in her hand, pulling him just close enough to kiss. Rick's head was buzzing from the alcohol and the anticipation. Finally he relaxed into the kiss.

Letting go of his inhibitions, Rick kissed Michonne again, more passionately, resting his hands on her hips, pulling her body close to his. She tugged on the edge of his cotton shirt and Rick obliged, pulling it over his head, barely breaking their kiss.

Time seemed to slow and the outside world faded away as they fell together onto the bed in the little room floating on the lake.

The next morning, Michonne blinked her eyes open slowly, rubbing a hand over her face. Sometime in the night, she'd gotten chilly and grabbed the first shirt that she could find, which happened to be Rick's t-shirt. She looked around the cozy bedroom.

Rick, wearing only his boxers, sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees. He was fiddling with the small band on his ring finger, a far-away look on his face.

"You're not having regrets now, are you?" Michonne asked quietly as she sat up and scooted close to him, resting her chin on his shoulder, her voice somewhere in between teasing and genuinely worried.

Rick turned to her and a smile tugged at his features.

"It's a little too late for that, don't you think?" he answered, his southern drawl stronger early in the morning.

"Yeah, just a little," Michonne agreed, smirking at him. She brushed a few curls back from his forehead, savoring the look of pleasure that flickered across his face at her touch.

They were quiet for a moment, each thinking their own thoughts.

"Don't take it off because of me," Michonne spoke up, suddenly serious. In case he didn't know what she was talking about, she took Rick's left hand in hers and wove their fingers together.

Rick's face was unreadable. His wedding ring was probably the last thing he wanted to talk about, but she had to say what was on her mind.

"It's the last thing you have to remember her by," Michonne spoke quietly, "She was Carl's mom, after all."

Rick dropped his head, unable to keep the sadness from his eyes.

"I loved someone else, too, before," Michonne said, wanting him to know that she understood.

"They're gone now, that's how it is. But you can't pretend it never happened."

Rick seemed to process this. He took a deep breath and let it go and it was like a weight fell off his shoulders.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Rick said, a smile back in his voice, and touched his forehead to Michonne's, "I really don't."

"Oh yeah?" she teased, brushing her nose against his.

"Yeah," Rick whispered, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss, as if he hadn't spent most of the night kissing her.

Later, it was mid-morning already and the two survivors reluctantly decided that it was time to get up, get dressed, and step back into the rest of the world.

Michonne pulled on her boots and shrugged into her familiar leather vest before opening the door to the houseboat porch. Rick followed closely behind her, adjusting his gun belt around his hips.

"We'd better check on Carl before he sets something on fire," Rick said, eliciting a chuckle from Michonne.

"I heard that!"

..............................................

The End!