"Rick…you ready?"

"Carol, Daryl and me. We worked it out together. Carol took three guns from the armory. I still have one; she still has one. We lied to you because I wasn't sure how you'd take it. What you'd do." He looked up at her, handing her his gun. He was tired of the lies; tired of hiding it all from her. He wanted to tell her everything; give her everything.

She didn't reach for it. Instead, she threw down her jacket in frustration.

"You think I'd try to stop you?" she asked softly, yet fiercely.

"Well you did hit me over the head," he joked.

"That was for you. Not them."

Rick sighed, rising up from the bed, approaching her. He needed to see her eyes when he told her this.

"I was afraid you'd talk me out of it. You could have." He looked at her, steadily. Sincerely. She had to know that she could talk him out of anything. Out of everyone in the group, somehow it was Michonne who could reel him back in. She steadied him; she was his anchor. They were connected. Lying to her, even by omission, had been harder on him than he realized. Telling her the truth, Rick felt a relief he hadn't felt in quite some time.

"We don't need them here. I don't need my sword. I think you can find a way—we can find a way. And if we don't, I'm still with you."

He gazed at her. He knew she was with him. She had been for sometime. He remembered the overwhelming relief he felt when he saw her on that porch after the prison, or how she held his hand when they approached the gates of Alexandria. Michonne had been with him through hell and back. He swallowed, slowly reaching for her face, and gently cupped her cheek.

"…I'm with you too, Michonne. I'm always with you."

He leaned in, eyes on her all the while, and gently kissed her on the lips. She looked startled, but didn't move.

"Rick?" She said his name so quietly, but laid her hands at his waist, holding on to him. He leaned his forehead against hers, nuzzling her nose with his, while his hands rested at her hips.

"I want to give you everything, Michonne. I want you," he whispered.

She tilted her head up and kissed him back. Rick released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her passionately. He spun her around, walking her towards the bed, still kissing her all the while. How he wanted to explore her body. He caressed her curves through the harsh fabric of the uniform, emitting moans of desire from her.

"Rick…"

Hearing her say his name like that—so full of desire—it was salvation.

She laid back on the bed, and he followed, climbing on top of her, kissing her again as he grasped her hands. He rocked against her, feeling her warmth through his pants. He wanted to take his time; he wanted to do this right. But he needed her; he needed to be with her now. They simultaneously paused, staring at each other, then quickly started undoing belt buckles, pulling at buttons and zippers. She knew. She needed to feel him—now—just as much as he needed to feel her.

And Rick nearly cried at the feeling.

A strangled cry escaped his lips, as he rested his head in the crook of her neck. He couldn't move. If he did, he knew it'd be over before it began. She shifted her hips, letting him in deeper with a sharp intake of breath. It had been such a long time for him, but even longer for her. She pulled his head back, cradling his bandaged face in his hands. They stared at each other as he slowly pulled out, and kept their gazes locked as he slowly pushed in.

"Dear god, I'm with you," he whispered, staring into her beautiful, dark brown eyes.

They moved in unison; with ease.

Rick wondered how he had gone without her for so long.