A/N: A/U- Rick's heroic group built their own 'safe zone' and managed to keep everyone safe for several years. However, as supplies ran low, the courageous leaders had to go out on the treacherous supply runs. The brave group must venture further and further into dangerous territories to gather the necessities.
The result, devastating casualties...
Song: With Or Without You- By U2
See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side
I'll wait for you
Sleight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails, she makes me wait
And I wait without you
With or without you
With or without you
Through the storm, we reach the shore
You gave it all but I want more
And I'm waiting for you
With or without you
With or without you
I can't live
With or without you
Rated PG
********
Tears Michonne did not know she had left began to spill out of her eyes and stream down her face. Only hours after the funeral and it still felt like a bad dream. She wanted to wake up tomorrow and be snuggled against his hard chest while running her fingers through his curly hair, peppering every inch of him with sweet kisses.
Their love was the material romance novels were made of.
Now, Michonne Grimes was a 35-year-old widow. Hurry home, Michonne scolded herself. Was he rushing to get home when he had his accident? Hurry home, I can't wait forever.
She picked up a wooden chair and threw it at the window before falling to her knees and crying. She'd never forget her last words to him. Rick had always been so careful. After surviving all the bullets and biters to dies by falling off a spooked horse.
It all seemed so unreal. Michonne was lost without him. They'd been through so much together. The loss of most of their friends, all of their children, and now this.
Pulling herself from the ground she stripped off her black dress. She put on the same shirt she'd been wearing for days. His shirt, the one he'd worn on the supply run that day. Logically she knew it needed to be washed, but not until it stopped smelling like him. She hadn't even made the bed, too afraid the sheets and his pillow would lose his scent too.
She heard a whistling noise come from the window and realized she had broken the glass. It began to rain so Michonne ran to the kitchen and grabbed some garbage bags, some nails, and a hammer.
Tomorrow he'd ask Daryl to fix her mess. It was still raining the next morning when Daryl came over and he already had picked out a replacement window from a vacant house at the edge of town. He was soaking wet but didn't seem to mind. He had his signature brooding expression plastered across his face.
Michonne ran to the kitchen to get him a towel.
"Daryl Dixon, you could have waited till after the rain." Michonne scolded handing him the towel.
"No big deal," Daryl coolly replied, wiping his face. "I wanted to see how you're holdin up."
"I guess, I'm not doing so well," Michonne said opening the door to the bedroom she and Rick once shared. Michonne was embarrassed, the room was a mess.
"It gets better Michonne," Daryl assured her as he made his way to the window. "You'll never forget him, but eventually, you won't be so sad."
Michonne found comfort in his words. It had only been a year since his wife Maggie had died. She knew if anyone understood what she was going through it was him.
"I'm gonna get cleaned up." She informed him but did not wait for a response. She left Daryl to his work, went to the bathroom, and turned the faucets on. She leaned in to feel the water, making sure it was at least warm. The generator sometimes malfunctioned during storms.
"Hi, baby."
Michonne's head shot up.
"Ri-Rick? But you, you're, I mean..."
"I'm dead Michonne. But you're not..."
"Don't you think I know that? You left me here alone!" She jumped up and started pounding on his chest. "I have nothing now," she cried.
She couldn't believe it, he felt... real...
"How can I feel you, Rick? I don't understand?"
"My job isn't done here." He wipes a single tear from her cheek.
"What's your job?" She whimpers.
"To help you live without me."
She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and sobbed. "I don't want to live without you." She buried her face into his chest. "I'm lost without you. Please stay, stay with me forever."
He stroked her thick braids with one hand, his other placed firmly into the small of her back.
"Shhh,...it's okay baby." He grabbed her hand, holding it firmly and kissing it lovingly. "I can't stay Chonne."
"Why, Rick?" she sniffles, "Why did you have to die?" holding him tightly, feeling his solid body against hers. They had held each other like this so many times. She'd never take it for granted again.
"It was meant to be." He softly kisses her forehead. "Baby, I gotta go for now."
He smiles warmly, "Daryl is here for you." Rick fades away and Michonne finds herself staring at her tear-stained face in the mirror. It took her a few moments to notice the tapping on the bathroom door.
"You okay in there?" Daryl called out.
"I'll be out in a minute..." Michonne called back. Grabbing some tissues and wiping her tears away.
Daryl had done a good job and the window looked good as new. As Michonne walked Daryl to the door she thanked him, offering to cook him dinner for his trouble.
"Nah, it's alright." He politely declined.
He quickly regretted his response as he watched the disappointed expression on Michonne's already saddened face emerge.
"Well, um, what are ya makin'?" He queried and was rewarded with a warm smile. A smile that touched Daryl's, hard-edged heart.
"Your favorite spaghetti!" She answered, her smile growing brighter and despite himself, he smiled too.
Daryl was surprised she'd remembered. He certainly had not forgotten her spaghetti. She cooked for him every night for months after Maggie died. She was there for him and now it was his turn.
"What time's dinner?"
A few months later...
"Chonne, it was nice to see you smile." Rick lay beside her in the bed. His arms wrapped around her waist, his head on her shoulder.
