A/N: Hi, everyone. First off I am really in shock at the response to this One-shot. I am happy that it resonated with you Richonners. So many demanded for answers and I felt compelled to try to provide some. So as a thank you, I did this update and have another one outlined to bring a 'measure' of closure. It's somewhat lengthy but I hope you guys enjoy!
HALO: 2
'Breathe Michonne. Breathe.'
With a relentless stare, my eyes are bolted straight ahead to the other side of the hospital room. My concentration is solely on the oceanic picture hanging high up on the wall, as this 'Doctor' Richard Grimes, in his white lab coat and light blue scrubs, stands beside me.
With a tablet in his hand, he's rattling off some speech meant to encourage me, but only every other word registers in my brain. I am fighting like hell against my natural instincts to flee. I don't care about my legs. Screw my hundred and one stitches. I will drag myself out of this building if it meant I could get away from him and be free.
Nothing about this situation feels right. Am I losing my mind? Like an unsuspecting prey, I am trapped...
'God! I am still trapped.'
...This time in someone's sick web of trickery.
"Any unexpected event which threatens a person's life, undoubtedly disturbs you to your core…" the 'Doctor' continued, "...But not everyone reacts in the exact same way to a trauma. Do you understand?"
Although my gaze remains fixed away from his…
"I do." …My response is automatic.
"Okay good. Now while we got you here, we're gonna have our Resident psychiatrist, Dr. Cloyd, come see you regularly, alright? You'll like her, everyone does. So don't worry about a thing, we're gonna take good care of you. Make sure you're back on your feet and back in court in no time…"
From the corner of my eyes I catch him leaning towards me, his gaze burning into the side of my face.
"Mrs. Anthony? Hey. You okay?"
He rests his hand on top of mine when I don't answer, and immediately I flinch. I slice my gaze at him unable to control myself.
"No it's fine Mrs. Anthony…" Beth moves closer to my bed in the next second. My peculiar reaction doesn't go unnoticed. "You're safe."
The 'Doctor' nods his head to her reassurance, and withdraws his touch. "Is there something I can get for you?" he whispers. "Anything at all that you need?"
His steady tone of voice sounds so sincere. Still, I ball my fists and give a quick shake of my head.
'Please just go.'
"Okay then."
After leaving orders to get some more rest, both him and Nurse Greene stroll towards my door. However, as Beth exits, I watch 'Doctor' Grimes' as he hesitates. He turns, and throws his attention back at me, lingering in the doorway. His eyes tighten with a glare of confused curiosity.
'Breathe Michonne. Breathe.'
My mind is disoriented, worn out, and fractured. But I remain stoic. I don't give in… not until he leaves.
~0~0~0~0~
Three weeks – twenty-one agonizing days, and twenty-one tortuous nights – That's how long I've been 'required' to stay at Piedmont Hospital, due to the multiple injuries I sustained from the attack.
Day in and day out I've existed in a vacuum of despair. Although, the nurses and doctors, who are paid to take care of me, have been quite attentive. Their support and patient kindness have been invaluable to my rehabilitation, and I have tried my utmost to be appreciative and co-operative with them all. Well, all with the exception of him.
I don't know if I should feel ashamed about my disposition towards this man. But, quite frankly, Dr. Grimes' presence makes me question the reliability of my own sanity.
I have had no more 'visions' of any sort, since… well since I first woke up here. And I am both relieved, yet, mildly concerned by that fact.
God! All I want, is to just… go... home. I need to get up and leave, and get back to my life. To everything familiar to me.
The sooner I return to work, the sooner I will be alright. If I'm sitting behind my antique Victorian Walnut, flat top desk, resuming my practice, taking up my responsibilities, and immersing myself in my purpose… I will feel like myself again.
If I could go home to Andre, hold him close and breathe him in, as he falls asleep, his tiny body curled up snug within my arms...I'll have everything I need to conquer this cancerous dejection that's been eating up my insides.
This is the belief, the hope, I have held on to, while stuck in this limbo they call 'recovery.' For my body, yes. But with all this time on my hands, my soul dwells on the trauma, and the dwelling drains what little light the tragedy didn't take from me.
'It is always darkest before dawn.'
The popular, and seemingly profound phrase echoes in my mind, as I find myself in my wheelchair, positioned at my hospital room window staring, once again, out into the dense black sky. Wrapping my arms around myself, relief washes over me, observing how the morning light seeps in, softening the darkness into varying tints of blue.
Today, is supposed to be the last day, before I finally get discharged. Yet, I get the distinct premonition, that for me, dawn is nowhere in sight.
There's a click at my door, and someone enters my room.
