This is a ficlet I wrote that's part of the AU Scene Challenge with the Richonne Writing Network (check out RJD on tumblr). It's a Time Loop AU scene shot. Hope you enjoy!

Tuesday, the Twenty-first

February 21st 2017

8:02 am

Rick Grimes was sitting on the front stoop of his building flipping through scribbled notes in the margins of the dusty old book. Loops in Time. Theoretical physics was not his forte and the rambling stream of consciousness writing left him with far more questions than answers.

He checked his wrist watch for what felt like the millionth time. "Forty seconds."

As the minute hand moved to the three, his eyes automatically found the woman emerging from the red brick townhouse across the street. She was dressed smartly, as she always was, in a tan designer business suit with her dark locks pulled into a neat pile on top her head.

She checked her time, looking up and down the quiet street as if in search of someone or something.

Her gaze never landed on him, unlike the first time he met her at the bottom of those stone steps forty "days" ago and she introduced herself.

She slowly descended the steps, a look of deep concentration on her smooth dark face.

He could only imagine what might be going through her brilliant mind. He made a mental note to pry for more information, as he removed his watch, shoving it in his pocket. When she turned left down the street, he rose from the stoop to follow.

She strutted at a leisurely pace, as if she was on a morning stroll through a park rather than on her way to the court hearing she was dressed for.

"Morning Mr. Monroe!" She waved at a neighbor with a radiant smile.

"Good morning dear! Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"It sure is! Have a good one!"

Rick moved on autopilot as he trailed behind her, already having her every move from the time she left the townhouse to her arrival at the intersection before the coffee shop, etched in his memory.

He mentally rehearsed the possible scenarios for the day, being mindful that he was still a stranger in her reality despite their repeated interactions.

You haven't met me yet, but we've spent parts of this day together thirty-nine times.

Why he was doomed to repeat this day in particular? He didn't know, but he had a strong feeling she was somehow connected. And even if she wasn't the way out of the loop, he was still inclined to make sure her February 21st, 2017 didn't end in tragedy.

In fact, he wanted it to be damn near perfect.

The most unnerving part of reliving the day was the inevitable butterfly effect that occured with every change he made. Each time, it still led to the same unfortunate ending.

He glanced up as she arrived at the crosswalk at the end of the block, looking both ways before she crossed. Before she could move in her graceful glide across the road to the quaint little coffee shop, he stopped her.

"Wait! Stop!" His voice was still frantic, even though it was about the twentieth time he's yelled those words.

The volume and nearness of his voice startled her and she spun around to find the source, just as a sleek black Jaguar bypassed the red light, screeching across the road. The car left tire marks and the smell of burnt rubber behind as it spun uncontrollably through the bustling street. The driver managed to reposition and speed down the adjacent street leaving the angry honks and screams behind.

Her eyes were wide with shock as she looked between the road and Rick. "...How?" She let out a breath, placing a hand over her chest. "That could have hit me."

"He could have done worse."

"Thanks for that." Her smile was the definition of sweetness. "I didn't even see him. How did you…?"

"Heard 'em before I saw 'em," he shrugged, not wanting to waste too much of their time on perceived heroics. Like her, he heard and saw nothing. He simply had the advantage of knowing.

"People like that shouldn't be on the road. They could hurt somebody and I'm sure whoever it is probably doesn't even care," she scowled in the direction the car disappeared, still a little shaken by the close encounter. "Probably some entitled asshole."

"And he probably won't stop until he does."

She hummed in agreement as she slipped open her side bag, digging around distractedly. "I'm Michonne by the way."

"Rick Grimes."

Michonne tilted her head to the side, regarding him with curiosity. "Have we...met before?"

His eyes widened and for a second he allowed himself to hope. He thought about telling her, but he also feared she would think he was completely out of his mind. This was a concept that existed only in theory.

She couldn't possibly have remembered him.

Could she?

"No, I don't think we've met before today," he answered truthfully.

"I guess you just remind me of someone. I'm fairly new to the area, so it's probably unlikely that we've ever met anyway. Maybe it's déjà vu," she joked.

"Maybe," he said, fighting back the urge to blurt everything out. "I saw you back there. I think we're neighbors."

"Oh, are we?" She glanced up the street where they came from. "I don't remember ever seeing you around the neighborhood, Rick Grimes."

"Well, I was away on business for a while. I just got back yesterday." The yesterday that happened forty days ago.

"Oh. Well, it's really nice to meet you. I'm about to head across the street for my morning coffee and croissant." She cautiously peered up and down the street, appearing hesitant to move. Most people hand already moved on from the dangerous driving display and it was all clear to walk. "Wanna join me?"

"You're going to Tulip's?" he asked, as if he didn't know. "I was actually headed there myself. Love that place."

He'd never been there before she first invited him, but he grew to love it through their many visits. So, technically, he didn't lie.

"Really? That's such a coincidence. You really were in the right place at the right time then."

"Perfect timing, I guess." He stepped ahead of her to lead the way, turning to offer her a smile. "So, coffee date it is then?"

When she reacted with a smile that stole every ounce of breath from his lungs, he realized he was slowly falling in love with a woman he would only technically know for one day. Those feelings would unfortunately lead nowhere because she would never remember the countless interactions that caused them.

Once the clock struck midnight, time would reset, and he would spend another eight hours, three minutes and four seconds strategizing how to beat fate.

"Do you come here often?" she asked, as he held the door open for her.

"Every now and again."