It was just a little after midnight when Rick and Jessie returned to his apartment. A car ride wrought with silence; neither of them wanting to vocalize what the other one already knew. He'd spent it wanting to turn around and go back to Michonne, but however implausible that was, it wasn't what truly held him back. It occurred to Rick then that Jessie had been inextricably caught in the mess, and it was all his fault. He'd been so preoccupied with his feelings, it hadn't dawned on him that he'd married someone who loved him, actually loved him, and had chosen to tie her life to his indefinitely.

As soon as they were inside Jessie breezed to the kitchen. "Are you hungry? I'm hungry. I mean I thought the food at the reception was advertised better on the website, but it actually wasn't even that good…"

Rick sat on the arm of the couch, eyes heavenward, cursing and steeling himself for what he was about to do.

Jessie, unimpressed with Rick's barren fridge, began to yank open the cabinets. "We're gonna have to do something about that fridge. Not now, of course, when we come back from the trip. Should I make us some tuna and crackers while we pack?"

He turned the ring up and down his finger, a simple gold band.

She turned to Rick, only then noticing his strange bout of silence. She'd wanted something different. Him, unable to keep his hands off of her even hours shy of their getaway, maybe throw in a few corny lines to keep the romance alive until then. Instead she got this peculiar silence.

He was always so weird after Michonne.

"Anyways," she ran her fingers through her hair, the curls hanging limp. "Do you want to order takeout?"

"No, Jessie. I'm not hungry. You probably aren't either."

Her face slid into puzzlement, but her voice edged around fear. "What are you…"

"Jess, I am so sorry," his voice caught in his throat. "I can't do this."

Jessie slumped, the pretense of normalcy faltering with her. "No."

"I-I shouldn't have let it go this far. I should've done a lot of things differently, but this is something – I couldn't live with myself if I did this to you."

"You mean Michonne," She scoffed, nodding her head. "This is about Michonne."

A moment of silence stretched between them, so that all the gaps were filled. The glances that were never innocent, and rarely not intimate. How fidgety he was during the reception. His despondency after her toast. This whole time, she'd thought they'd fucked and what she sensed between them was lingering weirdness, but he was honest to God in love with her.

Jessie covered her hand with her mouth, the ensuing sob muffled. "Oh, my God."

Rick winced at the broken sound. "I'm sorry," he was a litany of apologies now. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

She looked at him, eyes glistening with tears and disbelief. "You are," she paused to swallow. "You made me stand in front of everyone I know and love. People that respect me. My fucking parents, Rick. You made me stand there in a wedding dress and promise things to you, only for you to stand here, day of our wedding, to tell me you're in love with someone else. I –" Her chest began to heave in panicked snatches of breath. "I'm mortified. I'm humiliated!"

Rick shuttered his eyes, wincing at the venom in her voice, keeping in mind that he deserved every bit of it and more.

Jessie raked her fingers through her hair and yanked so hard her scalp barked with pain. "You couldn't even give me two good months. Two months of ignorant bliss. You're leaving me on my wedding day?!"

"I couldn't lie any longer," he said firmly. "To you. To Michonne. To myself. Jessie," he tried to catch her eyes, to make her see the sincerity he felt. "I didn't plan it this way. I never wanted to hurt you. I did plan on spending the rest of your life with you, until..."

"Till' today," she sniffed. "She change your mind so suddenly, Rick?"

"I care about you enough to draw the line here, Jessie."

She frowned at him. "Oh I get it. You'll be fine. Michonne will forgive you, and if you're lucky, you two will be together. But me?" She laughed humorlessly. "I'll be the ditz who married a guy she only knew for a few months. The gossip blogs will eat that right up. And how am I supposed to tell them, Rick, that the man I loved didn't – couldn't – love me back? How do I come back from this? All that effort and money. Everyone's time, wasted. It's a fucking joke."

She fished around the pocket of her dress for something, and Rick was surprised to see a box of cigarettes emerge. He'd never known Jessie to be a smoker, but she lit it like a pro, drawing in a deep inhale. "I'm a smoker, by the way. Since we're doing a tell-all."

Silent tears cascaded down Jessie's face. "You're really leaving me. After everything."

"I am," his own eyes stung. "But you'll be ok."

Her hand trembled, the cigarette between her fingers almost slipping out of them. "This feels like the end, Rick. Of my whole life."

He thought for a second, feeling like an idiot for what he was about to say, but since he'd already butchered their hours old wedding, he figured he might as well. "You know those movie scripts you get, where the main character goes through the shittiest things the writers can think of, only to build them back up? That's you, and I'm the asshole who jilted you in the first act. Doesn't mean the stories over."

Despite herself, despite how much she absolutely despised him in that moment, and likely would for the rest of her life, she found it in her to make sense of that way of thinking. He knew how much she lived and breathed scripts and projects – and damn near considered her own life a movie.

