Epilogue
I Say a Little Prayer

Three years later.

Rick let out a giant yawn as he made his way upstairs from the basement, his typically lively home dark and still as dawn approached. As he slipped into the kitchen for a glass of water and a snack, their beagle, Bucky, stirred from his sleep and excitedly went to join his owner. Rick chuckled at him, the way he was always ready to play at a moment's notice. He went to refill the dog's water bowl while he was there, and affectionately rubbed at his ears. "It's not time to get up yet, Buck," he whispered to him. "We'll be back down soon."

Bucky seemed to take the hint and went for a few sips of water before returning to his bed, while Rick made his way upstairs, in hopes of returning to his. He took care to keep his footsteps light, so as not to disturb his son or his wife, only to walk into his bedroom to find the latter wide awake in bed, typing on her computer.

"What are you doin'?" he asked, the concern in his voice apparent. He set the water on her nightstand, along with an apple, and in the light from her laptop, he couldn't help but notice her wedding ring gleaming on her finger, after the last month of not being able to fit it. "You're wearing your rings again," he commented.

Michonne stopped typing long enough to look at him, amused that he'd noticed. "Yeah," she said, glancing at her left hand admiringly. Her engagement ring was a showstopper, a giant cushion cut diamond on a pavé band – unexpected and gorgeous; while her wedding band was simple and elegant, both reminding her of Rick, and she'd missed having them on her finger. "The swelling went down enough to get them on," she explained, watching him as he slipped out of his jeans. "I doubt I'll ever be able to get them back off, but..."

"Well," Rick smirked as he pulled off his t-shirt, throwing it to a random corner before crawling back into bed. "That sounds like a sign to me."

Michonne grinned as he planted a kiss on her cheek before stretching out in front of her. "What are you doing up?" she asked, leaning back against their pillows. She let out a sharp exhale as she rubbed her belly, the familiar discomfort of being nine months pregnant rearing its ugly head. "Goodness..."

"You okay?"

"Besides it feeling like a house sitting on my bladder, I'm fine," she promised, grimacing. "Are you?"

"I'm okay," he said, keeping an eye on her. "I'm up because Carol just got here."

"What?" Michonne nearly shouted, incredulous. "It's five in the morning," she said as if he didn't know. "She must've been driving all night."

"Well you did tell her you were in labor," Rick reminded her quietly.

"And then I told her I wasn't," she said, her voice not lowering. "Oh my god." She made a cumbersome attempt at rolling out of bed, but Rick was quick to stop her.

"I think she just wants to make sure she's here for you," he explained, remaining as calm as he could. He held onto her leg, softly massaging it, with the hope that it would keep her in bed. "It could be any day now, and she should be close."

"But she drove all this way in the middle-"

"She's fine," Rick insisted – he'd already done the hard part for the morning, which was to get up and let her in. "I got her all settled in the basement. The bed was made, refrigerator and bathroom stocked. She just wanted to take a bath and get some sleep."

Michonne stared at her husband tentatively, as if he might be lying to her somehow. She hated that she'd worried Carol so much she drove all the way out to Nashville in the dead of night. And those mountains coming out of Gatlinburg were no joke in the dark. "You have to make her breakfast," Michonne said seriously, still rubbing her belly. "Whatever she wants."

"Whatever she wants," he agreed. He glanced at her laptop, tipped over between them now. "The better question is, why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep," she replied, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "I was barely there when you got out of bed." She sighed and pointed to her stomach. "His favorite time of day is between two and five o'clock in the morning now."

"So your solution was to work?" he asked, an eyebrow raised as he scanned the paper on her computer. She was supposed to be on maternity leave, but she clearly didn't know what it meant to actually go.

"What else am I gonna do," she said, staring at the side of his face, hoping he actually had an answer to that question. "He refuses to come out," she yelled at her stomach, assuming their little boy could understand her. She was an entire week past her due date, and her nervousness about the birth had changed paths and crossed into the territory of plain old tired. She never got to this point with Anthony, and she was thankful that she was here – being overdue was a blessing, really. But she was ceaselessly uncomfortable, exhausted, and annoyed with everything.

Rick picked up her MacBook and gently closed it before throwing it to the edge of their California king. "I can think of another way to get him outta there," he suggested with a smirk.

Michonne smiled at him tiredly, still in love with the way he said 'think.' And everything else. She appreciated that even 41 weeks into gestation, at her sweaty, gassy, cranky worst, at barely 5:00 a.m., he was still trying to get into her pants. "That's a myth, you know," she countered, trying to hide her amusement. "There's no proof that sex induces labor at all."

"All right, data scientist," he nodded, chuckling. "Is there proof that it'd hurt our chances?"

"Well… no," she grinned.

"Well then," he said, beaming back at her. He knew she was miserable, and had been for nearly two months now, but goddamn, she was beautiful. Literally full of life.

