A/N: I thought of this story while watching the movie "Mother!" I took some inspirations from a few scenes and storyline but this story is unique to the AU world I created for Rick and Michonne. For those who have seen the movie, it won't be the wild ride the movie takes the audience through. Although this fic may be a wild ride in and of itself. I hope you enjoy. Happy reading!
As a child Michonne's dreams were so vivid she had a hard time differentiating between real life and sleep life. Her grandmother used to say they were one in the same. While the body rests the soul goes out and experiences what you can't on the physical plane. There was one dream that recurred throughout her childhood and adolescence. She was floating in the middle of the ocean. For miles and miles there was only water. Not a speck of land in sight. The cold water made her shiver until the warmth of the rising sun made her feel as if she was wrapped in a warm blanket. She floated on and on until the wind picked up. Strong waves enclosed her in walls of water. One loomed as high as the sun, casting dark shadows all around. Though she didn't fear. Arms opened wide, head held back as if she was being baptized as the water crashed over her. She felt brand new, free.
The dream stopped when she went away to college. She'd often dreamed about her mother, her grandmother, but hadn't hadn't dreamed of the ocean in years. Until the night before. Her soul was in the water again, baptized by the waves. The newness was still there, the freedom. She knew it was a sign. She knew what she had to do.
Breathe, Michonne.
She had awakened way before her alarm sounded. The sweet rich smells of hair oils and butters filled the master bathroom. She tried to get the right consistency and mixture of the homemade concoction, but her hands kept shaking. Her nerves were setting her body afire with their anxious dance.
She placed her trembling hands over her heart and stared at herself in the mirror with tired eyes. Her white t-shirt was thin enough to see the outline of her full breasts. That and the matching panties were the only things she wore. Her husband loved that she always slept in as little clothes as possible. He had leaned against the doorjamb of the bathroom earlier asking if she needed him there. Gratitude washed over her for finding such a caring man, but she'd sent him downstairs. This was something she had to do alone.
Deep exhale, Michonne.
Knowing the concoction was as good as it would get, she pulled up Spotify on her phone and hit play. Music made everything better. Stevie Wonder's Songs In The Key Of Life played through the bluetooth speaker in the adjoining bedroom. With the opening harmonies of Love In Need Of Love Today she picked up the scissors and started cutting. Her locs fell to floor, into the sink, and onto the counter one by one. She'd spent the morning of her eighteenth birthday getting her hair twisted by her mother to start her loc journey. What was twenty years in the making, gone before she had time to rethink her decision. She felt good. She felt like she did the right thing. But her lips quivered. Her eyes watered. She didn't wipe at her tears as the wetness rolled down to her lips; tasting the saltiness on her tongue.
It's done, Michonne.
She gathered the loose locs and tied them together with a rubber band. She held them close to her heart, said a silent goodbye, then placed them in a black velvet bag. Her mother always told her a black woman's hair was special, sacred. Never discard it as if it was trash. She'd hold on to the locs until she could think of a special way to let them go.
She stepped into the shower taking a moment to enjoy how the hot water cascaded over her. Washing her hair felt odd. The shampoo rinsed through her hair too quickly. Her head felt too light. Her shoulders too bare. Her hands didn't tire from working through every inch of her long locs. Though she did take the extra time to massage the shea butter conditioner into her scalp.
She toweled the excess water from her hair and picked up the scissors again. Her new cut wasn't ready for anyone else's eyes until she evened it out. Kinky coils sprung out all over head. She expertly worked the scissors using a hand mirror to get the back in order. Doing her own hair was as natural as breathing. With a hairstylist mother and barber father, she'd spent countless Saturday afternoons in their shop sweeping up hair and learning every bit of their expertise.
She worked a quarter size of her homemade concoction into her hair. Stevie Wonder was singing As for the second time when she finished. She smiled at her reflection.
You look good, Michonne.
Her eyes closed as she exhaled one more time. "New beginnings," she whispered.
She threw on a white satin robe and hurried downstairs. The house was built long before either Michonne or her husband were born. Over the decades the house had been pulled apart and put back together again by multiple renovations. Her addiction to HGTV led to the house being in the middle of another renovation. Tarps covered the downstairs furniture. The walls were striped of paint. The pictures that were usually on the wall were bubbled wrapped and stored in the garage.
The open floor plan downstairs was one of the selling points when they first viewed the house. The light colored hardwood floors stretched from the living room to the kitchen flanked by high cathedral ceilings. Walls of windows provided the perfect view of the surrounding lake. Majestic mountains, whose snow capped peaks rose above the massive redwood trees, added to the feeling of living in their own private paradise. The back deck led out to a dock and a boat house they converted into a studio for Michonne.
