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It was Michonne who taught Rick what partnership meant. Lori had always been all take and no give, never touch and always go, withdrawn and never draw close. She kept herself hidden away from Rick as if he wasn't supposed to see her, as if they hadn't promised their lives to each other. She didn't give him a healthy sort of love and he'd stayed sick for years because it was all he knew.
He never could've known that Michonne held his cure. She was a hurricane, sweeping through and taking his heart over with a force he'd never seen before. Michonne's rain soaked his clothes, left him dripping with so much water he could never hope to get dry. He was lucky if Lori ever sprinkled.
"I love you," she tells him, nose nuzzling into the space beneath his ear. Her fingertips ghost over his bare chest, writing love notes that he'll never decipher. Rick's thumbs dig into the soft flesh of Michonne's hips, adding new territory to his mental map.
"Love you," he whispers back, voice slightly hoarse. It almost felt wrong the first time those words fell from his mouth. They weren't meant for her, were they? Lori was still his wife when she died. Was it wrong for Rick to give that love to another woman?
"Love you," Rick says again, then again like he can't stop himself. And really, he can't. The declaration just keeps spilling from his mouth like a faucet turned all the way up. Rick feels like he could burst, feels broken in a good way. Michonne is tearing him apart from the inside, but he's sure he's doing the same to her.
"Rick." It comes out breathy, moaned out near Rick's ear and it's over. He can't hold back anymore, not even if he wanted to.
Michonne has a hold on Rick that Lori never did. She can unwind him with just one word, like a thread being pulled from a spool. And he loves her. God, he loves her. He couldn't stop that, either. Doesn't even want to.