So coming from the Ichabbie fandom, the seven deadly sins were mentioned quite a bit. I was thinking about ways on how I could bring this to the Richonne fandom. So this is my humble attempt.

This is a story that came to me when I started craving an envious/jealous interaction between Rick and Michonne. Be forewarned, this is heavy on the angst side and very much AU.

Envy

the desire for others' traits, status, abilities, or situation


Michonne's POV

The sound of quiet chatter and clinking dinnerware filled the air of the small yet packed restaurant. It was the weekend and not a single seat was empty. Mouthwatering aromas wafted into the room from the busy kitchen but it did nothing for Michonne's appetite. She wished she was still at her parent's house, in her pj's, blankly staring at her old bedroom's ceiling with her playlist of breakup songs playing in the background.

She'd been spending all of her nights that way for the past six months. She moved back in with her parents after the breakup. She had nowhere else to go when she left their apartment of three years. She put everything she had into that place with him. It was going to be where they started their life together. The beginning of their happily ever after.

That was until she came home from a two-week long conference for her law firm and caught him in their bed, wrapped around a woman who apparently was his long lost baby mama. Turned out that Rick Grimes, the love of her life, had a ten-year-old son and an affinity for fucking his exes while she was out of town.

To be fair, she was over-exaggerating the last part. That was more for the sake of her sanity than the actual truth. She wanted to desperately believe he was always a degenerate, cold-hearted, womanizing bastard. It made it easier to stop herself from running back into his arms like some lovesick idiot.

Living with her parents was working out alright. They were more than happy to take her in. They loved her and would do anything to make sure she was taken care of. Although, they understood it would only be temporary, they ensured that she didn't want for anything.

She had to admit, it was nice being fussed over by her mom and dad. Her mom would hold her when she cried and her dad had somehow prevented Rick from seeing or talking to her for months now, most likely with threats. Although, getting her phone number changed, putting extra security at the gates of the mansion and hiring a bodyguard to follow her to and from work could have something to do with it.

She closed her eyes. Tonight had been a compromise. Her parents wanted her to at least try to enjoy herself so they had invited an old family friend to the house; Paul, aka 'Jesus', Rovia, fashion designer and her best friend since college. Though they kept up through e-mails and the occasional text message, she hadn't seen Jesus in almost five years. He had been making his name in Europe, traveling the world with his boyfriend, achieving his dream. Her mother had hoped bringing him around would remind her of better times, help her move past the breakup that nearly destroyed her.

And he had, she remembered what her life was like before Rick, which was the problem. She was a different person five years ago. Idealist, trusting, and open to the possibility of finding her other half. Now that she'd found her other half and realized how much it wasn't all cracked up to be, she just wanted to move on. Trying to go backwards and be someone she grew out of was impossible.

Though she loved her best friend, she just wanted to be alone. She didn't want to be here in this fancy restaurant with all this noise and these people, trying to be somebody she wasn't ready to be. She poked at the salad in front of her, half listening to her friend's chatter, hoping the night would go by faster.

"That's weird."

His abrupt comment caught her attention. She looked up at her friend who was staring past her shoulder at something. She studied his expression, trying to figure out what had thrown him off his story about living in Spain she'd mildly been paying attention to.

She was itching to turn around but she knew it wouldn't be polite to openly gawk at whatever had caught his attention. So she remained still. "What?"

He leaned in closer to her, as if to conspire with her, his voice dead serious. "That guy over at the bar keeps looking at me. Like he wants to kill me or something."

Michonne knit her brow. Usually, Jesus was spot on about these things. If he felt threatened, she knew it was serious. She clenched her fists. Despite the progress made in recent years, there were still homophobic assholes in the world who thought it was their place to reign down judgement on people who led different lifestyles than them. She wasn't about to let some ignorant hick intimidate her friend so she turned to find said asshole. Wrathful blue eyes immediately pierced her curious gaze. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

Rick.

She promptly turned back around. Her eyelashes fluttered uneasily, her back ramrod straight. "Don't look," she said, panic edging into her voice.

Jesus looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "What?" His eyes shifted once again to the enraged man standing at the bar.

Michonne snapped at him. "I said don't. Keep your eyes on me." Her heart was beating wildly in her chest as a cold sweat came over her entire body.

"O-kay?" He looked at her bewilderedly, trying to keep his eyes on her. She looked terrified. "Do you know him?" he asked uneasily.

She looked up at him knowingly. "He's my ex."

"Really? That's your ex? Mr. Sexy Blue Eyes aka every cowboy's wet dream is your ex?"

Her friend could be so unnecessarily descriptive sometimes. She rolled her eyes irritably. "Yes."