My head swivels to discover Nurse Greene.
She's not surprised in the least to find I am up at this hour. "Nightmares been keeping you company again?"
"The usual," I sigh. "Along with depression, anxiety, guilt… The usual folks hanging around, stealing my sleep." I shrug at my predicament. However, my nonchalant attitude does nothing to assuage the empathic concern clouding her features.
Nurse Elizabeth Greene: Sweet, homey, worships the ground her Daddy walks on. And as innocent as anyone can be in this world. I'm pretty sure that deep down she still believes in unicorns. One shot of Tequila and she'd fess up to the childish fantasy.
She goes through her routine of straightening up my bed. "It'll take some time, but it'll get better. You know that right?"
"Yeah." Tilting my head, I smile a little.
"You just gotta get back to your regular schedule. I know you want that. Keep up with your visits with Dr. Cloyd, and –"
"I'm not taking those pills," I realize too late how irritated I sound, how unlike a friend she herself has been to me.
Her eyes jerk towards mine. "I know that Michonne." She makes her way around to my side of the bed and sits right in front of me. "Was just gonna say… you need, to have patience with yourself. You may be a Rockstar around here, but you're still human." Her thin pink lips curve into a teasing grin.
"I'm sorry," Lifting my hand, I gently tap her knee. "Thank you. Speaking of keeping up with my regular schedule, could you hand me my files?"
Tara, my assistant, has been updating me on the progress of my high profile case now being handled by my boss, Gregory Stein, the DA himself. Scanning through the paperwork again, I see he's been holding back. Another continuance being requested. But why though? Probably doesn't want to get his hands dirty. Typical.
"Need anything else?" Beth asks.
"No I'm good."
"Okay. Well I'll be back in a bit with breakfast. Any special requests? You're entitled, seeing as how today is your last day with us."
"How about a real cup of coffee? A god-damn soy latte with cinnamon and three sugars."
"Oh come on now," she drawls, "You know dang well I can't do that."
I chuckle at her helpless stare accompanied by the chirpy pitch in her southern belle drawl. "No requests, Beth, but… feel free to surprise me."
"I'll see what I can rustle up. Oh… Let me warn you, Dr. Grimes, he's carded to see you for your final consultation before you go."
A menacing unease hardens my stomach, and I tug my mouth into a tight smile. "Sure."
~0~0~0~
After my morning ritual of breakfast and a bath, Beth helps me slip on a fresh hospital gown – white one, with blue snowflakes on it – In time for when Mike, my goodly husband, arrives.
Since I've been hospitalized, he's visited me every other day, sometimes with Andre in tow, but mostly not. His looks of empathy and his words of advice, all fall short because none of it reaches me. Not really.
He's always toting gifts and flowers, though. I'll give it to the bastard, he sure knows how to put on a show, and today, is no different.
Once the pleasantries are out of the way and Beth moves on with her duties, leaving us by ourselves, he informs me about still seeking a divorce, but needs for us to keep it under wraps because of the optics, of course.
"Here… let me help you with that." He takes my cushion from off of my bed, and places it against the backrest of my wheelchair before drawing it close to me.
"Thanks I got it." However, I refuse to take his hand as I lift myself up off the bed, and ease across into the chair. I pull back my dreads and press in the puffiness around my eyes, readying myself to see my son. "Where is he?"
"Just outside with Mom. I'll bring him in, in a minute. Michonne, I wanted us to talk awhile first."
"You can have your divorce Mike. I won't put up a fight. You've kept me here long enough while you and your… girlfriend –"
"I've said this before," he cuts me off. "Terry's my assistant."
I roll my eyes and scoff. "Don't insult me Mike. Andre saw you. In our home, no less," I swallow hard noticing his ring is missing. What did he just say about optics? "I'm giving you your out, just don't lie to me."
Shoving his hands inside of the pockets of his grey slacks, he ambles towards the window. With his back turned to me, he stares for a while at the scene outside. What he says next makes my jaw plunge to the floor.
"I need a favor Michonne. This case against Councilman Richards…I need you to drop it. Make a deal."
The synapses in my brain snap into overdrive. "What? I-I can't do that!" I am desperate to make sense of this astounding request. "I won't! Why would you—"
"My Uncle out in Colombus… Let's just say, Richards, he's a friend of the family." His voice is so deadpan as if the conversation is a chore.
'Since when?' "He's a murderer!"
"No, there's no proof that it wasn't an accident."
"Yes there is." I watch him in horror. Who is this man? "Michael, look at me."
His body stiffens as he stubbornly refuses to meet my gaze. But I could make out the reflection of his beautiful large eyes in the tinted glass. There's no mistaking it. His gaze is heavy with shame.