She couldn't find her husband anywhere downstairs. Not in his office or his favorite place in the house - the kitchen. She paused at the window in the living room. There he was at the end of their driveway tending to the rose bushes. She sat on the window seat to watch him. The morning was already hot making his brown t-shirt cling to his sweaty body. His forehead creased in concentration as he tenderly trimmed around the flowers. He paused to take a drink of water and wipe the sweat from his forehead. His hair hid behind a baseball cap. Behind him the lake glistened as the sun rays reflected against the water.
Michonne nerves started their dance again. She touched her still damp hair. He'd never seen her without the glory of her long, flowing locs. She didn't know how he'd react to her short hair.
You're being silly, Michonne.
She opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. The heat had the stuffiness of an approaching storm, but there was a warm breeze that made the ends of her robe float around her.
"Rick," she called out.
He looked up from the roses. His stare was intense as he looked her over from head to toe and back up again. His eyes fully focused on her hair. Her breath held stagnant in her body until his face relaxed into a full smile; teeth and all. He threw down the hedge clippers. His pace was slow as he made his way to the porch. He watched her as if he was taking mental pictures of how she looked as the sun shined down upon her.
"You're a vision." He kissed her. Then he kissed her again. And again. Soft brushes on his lips on hers to full on kisses that she felt deep in the pit of her stomach. His hands dove into her hair then down the sides of her cheeks where he cupped her face.
"You're more beautiful now than when we met fifteen years ago," he said. "Didn't think that was possible but here we here we are." He kissed her again.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head in the crook of his neck as he hugged her to him. His beard tickled her face. She needed to feel his body all over her as she basked in his words. She never tired of how he adored her.
"Has it been fifteen years already?" She asked.
"Next month on the eighth. Fifteen years to the day when I walked into bookstore and saw the woman of my dreams," he said in her ear as his hands moved down to cup her round ass.
She giggled and pushed him away. "You have a one track mind."
He winked at her. "I do. A strictly Michonne track." He stepped back to look her over again. "God, you're beautiful." His hand rubbed the small of her back as he guided her inside. "C'mon. I made us some breakfast."
Michonne relaxed in the breakfast nook while Rick busied himself getting their meal together. Her man was fine all the time but was especially fine when he was in cooking mode. She thanked all the deities every night that she found a man who loved to cook because Lord knows that skill skipped over her.
He piled the table with food. "We had some pork chops left over from when I went to the butcher last week. Fried those up with some, grits, and biscuits on the side. Made your favorite spinach omelette, and a fruit salad with your favorites. Kiwi, grapes, apples. Finally," he took out a glass pitcher from the refrigerator, "some freshly squeezed orange juice."
Her mouth hung open as she surveyed all the food on the table. "Baby, this looks amazing, but you cooked all this for just us?"
He kissed her on top of the head as he poured juice in her glass. "What can I say? I like to keep my woman fed."
"We can feed the whole town with this."
He smirked as he sat across from her at the table. "The town will have to go down to Morgan's Diner for breakfast. This food is only for you. I remember how it was the last time, I'm gearing up for it."
Michonne sighed and pushed her food around her plate. "Yeah, I remember too."
Rick grabbed her hand. "Shit, baby. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have said that."
"It's fine, Rick." She brought one of his hands up to her lips for a kiss. "New beginnings. I'm ready to put the past behind us."
He lifted her chin with his finger. "Are you sure you're ready? We don't have to do this again if you don't want. I'm happy with our family being the two of us."
Michonne shook her head. "No, I'm ready. I'm happy with the two of us. But three is a good number too. If it doesn't happen I'll still be good, but I want to try."
"I don't want you to have to go through any pain or heartache again." His forehead furrowed and his lips down turned as he watched her closely.
"You worry too much about me. We've experienced a few cracks these last few years, but we haven't broken. We're stronger than ever. I'm ready. If Dr. Jenkins gives the all clear then I'm ready."
"Can't help worryin'. Consequence of loving you so much, but I'm ready too." He kissed her cheek.
"Good." She picked up her knife and fork. "Now I'm about to eat every bit of this breakfast, ok."
Rick laughed as he watched her. His eyes sparkled when she moaned at how good everything tasted. Her joy was always his pleasure.
"What else do we need to do while we're in town today?" He asked.
"Definitely need to go by the hardware store. Sasha sent me a text earlier. Our custom paint colors are ready. I can finally start painting the living room tomorrow."
"Or we could hire someone to paint it for us."
Michonne shook her head. "Nope. Would you let someone else tend to your roses?"
"Ok. Point taken."
"Renovating this house is a labor of love. I won't dare let someone else touch my walls."
Rick laughed. "Ok, love. We gotta stop by Father Gabriel's church too. He called this morning. Something he wants to talk to me about."
"Sure. We can go see the preacher man." She chuckled as she savored the homemade biscuits. "I can't get over that the one friend you've made since we've moved here is the town's priest. For a guy who shuns religion as much as you do it's unbelievable."