Michonne sighed softly. She couldn't really wrap her mind around having sex at the moment. She didn't feel sexy at all, which was a shame, because she was essentially always wet, and even craved it on occasion. But then heartburn would settle in, or some head-slash-backache, and she'd just want to be left alone. But she was willing to try anything at that point. Spicy food and raspberry leaf tea and daily walks around the neighborhood and hopping in the pool in the middle of the night had done nothing.

"Fine," she eventually agreed, already pulling off her nightshirt. "But don't… take your time," she requested, knowing Rick Grimes was one of few men on the planet who understood the value of foreplay. "I need you to get to the point."

"Yes, ma'am," Rick grinned, already licking his lips as her breasts fell into view. The pregnancy had nearly doubled them in size, her stiff nipples just begging to be sucked. He knew he wouldn't get the chance to truly enjoy them today, and probably not for quite a while, but it got him instantly hard, his dick pressing against his boxers before he could even get them off.

Kneeling in the bed, Michonne watched him ready himself for her, and she could feel herself getting wetter, her mouth watering for him, wanting to taste him. Funny how her desires shifted so quickly. Rick often had that effect on her. She had to remind herself that now wasn't the time – this was purely about getting this baby out of her uterus. "How do you want me?" she asked, getting down to business.

"You know I'm good any way," he said coolly. "What's gonna be most comfortable for you?"

Michonne shook her head, because nothing would be particularly pleasant for her at the moment. "What's your favorite position, Grimes?"

Rick sighed at her inability to make anything easy. "Lie on your back," he instructed.

She did as told and settled into their mattress, a roguish smirk playing on her face as she did. Once she moved into her third trimester, the intimate moments between them had really waned, so a part of her was looking forward to the sheer experience of it all. To have Rick touch her, and not because she needed help getting off the floor after yoga. But in a sensual way.

He pinned her between his arms before leaning in to kiss her and it took her breath away. She wasn't sure how he still managed to do that after all this time, but she really did love his kisses. The way his tongue felt against hers, the tender dance he liked to do as he explored every inch of her mouth. The gentle pull of his lips sucking on hers. She adored the light sound of their lips smacking and his low moans as he tongued her down, and most of all, when he'd pull back for gulps of air, and sometimes, he'd stop to smile at her. It all made her heart race.

Despite her directive, Rick was slow to make his way down her neck, giving special attention to her collarbone, as it was, and always had been, one of his favorite places. He'd live there if he could, just enjoying the exquisiteness of her bone structure and the hue of her skin, which was darker than usual thanks to the afternoons she'd been spending in the sun. He smiled at her body trembling as he made his way downward, his face landing between her breasts. They were so plump and pert, he could feel his cock twitching excitedly at just the thought of roaming those hills. He softly licked at one nipple and the moan he received in response sent him immediately after the other. He alternated between them, tickled by the fact that he was so obviously driving her crazy.

"Rick," she whispered, her fingers already settling in her favorite place – his hair. She didn't want him to stop, even if she'd already said they didn't have time for this. But he licked her tits like he had magic in his tongue, and that feeling only amplified with her sensitive nipples. Even his lips had such a light, deft touch. God. She wanted to enjoy this, but at the rate he was going, he'd be tasting milk sooner than later. "Baby…"

"I know," he groaned, his mouth full of her and not wanting to let go. But the clock was ticking – this was for function; not fun. He pulled up reluctantly and licked his swollen lips. "You okay?"

"I'm good," she grinned. She remembered the first time they were together and just how awkward they were; appreciating how far past that they were now. They'd done everything under the sun by then – as evidenced by the baby sitting in her womb – so even their clumsiest moments, like the first time they had sex with this giant belly of hers, were just funny now.

Rick moved measuredly as he pulled Michonne toward him, her hips aligning with his so that he could enter her easily. She was wet to the touch, which made him reflexively lick his lips as he pushed inside her. He let out a quiet grunt as her pussy enveloped him like a warm, wet glove. "God," he whispered, slowly beginning to thrust, filling her to the hilt and then back out again, leaving them both moaning with every drive.

"Shit," Michonne winced, grabbing for the pillow behind her bed as he rolled his hips into her with that indelible stroke. He felt good inside her. So good. She was wet beyond belief and could feel her walls clenching around him, aching for the dick, but her back was practically screaming at her.

"I can't tell whether these faces are good or bad," Rick said. He was trying to focus on the delicious jiggle of her tits, but her strange expressions were a distraction.

"I don't either," she shook her head, still wincing. "I don't want you to stop, but... my back."

"What?" he said, reducing his already slow pace; confused by the instruction not to stop.

"Don't stop," she repeated. "Please."