"The world is filled with such ugliness…" I say. "Don't add to it."
"What does that mean?"
"What it means is you should be better, instead of pretending like you are Mike. Instead of settling for being less."
His head turns towards me. The muscles in his jaw twitch, as he looks at me confused, and maybe a little hurt. But I don't care. I love him – yeah I still love the sneaky bastard – But I won't go down with him. My son's father is no longer enough for me. Throughout our marriage he'd made it difficult to follow his lead because he refused to learn how. Always willing to take a backseat and abdicate responsibility for reasons I could never comprehend or dispute against. Okay, fine. But now he's asking me to turn a blind eye to justice? As a bloody favor?
My face swells hot with anger and I grit my teeth wanting to scream.
"This could cost me my job." I gawk at him with disgust. "I am an officer of the court."
"But you're a mother first. Aren't you?" he shoots back.
"Excuse me?"
With two steps he's towering over me. "Andre will remain with me at my family's home."
'What–the hell–is going on?'
"I think it's best for you, and for our son. To give you the space and time needed, to take care of yourself. And…" He grips me by my shoulders. "…To… reevaluate things."
It takes me another second to understand. This is a threat. He's using Andre to force me to concede.
My throat tightens. I grab one of his arms and I hold on tightly. "Don't do this." But he throws me off. "Mike please?"
"I've made arrangements for a personal assistant, and a round-the-clock nurse to be at your beck and call. Or…" He moves to the armchair in the right side corner of my room, tugging his pants legs up before he sits and levels his eyes with mine. "My mother, she's willing to come and stay with you, and help you out with Andre. But you have to agree to what it is I'm asking of you. Will you consider it?"
I try to quash my panic, and not fall apart.
I nod my head slowly. "Yes," I whisper, "She could come stay with me."
Mike's already standing up knowing I am not in a position to put up much resistance. "Good." He smooths his yellow dress shirt, and trots back over to me.
I close my eyes and cringe over the conversations to be had, in not just the days, but in the years to come.
Patting my shoulder, he bends over to press his cold lips against my temple. "I'll go get you your son."
~0~0~0~0~
Dr. Rick Grimes:
The doctor - patient relationship is a thing of beauty. It's simple really, but intricate simultaneously. It's an essential yet fragile factor in my profession. Why? Because it is based on one of the most luxurious qualities any and every human may possess... it is based on trust. We all value it, treasure it, safeguard it with our very lives, and that is a fact. Vulnerability requires confidence, which in turn requires trust.
The act of trusting, in this modern world, is not one to be taken lightly. When someone places their confidence in you, and acknowledges their faith in your abilities to live up to the promises which you swore to, with your own mouth, you have no choice but to commit yourself. This is your duty.
In order to get through every second, of every day – in order to function – we need to allow ourselves to trust in others. And we need for them to trust in us.
We trust the powers that be, to send us clean water to live. We trust fellow motorists to obey the traffic laws so that we could all get to where we're going in one piece. We trust our bus drivers, our children's educators, and yes… our health care providers.
So… what the hell was wrong with this woman? I saved her life. Yet she barely looks at me.
I've shown empathy, respect, engaged in active listening – when I could get a damn word out of her mouth. In order to gain some perspective, I've even put aside my own biases to deal with Madame ADA, which by no means was easy... she is Mike Anthony's wife after all, and that man, behind all that pomp and glamour, that man is a dirty scoundrel through and through. I regret ever getting involved with him. But I was desperate. And I was arrogant, so now I have to pay...
In any case, I have put aside my irritation with my patron to attend to his other half, and for one reason or the other, the woman refuses to have any faith in me. Demanding for a nurse to be present, at all times, when I come in to check up on her, and make sure her stitches are healing as they should.
Well, it's been three weeks. And she's finally patched up. So tomorrow morning she'll finally be gone.
Thank God and Amen… Hallelujah… Praise Baby Jesus.
Anyway, it doesn't matter, I just have to focus on the file and get through this final consultation. I'm surprised she hasn't made a peep about me being here alone with her today…
"Now you've already met with a physiotherapist right?" I ask, not really expecting a response. "Doctor Sasha Williams? Well in a few weeks more…" I point to her casts, which I glance at, noticing she's gotten some fresh drawings on them from her visit today. "…those bad boys should be coming off. And Doctor Williams could start you on your therapy right away. That okay with you?"
As per usual, she doesn't answer. I sigh, "Okay. Umm..." Swiping across the screen on my device, I push through. "Doctor Cloyd, now her recommendation is that you need to join group counseling for victims of trauma. Said it'll make you feel better… Help you to cope… I don't know what you'd think about that–pouring out your feelings in a room full of strangers –"
"Yeah that's not happening."
