Present:

"This is changing." He spat. "It hasn't been the same since... since so long." Mike ran his hands over his head and bent forward, looking at the ground, slightly rocking to the beat of anger that pumped through his veins.

"Michonne, do you think that your marriage is changing or has changed?" The therapist asked her, her lips pursed, her pen tapping the notebook resting on a thigh of her crossed legs.

"Of course, she'll say no! She won't admit it. Every time her phone buzzes I may as well not even be here!" Mike interrupted, tightening his hands into fists that he placed on his thighs. He couldn't form the words through the hurt, his vision was blurred as he looked at the red carpet and now he understood... he understood how she had felt when he had done everything, when he had been wrong.

Michonne's mind was racing.

What would her response be?

Would it be the right response?

Did she have to give the right response?

She thought about Andre.

Would he forgive her eventually?

"Mr. Anthony, it would be best if you gave her time to reply, as the question was directed towards her. But, your feelings are still valid in the meantime." Michonne felt a smile tingle her lips. She had loved this therapist, had loved her straight forward way of approaching the subject of their marriage.
She would miss her.

The area in which Michonne knew her heart was positioned ached at that thought. She was giving up. Where had the years gone? Where would they go after this? Would Rick take her in, her tail between her legs.
She had lost herself in the process, lost the burning sensation to jump into new things alone and independently... but sometimes, no all times, she sighed, he bought it back. Rick, bought it back.

Michonne was aware that she was taking long to respond. That she was confirming the doubts that had plagued Mike at night, kept him awake until she returned in the middle of the night, creeping like a burglar trying to escape although she had nothing to hide during the jazz times. Until yesterday, she thought, where things had escalated.
This morning the way they had moved around each other felt fraudulent. She was sure Mike had felt it to, with the way his hands slithered away from her on multiple occasions whenever he was close to her.

"I just need a moment, okay?" The therapist made eye contact with her, giving her a small smile of encouragement, allowing the butterflies in her stomach to wrap themselves up and hang patiently until they were next needed.

Mike continued to talk then, ignoring the request of the therapist to give Michonne time and allow her to gather her thoughts. Her mind tuned him out as she pictured Rick, his sloppy smile and his strong hands, where the slight tint of a previous wedding band had branded him. The dip in his voice when they have spoken and how it had hurt... how it had hurt them both.
Although the hum of Mike's ranting still hung in he ears, she braced herself as she looked over at him. Looked at the anguish on his face, how deep the lines ran on his forehead, the darkness of the bags under his eyes that seemed to hang low, pulled on by gravity with such force.

She wanted to pine for him, to take her heart out of her chest and pine for him, but she couldn't. Here he was feeling her hurt and she had wanted this day to come, had even been down her knees to the all mighty and prayed that it would come and now that it was here... she didn't want to be a part of it.

Michonne didn't want to be like him.

But, she wasn't. She wasn't like him. There had been love when this began and he had taken that love and suffocated it, until it couldn't breathe, with lies and false ways.

"It's him, it's Rick." The crack in Mike's voice disrupted the trance Michonne was in and she gripped the chair arms so tightly that her nails began to hurt.

"No Mike, this... this changed a long time ago."

(365 days ago):

Mike had cheated.

It was the age old story that only a few handful of females Michonne had ever met had not experienced.

It was a normal day, Michonne thinks this is what hurt the most. That the sun was setting and painting the sky the color of bruises, whilst she folded herself into Mike and watched a rerun of the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air on the television. Andre sat in front of them, distracted by toy cars and babbling to himself nonsensically.

She remembered that her heart had felt at peace, laced with the love she felt for both the boys in her life. How satisfied she had felt within that moment.
"I'm just going to go bathroom, ite?" Mike planted a kiss on her forehead and stood up, placing his phone on the coffee table in front of them. As he left the room, Michonne watched him, a bright smile on her face.

Bzzzzz. Bzzzz.