Rick notched his brows together at the way her face softened slightly. Who knew the dissolution of their relationship could be explained away like that?

He twisted his ring off and placed it on the counter. "I'll pay you back everything. You can stay here as long as you need. Call your friends, invite them to go with you to Bora Bora." He didn't speak the other words – that none of this would ever be enough, no matter how sorry he was, or his intentions. Jessie hadn't even fully processed this and he was already leaving. He would call someone for her, maybe her mother.

"But I can't," Rick paused at the doorknob. "I can't stay here." With you. I can't stay here with you.

Jessie nodded solemnly. She already knew – he was going to Atlanta.

When at last the plane took off, and Michonne didn't need to dig her nails into her thighs as she anticipated the liftoff, she relaxed into her seat. The worst was over. She could breathe normally again.

Beside her, Andre sat with his head bent with Kayla's, sharing earbuds, smiling sheepishly as they listened.

Behind her, Dale and Andrea were the opposite, laughing so loudly it bordered on inappropriate. Rick's wedding, it seemed, had paired everyone up.

Michonne let herself just be. She allowed herself to be awash in every bit of hurt, every bit of exhaustion, of unfairness. She let it be because that was all she could do suspended thousands of feet in the air, with nothing but her own heartbreak as a distraction.

She was long past the point of tears. And anyways, whatever she had left in her would be saved for her pillow. She was done running from things, feelings included.

They arrived in Atlanta at around 1A.M, dropped off Kayla (who Andre insisted on walking to the door) and then Andrea and Dale, who were, in all honesty, behaving like horny teenagers. Still, Andrea encircled Michonne in a hug that was more of a lengthy reassurance than a goodbye.

"You'll be ok?"

Behind her, Dale lingered awkwardly, hands shoved in his pocket. Michonne wasn't sure how much he knew, but it was enough that he looked a bit apologetic himself.

"I'll be ok."

Andrea moved to hug Andre. "I'll call you in the morning. Be good. Both of you."

Once they were home, Andre trudged up the stairs, throwing his duffel bag over his shoulder and bidding Michonne goodnight around a yawn. Michonne, who naturally couldn't sleep now that the opportunity was readily available, flitted around the house tidying things and sipping the last of the wine.

She hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep on the couch until Andre shook her awake the next morning.

"Mom," he removed one of his earbuds. "I'm going out. You need anything?"

She rubbed her eyes, squinting at the lights filtering from the parted curtain. "This early?"

"Well Kayla and I – "

She placated her hands. "Alright, go. Be good."

"Always am."

She let her head fall back on the couch. Heard the front door swing open, and shut. The events from yesterday still swirled around her mind like freshly sharpened knives, beckoning her perusal. But no. She was determined to get some type of work done today.

Up the stairs she went, into the shower, over the sink, into her closet, and then back downstairs to get the coffee started. The front door opened – Andre, always forgetting something. She poised to hear his panting and the grate of his sneakers against the floor.

"You should probably keep this thing locked," Rick said. "You don't want just anybody wanderin' in."

Michonne blinked fast, swiveling around.

But it was him. Him standing at the foot of her door as if he'd been there the whole time. Shafts of sunlight washed his hair a molten color. Bags hung under his eyes, ringed with exhaustion, but they were more alight than she'd ever seen them.

"Otherwise you get people like me waltzing in unannounced because," he let his hand slacken, all the while never taking his eyes off of her. "Because they're so in love with you, and waiting one more moment, even to just ring a doorbell, is a little torturous."

Michonne opened her mouth to say something, the only thing achieved being a sharp intake of breath. There were so many things. How the hell had he gotten here? Was he still married? Had he just up and left her? The letter, she'd gotten the letter. It was Mike, and if she'd known sooner she would have – what were they going to do? What the hell had they been doing?

But first.

They didn't know who reached who first, only that when they finally kissed, when he pulled her flush against him and she tilted her face just so, that it was nothing short of perfect.

Not for any lack of alcohol or blind lust, though that certainly helped, but because they were sure. Even in the flurry of feelings that ensued the kiss, they were steady. This was what they'd held their breaths for, what they'd been afraid of, total awareness of each other and all the things that entailed it, and now that they'd stepped over that ledged –

Rick's laugh was a low rumble, relief in every line. "Took us long enough."

She laughed, too, though it was choked with tears. Happy ones. "Why didn't we do this sooner?"

Rick's hand slipped down to her waist, the other caressing the juncture between her cheek and neck. "You want this?"

He asked it in earnest. And though it was such an unnecessary question, she loved him all the more for asking it.

"Yes," she said, with absolute clarity. "All of it."

A broad grin overtook his face. With a yelp of surprise, Michonne was being carried bridal style, the sun behind them ascending, their piece of forever rising with it.

ONE YER AND A FEW MONTHS LATER

(MOST OF WHICH WAS BLISSFUL)

Andrea uncorked a bottle of wine. "Well guys, she did it!"