He gave her an impressed look as his eyes subtly skimmed over her ex's trim figure. "So this is the guy I'm distracting you from, hmm?" After a moment of appreciating the obvious attractiveness of his friend's ex, he looked at her with a glint of humor in his eyes. "Your mom may have overestimated my powers."

She looked back at him with humorless gaze.

"You know, she never told me, why's this guy your ex and not the man you're walking down the aisle with? Last time we talked, you said you'd found the one."

She pursed her lips. She didn't particularly feel like talking about it. "Turns out he wasn't."

His eyes lit up. "Ooh, ugly breakup then?" He looked at her with an eager gaze, hoping she'd spill all the details.

She gave him an icy glare. There was nothing he could say or do to get her talk about it. Sensing her unwillingness to share, he sighed resignedly and held his hands up before picking up his glass to take a sip of his drink. He glanced over at his friend's sexy ex again. He was still glowering at him, this time his head tilted menacingly.

He raised his eyebrow in realization, as he slowly set his glass down. "Shit, this guy's gonna kill me. He's seriously gonna come over here and strangle me with his hands. Normally, I wouldn't mind but this guy is going to literally murder me." He looked at her with convinced wide eyes.

She gave him an annoyed look. He could be so overdramatic at times, especially when it came to her normally uneventful love life. At least that much hadn't changed since college. She just wasn't in the mood to try and play along.

"Don't...just don't tonight." She closed her eyes and sighed forcefully. "I don't want to think about. I just want to move on."

He considered her words. "Well, doesn't look like he's on the same page as you…," he began to say before a look of surprise came over his face, "then again I could be wrong."

Michonne looked at him questioningly. Something was going on behind her back and she needed to know. "What? What is it?"

Her friend glanced uneasily at her before looking back in Rick's direction. "I guess tonight wasn't all for naught. You're moving on to the next chapter in your life and he's...well, he's on a very blonde and perky page himself."

She narrowed her eyes, losing her ability to resist looking in Rick's direction. She took a drink from her wine glass and subtly turned in her seat to look around the restaurant. She glanced out of the side of her eye. She could see an eager blonde standing close to him, smiling with her hand on his chest trying to get his attention. He wasn't even looking at her. He continued leering at Michonne and her date. She could tell he was trying to get her attention. She turned back around and set down her glass.

Her insides twisted with a mix of emotions. She hated him with every cell in her body yet she still felt possessive of him. It was taking everything inside of her to not march over, rip that woman's arms off of him, and smack him upside the head. She shook her head at the thought. No, she couldn't be that person. He wasn't hers anymore.

An aching pain spread throughout her chest, leaving her nearly breathless. He wasn't hers anymore. She inhaled shakily as her friend looked at her with concern. She needed to find her control, find reason. She couldn't do that here, not with him in the same room.

"Let's go," she said firmly, reaching for her clutch.

Jesus scoffed disappointedly. "What? Why? We're just getting to the good part," he whined.

Flustered, she gripped the edge of her seat with one hand, refusing to look at him. This was all getting too overwhelming. She didn't want to see him moving on. She didn't want to confront him. She didn't want to acknowledge that he even existed. She just wanted to go home.

"I can't…I can't do this right now. We need to leave. Now," she ordered, she finally looked up at him, a wildly desperate look in her eyes.

Realizing how painful this was for her, he sighed softly, reluctant to leave matters unresolved. He stood grudgingly and went to pull out her chair. He held out his hand to her and she graciously accepted, standing as elegantly as she could muster.

"Fine but you at least owe me the juicy details behind all this drama. And I mean every detail," he cautioned her. She gave him the side eye and linked her arm with his. He led her out of the dining room, mindful of avoiding the bar.

Once they reached the waiting area, she turned to him. "I'll pay, you go get our coats."

He pursed his lips unimpressed, still disappointed by the lack of drama to their night. He pointed his finger at her warningly, as he backed away. "Details, 'Chonne, I need the details."

She ignored him as she went to pay their check. As she waited behind the couple in front of her, she felt a presence sidle up next to her. She turned to ask Jesus how he'd managed to get their coats so quickly but instead of her date, she turned to lock eyes with the man she'd been avoiding all night.

Her stomach dropped. "Rick," she said breathlessly disconcerted.

"Good date?" he asked in a low voice, searching her eyes irately. She could see the tick in his clenched jaw.

Her mouth closed as her previous anger returned. How dare he feel like he had the right to ask her anything? He was on a date himself with some bimbo he probably picked up hours ago. He had no right to be reproachful of anything, especially after all the pain he put her through. She wanted to scream at him until her throat was raw, cry until her tears dried up, and shake him until her arms gave out. He'd killed her, took her heart right out of her chest and ground it into pieces right in front of her. She hated him. She despised his very being but having him so close to her, brushing against her, she wanted to hold him so tight he'd never leave, kiss him so desperately they'd never draw breath without each other again. But she couldn't. She wouldn't.