Her dispirited voice wrenches something in me, and my eyes jolt towards hers for the first time, since I've walked into her room.
'Shit.'
As I peer at her, I don't miss it–The deep sadness, betrayed by her sunken almond-shaped eyes. She looks so tired, broken, and lost, as she stares behind me at the door. Analyzing her demeanor I start to think twice about letting her go home.
"Hey," I dip my head and smile to catch her attention. "Today is your last day. You'll be with them tomorrow."
I'm surprised, but not surprised, as her eyes pool with water, and her bottom lip trembles.
"Hey... If there is anything you have to remember, is that your ordeal is most likely to continue to have some adverse consequences, Mrs. Anthony," I try to sympathize. "I'm not gonna lie to you, but your traumatic experience has changed you. But you will get through this...you're a fighter. Some days will be easier than others."
This is the ADA with a rep for being fierce, and undaunted, part of the influential Anthony clan. This woman has been one of the most reticent patients I have ever had to treat.
"Your determination to recover has sped up your healing process so I know you'll be alright." I nod my head back towards the door. "Mike… that man loves you. He wants to take care of you. You won't have to do it alone."
All of a sudden, her impenetrable façade completely slips away. "I am alone," she blurts out.
In one swift movement, I am on my knees, stunning both her and myself. "How can you say that?" I question, taking the liberty to grasp her hand in mine.
Her body jerks as pure shock registers across her face. "Be-Because…" she stutters, "My husband is leaving me. And he wants to take my baby. I, I... I'm going home to an empty house."
Like I said…
'Dirty Scoundrel.'
Back on my feet, I slip my device into my coat pocket as I move behind her. My hands grab a hold of the handles on her chair and I push her forward towards the door.
"Wait, what are you doing?" Her body twists and she stares up at me.
"I'm taking you outside. You need some fresh air… " I pause in the open doorway, "You don't have a problem with that, do you?"
She dries her face and shakes her head. "No… we could go."
I escort her through the hallways making our way down to the ground floor.
"You know if things aren't right at home," I say, as we emerge from the elevator, "I can recommend for you to stay here, with us, a little longer."
"No thanks," she shoots back without missing a beat. "I miss my tank tops, and Egyptian cotton sheets."
I chuckle. "Well, get a friend to come over then. It's best if you're not alone."
"Not so simple as that Doctor Grimes..." she sighs. "Listen, you need to forget what it is I said. I'm fine."
I don't believe her. But I don't push it either.
"But, thank you."
"No. Don't mention it."
It isn't long before I am sitting outside on a bench, along the curved concrete walkway, located to the left of the building. Across from my view is a beautiful sage garden that's thriving in the Georgia heat. Mrs. Anthony's chair is positioned sideways, in front of me, just to my right.
"May I confess something to ya?" I remove my stethoscope from around my neck and place the implement on the bench beside me.
"Okay." With her hands folded in her lap, she keeps her head low, and the sun catches the gold highlights in her brown shoulder-length locs.
"I know you don't like me. I know it. And perhaps, that's somewhat my fault." Perhaps she sensed my prejudice from day one, and my god-dammed arrogant pride wouldn't let me see her distrust for what it really is: Fear. It's only logical, after everything she's been through.
She glances back at me. "No."
Under the clear sky, the glare of the bright sunny day forces me to squint up at her. "No? Well, it's something." I hold her stare for as long as she'll let me, but her gaze drops towards my clasped hands.
"Something," she whispers.
I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn't. Instead, I watch as she cast her attentions towards the vibrant green shrubbery further down the pathway, preferring to sit there without saying anything more. And I let her. I mean I have to. Where we are is quiet, peaceful and breezy — Perfect for a moment or two of undisturbed reflection, and contemplation. Just what my patient needs. Despite my medical knowledge, or my years of experience, I don't pretend to know what exactly is going on inside of her head.
"My hus— Mike," she says after a while, her eyes still fixed in the distance. "Mentioned you're the chairman of one of the charities he's contributed to."
"Yeah…I am. The Judith Grimes foundation."
"So… at some point, we've met before?"
"Briefly."
She cups the side of her face and her brows furrow as her mouth turns grim. "I don't, remember." Her tone is strangely frustrated.
"Well now I'm hurt by that," I joke, "But I'm not surprised you don't."
"You're not? How come?"
"Well, for one thing, the night we met, was at a fundraiser Mike hosted for my foundation. And you, you were...distracted." I rub my bearded chin as the memory floats back to me. "It was the last trimester of your pregnancy, and it had you extremely agitated, for lack of a better word. Kept complaining about this and that. About it being the third 'shitty' event you'd been to for the week. You didn't want to be there. But… "
"But Mike made me come?"