Mike's phone.

Michonne picked it up, where it was already on an open chat in whatsapp.
You see, Michonne had never believed in the secrecy of passwords. She was an open soul, free in a sense. Her phone remained unlocked, she was transparent in all of her doings, because that's what love is she had said to Mike on their first date.
Although, she hadn't forced him to partake in the idea, due to her understanding that privacy differed to other individuals. Though, on most occasions, Mike would allow her to grab his phone, enter his password and message whoever he was too tired to message himself.

What she saw made her heart drop. Messages first, that were followed by a picture of a woman. Naked. Shaved. Spread wide open for him to see. Her name: Baby 2. And she was sure that adrenaline made her digestion stop, that all the blood left her extremities and focused on keeping her heart pumping and alive.

She put the phone in her pocket, trying to process it all, whilst beginning to stand with shaking knees. Her balance was off, she was afraid of what she would do. Felt the burning sensation of anger spread like wildfire through her gut, felt the twitching of flames lick her fingertips. Felt the desire to throw things and...

Michonne scooped up Andre, auto-pilot mode kicking in. Kissing the top of his head while he played with the cars in her arms, she placed him in his room and on his toddler bed.
Although she was quick turning the TV on, her shaking hands made it harder for her to find the right kids channel to entertain her son if he got distracted from the cars.

Increase the volume Michonne.

Once again, she kissed Andre's head and made sure he was covered with toys before closing the door.
Her heart hammered against her rib cage, she swore her ribs were cracking under the pressure. Michonne's breathing was heavy, staggered, her vision sharp still, whilst the threat of tears was pushed back as she realised it would weaken her in the moment. Ruin her precision in directing her anger.

She took the phone out of her pocket once again, looking at the messages, the same drop in her gut present. To her amazement, her intestines weren't laying on the floor.
Stepping into the living room, seeing Mike's snug face made her snap. Made the lick of fire that had once teased her gut burn it, so much so that it felt like cramps.

Before she knew it the phone had clashed into the wall just right to where Mike sat.

"What the fuck Michonne, why did you sma-?" The screen had cracked, part of it turning black from the impact. But he could still see it. Baby 2.

That's where it had began. They bickered, with Michonne throwing his clothes out on the front lawn, hissing at Mike to not be loud or he'd distract up her son. She emphasised that part, bitter and angry, sick at the sight of him.

She had cried that night, down the phone to her mother, her grandmother, her cousin Sasha.
"Stay away from him Michonne. Fuck him." Sasha had repeated like a broken record every time the hiccups stopped the tears from flowing from Michonne. Sasha had even come to stay for the first two weeks, offering to take care of Andre and his questions as to where Daddy had gone.

Michonne had taken up a small job, as staying at home and taking care of Andre was no longer an option without any means of an income.
But she had struggled and despite the many talks from Sasha she had overheard happen with Andre, he wasn't coping well. Sometimes she would hear him rehearse the word "strong, strong, strong" in the best way a three year old could. Sometimes he would cry for his father in the night and she had to be the only one to hold him.

So three months later, she was back with him. It hadn't been easy. He had begged, cried down her phone in the middle of the night while Michonne stayed strong and told him 'no, no, no', until one day she couldn't stand Andre calling out and wanted to give him what he wanted.
She had been stern, that this was no longer a marriage but a partnership and he agreed, but Michonne could tell with the way his jaw was defined that he had paid no attention and was determined – as he had said – to make it right.

But something had died and it was as though he didn't want to admit it, didn't attempt to attend the funeral of their dying marriage in hope the denial would continue.

A week after he returned, Michonne got sick of staying at home. After feeling the buzz of work and remembering how independent she had been before Mike had ever been in her life.