"Michonne, you look like you're dying," he said. And it wasn't in the good way, where he was just good at his job. But rather that she was in pain. He came to a halt, but didn't pull out, not wanting to completely piss her off. "You wanna try a different position?" he suggested, affectionately rubbing her thigh.

"No, I can do this," she insisted. "I just need… a pillow or something."

"Michonne-"

"Rick," she cut in. "If everything goes right, this baby is probably gonna rip my vagina. So I'd love to have… just one last moment with it intact."

Rick laughed. "Five minutes ago, I had to talk you into this."

"And you're very persuasive," she retorted with a saccharine smile. "Let's do this."

"Can I just… try somethin'," he asked, hoping his idea would be the happy medium that satisfied her and didn't scare him half to death.

"I don't know if now's the time to be experimenting…"

"Well, it's always worked before," he smirked, nodding for her to lie back again, and he pulled out of her. He penetrated her instead with his tongue, making her shiver with delight as his lips made contact with her soaking wet center.

Michonne simply closed her eyes and opened her thighs as wide as she could, letting him go to town on her pussy. She could already feel the juices trickling down her body, and she tried not to think about how much she was going to miss this after birth. "God. Shit," she moaned loudly – too loudly – as she combed her fingers through his hair. She missed his long curls, the ones she could grab onto and direct him where she wanted him to go. He'd cut all his hair last summer, leaving only an inch or so for her fingers now. On the bright side, he still had that beard, and it tickled her thighs and parts upward when he buried his face in her depths. She could feel his nose on her clit – one of the unpredictably great things about that lovely nose of his – and she had to bite her lip to keep from shouting his name.

Rick couldn't help but smile at her tortured reaction as he sent his tongue deeper inside her, then in circles around her sensitive bud, making her squirm beneath him. He licked and lapped at her flesh hungrily, knowing it would be another two months, at least, before he got to devour her again. So he ate her like it would be his last meal. He could already taste her sweet cream in his mouth, and still, he didn't stop coaxing it, his hot tongue rolling through every crevice of her pussy until her legs were closing in on his head.

Michonne had two orgasms at once – two good ones, that left her legs trembling, toes curling, and the rest of her body numb as the blissful feeling exploded in her core. "Rick," she whimpered with pleasure – she still didn't know how he did that, but god, she hoped he never stopped. Her breathing was heavy, her heart was beating out of her chest. Her back still hurt like hell, but she didn't even care, because everything else felt so damn good. "You did good, baby," she declared, patting the top of his head before awkwardly rolling out of bed to head to the bathroom. She had to laugh at herself for being out of breath when she hadn't done a damn thing but enjoy her man. But that was just the effect he had on her. He'd turned orgasms into an art form, and she was his muse. God, she was lucky.

She made quick work of her after-sex pee, because she generally always had to pee anyway, and then went to retrieve her robe from her side of the bathroom. But before she could get there, she felt a pop, quickly followed by a gush of fluid, and she froze. Memories of that night came rushing back to her, haunting her, this exact same moment, this exact same feeling, recalling her joy turning to ash when she realized that it was blood trickling down her legs. She was too afraid to look now. She couldn't do it. She couldn't take it if was there. "Rick!" she screamed, panicked.

Worried, Rick made a made a mad dash to the bathroom, finding Michonne standing in front of their linen closet in a small puddle of water, not moving. "Michonne, what's wrong?"

"I think my water just broke," she explained, her eyes squeezed shut, "but I need you to tell me if there's any blood."

He walked around in front of her, apprehensively examining her as liquid from her body continued to leak onto the floor. Inwardly, he was sighing with relief as he took his wife's hand. "It's all clear, hon."

Michonne opened her eyes reluctantly, and she tightened her grip on his hand as she looked down to see for herself. It truly looked like water, with a light, sweet scent to it all. "Shit," she smiled with realization. "My water broke."

"Your water broke," Rick agreed, grinning brightly, those blue eyes twinkling. "Sounds like… we might have a baby today?"

She nodded, her smile turning into tears – tears of joy and mirth and pure relief. "We might have a baby today."

Rick carefully and happily stepped into the madness with her, gracing her forehead with a tender kiss. He knew when they decided to start trying for a baby, it wasn't going to be easy on her. After Anthony, this was probably the hardest thing she ever had to do – to purposefully try again, knowing the possible outcome. But she'd moved through this pregnancy like a champ, and now they just had one more hurdle – before the real race began, of course. "Damn, I'm good," he grinned, suggesting that he was what got her water to break – and almost instantly, at that.

Michonne only shook her head, but she couldn't really deny that he did seem to have a magic touch. "You are," she said, resting a hand on his bare chest as she stared up at him. From top to bottom, inside and out, he was purely, wholly good. "You ready?" she asked, a smile on her lips and in her eyes.

