Rick found that he was so much smarter than he'd ever been before the horrors of the world broke loose. But here and there, he was wrong. It was rare lately, but it still happened… sometimes.

When he married Michonne, he knew he was definitely right. She was unlike any other woman he'd known. One of his favorite things about her was that she had an undefeated record for knowing what to do, when to do it and how. Michonne was always right. Rick never felt diminished by this uncanny ability of hers. If anything, it was his secret weapon more often than he could count. But if he really wanted to know the exact number of times she'd saved his butt, he could just ask Michonne and she'd be right… again.

When Carl was in a mood and Rick wanted to give him an earful, Michonne would say "Nah, just let him stew. He talks to us about everything. He'll talk about whatever's bothering him now… we just have to wait until he's ready." Then, later, when Rick passed by his door to say goodnight, Carl would inevitably say "Dad, can I talk to you about somethin'?" Before Rick could even get his brain to answer his son, he'd think to himself, she was right.

Abraham had told Rick how he felt about Sasha and Rick, of course, had immediately told Michonne the 'news' early that morning when he came home from guard duty. Abraham hadn't told anyone else, not even Sasha. So Rick was surprised when Michonne's response lacked the shock that he expected.

Michonne raised her eyebrow, but an unconcerned "Mm." was the only sound she uttered.

"I said Abraham has a thing for Sasha." Rick repeated, waiting for her reaction. She was deep in a paperback book.

"Yeah I know, babe." She replied, cool as tree shade, still immersed in her pages.

Rick could only give a quick snort of disbelief at her calmness. He just stared at her for a second as she sipped her tea and read her book- a crime novel. Rick was sure she had already figured out the ending.

After a few beats, she felt his gaze. "What?" she asked, turning in his direction.

"What?!" he echoed. "There's no way you knew that, 'Chonne."

"I didn't say I knew. I just said Mm." She folded down her page and closed her book, sensing this was turning into a discussion.

Rick gave her an unimpressed glance, "'Mm' means you know. I know what 'Mm' means." He nodded as he agreed with himself, pleased that he knew that much.

She smiled and rolled her eyes, opening her book again, "Well, what do you want me to say? I could tell."

He believed her when she said she knew. He almost asked her how she knew but he thought better of it, knowing his puny mortal brain would never comprehend the mysteries of the universe she kept filed away in her head. He was used to being baffled by Michonne so he moved past her omnipotence and continued with a conversation he had a hope of contributing to- a conversation about a red-headed fool in love with a girl way out of his league.

"He's really smitt'n." Rick grinned as he unbuckled his gun belt, "It would be kinda funny if he actually had a chance with her. I feel sorta bad for him, though."

"Why?" Michonne came out of her book again.

"C'mon 'Chonne. You don't think Sasha's gonna give him the time of day do you?" Rick asked rhetorically, stealing a piece of toast from her saucer.

"I do." She said with surety, draping her elbow over the back of her chair to look him squarely in the eye.

Caught of guard by that declaration, Rick let out a genuine guffaw and bits of bread went flying. "Militant Sasha? Zero-tolerance-for-idiots-Sasha? Yeah, match made in heaven." He said sarcastically. "What? Did she tell you liked him?"

"No." She answered defensively as she retreated to her pages, "But I saw her one day after they came back from patrol. She walked away from him and she was smiling."

"Well, Abe is funny as shit." Rick admitted, "I'll give him that."

"Unh unh." Michonne clarified, "She was smiling too hard and too long after she walked away from him."

"Well, I don't know what you saw, but… c'mon 'Chonne! Rosita ain't having that. I mean that would be one bad ass battle to the death…"

"Oh, don't be such a guy! I can't see them fighting over him." Michonne interrupted.

"And I can't see Abraham being Sasha's type." Rick said, bringing the debate to a close as he left the kitchen and headed for the shower still tickled by the impossibility of the pairing.

Two weeks later, Sasha and Abraham were a couple, walking together hand in hand, no less. When they passed Michonne and Rick, who were just exiting the house to spend a breezy evening on their porch, Sasha waved, Abraham nodded and Michonne and Rick followed suit. Rick was silent as they both sat down alongside each other. Michonne pretended to read her book.

