03:20 AM

Michonne squinted at her phone, the bright light hurting her tired eyes. Her stomach dropped as soon as her brain registered the area code. Oh dear God.

"Hello?"
"Hello. I'm Sheriff's deputy Rick Grimes of Kings County, is this Michonne Wright I'm speaking to?" As if she'd been electrocuted Michonne jumped up.
"Yes, this is her."
"Ma'am-"
"Is he dead?" Michonne couldn't wait, she had to know. "Is he dead?!"
Gripping the phone with both hands she tried to control her shaking hands as she awaited the deputy's answer.

Having been stirred awake by the tunes of Marimba followed by Michonne's voice, Dominic got up from the couch and moved quickly to the bedroom they once shared. Who'd be calling her at this hour?

"He's alive ma'am. Sheriff Wright, your brother was shot in line of duty tonight, he's in surgery as we speak. Ma'am-"
"My nephew Noah. Who's looking after him?
"I assure you, ma'am, he'll be in good hands. He's stayin' with my son and myself. I-"
"I'll be there as soon as possible." Click.

Once again, Michonne couldn't wait, she had to move and she had to move right now. It would take her, approximately, seven to nine hours to fly back but when was the next flight going? There was no time to sit down and search for tickets online, she'd have go to Heathrow directly and book the earliest flight right there.

As soon as Dominic saw Michonne's tear streaked face and shaking body he rushed over to her, temporarily, he had forgotten that he no longer was her man and that he shouldn't be holding her like that, especially not with them being half naked.

"Maurice was shot," she sobbed into his chest, "he's in surgery right now." Untangling herself from Dominic's familiar embrace Michonne rushed to put on clothes. She then grabbed her purse, double checked to make sure her cards were all in place before she finally grabbed her passport.

"Wait". Dominic was already dressed in a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt. "I'll have the G5 ready for take-off within the hour, we can..."
"I don't want you to come." Ouch. Dominic's face fell for a split second before he nodded in acceptance.

"All right. I just... of course. Well then. Uh, nonetheless, it will be here for you."
"Dom, I can't ask that of you. I'll just take a tax-"
"I'm offering. Please let me do this."
"It won't change anything." Michonne would accept his generosity, again but the last thing she wanted was to take advantage of Dominic's never ending pockets, especially now when he was trying so hard to win her back. To fix things. This time she'd relent for Maury's sake, she needed to get back to Georgia.

"Can you at least think about it, please?" Dominic begged. His brown eyes, puffy and slightly bloodshot, were darting all over her face in search for a sign. Something that could tell him she'd consider marrying him despite of everything?

She had ended their four year long relationship a few days back but remained at his home as he refused to have her stay in a hotel. The penthouse had been her home for over three years and everything she owned was there. It wouldn't be fair to rush her, instead, Dominic had decided that she'd remain until she found a place of her own and she could move out in her own phase. And now, she was heading back home to America for God knows how long. Bloody hell.

After the passing of her father five years ago, at the age of 28, Michonne took the greatest risk of her life and accepted to work as an attorney for the American embassy in London, homage to the memory of her father who had been an ambassador. She met Dominic Powell, a renowned architect during her first year in London. With a British mother and Jamaican father, Dominic was the most exquisite man she'd ever laid her eyes on. Built like an Olympic swimmer, he caught most women's (and men's) attention. His dark eyes and long lashes were the first thing Michonne noticed, then she noticed his hands, they were large, slender and his ring finger stood barren (that was her green light to seduce him).

What was supposed to be a one-night stand turned, in a matter of weeks, to a relationship, it was intense and Michonne loved every minute of it. Dominic was almost seven years her senior and had swept her off her feet, he turned the former Atlanta girl into a sophisticated woman.

Now, almost four years later it wasn't quite as endearing, the things she'd found irresistible soon became their undoing; Dominic's flirty behavior had led to many fights when he'd receive very, let's just say suggestive texts in the middle of the night. Sure, he never actually cheated, but Dominic didn't see the problem in entertaining other women and that was a problem for Michonne, Lord knows he'd lose his shit if she acted like that with her colleagues.

Dominic had a way of making her feel temporary, as if her replacement was waiting around the corner. When he spoke about the future it was always in terms of "I will, I'd like, I want" she could never shake off the feeling that Dominic didn't have a place for her in his future. Was this done unknowingly? Maybe. Michonne wasn't sure but the feeling of complete lack of security and comfort in her own relationship was exhausting.

That, combined with her demanding work and his projects oversees their relationship was sometimes nonexistent, it felt unworthy to continue this slow burn. They had a good run and Michonne wanted to end things before it turned completely sour.