Rick rubbed the side of his face. "Shocked me too, but Gabe's a good man. He's a lot different than my father and all the church people I grew up with."
She grinned at him. "I'm glad you made a friend so I won't have to entertain you twenty-four seven."
"I made my wife this fine breakfast this morning and she has all the jokes about me."
She shrugged. "Calling it like I see it, baby."
He laughed. "We left most of our friends when we moved here. I'm not so good at making new ones. Unlike my beautiful wife."
She gave him a playful tap on the arm. "Maybe if you didn't have an affliction to talking to strangers you could be like me."
He cocked his head to the side and nodded. "Yeah, maybe. Don't don't have much time for friends anyway. These rewrites are killing me."
"Stephen still hounding you about deadlines?"
"Everyday. I need to remind him that literary agents work for the authors. Not the other way around."
"Want me to remind him for you because I'm happy to do it."
He smirked at her. "I'm sure you will. You never been a fan of his."
She shrugged. "Eh. He's all right. But you got this, baby. I know following up a best-seller is hard, but I believe in you."
"Your belief in me is everything I need. How's the sculpture coming?"
She bit her lip and sighed. "I'm regretting becoming an artist. I should have listened to Mama and went to law school instead."
"C'mon now. It can't be going that bad."
"There's a perfect untouched slab of marble in my workroom that says otherwise. Though Jasmine did get me a commission to illustrate another's children's book. I'm on the short list for a graphic novel too. So we won't go broke waiting for our creative blocks to wane."
Rick sat back in his chair. "Trust me, baby we won't go broke anytime soon. Those checks from my first book are still quite nice."
"Good because I married you for your money. About time you started making some." He laughed as she stood up and kissed him. "We need to get a move on. I'm going to get dressed."
Michonne never liked going to the doctor, but Dr. Jenkins was different. She felt understood and heard unlike so many doctors who dismissed or ignored her concerns. The waiting area was beautiful. Filled with vibrant colors and fresh flowers. The music piped through the speakers wasn't the usual muzak jazz, but selections from Cole Porter, Duke Ellington, and Ella Fitzgerald.
After taking her vitals the nurse led them into the office to wait for the doctor. Michonne sat in the plush beige chair wearing tight grey jeans and a sleeveless black top that fell an inch above the waistband of her jeans; exposing a strip of her flat stomach. Her leg jumped up and down as she tapped her fingers against her cheek. Rick sat more stoic next to her in a matching chair. He'd changed out of his sweaty gardening clothes and into button-down shirt and black jeans. He watched her for a few moments before grabbing her thigh to stop the bouncing.
"You don't have to be nervous, baby."
She nodded. "I know."
He intertwined their hands."Whatever she says we'll face it together."
She managed a small smile. "Like we always do."
He gave her hand a light squeeze. "Like we always do."
The click-clack of high heels down the hall was soon followed by Dr. Jenkins breezing into the office. The older woman wore her grey hair in a short pixie cut. Her permanent smile seemed illuminated against her dark skin. Michonne immediately calmed in her presence. The doctor had an aura that always put her at ease. Seeing her made Michonne miss her mother more so than she already did.
Dr. Jenkins sat at her desk and opened Michonne's patient file. "Mr. and Mrs. Grimes so good to see you both. How are two on this fine day?"
"We're doing well, Dr. Jenkins. Thank you," Michonne said. "But please it's Michonne and Rick."
She smiled at them. "Of course. I have good news for you, Michonne. Your test results showed the laparoscopy was a success. We were able to remove all the scarring and lesions caused by the endometriosis. I don't see any reason why you can't try to conceive again."
Rick squeezed Michonne's hand again; their grins to each other lighting up their faces. "Are you sure?" She asked.
"Many women are able to conceive after having a laparoscopy. Chances of getting pregnant are about 60%. Since you've conceived before I'm optimistic that we'll be seeing a Baby Grimes in the near future."
Michonne tried to hold back the tears but her emotions took over. She sniffed and wiped at her leaking eyes. "The last...last time we tried to conceive my doctor in Atlanta prescribed daily hormone shots. Even before the endometriosis I had a hard time conceiving. Will I need to do the same this time?"
Dr. Jenkins clasped her hands together and leaned forward. "At the moment I'm not going to prescribe any hormones. I don't want to put too much on your body so soon after the surgery. If you're not pregnant in six months we'll start on the hormones. What I will do is give you a prescription for an iron supplement and a multivitamin. Your blood work indicated you're in the pre-stages of anemia. We need to build your red blood cells back up. You'll need a diet of lots of leafy greens, lean red meats, nuts. I have a list of what you should eat."
Rick intercepted the paper as the doctor tried to hand it to Michonne. "I'll take that and will make sure she eats everything on the list."
Michonne smiled at him then back at Dr. Jenkins. "He's the cook of the family."
Dr. Jenkins dipped her head to the side then gave Michonne a high five. "Ok, now. Good work finding a man who cooks."