"Mm." she hummed in victory just loud enough for Rick to hear.

"Alright, alright." He hushed her while blushing at the failure of his reasoning.

That instance and many others like it had taught Rick to nod and smile when Michonne told him something, because she was right. But now, lying face to face and kissing her in the shadows of their bedroom, he was pretty sure she was wrong.

"Come on, boo." She whispered in his ear with a vampish timbre.

Batteries… 9 more packs. We got enough soap. Finding more baby wipes couldn't hurt…Rick was only giving her half his attention to avoid losing control of himself. He decided to do a mental inventory of house supplies while she kissed him wantonly and ran her fingers through his hair.

"We shouldn't, Michonne." He muttered against her aggressive lips. "The doctor said…"

Michonne enveloped him passionately and sighed deeply with fatigue, "Pleeeease." She begged seductively and grabbed his arm, settling his palm firmly on the part of her body she knew to be his favorite. Once she had his hand squeezing her butt, she brought her fingers to her nipples. She could barely feel the rolling motion she was applying since she had been breastfeeding the twins and her skin was numb from the wear and tear. This display was less about getting herself in the mood and more about breaking Rick's will to abstain for the entire six weeks Dr. James had stipulated.

It was safe to say that Michonne didn't need any more arousal. Morgan was filling in for Rick while he was on a break from his duties. The new father of four was enjoying spending time, bonding and helping his wife with their newborn babies. For the first time in a while, she was seeing him all day, everyday and it was making her crazy. Rick's soapy scent, the fit of his jeans, the lashes over the blue of his eyes, the way his tongue glided over his perfect lips when he licked them as he spoke, the flex of his toes when he put on his socks, the sleeve of his t-shirt hugging his bicep, the veins that bulged in his forearm when he opened the fridge, his fucking jaw line, covered in gray. Everything... everything about him gave her the naughtiest thoughts all day, every damn day. It was torture of the cruelest kind, in her opinion.

She was legitimately imploring him as she fondled herself but Rick refused to look at her body for fear he'd cave. He closed his eyes, "I can't baby. Just let me take care of you like I've been." He reached between her thighs and, pressing firmly on her clit, started to strum causing Michonne to moan the most desperate sound he'd ever heard.

"Oh, swee'heart." He felt for her, "It's only three more weeks."

Just the thought of three more weeks of waiting pissed her off. Michonne grabbed his wrist and moved his hand. "NO! Rick, that's not gonna cut it and I'm not waiting three more weeks!" Her temper flared. "I told you, I haven't bled in six days. I know my body. With Andre I waited two weeks and it was fine. I know you're trying to protect me. Thank you... I love you... but I don't need protection. I need you inside me." She held his face with sincerity. "Trust me, boo. I'm ready. I need you sooooo bad." She jerked her body shamelessly, throwing a childish tantrum.

He thought back to how Lori was after they'd had Carl. Rick would've begged her for sex if he thought it would've made difference. But Lori absolutely waited the full six weeks and another six for good measure and another six because she was, understandably, exhausted. She didn't have Rick around to help her. His hours were long at work and Carl had been colicky that second and third month. When they finally did have sex again, she insisted on wearing her robe because she wasn't happy with her body after childbirth. She brought her hands up to shield her breasts every time Rick went near them. She seemed so disconnected. Rick was fine with waiting until she was ready. He wanted her to do whatever she needed to feel comfortable. But there's no denying he would have preferred her to be a little…

okay…

a lot more like Michonne was now.

And here he was turning down this gorgeous goddess with such a sinfully sweet henna hue. It began to dawn on him that he was arguing with the all-wise Michonne- who was currently naked in his hands- about whether or not he should climb on top of her and give her everything he'd been saving up for her. He was surprised at how wrong it felt to tell her no.

Rick did the math: Dr. James put Michonne on bed rest 3 weeks before she actually gave birth, to ensure the likelihood that she'd carry the babies to term. And now- 3 weeks later- Michonne had really been starving for him over a month. She was an obedient patient, though, taking the health of those babies seriously. All that time she never complained. Rick was reasoning to himself, She's been a real good girl.