"I'm getting a job." The statement left her lips as she chopped tomatoes for dinner, the hard knock of the knife on the wooden chopping board securing the words that she had said.
"What about Andre? Who will look after him in the day?" Mike rested on the counter beside her, holding a drink in his hand and looked at her intuitively.
"A nursery or we can hire a caregiver. Sasha told me about a great one she and Abe had hired a little while ago." Michonne moved around Mike to the stove and placed the chopped tomatoes in a pan filled with some garlic and onions.

"Why?" He asked, almost sounding disgusted.

"Because I want a job again, full time. I was a great attorney and having those small, menial jobs while you were gone made me realise what I was missing... as much as I love Andre." She had a bite to her voice as she turned to face him, well aware that her lips were straight and hard.

Mike's mouth opened and closed and Michonne knew she had won. "Okay."

(261 days until the present):

Soon she was working at a law firm.
"Hello!" A bright bubbling woman came to her desk, her blonde hair in a sleek pony tail, with nails paintedblood red. "I'm Andrea!" Her right arm hung out to give a firm handshake. "Anything you need, I'm here for it – and if I'm honest, they haven't hired someone new in a while and you look like a blast." Andrea winked, before leaving Michonne to her new desk.

Michonne smiled at her kindness, the stone-faced greeting from the rest of the company had not made her feel welcome in the slightest.
She sunk into her chair, breathing in deeply as she closed her eyes. Some part of her missed routine, missed the way she would wake up and be able to feed Andre. It had been difficult to pull away this morning.

Time passed quickly, she had forgotten the amount of work that was required in such a job. Holding her head through her locks, Michonne sighed and rested her elbows on the desk.

"You seem like you had a hard day. Been out the game long?" Andrea leant at her door frame, looking a little more disheveled that she had earlier.
"Is it really that obvious?"
Andrea waved her hand dismissively, walking towards Michonne and sitting on her desk right next to her. "Michonne are you open to coming out tonight? I know you may be busy with kids and all-" She made eye contact with the ring placed on her left hand.
"A kid." Michonne corrected. Part of her wanted to say no to the idea of an excursion, purely because missing Andre had consumed her all day. But then she thought of her demeanor, how tight she had been and how the harshness of her voice had filled her lungs with poison, all due to the revelations that had occurred in the past 3 months. If she let her hair down just a little bit, she knew she would be lighter and if she were lighter... a better mother to Andre too, a funnier one at that. "And no, I'm very open to an outing."

Andrea hadn't mentioned men. Michonne had been under the impression that it would be both of them as they walked through the bar, she had assumed the attentive turning of Andrea's head was to look for an empty table for the two of them.
However, her assumptions were put to rest when Andrea was greeted by a man from a table with a big hug and a kiss on the mouth.

"Hey babe. Michonne, this is Shane, the boyfriend. Shane this is Michonne, we finally have some fresh meat at the law firm and she doesn't seem half as boring as the rest of them." Andrea scoffed and peered over Shane's shoulder, who was in the middle of extended a hand to shake with Michonne. "And Rick's here! Rick, you overheard, meet Michonne."

A man with deep electric blue eyes, wearing a shirt that nearly matched them, stood up and smiled at her. He had dazzling teeth, and his smile stretched wide, yet slightly sloppy, surrounded by a slightly dusted beard. Rick, his name was. Michonne stepped closer and stuck out her hand, "Hey, I'm Michonne."

"I heard." He looked at her right hand, squaring in on the ring. "It's a real nice name. Rare too! I haven't heard it before." A soft twang was present in his voice that made her feel warm.
Laughing, Michonne took her hand back and wafted away the compliment. "Oh, my mother would be happy to hear that – I think she's prouder of my name than she is of me."
"Tell her she can be proud of both." Rick bowed his head slightly as he made the comment.