Then... He proposed. Dominic had asked her to marry him mid break up fight. Michonne saw his proposal for what it was: a desperate last attempt to keep her. Anyone who knows Dominic would tell you that he is the forever-a-bachelor kind of guy, abhors the idea of attesting your love by involving religion and/or the law, for him it was simple: if you love each other you stay with each other, if not – good bye.

"Dom-"
"Please, that's all I'm asking. Think about it."
"Okay. I'll think about it."
"Thank you."
Michonne turned to get up the stairs but was grabbed by both arms and swiftly turned around to face Dominic. His large hands cupped her cheeks before he kissed her.

The last few days were spent fighting and arguing, and he didn't want that to be her last memory of him. Of them. He kissed her and poured everything he had onto that kiss.

"I'll be waiting." Slowly Dominic let her go and watched her leave, hoping she'd choose him.

He slumped his tired body onto the bed, not on his own side but on the side Michonne had occupied. Grabbing her pillow, he groaned into it as he was overwhelmed by her sweet scent. The couch had been his resting place for the last couple of nights. His large Victorian style penthouse had many rooms with comfortable state-of-the-art beds, yet he decided to sleep on the couch. Yeah, it was ridiculous to be acting like a fucking martyr, a victim but he was desperate and Michonne is a big softy underneath all that fierce exterior. He had hoped she'd tell him to stop being ridiculous and sleep in one of the guest rooms or take pity on him and tell him to sleep on their bed. Instead she had completely ignored him. Surely she isn't completely done, surely there's something I can do.

Dominic proceeded to scroll through pictures of them in his phone. Their home felt deserted and everything beautiful he usually appreciated felt... bad. This is bad, he wasn't even in the same country as her.

"Blimey". He stopped at a certain picture of her in only his boxers and her locs covering her beast. She was so beautiful. He was caught off guard tonight when he rushed into the bedroom and found her only in a pair of white cotton panties and even though she was crying, she was as beautiful as ever with her long locs falling over her shoulders slightly obscuring her pert breasts. Dominic felt the familiar prickling sensation in his balls, it didn't help that she looked good enough to eat.
Or that he'd been staring at pictures of her. Or that he was lying in the bed they fucked on, hell, they had christened every inch of this place.

With a severely damaged ego and a hard dick Dominic toyed with the idea of calling Nicki or Sherry to take care of that itch. It had been ages but he knew they'd welcome him back with open arms and legs. And he was technically single. Right?

No. No, he had begged Michonne to think about it and she would, he wasn't going to jeopardise that. He'd have to take care of himself as he thought of his future wife.

Sitting comfortably in her slightly reclined leather seat Michonne played different scenarios in her head, the next worse than the last. Dear God, I beg You. Please, save him. She hated that she'd turned into one of those people her grandmother warned her of becoming. People who'd turn to God in times of need but forget about Him when things were good. Guilty as charge. She needed to make things right, let him know that she wasn't angry anymore. That she forgave him a long time ago but her pride got the better of her (as it got him). Regardless of what had happened in the past: he was her big brother and she loved him.

The thoughts were running rampant; Who shot him? Why? Was it racially motivated? Shit! She needed to come in contact with that Deputy again. What was his name? Miles? Perhaps he could help her?

Scrolling through her contacts she stopped at Catherine, her co-worker (and the only other women in their entire building), sending her a text that briefly explained everything and that she'd call her. Then she sent an email to her boss, Nigel. Technically The President of the United States of America was her boss but Nigel was the supervisor and the Embassy's direct link to the White House. Michonne knew her quick departure would ruffle a few feathers but it wasn't anything Catherine couldn't handle, that woman was tough as nails and if Nigel decided to be an asshole about it; she'd fucking quit.

Looking at her watch she quickly calculated that she'd land in another 4 hours. She needed to call her friends Andrea and Sasha as soon as she landed. Michonne opened her iTunes and allowed the soothing voice of Donny Hathaway to calm her down.

Hang on to the world as it spins around
Just don't let the spin get you down
Things are moving fast
Hold on tight and you will last
Keep your self-respect, your manly pride
Get yourself in gear
Keep your stride
Never mind your fears
Brighter days will soon be here
Take it from me, someday we'll all be free, yeah

A/N: And that concludes the first chapter of 'From London With Love'. Hopefully Michonne and Miles can meet up soon. And what did Sheriff Maury Wright do to cause this rift between himself and Michonne? Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed. P.S. There's a cover for this fic (can only be seen with Desktop/Tablet mode) for those of you who would like to know how Michonne and Rick look. Of course you know how they look but you get my drift. Thanks again – Lucy