Michonne beamed at her husband. "Yeah, I won with this one."
Rick looked down with red cheeks; embarrassed by the attention the women were giving him, but managed to mouth a I love you to his wife as he looked up to her still beaming at him.
Dr. Jenkins stood. "Ok, I believe that's all for today. The nurse will be in shortly with your prescription and to make an appointment for next month."
Michonne and Rick stood with her as the doctor shook both of their hands. "Thank you for everything, Dr. Jenkins," Michonne said.
"Of course." She patted Michonne on the shoulder and winked at both of them. "Happy conceiving," She said as she breezed out of the room.
Rick pulled Michonne into his arms. "Ready to make a baby girl that looks like you?"
Michonne stood on the tips of her toes and planted a loud smack on his lips. "Or a baby boy that looks like me."
He grinned at her. "So we've settled on the baby looking like you no matter what."
She smirked and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Sounds like it."
Michonne always enjoyed driving into the downtown shopping hub. Main Street had a picture perfect view of the mountains looming over the shops along each side of the street. All the shops were unique and run with care by the people who made up the town. Major corporations hadn't yet found the little paradise in the middle of Georgia to plaster their logos everywhere.
Late August made for the end of tourist season. Tourists back to the big cities they migrated from. Seasonal workers were off to find employment for autumn. The town usually turned quiet, but the atmosphere was different that day. The streets and shops were all crowded with new faces wandering around.
"Lotta people here this afternoon," Rick said as he looked for a parking spot along the street.
Michonne gazed out of the window. "I know, right? I wonder what's going on?"
"Maybe people finally heard how good the chicken fried steak is at the diner?"
"Doubt it because chicken fried steak isn't good no matter who makes it."
"Not this argument again." He finally found a space right in front of the hardware store.
Michonne hopped out of the truck and crossed her arms as she stood on the sidewalk. "Everything we survived in the last few years and chicken fried steak is what will tear us apart."
Rick walked around to where she stood. "Never gonna happen. You're stuck with me for life."
"And beyond."
"That's right. And beyond." He pulled her close, his thumbs rubbing the exposed flesh of her stomach. "While you're in the hardware store I'm gonna go get some food for dinner tonight." He patted his pocket where he'd put Dr. Jenkins' food list. "Make sure we have everything we need for you to eat. I'm grillin' us steaks. Then I'ma talk to Father Gabriel before we head home."
"Ok, baby. Sounds good."
The strange atmosphere continued in the hardware store. Even in the height of the tourist months locals were usually the only ones who patronized the store. Scores of people from all walks of life crammed into every aisle. Some looked as if they walked off the pages of a fashion magazine while others looked as if they hadn't slept or bathe in weeks. Michonne slid her clutch purse under her arm and turned her body sideways as she tried to maneuver through the crowd. Relief washed over her when she saw a familiar face.
She spotted the hair up in a huge puff first, then the woman. Sasha stood behind the counter in the hunting section. The woman wore a frown on her face, the tension obvious in her neck. The line wrapped around the aisle. Michonne pushed her way to the front and waved at Sasha.
"Need a break?"
She put her hand on her hips and tilted her head back. "Thank God you came through, girl. These people are running my blood pressure up." She gestured to a young man on the other end of the counter. "Antonio, I need to help Michonne with her custom order. Come work the register and check for registrations and licenses before you sell any of them rifles."
"Yes, Ms. Williams," Antonio said.
The ladies walked toward the back of the store where the crowd started to thin.
"What is going on in this town today?" Michonne asked.
Sasha shook her head. "Girl, I don't know what's going on. I drove in to open the shop this morning and these people were everywhere on the streets. I asked some long haired Jesus freak looking dude what was going on. He said something about a pilgrimage and started mumbling about a spiritual revolution." She shrugged. "I couldn't make sense of it. It could have something to do with Gabe. His church looked busy today too."
"Seems strange. Rick's planning to visit with Gabe in a bit. He might get the scoop."
"If he does. Please let me know. They've been in here buying hunting gear, sleeping bags, lanterns, tents, and wood panels. If the apocalypse is coming they need to let us know so I can get my shit together."
Michonne raised an eyebrow at her friend. "Now, Sasha…"
"I'm just saying. But wait a minute,"She made a circle in the air towards Michonne's head. "Ok, hair. That cut is dope as hell. When did you do that?"
Michonne touched her hair and preened for her friend. "This morning. It was time. I loved my locs, but me and Rick are starting a new beginning. The doctor gave us the ok. We can start trying again."
Sasha wrapped her arms around her. "I'm so happy for you." She held onto Michonne's upper arms. "Are you sure this is what you want though? I know the last time she you tried was because you wanted to give your mom a grandchild after she became sick."