"I've been good." She seemed to echo his thoughts. "All day we're juggling the Tater-tots, Judith, visitors. We're finally getting little breaks in the chaos with the babies settled on a schedule and we're not gonna waste this time!" Her voice started to crack, her hormones still raging, "This isn't fair."

Dr. Leslie James had been Michonne's choice to deliver the babies. Rick wanted her to go with another doctor who he thought was a more qualified M.D. but Michonne had bonded with the 60-ish, fair-skinned, mid-wife who sported a foot high, completely white afro. Dr. James was from Oceanside and wore a dozen necklaces with beads and seashells and countless bangles on her wrists. She spoke with a Jamaican accent normally but she spoke much thicker Patois when she became excitable.

Michonne said Dr. James reminded her of her grandmother: eccentric, old school and frisky. She labeled Dr. James a cougar in sheep's clothing and thought that she seemed to have an appetite for Alexandria's most pious- Father Gabriel. Rick thought that was insane but he kept his reservations to himself regarding both matches- that of the potential lovers and the doctor/patient relationship Michonne was so keen on. He really just felt lucky to have more than one option for his wife's care since options were so rare nowadays.

After Michonne's third prenatal visit Rick fell in love with Dr. James too. She called him "Mistah Dahddi Rick" in her Caribbean pronunciation and designated Michonne as "Mah-mi Lady". Rick could tell that Dr. James obviously knew her stuff, but so did Michonne. So now, with two intelligent women giving him opposite instructions, he was embroiled in quite the dilemma.

Rick looked at Michonne, now, in their bed, really examining her for any signs to help him decide either way on the case she was making. Her body looked pretty much like it did before the babies, except for the few pounds she'd gained which only made him even hungrier to touch her. Her little pouch of a stomach made him recall her first trimester when they had been so excited to see the gradual changes of her body.

Rick always thought a woman round with child was a beautiful thing. The fact that it was Michonne stirred his heart even more. The fact that she carried part of him was like a dream that he never expected. And the fact that he had deposited two separate destinies deep inside the vessel he worshiped more than any other was a blessing he was sure he didn't deserve.

After the babies were born in Alexandria's best version of a labor and delivery ward- a small room a few doors down from the infirmary equipped with lots of borrowed equipment from every group within a 20 mile radius. Dr. James had congratulated the couple on what she called "De most bor'n double delivery in all of time." The mid-wife said as she left Michonne and Rick teary-eyed and smiling down at the peaceful little bundles they each held. "Whole time, mi coulda take a nap". Through the entire delivery, Michonne never lost control, though she was slicked in sweat and Rick could tell by the grip of her quivering hand in his that she was well past her threshold for pain.

"Oh my god…" She had protested when the first of the serious contractions hit her. She had never felt pain like that. "Rick!" She grabbed at him, trying to latch onto something steady before the pain swept her from her balance as she walked the hallways to aid her dilation. Once the intense tightening across her abdomen filtered down into her back and faded away, she exhaled deeply and forced a smiled to lessen his worry,

"THAT hurt! A lot! ... I didn't know." She panted, "I got that good old epidural with Andre and he came so quick." As she attempted to explain the feeling of the contraction to him, another nasty one seized her. He was distressed at hearing her groan in agony when contractions started coming in such quick succession she could barely catch her breath, but he was also proud and amazed that she was so strong and determined.

Three hours later, Rick leaned over and kissed her damp salty forehead after a particularly taxing contraction and asked, "Baby, you ok?"

Michonne managed a soft curve at the corner of her mouth and through short quick breaths she nodded and said only one word,

"Excited."

Tonight, Rick was taking into account her undeniable strength, the miracle he'd witnessed her body accomplish, his experience with her unbelievable libido and mostly her record of unfaltering common sense as he mulled over her request to give her what he, honestly, knew she needed.

"Ok." He spoke in a voice so low she could barely hear.

"Ok?" She perked, wiping her eyes

"But I'm gonna go easy, just in case."

Michonne smiled wide as Rick moved into position between her legs. He wrapped his arm around the small of her back sliding her closer to him. Her body was screaming, but she whispered to him innocently, "You don't have to."

"But I am." He said sternly above her as she pouted and smiled at the same time.