Instead, she shoved it all down, and glared daggers at him. "Go away, Rick."

Desperation passed over his face but was quickly replaced with hard acceptance. He sniffed curtly, looking away momentarily with a nod. "You know when a man takes a woman out to a restaurant like this, he pays." He looked at her witheringly.

His judgement hurt but then she remembered his opinion didn't matter anymore. The thought of the blonde number that had been clinging to him immediately came to mind. It pained her to think how quickly he'd gotten over her. While she cried her eyes out every night, he had his brunette baby mama in their bed while he was out fucking around with a slew of young blondes.

It hurt her to think that this was the kind of man he was this entire time and she had been too blind to see it. How could she have been so stupid? The rage built up inside her. He had no right to even glance in her direction let alone talk to her as if she had something to answer for. She looked at him heatedly, rage settling in her stomach. "Yeah, is that what you're doing tonight? Acting like a man? Where is she, by the way? Your lucky date?"

He appeared unaffected by her accusations but the way his nostrils slightly flared gave him away. He replied, his voice full of disdain, "Where's yours?"

She clenched her jaw, staring him down. He returned the look. The anger was palpable between them. What hate wasn't directed at each other was directed at the other's currently absent dates for the evening.

"Pardon, sir? Ma'am? Are we ready to pay?"

They both turned to glare at the maître d'/cashier. His smile faltered as he felt the waves of anger coming off of them.

Rick broke the silence, reaching for his wallet. "I'm paying for her and her date tonight."

"No. He will not be paying for us," negated Michonne but it was in vain as Rick was already pulling out his card and hastily setting it down in front of the nervous man.

She inhaled deeply, attempting to find a semblance of patience. He was so damn stubborn. It was annoying. It was frustrating. Just being near him, woke up all these emotions she'd thought she'd gotten over.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded through clenched teeth.

His lip slightly raised in a sneer as he looked at her, glancing to her empty side, wordlessly pointing out her date's absence. "Acting like a man should." He turned to quickly sign the receipt.

"By being a complete asshole?" she reprimanded him with an angry, hushed voice. He was driving her mad, pushing her to the edge of her patience. She didn't think she'd last much longer without the claws coming out.

He finished paying and turned to her, the flashing anger in his eyes quickly melting into remorse. He studied her gaze intensely, silently, as the features on his face quickly morphed into a look of miserable desperation. He took a hesitant step toward her, his lips parted in preparation to say something when Jesus - with his ever perfect timing - interrupted with the not-so-subtle clearing of his throat.

"Ahem, I don't mean to break up whatever happy reunion is happening here," he said tentatively, handing Michonne her coat. She quickly shook herself from her momentary daze.

Jesus looked over at Rick, who had taken a step back to compose himself, with a pleased smile. "Hi, I'm Michonne's date, Jesus. You're Rick. Nice to finally meet you." His grin widened as he extended his hand.

Rick inhaled deeply and furiously glared at his extended hand, opting instead to place his hands on his hips defensively.

Jesus bit his lip, lowering his hand and attempting to hide his delight. "Sorry, I mean my real name is Paul Rovia but everyone calls me Jesus. You can call me whichever."

Rick remained stony silent as he murderously regarded him, staring holes into his eyes, scrutinizing his very soul.

Jesus' over cheerful smile faltered. He looked at Michonne uneasily, mumbling under his breath. "Or you can just stare at me in homicidal silence. That's fine, too."

Rick's gaze turned to Michonne, who stared right back at him, her gaze steady, unwavering.

Jesus cleared his throat, nervously this time. "So, Michonne has told me a little about you. You're her ex. Your name is Rick. And, uh, looks like you have great taste in blondes." Jesus stared behind his shoulder as the perky blonde from earlier strode up next to Rick awkwardly.

"Hi, everyone. Hi, I'm Jessie," she greeted everyone with a quiet voice. She smiled uneasily, introducing herself to the woman Rick had been staring at all night. "Rick, ain't you gonna introduce me?"

He continued staring at Michonne intensely. His eyes gauging for any type of reaction. "This is Michonne," he said plainly, as if expecting her to understand the significance, not bothering to provide any other explanation beyond that.

Jesus raised his eyebrows happily, enjoying the drama of the moment. "And I'm Paul Rovia but you can call me Jesus." He extended his hand to her with a friendly smile.

"Oh, hi, I'm Jessie, Rick's, uh, friend," she repeated again, taking Jesus' extended hand and shaking it politely. She turned to Michonne expectantly.

Michonne slowly turned her gaze to her, fire in her eyes. She quickly extinguished it with a steady inhale. She nodded at her, acknowledging her presence.