He nodded as he absently rubbed at her back – what was meant to soothe her was really for his own comfort. "Yeah."

"Mornin'," Rick gleefully greeted his soon-to-be-elder son, finding him sitting at the kitchen island, chowing down on breakfast and glued to his iPad. Bucky was at his feet, likely waiting for a bite of whatever Carl was eating.

"Hey, Dad," Carl responded, not looking up from his device; oblivious to all the goings-on in the house that morning.

"I'm glad I found you," Rick said as he went to turn off the overhead light. The sun was shining in the room from all directions. "And not just because you're wastin' electricity," he said.

"What's up?" the preteen asked, his mouth full of peanut butter toast.

"I'm gonna be taking you to camp today," he said, looking at his watch, seeing it was nearly 8:00 already. "And then your mom's gonna pick you up this afternoon. So make sure you bring whatever you might need in case you have to spend the night over there."

Carl frowned at the sudden change of plans. Now that his dad wasn't a single parent anymore – and they lived thirty miles from his mom and Shane – it was rare he altered schedules at the last minute. Everyone typically had 24 hours notice for any rearrangements. "Why isn't Michonne taking me?" he asked.

"Because I can't," Michonne said from the steps, letting out a small sigh as she made her way down them. She couldn't remember whose bright idea it was to move into a new house while she was pregnant, but navigating a new set of stairs with an extra thirty pounds of concentrated weight had proven daunting as hell. It took her a full two minutes to get downstairs, and double that to get back up. On today, especially, she was exhausted by the time she reached the boys in the kitchen. "My water broke a few hours ago, so if all goes as planned," she said to Carl, leaning against the counter, "I'm gonna have a baby today."

"Holy shit," he replied without thinking, excited by the news.

"Carl," Rick and Michonne scolded him in unison.

"Sorry," he returned, cringing, his excitement making him forget he wasn't with his friends. "I'm just happy we're gonna finally get to meet him. It feels like it's been forever."

Michonne sent him a look as she summoned the strength to make her way to the refrigerator, her black sundress swaying as she waddled.

"Have you guys called Nabila already?" Carl asked, wanting to know just how close his little brother was to arriving. "Should I stay home?"

"You're not staying home," Michonne returned. "Nothing's even happened yet."

"And we texted Nabila this morning," Rick submitted. "She has another delivery she's assisting with, but if Michonne goes into active labor, she'll be on her way."

"All right," Carl said, not liking the sound of that. "You know mom's midwife missed Judith's entire birth."

Michonne chuckled at his warning, as if they needed it. No one would ever forget the drama of Lori not making it to the hospital because Judith came so quickly. Rick and Michonne had just returned from Sasha's wedding, trying to enjoy their reunion, when they got the call about the baby girl's arrival. It was one of many reasons she and Rick were opting for a home birth now. "I won't be going anywhere," Michonne assured him. "And Carol got here this morning, so if push comes to shove, someone here knows what they're doing."

He accepted that answer and continued with his cereal while his parents went on with their tasks. "I know it would be weird to have the baby outside, but if you wanted to, could you just use our pool instead of that tub thing?" Carl wondered out loud.

Rick looked at his son, enjoying his curiosity, but also concerned about his critical thinking skills. "It wouldn't be safe to have a baby in a pool full of chlorine," he explained.

"And the water has to be a specific temperature," Michonne appended. "Our pool is an uncontrolled environment."

"What if the baby takes, like, twelve hours? How do you keep the water warm?"

"That's why we have the tub," she said. "It tells-" She stopped mid-sentence and reached out for the counter, needing support as she finally felt what she assumed to be her first contraction. "Shit," she grimaced. "Shit."

Rick and Carl both dropped what they were doing to rush to her side, allowing her to hold their hands until the pain passed. She nodded when she could feel it dampen, and her ability to speak returned. "I'm okay," she exhaled, grateful that it wasn't particularly long or excruciating; it did its damage and left. "It wasn't too bad."

"You should go sit down on the couch," Rick said, already trying to escort her toward the living room. "I'll get you whatever you need."

"I just want some toast," she said, stopping him before she could get too far away from Carl. "Just because I'm not at work doesn't mean I won't be getting updates from your instructors," she told her stepson. "You can work on your comics all you want when you get home."

"Okay," he said glumly, not expecting that he could still get in trouble for this in summer camp. Art school was supposed to be fun. But obviously not when one of his parents worked at the university where the camp took place. He wasn't about to argue with Michonne, and certainly not when she was in labor, so he knew it was best to just do what he was told.

"I love you," she said, kissing his temple, as he'd gotten too tall for her to reach his forehead now. "I'll see you tonight."

Carl smiled at his stepmother, hoping, for her sake – and his own – that she wouldn't have to be pregnant for too much longer. "I hope you don't have the baby without me," he said with a seriousness that he only could've inherited from his father. "But if you do... you got this."

