"I killed my best friend."

Rick's words broke the night that was as moonless as a tomb. Michonne was bewildered at his words at first, her head resting on his chest, listening to the staccatos of his heart. They were dressed in bed, a first for their new relationship, but neither felt comfortable undressing after their ordeal. The only thing they had shed in collapsing on their bed was their boots and his brown jacket. Neither slept, needing and wanting the silence, their arms tight around the other. Michonne had felt his lips on the crown of her head repeatedly, his gratefulness of having her with him apparent in his wordless way. It was the first words he had spoken in four hours. The first words he spoken since the rushed funeral and burial of their friend.

"Rick…this isn't your fault."

She could feel his breath hitch but didn't turn her body or head to see him cry. Some things were too private and his chest made her head rise and fall. She just squeezed him tighter, letting him know, in their silent way, that she was there for him. That she would always be there for him like he was for her.

Rick sniffed and squeezed her hip. She waited for him to say more, knowing more was on his mind.

"Y'know, in the beginning, I killed my best friend. My first friend."

She had heard of the infamous Shane and was not shocked by his admission. She was shocked about nothing he had to do to survive and from all Andrea had told her about Shane, he was a loose cannon with a short fuse. It did not shock her that Rick would have to put him down in some way. While she heard admiration from Andrea about Shane (and her obvious attraction) in her stories, she knew men like him in the old world too. And they never ended good.

"I haven't thought about Shane in…" He paused and he took in a deep breath. "It's been awhile."

Michonne felt his fingers playing with her hair and shook off her own feelings of unease. These were Rick's hands. She was safe. She rubbed her cheek against his shirt and soothed his stomach, which had become tight with the retelling of this story. This confession.

"He wanted to steal everything I had. He thought that I was too weak to survive. That I was too weak to take care of Lori and Carl. Take care of Judith. I stabbed him in the heart."

At this she looked up at him, his eyes glassy with tears, his mouth pursed in the effort it too not to cry.

"Maybe he was right."

"Rick!" She didn't want her tone to come out as reprimanding but it did. He slightly flinched as she sat up and glared at him.

"I'm only…'Chonne, I failed. I failed you. I failed Maggie. I failed Carl. God, he saw me knell in front of that bastard. I failed…Daryl."

Rick swallowed and tears fell down his cheeks. Michonne reached out and wiped his tears, her own tears falling with him. She leaned forward and kissed his lips.

"You didn't fail us. You. Did. Not. Fail. Us. We all had a part, Rick. All of us. Daryl would tell you that."

A cynical bark tore from his throat. "If he was here, but he's not…not anymore."

"Don't carry that in your heart, Rick. Daryl loved you. He was your brother…even in the end."

Rick sat up abruptly and then got out of bed, his back tense, and stood at the window. Michonne checked the baby monitor to see Judith sound asleep, the only one in the community that was having peaceful dreams. Carl was just as bitter as his father and refused to leave the porch, the last place Daryl had slept, and he contemplated the revenge for the man who had killed his friend. Both of her men were in pain and she was unsure how to make this better. If she could make it better.

If Negan was in front of her she would run him through. Just like the Governor. Just like all of her enemies. Kill him and watch him turn like the scum he was. He didn't deserve a clean death. She tucked the thought away for another time and stood behind Rick. She wrapped her arms around him and placed her forehead on his back. Rick stilled, not moving, but then eased into her embrace, putting his hands on top of hers.

"I don't know what to do, 'Chonne. I haven't been this clueless since I woke up from my coma. I'm…scared."

She knew it took a lot for him to admit this. Rick was a quiet man of pride. He prided himself in taking care of his people. His family. To admit he was at a loss was admitting he was weak. That he wasn't strong. It was the furthest thing from the truth.

Her stomach clenched as she recalled Deanna's words on her deathbed. May this pain be useful to you.

"I thought I killed my boyfriend."

At this, Rick turned and contemplated her as if he'd never seen her before. But it wasn't out of judgement, just care and concern.

"I didn't literally kill him. I…knew he was drowning. Mike was always sensitive. That's what I loved about him."

That's what I love about you. She thought to herself. Rick placed his hands on her shoulders, ready to listen. Ready to understand.

"I was so busy trying to survive I didn't realize he needed more. That he needed to feel useful. That there was purpose. I didn't understand his moods. He was like a stranger to me after awhile. All we had in common was Andre…our son."

Rick tilted his head and Michonne turned her gaze to the floor. It was still painful and exposing herself felt raw but necessary. That she needed to. That it was time.

"I thought my inattention cost me my son. I didn't know Mike was on the brink. That he got high to take away his pain. And I blamed myself for that and I punished myself for it. For a long time, I blamed myself for Mike. For Andre. How they died. Then I met you."

Michonne's raised her eyes to see Rick's compassionate ones, his hands tightening on her shoulders. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"I'm so sorry, 'Chonne. So damn sorry."

She felt tears come down her eyes. But she had to finish. He had to understand.

"I was so lost for a long time. And then you and Carl…you changed everything. You help heal that wound. You gave me purpose and thoughts of life again. I realized that I didn't kill Mike or Andre. I forgave myself because I knew that if fate could bring me to you guys then I couldn't have been all bad. You would do anything for us, I know this. And we'll win this."

They put their heads together, closing their eyes. They stood in silence with no moon to caress them with its light.

"I thought I lost you." Rick confessed. "I was so scared. So scared. And what is killing me is that I felt relief that it wasn't you. That it wasn't Carl. What kind of friend am I?"

This did surprise Michonne and she gazed up at him. She saw his guilt and self-loathing. She held his face in her hands as she were cradling a treasure. She felt like a flower newly planted in the soil, his love, Carl's love feeding her to grow. She needed no sun because he was here and Michonne wanted him to grow too in the beam of her love. Her sun had been dimmed a long time, but the way he closed his eyes and settled into her touch told her it was bright enough. Good enough.

"You are a good friend. Daryl loved you. And we will avenge him. We will."

"Negan won't take what we have."

"Never."

They embraced on a dark night turning slowly into the morning.