"I know," Michonne wiped at her eyes. "Ugh I've been so emotional today. With everything we've been through I think me and Rick need this. You know what Mama thought about being souls reincarnated. A baby will have her soul. It sounds silly, but it's a way to carry on her legacy. Both me and Rick are only children so the lines of both of our families end with us. Rick wouldn't mind his ending, but a world that doesn't have a spark of Mama in it doesn't feel right."
"It's not silly, Michonne. But you know I worry because I love you. You're more than my friend, you're my sister. I'm so glad I finally talked you into moving here."
"Me too. Since Daddy moved to New Orleans, you're the only family I have left in the state besides Rick. I needed to be close to you."
The women hug each other tight until Sasha broke the hold.
"Ugh, Ok. Enough of all this emotion. I have your paint."
Michonne wiped her eyes and laughed. "Yes, paint. That's what I came in for."
"Now I know you're an artist and sensitive about your shit so I made sure to get the mix right."
Michonne opened one of the cans looked at the custom green mix. "It's perfect."
"Yeah, the color is dope, girl. I would have never thought about that mixture of greens. Guess that's why you're the artist."
"All those student loans for art school had to be good for something."
"Can't wait to see how it looks in your living room."
"You and Morgan should come by for dinner next week. Invite Tyreese too. I'm trying to get Rick to make some new friends."
Sasha chuckled as she walked over to one of the registers. "Look at you trying to play friend matchmaker for your husband."
Michonne took out her debit card to pay when she noticed a man standing too close behind her. He watched the computer screen as Sasha rung out her transaction.
His long, greasy blonde hair tangled at the ends. He looked as if he'd been sleeping outdoors. His t-shirt hadn't seen the color white in months and his jeans were too baggy for his small frame. He smiled at Michonne with yellowed teeth.
His voice was deep in the way that came from years of hard drinking. "Your last name is Grimes. Wow."
"It's rude to look at other people transactions," Sasha snapped. "If you're not buying anything please leave my store."
He smirked at her then tilted an imaginary hat to Michonne. "Sorry, Grimes. Be seeing you soon."
"That's the Jesus freak from before," Sasha said. "His eyes opened wide when he saw your last name. You think he knows Rick?"
"I don't see how." Michonne looked over her shoulder as he exited the store. "There's a lot of strange going on."
Michonne placed the painting supplies in the bed of the truck as she spied Rick across the street talking to Father Gabriel on the steps of the church. A steady traffic of people flowed in and out of the building.
Michonne walked up to them. "Looks like you have quite the crowd here."
Gabriel clapped his hands together. "They all came in the last few days. I don't know what happened, but it's beautiful. I'm always here to welcome people to the Lord."
She nodded and looked around at all the people. "Sasha said something about a pilgrimage."
"I've heard them use that word, but they haven't told me any details yet."
Rick and Michonne looked at each other. "Could be some hippie thing," he said.
Michonne shrugged. "Who knows."
"So why did you want to see me?" Rick asked Father Gabriel.
He looked at the couple with a big smile on his face. "Many of the new people here are big fans of your book. You've inspired and touched so many souls, Rick. The heartbreak you and Michonne suffered through only to come out of it even more deeply committed to each other is beautiful. I would like you to speak of your experiences and your book here at the church this Sunday."
Rick scratched his ear and looked at Michonne. "I don't really like doing too many speaking engagements."
"Would you at least think about it?"
Michonne grabbed Rick's hand. "He's going to be busy finishing his new book. He doesn't have the time for any engagements. Perhaps he can circle back once the new book comes out." She tugged on her husband's hand. "Come on. We need to get back home."
Rick nodded a goodbye to Gabriel and followed his wife lead down the down the stairs. He paused once they made it to the sidewalk to kiss her hand.
"Thank you. You saved me."
"I know how uncomfortable you get saying no to people. Thought you could use my help."
"Always."
They were almost back to their truck when an older man and younger woman ran up to them.
"Oh, shit it's Rick Grimes," The woman said. Her light brown skin was almost the same color as her shoulder length curly hair. "Your book change my life. I'm such a fan of yours. Is this your lovely wife you write about in the book? She's so beautiful!" Her words came out like rapid fire. There was hardly a pause between sentences.
Rick held on to his wife's hand again, pulling her close to him. "Umm...yes this is my wife. Thank you for buying my book, but we really have to go now."
The man stepped in front of Rick. He was stout with red hair and an ample beer belly. "Where are you rushing off too? I would love to buy you dinner and talk.
"Thank you for the offer," Michonne said. "But like my husband said we have to go now."
They two hurried away and hopped into their truck. Michonne peeked out of the back window as they drove away. The man and woman were still on the street staring at them.
"What is going on in this town today?" Michonne wrapped her arms around herself as a chill came over her.
Rick shook his head as his foot pressed down harder on the gas pedal. "I don't know, but I'm getting us home."