Michonne smiled back at him appreciatively and nodded. "I'll try to make you proud."

As the day wore on, morning turning to afternoon, Michonne and Rick, along with Carol, were still anxiously waiting to get the delivery show on the road. Her contractions came slow and irregularly, signaling that she wasn't particularly close to pushing this baby out. So Michonne tried to distract herself with books and television and foot rubs from her husband and walks with the dog, but it all only seemed to drive her crazier. Because it just gave her more time to think about all the things that could go wrong in the next 24 hours. Even when everything had gone right so far.

"I'm so hungry," Michonne sighed as she watched Bucky tear into a piece of watermelon, finding herself wanting some too. "Am I still allowed to eat?"

"Of course you are," Carol offered, strolling back in from the kitchen to sit with her friend. "Hospitals punish you with that rule so they won't be liable if something happens," she explained. "Yet another reason why doing this at home is a far superior choice."

Michonne nodded, though her uncertainty was apparent. It was a big decision to try a home birth after the tragedy of her first pregnancy. But she also didn't want to return to a hospital for this, all those reminders, and, as Carol stated, rules. If Rick happened to lose his mind – not that she could imagine he would – she didn't want to have to worry about giving birth alone. So she was putting her trust in Carol, and by extension, their midwife, Nabila, to guide her through this safely.

"Remind me again how long you've been doing this?" she asked of her doula. Her voice strained and she squeezed her eyes shut as another contraction passed through.

Carol watched her, mentally timing how long her contorted face lasted; when it got to more than thirty seconds, she checked her watch while lightly stroking Michonne's thigh to comfort her. "Sixty seconds…" she nodded encouragingly.

"Shit," she breathed through gritted teeth, the pressure not stopping.

"Eighty seconds…"

Michonne let out a giant sigh of relief when it finally eased, and she was able to release her grip on the couch. "I cannot believe women have sex with men ever again after going through this," she huffed, throwing her short locs into a low ponytail.

"She hasn't lost her sense of humor," Carol said, grinning at her as she rubbed her back. "Eighty-five seconds is good. You're at about seven minutes apart now."

It had been nine hours since her water broke, and it felt like she hadn't been getting anywhere until now. She promptly burst into tears, startling everyone in the room, including Bucky. "It's just hormones," she promised, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it all. Before she knew it, Rick was at her feet, and she ran her fingers through his hair, an attempt to assure him she was fine. "Seven minutes apart," she said.

"I heard," he grinned, leaning in to kiss her knee. "And it only took you all day."

"Guess you're not as good as you thought," she quipped.

Rick wiped at her tears, relieved to see her smiling. He really didn't know what to expect here, so he'd been anticipating the worst, but they were on the precipice of the actual birth, and she still seemed okay. "What do you want to eat?" he asked. "I'll make you somethin'."

She shook her head, having forgotten about her appetite with the news that her contractions were escalating. "You should get the tub ready," she suggested. "I wanna go in once we get to five minutes."

"Of course," he said, standing to his feet. "Ninety-seven degrees, right?" he asked Carol.

"Correct," she nodded, glancing at her watch again. "You should take Bucky downstairs before you start," she suggested. "And if I were you, I'd start charging your phone so it'll be ready to record when the time comes."

"No," Michonne was quick to interject, still breathing through her lips as she rubbed her belly. "Rick is not allowed to record this."

"What?" Carol laughed, figuring those hormones were doing their thing again.

"You cannot let him near that phone," she pled. "Despite my best efforts, he has no idea what he's doing."

"Well wait a minute," Rick cut back in. "I've recorded plenty of things successfully."

"You've also sent my nudes to your brother, so… no," Michonne said pointedly. "I love you. I trust you to fill up the tub and you're probably gonna be the one to get me through this. But someone else is going to have to set up the recording."

"I resent this," he sighed kiddingly; still, he turned to go complete the task at hand.

"You're doing amazing, sweetie," Michonne called after him sweetly. She waited until he was gone from the room to turn to Carol, her expression and her mood turning solemn. "Am I gonna be okay?" she asked her.

Carol's gaze turned sympathetic, as she realized her friend had probably been masking her fears all day with a good mood. "Michonne…"

"I know. I know. Everything seems fine right now, but last time… everything was fine, until it wasn't."

"Well. I don't know if that's true," Carol said, having learned a lot about Michonne's prior relationship and even her previous pregnancy over the years. "You were under a lot of stress. Taking care of you, your baby, and your boyfriend."

Michonne made a face, deciding she could agree with that.

"Everything is going to according to plan," Carol assured her, her voice steeped in that quiet confidence of hers. "And if there's any sign of trouble, we're gonna get you to the hospital right away."