He seemed genuine. His eyes didn't linger over her body and he stared straight into her eyes. But it wasn't intense, it wasn't as though he was reaching for dominance, but instead was aiming to establish an understanding of the individual in front of him just so the conversation between two strangers ran smoothly.
"So Rick, why did you bring us here?" Andrea said, now sitting beside Shane at the four seated, round, wooden table. "Did you conspire with Shane to finally get me to a jazz night?" Both the men looked at each other, slight smirks dancing along their faces and Michonne couldn't help but smile at the idea of them both seemingly tricked Andrea.

"We knew you wouldn't come And, so we had to find a way. The way you sounded excited about having a new friend in the office – you seem lovely by the way Michonne – we knew you'd be excited to get her out and about with you, us more so." Shane kissed her shoulder, adding a slight bite before he took his lips away from her.
Andrea sighed and leaned back into her chair, "Well, I'm here now. Too tired to run away in these damn heels anyway."

As Andrea and Shane chatted, Rick and Michonne found themselves getting the drinks for the table.
"So, how are you finding the new job?" He leaned against the bar, smiling at the bartender and putting up four fingers. Was he a regular here? If so, was it for the bar or for the jazz?
In the beginning, Mike and Michonne would do things like this. Find bars and listen to music, buy the cheap albums from the unknown musicians and dance to whatever track they liked the most at home on Sunday's whilst they cleaned. It had been beautiful, soft, domesticated and she had loved the way it would always lead to them breathless and sweating in whatever room they cleaned last.

"It's great, truthfully, I haven't in a stable, full time job for a while... it's challenging, I love a challenge." The bartender placed two out of the four glasses on the bar top in front of them. "Do you like jazz then?"
"No, I'm an alcoholic. This is the best bar around." His dead-pan face almost made her believe him, until a small snigger left his lips and he slapped his thigh as though he was the funniest guy in the world. His laugh was contagious, causing Michonne to giggle along despite her being the one who had been fooled. "Kiddin'! Honestly, I love jazz. Shane don't mind it too much – depends on the season with him. But Andrea, she's managed to avoid it all year like the plague."

He throws a nod to the bartender who returned with their remaining glasses. "Keep the change Ted!" Rick shouts over the mumbling voices of the bar as he places a bill on the bar top.
"Anything for you Grimes!" Ted called back, waving his cloth in their direction as they picked up the drinks and walked away.
"Grimes? On second name basis I see. Are you sure you aren't an alcoholic?" He chuckled as they got back to the table and placed the drinks down.
"Naw, just a guy who likes the cool playing of jazz music on a friday night." Rick leaned in then, turning his mouth to her ear. "So, this your scene? Dp you like jazz?" Michonne nodded excitedly. She hadn't listened to much music over the past months. It didn't sway her the same anymore. "If I'm honest, and I'm an honest guy, I don't think Andrea is going to pay much attention and Shane gets easily distracted – if you know what I mean. If it's okay with your guy, would you like to come to Jazz Night Friday's?"

The contored look on her face made him shrink back like a deer in headlights. "Honestly, it's just because I have no one else that shares the interest of Jazz and you seemed to nod as though you did. No pressure, I just-"

He was rambling, Michonne could see it. Maybe he was a little lonely too. She knew how it felt to enjoy something and have no one to share it with... but the worse realisation was that she was supposed to have had someone to enjoy it with, and despite them being there, it was as though they weren't at all.
Slightly gritting her teeth, she fought off everything that told her not to agree and placed a smile on her lips.

"You have a deal," Michonne leaned into him slightly, to whisper their secret agreement and managed to catch the twinkle that blanketed his eyes as the lights of the café dimmed for the first musician to play their piece.

Author's note.

I've never tried a really long fanfiction, this will be my first. I usually like writing really small bursts filled with emotion, so I'm excited to see how my writing style flows here. All compliments welcome and if anyone has anything to add - e.g. their favourite Jazz musicians - I'll be happy to listen.

I understand that some people may be upset with how I'd handled Michonne, but from my experience, sometimes woman do stay for the kids and try to make it work again for such a reason. I hope that people understand in some sense, it is realistic and not too out of character.