Clear, twinkling lights were strung all around their deck. The crescent moon offered enough light to make the lake shimmer in the darkness. Michonne sipped on her favorite merlot. She leaned back in her chair relaxed and happy with a belly full of Rick's succulent steaks and grilled vegetables. Amel Larriuex sung old standards from their sound system. Michonne giggled when Rick pulled her up and wrapped his arms around her. They swayed to the beat of the music. His hands roamed down her body, kissing her neck, whispering I love yous in her ear. Her fingers played with the curls at the back of his neck. She only wore a pink slip dress that barely grazed her thighs, more lingerie than outer wear.
"This is our wedding song," Michonne said as You're My Thrill played.
"Mmhm," he said as he kissed her shoulder.
"That was one of my favorite days. So simple yet magical."
"And to think we didn't want a wedding."
Michonne sighed. "Mama was too persuasive."
"I'll never forget your father's words to me that day: You're all right for a white boy."
Michonne laughed. "You know Daddy's gruff on the outside, but he's nothing but cinnamon covered mush on the inside. He loves you."
He chuckled. "Yeah, I know." Her shocked giggles cascaded through the air as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. "He's not gonna love what I'm about to do this daughter though." He gave her ass a firm slap.
He took the stairs two at a time to their bedroom. Candles flickered around the room. The smell of fresh roses filled the air as he laid her on the bed, falling on top of her. Her hands were as eager as his as she pushed his t-shirt up to caress his bare back. His mouth sucked on her neck. Her legs wrapped around his waist. His hands in her hair.
"This hair is doing thangs to me. You're so gotdamn sexy," he breathed in her ear.
Michonne pouted when he pulled away, missing the warmth and heaviness of his body. He winked at her as he stood and pulled his t-shirt over his head.
Michonne rose to her knees on bed. She let her eyes roam his body as she bit her lip. He started most mornings with a workout and his body proudly displayed his hard work. She reached out her hand to touch his firm and flat stomach. His lips curved into a smirk when she reached for his belt. He pushed it away.
"I'm trying to give you my best strip tease. You gotta be patient, baby."
She put her hands on her hips. "If you're doing a strip tease you better shake it a little more than you're doing now. Put your hips into it."
He moved his hips from side to side while waving his arms in the air to an imaginary beat.
She covered her mouth with her hands to muffle her laugh. "No, no don't do that. Just take it off."
"So you want me for my money and my body."
"That's right." She slapped him on the ass. "Now take those pants off."
He slid off his pants and boxers. She licked her lips at his full erection then crossed her arms to grasp the hem of her dress. She slipped the thin garment over head. She wore only a black, lace thong underneath. He grasped her face with one hand and brought his lips to hers. The other arm wrapped around her waist to pull her flush against his body. The feel of her full breasts against his bare chest set him even more on fire. She could feel his hardness on her stomach as he explored her mouth fully with his tongue. Michonne fell back against the bed bringing him with her. The weight of his body pushed her down into the mattress. She lifted her hips so he could pull her thong off.
He kissed down her body, taking time to suck on his favorite place on her neck again. He made his way down to her breast teasing one nipple with his fingers as his mouth worked on the other. Both their moans made a cacophony of sound around the bedroom. He kissed down her stomach; using his tongue to make a circle around her belly button. Her breath caught as he placed butterfly kisses up and down her inner thighs. He parted her legs. She clutched at the comforter. He breathed in her arousal before licking slowly down her slit. She whimpered and moved her hands to grab his curls.
"Rick...please…" She barely could hold a coherent thought. She felt herself about to go over the edge as his mouth and fingers worked her into a frenzy, but she wasn't ready yet.
She pulled at his hair harder to get his attention. He looked up at her, eyes glazed in arousal. "Baby, enough of the foreplay. I need you inside now."
"As you wish."
He moved back up her body, kissing her lips again. He lifted her left leg to his shoulder and slowly entered her. He leaned his forehead on her shoulder to bask in her warm, wet center before he moved in and out of her. Her hips met every one of his thrusts. The headboard shook against the wall to their rhythm.
"Michonne," he whispered in her mouth before attacking her lips again.
He slid her leg off his shoulder so she could wrap them around her waist. He balanced himself on his arms and his thrusts became faster, harder. Their bodies both slick with sweat.
"I'm almost there, baby," she said.
"Me too," he barely grunted out. He reached down to rub her engorged bud. She dug her fingers into the flesh of his upper back as she screamed out from the pleasure. She fell over the edge. Rick followed her over as his body stiffened and he emptied himself in her.
He leaned his forehead against hers to catch his breath before rolling over to his side of the bed.
"I missed that."
He rubbed her slick stomach. "Me too." He rolled on his side, enjoying how her chest moved up and down. "Think we just made a baby?" He asked.
She stretched her body like a cat. "It's quite possible. We should probably practice a lot more in the next few weeks to make sure though."
"I like the way you think." He sat up on his knees and moved between her legs.
