Author's Note: I never really considered Richonne meeting if the ZA hadn't happened, their worlds just seemed so different to me. But of late, it has been on my mind a lot. They are so perfect for each other in the ZA, what if they had met in a world that never changed? I couldn't shake that question, so here is my take on how it would be. It is safe to say that this will be a multi-chapter event.

Michonne swore under her breath, the flashing blue lights and annoying whoop-whoop of the siren two additions to the mounting list of things that had gone wrong since she woke up late almost ninety minutes ago. This was shaping up to be one hell of a rotten day. She should've just stayed in bed, and not done that rolling stop just now. She groaned. A proud legal eagle, she obeyed all laws. She'd never even tossed a sunflower seed shell on the ground, but everything was off today. She'd heard tale of that sinking feeling one got in the pit of their stomach when those lights came up behind them, but she never thought she'd experience it sitting behind the wheel.

She glanced in her rearview mirror at her son after pulling over. "Policeman! Policeman!" said three-year-old Andre, his excitement at seeing the officer in direct opposition to his mother's. Cops, firemen, and soldiers were his new favorite things. She should've been a defense attorney or prosecutor, then she would know some officers.

"Yeah, policeman," Michonne grumbled, lowering the driver's side window and retrieving the insurance card and license from her purse. Wasting no time, she extended the cards the moment a shadow appeared, not bothering to look, but instead keeping her eyes trained on the mirror and a waving Andre. His enthusiasm and beautiful smiling face would ease the sting of receiving her first traffic citation, and getting it two blocks from her new business law office. "Here you go, and, yes, I know why you stopped me."

"I've never heard someone confess so quickly, ma'am," the officer said, taking her documents. "Hiya, little fella."

"Hello, Mr. Policeman."

A little smile touched Michonne's lips. After five years in Atlanta, she'd come to accept that she would never not hear the accent of Georgia natives. She found it charming. Growing up in Connecticut and spending most summers and the previous six years in New Orleans, she had an interesting sound, but nothing beat a Southern accent. And the Georgia drawl seemed very distinctive. There was smoothness to this particular voice. A gentleness she found very pleasant.

"You must truly be in a hurry, Ms., uh, Ms…"

"Rameau," she said, tearing her attention from Andre and rescuing the struggling officer with the last name most people wanted to give the long 'O' sound when it was actually the long 'U.'

"Rameau? That's…"

Both the officer's words and time stilled when he looked up from the license and their gazes finally met. Eyes bluer than the waters of the Aegean Sea held Michonne rapt. The gasp she heard couldn't have come from her. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move, but somehow it felt like she was on an active fault line. Her skin prickled and tingled like she'd stepped on a live wire. There was nary a single downed power line around, but electricity crackled all around. So much more than a vibrant color stared back at her. It felt like… No, it wasn't possible. This didn't happen in real life.

"Like cow say moo," Andre said with a laugh, his little voice breaking the charged moment with the phrase Michonne had used to teach his little friends her last name. It had only been a moment that passed, maybe a couple of seconds, but it felt like so much more in so many ways.

The officer's Adam's apple bobbed wildly and a rush of red stained his neck and clean-shaven cheeks. He cleared his threat. "I was – I was going to say French. But, yeah, I, uh…" He expelled a breath and focused his attention on Andre. "I guess you're right about that, buddy. Rameau, like moo." His gaze returned to Michonne's. "Beautiful," he murmured.

The brisk fall morning had transformed into a scorching, thermometer breaking summer day. Michonne wanted to look away, she knew she should, but she couldn't. Her heart pumped in time with the rapid motion of the pulse points at his neck. Whatever this was, she wasn't feeling it alone. That offered both comfort and unease.

Clearing his throat again, he raked his fingers through dark brown curls, displaying a telltale sign on his left ring finger. She didn't have the jewelry, but she had the commitment with Mike, Andre's father. She was not available. This man, whose name tag read 'Grimes,' was not available. Why was her heart whispering that it didn't matter?