Michonne nodded adamantly, believing her. A few residual tears slipped down her cheek and she wiped them away. "Listen," she said, taking Carol's hand. She glanced out to the patio to make sure Rick was still busy. "If anything happens and you have to choose between me and the baby-"

"Michonne, stop it," she interrupted, unwilling to hear it.

"No, I have to say it. Rick doesn't like to talk about it either, but I'm telling you the same thing I told him. Because I don't want him to have to make the choice," she said. "You guys save the baby."

"We're not there," Carol shook her head. "You need to focus on having a healthy, successful delivery. Because that's where we are right now."

"I am," she promised. "But I also wanna be prepared." Because she wasn't last time. And it nearly ruined her. She shook her head again, in disbelief of how close this was to actually happening. "I wish I'd let my mom come down," she said, sniffling. "She missed everything with Anthony because he came so early."

Carol replied with a warm smile and shrugged. "So you'll have another kid."

Michonne immediately balked at the idea of doing this again, but it made her chuckle, at least. "I'm gonna call her," she decided.

"You should," Carol agreed, patting her knee. "I'm gonna go help Rick with the water. But you holler if you need anything."

"I will," she smiled. She picked up her phone from the end table and quickly dialed her mother's number from memory, breathing easier when she answered on the second ring.

"Hello? Michonne?"

"Manman," Michonne greeted her, hearing the cautiousness in her mother's voice; probably concerned for the same reasons she was. "I'm in labor," she announced, hoping it would assuage that trepidation.

Rose released a light gasp. "Oh, my sweet girl," she cried, already rushing out of her seat. "We're going to catch the first flight to Tennessee we can find. Oh, my goodness. Joseph!" she yelled for her husband in her frantic glee.

Michonne laughed, finding her mother's voice pacifying in a moment where she was losing her nerve – even if said voice was yelling like a crazy person. And then came a contraction to steal that bit of peace, forcing her to drop the phone in favor of the arm of the couch. Through the torment of it, she could still hear her mother in the background of the call, talking at her father. "I'm still… here," she shouted to them.

"Sixty seconds," Carol called excitedly from the kitchen. "Keep it up."

She wanted to tell Carol to shut up, but managed to refrain, and instead picked up her phone once the pain finally subsided. Her mother was still talking, with no clue that she hadn't been there. "Mom," she said calmly. Nothing. "Ma." Still going. "Mother!"

"Yes, sweetie," she asked, finally stopping long enough to hear her daughter.

"Could you do me a favor? Before you look for flights and everything gets chaotic?"

"Anything," Rose returned emphatically. "What is it?"

"I'd really like it if you could just... pray with me," Michonne asked. After all the times her mother told her, 'Being with child is the closest you will ever be to God in your life,' she'd finally taken heed.

"O, Bondye! Of course, child," she said, smiling into the phone. "Of course."

Michonne let out a sigh of relief that she wasn't going to get a lecture along with it about how she needed to go to church if she wanted prayers. Her mother was good for that, too. But instead, she got a simple yes. "Thank you," she said.

"Where is my son-in-law?" Rose asked before they could think to get started. "He should be with you."

"He's… I dunno," she sighed, scanning the immediate area for a glimpse of him. "Rick!" she yelled for him, sounding more like her mother than she would ever admit.

"When you pray for your children, you should do so with their father," Rose advised, just as her own husband settled in beside her.

"Okay, Ma," Michonne nodded as Rick rushed in from the patio, confused, and she gestured for him to take a seat beside her. She put her device on speakerphone and told her mother, "He's here now."

Rose exhaled deeply before beginning, "Rendons grâce à Dieu-"

"In English, Mommy," Michonne interrupted to remind her.

"Sorry, dear. I'm a bit nervous," Rose admitted, as she often switched between French and Haitian Creole in her prayers, having learned many of them as a child. But she'd forgotten that Rick wasn't yet fluent in their languages. "Praise Him," she said instead. "All loving God, you created the human family as a reflection of your own divine life so that your creation might share in your happiness. Hear our prayer for your daughter who awaits the birth of her child. She has cooperated with you in giving life. Assist her now as she prepares to give birth to the child in her womb. May Mary be her guide and support, calming her fears and strengthening her love. May your daughter be filled with your peace and blessing so that she may bring her child into this world safely and in good health to the praise and glory of your name. Bondye pwoteje ou. Amen."

Rick took his wife's hand, holding onto it for dear life, the two of them staring into each other's eyes as his mother-in-law finished her prayer. He wasn't a religious person, and never really had been, despite being born and raised in the Bible Belt, but he prayed that day. For his wife, for his sons, for their family to still be whole on the other side of all this. And he knew, without having to ask, or even think about it, that Michonne felt the same. In unison, they whispered, "Amen."