"It was nice to smile, but my heart still breaks for you Rick, it always will."
His hands came up to caress her cheek, warm lips brushed across her forehead softly. Tears dripped from her warm brown eyes and ran down her cherub cheeks, soaking her pillow.
"Please stay. I'm begging you. Don't leave me. Rick, don't leave me."
She looked up into Rick's stunning blue eyes. His eyes shimmered with tears.
"I can't stay baby, but now I know you will be alright."
"How can you say that?" She pounded her fist into his chest. Now sobbing hysterically, she unleashes her sadness onto his ghost of a body, letting him absorb her pain. When she grew weary of punching him she collapsed against him. He held her and shushed her, whispering sweet words into her ear. Her breathing slowed and calmed. "It hurts. I know it does. I thought we'd have so much longer. But this is what life dealt us. I just want you to know, you'll be happy again." The warmth of Rick's breath caressed her tear-soaked cheek.
"I'll never be happy without you."
"You will, now I have to go."
"No...Please, just a while longer."
Michonne tried to clutch Rick close to her, but he faded into nothing, what was once her husband's solid body disappeared into nonentity...
A few years later...
"You look stunning tonight Michonne," Daryl said handing her a bouquet of yellow lilies. Michonne's cheeks burned as she tugged at the hem of her pink cocktail dress. This was the first night she took off her wedding ring despite the fact she and Daryl had been dating for three months.
Now, she realized how awkward that must have been for Daryl. Despite their slow-moving courtship, Daryl Dixon was more than patient and always the gentleman. Almost every night Rick visited Michonne. Each time with the same message. He implored Michonne to live without him. To find happiness again. Michonne realized that the only time she did not think of Rick was when she was with Daryl. She couldn't deny that if she had met Daryl under other circumstances she would have dated him without issue.
He's sweet, handsome, and most importantly loyal. Michonne couldn't understand why someone as wonderful as Daryl would want someone as damaged as her. I'm practically crazy, talking to my dead husband's ghost. Lost in her own thoughts she hadn't realized they'd reach their destination. They were in the secluded area at the pond, where they had lunch almost every day.
"Michonne, sit down please."
She gave him a quick peck on the lips then sat down on the edge of the bench. When he knelt down before her she stopped breathing.
"I know this is sudden, but I love you. And I hope like hell you love me too. We're both a little damaged, and that's okay. Cause we understand each other. Always have." Daryl's throat worked as he swallowed before pulling the ring out of his pocket.
"Will you marry me Michonne?"
Her mouth moved like a dummy without its ventriloquist. Startling her, she saw a glimpse of Rick standing behind a tree. He nodded yes to her, and it was from him she drew the courage to say...
"Yes...Yes, Daryl, I'll marry you."
Several decades later...
Michonne sat in her rocking chair on the porch holding her family photo album. Pictures spilled out from the pages. Pictures of their daughters Maggie Beth, and Judith Andrea, and sons Richard Andre and Carl Hershel, and all seven of her adorable grandchildren. The world is almost back to normal now that safe zones populate all the major cities and a vaccine is discovered. She knew Daryl waited for her in bed. But she felt too tired this evening, too tired to get up and climb the steps of their home. So instead, she leaned back and closed her eyes.
She'd lived a good life.
"Michonne." Her heart had stopped beating, her breath caught in her throat. Could it really be him?
"Rick? Is it you?" She opened her eyes to see his eternally young form standing beside her chair.
"I've watched you every day. But now it's time."
"What do you mean Rick?"
"I've come for you."
"I-I'm dead?"
"You passed away in your sleep." He held out his strong firm hand and she took it in hers. The second her hand clasped him she felt a jolt and watched in wonder as her wrinkled frail hand transformed into the strong Katana welding hands of her prime. She realized she was young again. Slowly her body aches and pains disappeared, and then she began to float.
"Rick, before we go-."
"You want to say goodbye to Daryl."
"I have to..." She floated up the steps to the bedroom she'd shared with Daryl the last forty years. She sat on the edge of the bed and lightly brushed a gray hair from his face.
"Daryl, wake up. Wake up please."
"Michonne, you look... What's...?"
"Shhhh, I'm dead, baby. I didn't even know I was sick. But I'm gone. My body is in my favorite chair."
Michonne cried at the heartbroken expression on his face. If she could take his pain away, she would.
"What do I do now?" His voice trembled with sorrow.
"Live the rest of your life. Take care of our children, and our grandchildren.
And one day, I know I'll see you again."
"I love you Michonne."
"And I love you, Daryl."
He nodded slowly as tears rolled down his face. He was always so much stronger than her. She brushed one last kiss against his lips and stood from the bed. She vanished from his sight but lingered to watch him cry himself back to sleep.
"He'll be okay. He'll live a few more years and then also die in his sleep, in the same chair you did. He'll come to the same place we're going. But he'll be returned to Maggie. You'll see each other and have fond memories of your time together, but you both will be with your first loves."
"I've missed you, Rick."
"Miss you too Chonne. Let's go."
Michonne took Rick's hand. Only this time, when he faded, she didn't have to let go.
She went with him.