Rick couldn't stop staring. He saw attractive women all the time, but he never looked twice. He was a cop, and women threw themselves at him. It was the uniform. His partner and best friend, Shane, ate that shit up. But Rick was married, and he wasn't about any of that. He and his wife, Lori, had problems, most couples did, but he was a family man, and what they had was good. Lori and their nine-year-old son, Carl, were his world. But this woman, Michonne Rameau, with radiant mahogany skin, flowing dreadlocked hair, and a name as beautiful as the woman herself had him questioning what he knew and who he had always been. A man who prided himself in always doing the right thing.

Right?

When Shane spotted the late-model Mercedes-Benz SUV yield the stop sign, his partner was anxious to show the 'fat cat' that money didn't make him exempt from following the rules of the road, which is why Rick insisted on approaching the vehicle when Shane pulled over. Shane wasn't aggressive, but he could be a hard-ass, and a rolling stop was so minor. Rick had barely looked at the license and insurance card when she extended them, the little one waving happily in the booster seat caught his attention and made him smile. When he did notice the license, the unusual names had him curious. He was thinking long 'O' as he pondered the pronunciation of her surname, but Rameau with the long 'U' complemented the beautiful name Michonne. It sounded good coming off his tongue when he repeated it. It sounded right.

What he saw when he met those hypnotic brown eyes felt right. What he saw staring back at him was… Shit. Too impossible to be anything but utterly amazing.

"Have to potty, Mommy."

Rick stifled the disappointed groan screaming to be heard. Did he really think he could stand on the side of a busy street all day staring at her? Oh, how he wanted to.

"Okay, peanut." She sighed deeply. "I'm sorry about the stop sign, Officer Grimes."

"Rick. It's okay, your son needed to use the bathroom. You were in a rush, it's understandable."

"I didn't know he had to go when I did that."

Rick smiled, her effortless honesty blew him away. "I'll chock it up to mother's intuition. There's a restaurant a few blocks down."

"My office is even closer, but, thank you."

"You're welcome, Mich – "Rick cleared his throat. He was being way too familiar, but it felt so natural. "Ma'am."

"Michonne," she said.

Rick dived deeper into the depths of her warm brown eyes. "Michonne." He extended the documents, and unlike when he received them, their hands brushed and held beyond the point of being appropriate. Rick's breath hitched as slender fingers topped with nails in a pretty pinkish orange slid against his. Her touch was the offspring of silk and fire. He'd never experienced anything so gentle yet so dangerously all consuming, and her soft, whimpered cry confirmed a similar reaction.

"Mommy!"

"Okay, Andre," Michonne answered, not breaking Rick's gaze.

"I need to let you go," Rick said, his words not just a statement but an edict to himself.

"Yes, Rick, you have to." Michonne's hand slipped from his loose, but possessive, grip. Her lip quivered ever so softly. "Goodbye."

Goodbye? Swallowing the knot in this throat, Rick watched her drive away and then stumbled back to the squad car. This couldn't be goodbye. It couldn't.

"You okay?" Shane said when Rick closed the door. "You look strange. That guy didn't try anything, did he?"

Rick blinked. He wasn't going to cry. He could not. "Guy?"

"Michael Connor. The registered owner."

"No, it was a lady." Michael Connor? Rick didn't see a ring, but he wasn't looking for one. He wasn't looking for anything that happened this morning. "A lady and her cute little boy."

"Did she show you some leg or something? Seriously, man, you don't look right."

"Right?" Rick sighed, absently combing his finger through his hair and getting a whiff of Michonne's perfume that lingered from her touch. He drew a deeper breath. She smelled so good. But it wasn't her scent or even how beautiful she looked that captivated him. Those things he could resist. "Something did happen." Rick's heart raced like a runaway prisoner as he recalled the moment he would never forget. "Something so unexpected."

"What?"

"This lady. Shane, I looked into her eyes and I saw - I saw my future, my past, my everything."

Shane scoffed. "What the fuck are you talking about, Rick?"

"I know how it sounds. I can't even believe I'm saying this. I have a wife and a son, but as sure as I'm sitting here, I know it's true. I just met the love of my life."