"So, are you all friends or something?" the blonde asked over enthusiastically.

Jesus smile knowingly. "Well, 'Chonne and I have been friends since college. And they're…well, they're the 'or something'," he stated bluntly.

Jessie nodded in uncomfortable understanding.

"You're her friend?" Rick asked suddenly, turning his attention to Jesus. "She's never mentioned you before."

His gaze shifted between the two exes. "Uh, yeah, well I haven't seen 'Chonne in, what, how long has it been? Five years? Yeah, it's been a while but I was in town so we decided to go out. Have a little fun, maybe take it back to her place." He gave Rick a teasing smirk.

Rick's face fell, his skin starting to tinge red, the veins in his neck and forehead angrily making themselves visible.

Michonne looked at Jesus in irritation. She knew he was doing this to get a rise out of Rick but he was pushing it. "What he means is that it's none of your business and we're leaving."

"Not before we talk," Rick informed her, returning his intense gaze on her.

"Look, man, I know you want to talk with her but she doesn't, alright? So, I'd back off." Jesus widened his eyes with a tight smile, hoping his message was clear and starting to realize why Michonne had been avoiding her stubborn ex.

Rick tilted his head, shifting his stance intimidatingly, and looked at him with utter disdain. Michonne could tell Jesus was one comment away from getting strangled by Rick.

"Let's go," quickly commanded Michonne, pulling Jesus away, heading toward the doors.

Rick extended his arm in front of her. "I said we need to talk," he whispered gruffly to her.

She turned her head and harshly responded, "We're done talking Rick."

"We haven't talked worth a shit," he countered vehemently.

She narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head. "Why don't you go back to your date, Rick?"

Mere inches separated their faces. This close, Michonne could see that Rick wasn't as well off as she thought. Dark circles permanently shaded his bloodshot eyes. The lines on his face seemed deeper than ever. His usually warm, sparkling blue irises were cold, forlorn. He was hurting, too. She couldn't deny that. Her heart, her soul were screaming at her to hold him, to forgive him. She shakily inhaled, her body trembled from the effort to restrain herself.

"I don't care about her. You know that. You can see that," he said as convincingly as he could. His chin trembled. He added softly, "You're the only one that sees me."

His words caught her off guard. They pierced the shield she'd put around herself and hit her heart with such precision, she was sure she was shaking from the force. She truly though she was the only one that could see him, the only one who understood him. Turned out, she didn't know him at all.

She shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. She inhaled deeply, keeping them at bay. "How do you expect me to believe that?" she chokingly whispered. "After what I saw. After this. How could you…?" She cut herself off, shaking her head, sniffing back tears. "No, no. We're not doing this here."

He looked at her beseechingly. "Then when? Where? You say and I'll be there. Anytime, anyplace. Just tell me, please?" he asked gently yet adamantly. He blinked as he unsteadily inhaled, his voice cracking with anguish, "Please?"

Michonne's chin trembled from the agony in his plea. She could feel his pain because it was hers, too. His lost look, the tears nearly shed, it all confirmed what she had attempted to deny. He still loved her just as much as she did him. That couldn't possibly be a lie. There was no way a person could fake that.

He closed his eyes, thickly swallowing, tempering his desperation. He leaned in close to her, softly pleaded once again, "Please, Michonne, please?" He bit his quavering lip, imploring her with his tear-filled eyes. "Give me a chance, hmm? Can you just-can you just give me that?"

Jesus and Jessie silently looked on, uncomfortable by the intimate moment being shared between the former couple.

Michonne took in Rick's wretched gaze. She'd never seen him look so miserable. She once loved him more than words could say. She loved him still. But she had lost herself. She'd forgotten that in order to love somebody she had to love herself first. She didn't know what talking to him would do but she deserved closure. The only way she could move past this was to give him what he wanted.

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine, Rick, fine. Just not tonight."

She moved past him, quickly walking out the doors before the hot tears streamed down her face.

Jesus stood awkwardly in front of the fretful blonde and Rick who pitifully gazed after his best friend.

He clasped his hands together and took a slight bow, slowly walking backwards, "Listen, uh, it was great meeting you guys. Thanks for the, um, well, for the great night. Really. And I will, yeah, I'll just be going now. Thanks. 'Night. "

He waved and nodded with finality before quickly scurrying after his friend.


Hope you like it! I'd love to hear from y'all because I'm still feeling my way around this series. I'm starting it out angsty but I'm not sure if I want one-shot stories for each sin (which could mean some loose ended stories) or if it would make sense to continue some of these stories by covering them with more than one sin. Like this story, for example. It could possibly continue if I really tried to be creative.

Anyway, I really appreciate you taking the time to read my rambles and thanks so much for reading!

Your Richonne loving writer,

semul