The birthing pool had been set up in the patio area of their home, where Michonne could feel like she was outside without actually being there. The sun beamed through during the day, and at night, it felt like sitting amongst the stars. It was cool. Serene. And it overlooked their yard, where their actual pool, and the sound of the fountain feeding into it, were such relaxing sights and sounds. Rick had Sade playing in the background, all of which made the last few hours of her labor bearable, at least. By 7:00 p.m., they were headed into hour fourteen.

"We should be in Gatlinburg," Michonne whispered, feeling the sweat beading at her hairline. She was leaned over the edge of the tub, trying her best to just stay comfortable, while Rick sweetly rubbed her back. "It doesn't get so hot up there."

Rick smiled at the thought as he stopped to pour a bit of cool water in her hair and down her neck. "That would've been nice," he admitted. Usually, once June hit and it was sweltering in the city, they did like to spend as much time in the mountains as they could. This year, there was just too much going on. "But so is this."

"The water does ease the contractions," she said, closing her eyes, just as another one did its best to prove her wrong. She moaned through the discomfort, but all the while thankful that Rick was close by – she could feel him kissing her forehead, his delightful, deep drawl steadily encouraging her.

"You're almost there, baby," he whispered.

She nodded against him, unsure that was actually true. But she was okay. Compared to her last pregnancy, she was great. "I could do this all day," she said, exhaling her pain.

Rick smiled at her and kissed the side of her face. "I'm gonna get you another cold compress," he said. "Just keep breathing."

"I will." She watched him head back inside, smiling at his t-shirt and even his jeans being covered in random wet spots thanks to her grabbing him whenever she needed support. He'd always been that – there to catch her fall. Even after three years together, two of them married, she didn't know how she got so lucky, stumbling upon his cabin that day. In a way, it was as though Anthony led her to him. It was nice to think of her heartbreak in those terms – even if it took a year of therapy and a very specific network of family and friends to get there. She did get there.

Of course, all her warm and happy thoughts were interrupted by bodily functions, as had been the case all day long, leaving her re-questioning her sanity for deliberately doing this to herself. "Goddamn it," she mumbled. "I have to pee again," she called out to anyone who would listen. She was so tired by then, she no longer cared about decorum.

"All right, I got ya, girl," Nabila said, instantly appearing in front of her patient with a towel.

"Oh, wait, nope, nope, nope," Michonne reconsidered when another contraction came through. She knelt back down in the water and wailed her way through it with Nabila's help. They were coming nearly every minute and testing every ounce of resolve and strength she had within in her. "I can feel him moving," she nodded, examining her stomach in hopes that she could see him turning in there one last time. "He's dropping."

The midwife smiled at her, appreciating how peaceful this delivery was compared to the last one she'd helped with. "You're close," she promised her. "You probably should go to the bathroom now if you need to."

"Okay," she sighed heavily, knowing it would be a herculean feat to make it there. Nabila assisted her out of the pool and helped dry her off before escorting her across the house to the nearest bathroom. Michonne felt like Winnie the Pooh, walking around with her giant belly in a pink crop top and nothing else. "Hi," she waved to Rick and Carol, in the kitchen preparing cold compresses and warm refills for the tub.

Their house would be full of people soon, Michonne realized. Carl was on his way home. Rick's parents were on the road from Memphis, Glenn and Maggie from Atlanta. Her parents would be on a flight first thing in the morning, while Aaron and Ezekiel were cutting short their vacation in Oahu to get a red eye back east. Everything was so different from the last time. Thank god.

Michonne finished her business as quickly as her body would allow, and headed back out to the birth pool, where Rick was waiting for her beside it. "I'm not entirely sure I didn't just pee on our son," she joked, accepting his hand as he helped her back inside.

"I'm not sure that's how that whole thing works, but… you're the scientist, I guess," he quipped, smiling at her as she carefully lowered herself in the water.

Michonne laughed, just before another contraction made her scream and punch the floor of the pool. "Goddamn it," she sighed once it was gone. "My point was, I think he's crowning."

"Shit. Really?" he exclaimed, questioning why she was so composed about the fact that their baby was finally, actually coming. "Nabila!"

"I'm here," Nabila called back; she and Carol already rushing into the room, fastening their plastic aprons and collecting their instruments and gadgets. The midwife went around the back of the pool to examine Michonne with a light, and indeed, she could see the head of the fetus emerging. "He's right there," she confirmed. "Mom, you wanna deliver on your knees like this? Or get on your back?"

Michonne looked to Rick, as if he'd somehow have the answer to the question, but he only nodded, urging her to do whatever she felt was right. She could almost hear him saying, 'Everything's gonna be okay.' She swallowed hard, taking her next labor pain in stride, and she said to her husband, "Can you get in with me?"

