Michonne's P.O.V

I can't believe I'm doing this.

I never really wanted it to end like that... I didn't want it to end at all, I thought I was what he wanted.

He for sure was all I ever prayed for.

I held close to my son, as he gripped me close, silently sobbing to himself.

"But mama I don't wanna go." He sniffled.

I hate to see him cry, I know he loved it here-- hell, I loved it here but I just can seem to stay where my heart's been broken.

I hate to leave all my friends because of Rick. I hate that I'm just getting to know Maggie and Glenn and Abraham and all those people -- then fleeing off again.
I hate to leave my new job that I am in love with but most importantly, I hate to leave Rick.

I'm just a coward. Ask anyone, I can't handle a paper cut, let along a heart break...best if I runaway, after all, I am a wanderess.

"What about soccer, and Carl, and Andrea!?" He exclaimed, looking me in the eyes now with tears rolling down his red face.

"Baby, you'll make lots of friends in California, and you can do soccer there too. Don't you wana live with grandma and grandpa?" I smiled, trying to make the best out of the situation.

"No!" He hollered. "I wanna stay here."

I looked ahead of him, at all the tired faces waiting to board the plane, and I couldn't help but think,
"Do I really wanna do this?"

It was nice, my time in King County, but this is the end... or more so another new start.

______________________________________________the night before________

It sucks that life is beating Rick up, he really doesn't deserve it.

His son lost his eye, his grandfather died and he's not taking it well.

At all.

I've still been at his house, keeping it clean and maintained until he and Carl comes home.

Eeek I can't wait to see my boys again!

"And you sleep well, okay?" I smiled.

Andre nodded and snuggled farther into Carl's bed, covering himself with the cover.

"I love you." I whispered.

"I love you." he smiled, and then he closed his eyes tightly.

That was my que to leave.

I got up and left the room, taking one last look at him before shutting off the light and taking off down the hall.

Day by day it's getting boring, really boring. I mean, Jay came over yesterday before dropping of some get well balloons for Carl but he didn't stay long. It was a nice visit but I miss Rick.

To ease my mind, I decided to clean more. I don't know why I clean so much, it just takes my mind off of things.

But anyway, that's what I did.
I kind of snooped around, although I wish I didn't.

He still had the pictures..
Of his wife.

They were still laid upon his dresser, even taped to one of the inside drawers..

He's definitely not over her..

But honestly, I'm sure I can help with that.
So I took matters into my own hands -- and, I regret it.
°•.                     °•.                   °•.

He wobbled into the house, struggling to catch his balance.
But as he nearly fell through the door, I felt as befuddled as ever.

...why is Rick home.. and why is he noticeably tipsy?

"Hey!" I shouted, running over to help him up.

"Rick?"

He looked up, with red eyes and a smile slyer than Flynn Rider.
But behind that smile, and his cliche blue eyes, was a broken soul.

In the moment, Rick looked like a man who had given up on life. His once white shirt, was now stained, and his hair is was messy and greasy. His curls draped around his eyes, behind his ears and down his neck... Not to mention,  his eyes had a strange sunken look. The blue was so dense that they  almost appeared grey.. His cheeks glowed red and his actions were slow and clumsy.
I tried to direct him to the couch, but like, he couldn't control his movement.

He must've taken some hardcore liquor to the head.

"You need to lie down." I argued, as he continued to fight me off of him.

He tried to walk toward the stairs instead of the couch but he wasn't getting any where with all the stumbling he was doing.

I just can't believe he's so drunk.

"You need to lie down.. get some sleep." I sighed.

"I-- I'll sleep when I'm dead." And with that, he crawled up the stairs like spider man. . . .

Currently annoyed, I chased after him, to meet him at the top of the stairs, sitting with his back against his room door.

"Get up." I placed my hands on my hips, and he stared back at me in confusion.

"Why aren't you at the hospital?"

"I dunno," he shrugged playfully.

"Seriously, Rick. Look at yourself you look pitiful."

He chuckled lightly and stared me up and down with weak eyes, "Look at you. You look God damn sexy, I could take you right now."

This is my first time seeing Rick like this, and I hate it already. But If we get to be together, I'll deal with it as long as it takes.

I took a deep breath and trailed into the room, where he followed.

He tried to wrap his hands around my waist, but I frantically pushed him away, to which he stared at me like a psycho.

"What, I'm not good enough?" He mumbled.

The hell...? I literally have sex with him nearly every time we have a chance.. OF COURSE YOU'RE GOOD ENOUGH, probably more than good enough.

Man, his brain is really not functioning correctly right now.

"You think drinking is gonna solve your problems?" I chuckled "you're headed for a rude awakening."

He rolled his eyes and stumbled upon the dresser.

It was dead silent for a moment, his back was turned away from me and I couldn't read the expression on his face..

"Michonne?" He spoke through slurred beginnings.

"Yes?"

"Where's the pictures of my wife?"  He asked, now in a stern, seriously hurt tone.

"I thought you could use some time without them." I sighed.

It hurts hearing him refer to her as wife, although she still is.. I wish there was a different term, I mean, he makes It sound like he's cheating on her with me..

"Hell!" He shouted, "where are they?"

"Rick, I would appreciate it if you didn't yell.. Andre is asleep."

"Where's the pictures, Michonne, the pictures!"

So now, he was yelling. He completely disregarded my request, and now he's--- he's reminding me of Mike.

"They're in the attic. I thought you'd be better if you tried to forget for awhile, with everything on your plate and all."

He glared at me and nervously ran his hands over his face, "you want me to forget so easily?"

"It's been a year.."

"Well forget it!" He yelled, he then turned around and swept his arms across the dresser, knocking everything off.

"Forget that? Forget us." He panted.

Forget us.

"You're only saying this because you're drunk."

"No!" He yelled "I mean it. Forget us.
It's been a year since my wife's death and I've been okay in the year, getting better, without you and without anyone else."

Tears began to fill my eyes and his alcoholic breath began to fill the air.

"You don't mean that!" I shouted.

"You dont get it, do you?" He asked "I was better without you. When it was just me and my best friend."

"So that's it?" I cried.

For a second in time, my heart stopped beating and my hands began to shake.. nothing hurt more than what he was saying in the moment.

Why do I always mess up? Everything!

"Just go." He jarred.

And that's what I did.. I went into Carl's room, grabbed my son, and we ran off in the middle of the night.
And I know he was drunk, and maybe he didn't mean it.. but the words hurt and he reminded me of Mike. I just can't do it.
____________________________________
......Present time....

"Flight 272 will be taking off in 19 minutes. I repeat, flight 272 will be taking off in 19 minutes."

Flight 272. That's us.

I quickly hopped up, with Andre on my hip and our suitcases in the other hand, took a deep breath and stepped forward.

Here goes nothing.

____________________________________

A/n: this isn't really the end XD