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Of all the things he thought were going to happen to him, being stripped nearly naked and forced to stand for pictures was not on the list. Maybe the armoured walker, he should have expected. The death threats, the guns to his head. That was all par for the course at this point. Rick faced death every damn day. But the other part? Being stripped bare, examined from every angle, wandering eyes raking over him as his shoulders hunched and his eyes stayed fixed on the floor? That was new. And unpleasant. But there was no time to dwell on that, not really, with everything else going on in his life.
But one of the hazards (and joys, he guessed) of sharing a bed with Michonne was that nothing got past her.
She took one look at his face, and that beautiful mouth of hers slipped into the shadow of a frown. She was sitting in the bed, arms out behind her, propping her up. He’d come home to find her like this plenty of times, a coy smile on her face, and he’d pressed her against the worn mattress until all either of them had known was each other. But this was something else.
“Hey, you,” Rick whispered, his voice hoarse. He tried to hide his shaking hands behind his back.
“Hey,” Michonne replied, tilting her head. “You okay?”
“As okay as any of us are, I guess.”
“I wasn’t asking how the rest of us are. What happened?”
“The usual. Walkers, shitty people. Same as always.” Rick muttered, trying to sound as casual as he could. Let her think he was just tired.
She raised an eyebrow so high Rick had the absurd thought that it would disappear into her hairline. “Imma ask you again. What. Happened.”
Rick scrubbed a hand over his face, his eyes stinging with tiredness. “You know I went to talk to Jadis, to the Scavengers. It didn’t go to plan. Rarely ever does, with those people.”
Michonne took a quiet breath and patted the bed beside her. Rick shook his head.
“I can’t, I’m- I don’t wanna dirty up those nice clean sheets. Clean laundry is hard to come by these days, and you know it.” He tried to inject some humour into his voice, but it fell flat. “I’ll just-”
“Rick. Stop.” Her voice was warm, and held the kind of concern that had Rick aching to curl up, close his eyes and let the bone-deep tiredness drag him down to sleep. “Talk to me. Please.”
She stood up and made her way over to him, every movement exuding care and gentleness. She even knew how to move around him, keep him calm, keep him feeling safe. She wouldn’t judge him if he told her. She wouldn’t.
Her hand came up against his face, and he pressed against it, savouring the warmth. His eyes slipped closed. Somehow, he could still feel her eyes on him.
“Talk to me.”
“It ain’t… s’not even that big of a deal-”
“Talk to me.”
The hand stayed on his face, and he turned to kiss Michonne’s palm, before haltingly starting the story.
“They caught me off guard. I was knocked out before I even knew what hit me. Stupid, on my part, lettin’ my guard down like that. And when I woke up, I was, uh…” He swallowed hard, his shaking hands worrying at each other in front of him. “I was naked. Well, they let me keep my boxers, but that was- that was it.”
Michonne opened her mouth to speak, her brow furrowed in confusion and worry, but something in Rick couldn’t stop.
“But it wasn’t as bad as all that! Not like she got handsy or anything. I got lucky, I guess. And look at me! I’m safe, I’m home, I have my beautiful girl with me-”
“Rick, stop it.”
Rick laid his arms over Michonne’s shoulders, pointedly ignoring her look of worry. “What? Can’t a man flirt with his sweetheart after a hard day?”
He tried to smile that cocky southern-boy smile that he knew Michonne loved so much, but she pushed him back with gentle hands on his chest, and his smile faltered just a bit too noticeably. For a split second, he considered turning and running - running like he always had with Lori, too scared to let her see the vulnerable part of him, scared it would make her see what a weak man he really was. But Michonne was looking at him like she was waiting for him to fall apart so she could pull him back together again, and he wanted so badly to let her.
“You don’t have to be okay about this.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did it felt like a blow to the chest.
“I don’t…” He couldn’t find the words.
“Rick. They stripped you down, made you feel vulnerable in a way you probably haven’t before. You do not have to be okay about this.”
He couldn’t cry - not because he didn’t want to, but something in him wouldn’t let the tears fall. So instead, he let himself slide into her arms, closing his aching eyes as he pressed his face against her warm shoulder, breathing in her scent and letting her take care of him.
In a second her arms were around him, holding him tight to her chest with one hand tangling in his curls and playing soothingly with the strands. She was whispering something to him, but he didn’t have the energy to try and listen, so he just let her steady voice wash over him as he held on tight.
Maybe he shed a tear. Maybe it was for more than just the vulnerability he’d felt in that moment; maybe it was for the vulnerability he’d been running from his whole life. Maybe it was for the woman who cradled him like he was the most precious thing she’d owned. Maybe it was for the little girl in the room next door, fast asleep, and the world she would have to grow up in. Maybe it was for all the people he’d lost, the people he’d left behind.
And maybe, it was just because this time, being vulnerable felt safe.
“I’m so sorry for what she did to you,” Michonne hummed, her lips against the shell of Rick’s ear. “And I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide it. You know I’d never think less of you. I love you.”
“I love you too.” The words were muffled, but the meaning was crystal clear.
“And you’re safe with me. You know that, don’t you?”
He nodded against her shoulder, weight growing heavier as he leaned into her. The tiredness he’d been fighting off was seeping into his muscles, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep.
“I gotta shower. I’ll be quick, I promise, I just gotta… have to wash them off me.” He looked at his feet, a hot blush spreading across his face. “S’at stupid?”
Michonne shook her head. “That’s not stupid at all. Go clean up. I’ll wait.”
A few minutes later, and Rick was standing back in their bedroom, more dry than wet, a towel wrapped around him to protect his dignity. He hesitated for a second before letting it drop. He stared at Michonne. Waiting.
They’d played out this scenario a million times before. She’d tease him for a while before dropping to her knees, then he’d throw her on the bed and reciprocate until she was squirming and pushing him away. The idea tried to spark some interest lower down, but… nothing.
Michonne walked towards him, hands behind her back, eyes on his. She paused for a moment, and he half expected her to make a move, but she just- reached forward to press a chaste kiss against his cheek, before revealing his pyjama shirt from behind her back and pulling it gently over his head.
She dressed him with the kind of reverence that made Rick want to swallow her whole, cage her into his chest and keep her close forever.
“I can sleep in with Judith for tonight. If you wanted space, if you wanted… to be alone for a while.” Michonne’s voice was steady, and her smile was genuine. Rick could live a hundred lifetimes and never feel worthy of the woman inviting him to bed.
“No. Stay.”
“Think I can manage that.”
They slipped silently under the covers together, and immediately Michonne curled up on his chest, placing her ear right over his heartbeat - the position they slept in almost every night.
“I’m here if you want to talk more, okay? You don’t have to pretend. Not with me.”
“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” Rick laughed. “You’re too damn smart.”
“That’s why you love me.”
“That, and a million other reasons.”
The lights flickered off, and Rick let himself breathe. Maybe things weren’t the way they used to be, and maybe he would never be the Rick he used to be all those years ago. But as his wife and daughter slept soundly in the house they shared, he figured that might not be such a bad thing.