Rick cocked his head, his emotions taking over, as he was pleasantly surprised by the request. They'd ordered a bigger pool for this very reason, but after seeing other birth videos, they both thought it was best for Michonne to have the space she needed. So he hadn't seen this coming. But then, his wife was nothing if not unpredictable. And it was his favorite thing about her. "Of course," he said, beaming. "Whatever you want."

Carol looked on with a smile, remembering the two of them when they were just strangers in her store, Michonne too shattered to see what was right in front of her. How sweet it was to see how far they'd come. "All right, Dad," she said to Rick. "Take off your pants and you get in behind Mom."

"Wait," Michonne stopped him. "You are wearing underwear, right?"

"I am," he replied, smirking at her calling him out, as he pulled off his shirt first.

"He forgets sometimes," she explained, the three of them waiting for him to finish disrobing. "I didn't want any surprises for you ladies."

"We've seen it all," Nabila assured her. "Some parents wanna be fully nude. Whatever you wanna do, we'll adapt."

"Oh… no," Michonne said, looking to Rick, who was also shaking his head adamantly. "I think we're good…"

"Should I just... step in?" Rick asked once he was down to his boxers. He took off his watch and handed it to Carol.

"Right where that little seat is," Nabila nodded. "You can sit on down."

He carefully did as instructed, immersing himself in the warm water until he was seated behind his wife. Carol and Nabila then helped her reposition so that she was sitting between his legs, her back against his chest, the two of them skin to skin, her cocooned in him.

"Here comes the hard part," Nabila announced, getting on her knees in front of the couple. "Michonne, I need you take a deep breath and then start pushing," she said.

"Okay," she nodded, and her mind immediately flooded with the devastation of her first delivery. The pushing was the hardest part. Because she was alone and she knew that nothing was waiting for her on the other end. This time, she was able to reach for Rick's hand and he took it and he held onto her. She wrapped her arm around his knee and pushed with all her might, letting out a low bellow as she did. "Oh my god, it hurts," she breathed through the agony.

"You're doing great," Nabila said, shaking her head. "Take another breath and let's get ready to go again."

She nodded and inhaled, then exhaled, feeling tears and sweat already dripping down her face, and she gave it another try, with everything she could. She was breathless and getting lightheaded. "I need a minute," she shook her head.

"You got it," Nabila said, her tone warm as the water. "Just breathe."

"He's right there," Carol said reassuringly as they waited. And waited. "Just a few more pushes and you'll be meeting your son, Michonne."

"It hurts," Michonne whimpered. "I dunno if I can do this."

Rick used his free hand to wipe her forehead as he gently kissed her face. "Hey," he said to her, squeezing her hand. "You can do this," he said into her ear.

"I can't," she cried. "Take me to the hospital."

"It's too late for that, baby," he said, rubbing his thumb along her hand. "I fell in love with you because you're a fighter," he continued as quietly as he could, as these words were just for her. "You never gave up, even when you had every right and reason to. You fought to come back, to get here. Don't you dare stop now."

Michonne nodded through blood, sweat, and tears, through exhaustion and hurt, and she gave him another push. And another. In the haze of her labor, she could see Carol and Nabila nodding, urging her on; she could hear Rick's whispers of motivation, holding her up literally and figuratively. And she reminded herself that life was waiting on the other end of this.

It was surreal, how quickly it happened. It was quiet. But not the silence of death that came with her first. It was tranquil. He slipped out before she knew what was happening, and then, there was a baby in her arms.

"Oh, shit," Michonne said, delirious with joy and fatigue, seeing this tiny person sitting on her chest. "This is him?"

"That's your baby boy," Nabila confirmed, grinning as she helped wrap him in a towel. "Congratulations."

"You did it," Rick whispered, kissing her temple for the hundredth time that day as he stared at their gorgeous baby boy. His heart was going a mile a minute with his own realization that they now had another son. He tried not to show it, but over the last nine months, he had his worries about what might happen when this day finally came. But they wanted to try again – she wanted to try again – and now, here they were, with a new love of their lives.

"He's so pale," Michonne giggled, touching his tiny nose with her index finger. It took a moment for him to cry, but when he did, the sound filled the room and then her heart, and she burst into tears, too. "I can't believe he's ours," she purred, her lip quivering as she glanced at her husband.

He nodded, his own eyes welling with tears, and he pressed his lips to her shoulder. He couldn't believe it either.

The two of them gazed at their son, studying his little face, and all the features that would undoubtedly change over the days and months and years to come. Ten fingers, ten toes, two bright brown eyes, and a head full of dark hair. Tuesday, June 8 at 9:03 pm, their entire world was changed. As his cries turned to whimpers and then to silence, Michonne grinned at him as only a proud mother could, and she quietly, sweetly greeted him. "Hi, RJ," she cooed, all while wondering how this happened. How was she so lucky, she got to have another Rick Grimes? "Wow."

-End-