Cheers petered out from the small group left, everyone else having left. And no matter how many congratulations she received, Michonne still found it in herself to blush with gratitude.

"Nonsense, this place wouldn't be here if it weren't for you guys," she insisted. "So, actually, we did it."

Andrea waved a hand. "Blah blah, modesty, blah. Honestly Michonne, you have permission to talk shit. You have your own firm now."

"Ok, well, in that case I'm gonna be insufferable for the next few weeks, thank you very much."

"You did it, Ms. Grey." Kayla smiled, exposing two dimples in her warm brown skin.

Andre's eyes shone with reverence at the woman he called Mom, and that was really all the validation she needed. And next to him, Carl flashed her a thumbs up from around a mouthful of cake.

They were in one of the offices of the floor of her firm, in the building her father used to work in. Funnily enough, she thought she could feel him with her. Not just in this building, but in her, and in everything she did.

Familiar hands snaked around her waist, and then Rick's warm breath was bathing her face. "Let's take a walk."

She looked around. Dale and Andrea were swaying, uncoordinated, to the music. Kayla and Andre were on either side of Carl, giving him pointers as they observed his PlayStation game. They could slip away for a bit, sure. She'd have to return to lock up anyways.

"I missed you tonight," she said once they were in the elevator, interlacing their fingers.

Rick smiled sheepishly. "You looked pretty good in there, handlin' all those people by yourself. Very professional."

"Right," she let her head fall back. "Well, my stomach is in knots. Opening it is the easy part. But actually managing it," she worried her lower lip. "That's the hard part."

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "You have your team. And you have us, every step of the way, whatever you need."

Michonne let her eyes wander to the side of his face. How was it that no matter how many times she'd voiced her fears, he was unfailingly patient with her? It was one of those moments she couldn't believe he was hers, and sometimes, that they'd gotten to this point.

He winked at her, strolling ahead of her as the elevator doors slid open again. Michonne quickened her pace, giggling. "Where are we going?"

Rick lobbed her such an innocent look, she almost believed it was devoid of mischief. "To go have ice-cream."

"And ice-cream isn't some euphemism for sex?"

"Depends. You want it to be?"

Turns out, he really did just want to steal a few quiet moments away with her at the local Dairy Queen, over their bright light and one lonesome table. Rick ordered strawberry, Michonne buttered pecan. They talked about the night, stopping to kiss between bites and bits of conversation.

"I actually pictured my life way different at this point," she told him. "Both of our lives."

He quirked a brow, and having finished his ice-cream, pushed the carton away. "How?"

She mused. "Well for one, I'd still be married to Mike. Probably pregnant with the second kid. You'd be with Jessie, and maybe she'd be pregnant, maybe not," she looked thoughtfully into the rest of her ice-cream, then added curtly. "The firm is there in every timeline So's Andre, and Carl for that matter."

They didn't mind discussing the past, even the painful parts. It was necessary, and mostly meditative. And in retrospect, she was grateful for it. In that moment, she told Rick as much.

"I don't think about that," he drew her closer, so that she was practically on his lap, their legs intertwining. "If all that stuff hadn't happened, we wouldn't be in this moment, right here. With my best friend," he brushed his thumb over her chin. "Who I love."

"I don't know," she nestled further into his warmth. "It kinda felt like the universe was playing some elaborate joke on us sometimes. With a very good punchline."

He snorted. "Oh, the best."

Michonne closed her eyes. After the day she'd had, she was prepared to fall asleep right there in his lap. She would have, if not for Rick's fumbling.

By the time her eyes fluttered back open the small box was perched on her thigh.

Now she was wide awake.

"See, I would get on my knee," Rick said, voice husky. "But I'm wonderfully compromised."

"Yes," she said within the next breath. "Yes, I'll marry you."

The two lonesome Dairy Queen workers cheered and hollered.

Rick and Michonne kissed, deeply and indulgently, giggling slightly at how dramatic they were, basking in the moment. Years of this and every kiss still sent shivers down their spines, every day like an answered wish. When they had what they did, it was difficult to lament on years prior, because the years they did have made up for all of it –

And all of it was a gift.

Aaaaaand, it's done.

A few months down the line I will re-read this story and cringe, and try to sneak-edit it, because in retrospect this reads a lot like an outline. Looking back, there are a lot of things I'd change about this (seriously, past me is recoiling). I've never written a full-length story before, and so to have this be my first foray into fan fiction was definitely a wild ride.

Anyways, crippling inadequacy aside, I'm super grateful some of you were into this! Thanks for being so supportive!

The thing I want you to take away from this is to love people now...before it's too late, and you wake up to discover you're in love with them but they're moving to Boston. If you live in Boston, imagine them moving to, I don't know, Canada.

Actually, the real take away is to watch Love, Rosie. It's such a cute, frustrating movie.