"Baby, I need time to recover before the next round." She gave him a playful swat on the shoulder.
He grinned at her. "Not the next round yet. I want to try something I read about." He bent down until his lips almost touched her center. "Thank you," he breathed into her nether regions.
Michonne sat up on her forearms. "Rick, what the hell are you doing?"
"Thanking parts of the body after sex is supposed to enhance the experience."
"Where did you read that? Cosmopolitan?"
He cocked his head to the side. "Maybe. It was a magazine in the waiting room at Dr. Jenkins' office."
She laughed pulled at his shoulder. "If you don't stop that and get up here."
"Ok, maybe it doesn't work."
They both laughed as he grasped her waist to roll her on top of him.
"You're silly," she said with a kiss on his nose.
"But you love me."
"I do."
He craned his neck to look at the clock. "Fifteen more minutes of rest then on to round two?"
She tucked her head in the crock of his neck. "Let's do it."
The clear skies turned stormy overnight. Thunder rumbled as lightning flashed. Michonne's eyes popped open. The shadows on the wall played with her mind. The dark silhouettes look as if wraiths were surrounding their bed. She bolted upright as the house shook with another roar of thunder. As the noise of the storm waned their was still a persistent pounding. She realized someone was knocking on the front door. She squinted at the clock on her nightstand: 1:41 am.
Rick laid on his stomach, a light snore coming from his partially opened mouth. Her hands were frantic as she shook his side and whipped the comforter off of them.
"Rick, wake up."
He flipped over onto his back, eyes still closed. "Hmm?"
"Wake up!" She slipped her robe over her naked body. "Someone's knocking on the front door."
The urgency in her voice caused him to finally open his eyes. "What?" He sat up.
"Someone's at the front - " Before she could finish the pounding started again.
Fully alert, Rick hopped out of bed and slipped on his pajama bottoms.
"Stay here. I'll check it out." He grabbed the bat they kept in the closet.
"Like hell I'm going to let you go down there by yourself. I'll be right behind you."
They descended down the stairs. It seemed as if the shadows from the bedroom followed them. Dark corners beckoned from the edge of the living room. Michonne grabbed a large alloy steel wrench sitting in her renovation tool box in the foyer as Rick looked through the peephole. Confusion marred his face when he turned back to her.
"It's a man with one leg," he whispered.
"What?" She frowned wondering if she heard him right.
"He's on crutches. Only has one leg."
"Is he one of the people we saw in town?"
"Don't think so. I don't remember seeing him."
"Let me look."
She stood on her tiptoes, one eye on the small hole. An older gentlemen with thinning white hair and a matching beard hovered near the door. His drenched suit clung to his body. He had the collar of the jacket flipped up, trying to get some relief from the downpour.
"What should we do?" Michonne asked.
Rick moved her behind him. "Let me handle it. Stay back."
"Be careful, Rick. Just because he's older doesn't mean he can't be dangerous."
He nodded and held the bat by his side as he cracked open the door. Gusts of wind and rain rushed in. Michonne lifted her wrench in a fighting stance.
"Can I help you?" Rick asked.
The man smiled. It made him look like a kind grandfather. "Finally, I thought you were closed. This the Bed and Breakfast isn't it?"
Rick frowned and looked back at Michonne. Her expression matched his. "No, sir. This is a residential home."
The man balanced himself on the the crutches. "Well, how do you like that? The lady at the gas station the next town over told me this house was a B&B."
Rick opened the door wider. "Sorry somebody gave you the wrong information."
"Just my luck with it pouring down from the heavens like this. Tell me, son, is there a motel anywhere nearby?"
"I don't believe there is. This is a very small town. Not much in the way of hotels. Only rental houses."
The man tried to take a step back, but his crutch sunk into a puddle of water. He almost slipped down onto the wet porch. Rick's fast reflexes caught him before he fell.
"Thank you, son. Almost had quite the spill."
Michonne stood in the doorway with the wrench still half raised. She placed her hand on Rick's arm. "Everything ok?"
He nodded at her. "We're good."
"Hello, young lady," the man said. "Where are my manners. I come knocking at your home all hours of the night and didn't introduce myself. I'm Dr. Hershel Greene. I'm the new pediatric doctor at St. Josephine's. Looks like there's been a communication problem and I have nowhere to stay. I would shake your hand, but they're occupied with these crutches."
Michonne offered him a tight lipped smile. "That's all right."
Once Hershel seemed sturdy enough to stand on his own again, Rick moved back next to Michonne. "I'm Rick, and this is my wife Michonne. It's miserable out here, why don't you come in to regroup and figure out your next move." She gripped his forearm. "Of course if it's ok with my wife."
Michonne looked from her husband to Hershel then nodded. "Sure. It's pretty wet and windy out here, please do come in."
She led the two men inside. She flicked on the overhead light in the living room, chasing the shadows away.
Hershel maneuvered through the foyer at a slow pace. The pant of his missing leg - below the knee - sat pinned against his upper leg. He eased himself down on the couch. "I would apologize for sitting my wet self on your furniture, but I see you have it all covered up."
"We're renovating," Rick said. "Well, my wife is renovating. She's the one doing all the hard work."
"A woman that knows her way around a table saw is quite the find."
Michonne handed him a towel from the downstairs bathroom. "We all have our skills. So you're a doctor?"
"That I am?"
"You're not here for the pilgrimage?"
He looked to Rick then back at Michonne. "I'm not sure what that is, young lady. I'm a doctor that used to work in Atlanta and now I'm semi-retired. Working in a small town hospital is perfect for someone not quite ready to give it all up. Though my wife insists on me slowing down. She's still in the city preparing for the move. She's always telling me to plan ahead." He chuckled. "She's going to be quite cross at me when I tell her I had nowhere the stay tonight."
Rick stood. "Why don't you stay here tonight? The storm doesn't seem to be letting up anytime soon. You can figure out the lodging better in the light of day." He turned to Michonne. "Is that ok, baby?"
Michonne cleared her throat and crossed her arms. "Why not. Dr. Greene would you like a warm drink to help with the dampness?"
"That's sounds just fine, young lady. And please call me Hershel."
"Sure thing." She grabbed Rick's hand. "Help me in the kitchen."
She led Rick to a corner near the pantry where their guest couldn't see them. "Why did you do that?"
Rick furrowed his eyebrows "What?"
Michonne threw her hands up. "You told a stranger he could stay with us. That's not like you."
"He's an old man with one leg. What harm would it do to help him?"
"We don't know if he can do any harm. This could be a set-up. Especially after all the weirdness we saw in town today."
"The weather's horrible out, Michonne. I'm trying to do the right thing."
"The right thing is to send him on his way so you and your wife don't get murdered in their sleep. I know you grew up in a small town where everybody knows everybody, but I'm a city girl and we don't let strangers stay with us. You barely like any visitors we know in our home."
"I guess I feel sorry for him. He's a pediatrician." He rubbed his hand down her stomach. "We might need him one day."
She shook her head. "I don't know, Rick. It doesn't feel right to me. I'm getting a bad vibe."
He wrapped his hands around her waist and kissed her forehead. "Ok, baby. If your gut is telling you it's not a good idea then I'll tell him to leave. You shouldn't feel unsafe in your own home."
She rubbed his back. "Thank you. I'll still make some tea and give him a towel to dry off with, but after that..."
"He's gone," Rick finished for her.
The mug she took out of the cabinet shatter on the floor as a loud clap of thunder boomed. She yelped when the kitchen lit up as if a spotlight shined through the windows. Lightning zig-zagged across the sky. Rain pounded down harder. Their phones beeped with flash flood warnings.
Michonne sighed as she looked down at the pieces of the ceramic mug on the floor. "Damn. We can't send that poor man out into flooded streets, can we?"
Rick squeezed her waist. "I don't think we can."
She put her hand on her hips and sighed again. "Fine. He can say."
He kissed her temple. "I'll put him in the downstairs bedroom. I'll stay up to keep watch. You go back into our bedroom and lock the door. I'll keep you safe."
Michonne nodded and caressed his beard. "But who's going to keep you safe."
"If you hear me scream run down the stairs with your wrench held high."
She snorted. "You know I will."
One of Rick's books laid open on Hershel's lap when they walked back into the living room. Rick carried a hot cup of tea for their guest.
"My apologies for being so bold going through your belongings, but I saw the book in the box on the coffee table. I knew you looked familiar when you opened the door. Rick Grimes, famous author. I've read your book at least ten times. What a beautiful story you crafted."
Rick looked down and scratched at his eyebrow. "Um...yeah that's me. Thanks."
Michonne cocked her head to the side and bit her lip. "What a coincidence for you to show up on our doorstep with you being such a big fan."
Hershel smiled at her. "The Lord works in mysterious ways, young lady."
Michonne raised an eyebrow at him. "So I've heard."
Rick grabbed her hip and leaned to whisper in her ear. "You can on up. Lock the door. We'll be all right down here."
She looked into his eyes. "You sure you can do this?"
"I'm sure."
"Ok." She nodded at their guest. "Hershel."
Sleep didn't come easy to her that night. She couldn't shake the bad vibe she had about their guest. She'd changed from her robe to pajamas and sat upright in bed with the wrench next to her. The laughter from the two men downstairs unnerved her. The room was a pleasant temperature but her body shook with chills. The sheets of rain outside reminded her of being encased by the waves in her dream. But it felt more sinister than it had that morning. Like a warning. She pulled the comforter tight around her.
Breathe, Michonne.
Endnote: Rest in peace to Scott. Hershel was one of my favorite characters on the show. Peace to his family, friends, and fans.