"Yeah. Sound familiar?"
Her spine slumps a bit and she closes her eyes slowly. I notice her breaths deepening as a pained expression tightens her face. "Oh…" she's remembering. "I…I was pissy to you."
"Yes," I laugh quietly, as her glance flickered open to catch mine. "Yes you were. But don't feel bad 'bout it. You reminded me of my wife when she was at the end of her own pregnancies, so I paid you no mind. I understood the amount of discomfort you were in. Even told Mike it was best to just take you home. Told him to go crank up the AC and give you all the pillows, and Coconut ice cream, and chocolate bars you wanted. Still don't remember, do you?"
"No, I mean... yes, I do. It's vague but… I think I remember the ill-fitting Dolce and Gabbana dress, he got for me."
Her unpredicted response makes me grin again. "Ill fitting you say? I don't recall it being that bad."
Her eyes widen as though I made the most outlandish statement. "I looked like I was dressed in my grandmother's drapes. It was extremely awful, and everyone knew it."
"Nah," I maintained. "You pulled it off with elegance."
"Mmhm. Yeah I don't think so… Anyway, I remember Mike's incessant pleas with me to attend that night. For support… for the photos," she sighed. "And… I think… I think, I went into labor, the very next day." Her brows raised as realization crossed her features.
"Yeah, you did."
She shoots me an inquisitive look, and I clear my throat. "It was in the uh, the papers, made the local news."
"Okay. Well... I guess I'm sorry about my behavior… how I treated you then… and now."
I frown for a moment with slight confusion. "No you don't have to be. I'm the one who's sorry." I'm tempted to reach out with a touch of empathy, but I hold back knowing better.
She cast an appraising glance back to the garden. "Beth, she brought me out here a couple of times, but was too busy to stay long. It's nice."
"It is. So take all the time you need."
"You sure?"
I nod. "They'll page me if they need me. Besides, been meaning to start working on my tan. No time like the present." I say, steaming in my long sleeves. But when she tries to hide her smile from me, I know without a doubt my mild discomfort is worth it.
"Just let me know when you're ready," I shift her chair, for her to get a better view. "I'll take you back to your room so you could get some more rest. Tomorrow, I'll come see you before you leave… If… uh… If that's alright with you?"
She shrugs her shoulders probably wondering 'Why?' But for me I feel it's the least I could do. Tilting my head, I see the hesitancy in her eyes. "Is it alright with you?" I ask again.
Sucking in her lips she at last responds to my request, her voice no louder than a whisper. "It is."
~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~
Michonne:
After Doctor Grimes returns me to my room, the rest of my day is uneventful. Thank God. I don't know how much more drama I can take.
Once the initial shock of Mike's despicable treatment wears off, I spend my time conjuring up plans to take the bastard on. As though I haven't been through enough.
Having the snake arrested for obstruction of justice however, would prove to be futile. His family's lawyers would have him back out in a minute, with a 30 second phone call.
Whatever it is, that's going on with Mike, and Richards, and his Uncle, I'll have to discreetly find out.
My husband caught me off guard, but I won't allow him to take advantage of me because he thinks that I am weak. I will always be ruthless when it comes to my child. I won't crawl in to a corner and give up. I have to salvage what's left of my life.
So lost in my tumultuous thoughts I don't realize when I have fallen asleep.
Not until, I hear my name being called repeatedly.
"Michonne! Michonne!"
Actually, not called, but shouted. Is something wrong? I am not in some dream, yet, I am aware I am not fully awake either. In a rush, I rouse myself and I gasp as my eyes fly open."Yeah."
My heart is racing and I am out of breath, as though I sprinted a half a mile to get back to my darkened room. How long was I asleep for?
"Don't be scared. It's just me."
Startled by the deep voice, I jump up and reach across to switch on my bedside light. With heavy breaths I stare confused at the familiar figure casually leaning against my window. I thought he said he'll see me tomorrow?
"Doctor Grimes? Is everything alright?" I ask, blinking away my blurry vision.
No longer in scrubs, but in a dress shirt and jeans, he tilts his head from side to side, his arms folded across his chest "We're getting there. You okay?"
"Yeah," I push myself further up into a sitting position. Why is this man lurking in my room? "Is there something you have to tell me?" I hope he's not making me stay longer. The thought alone makes my stomach clench.
He steps out from the shadowed corner of the room. "Remember when we last spoke I told you I needed you to agree to something?" Rubbing the side of his bearded face, he strolls towards my bedside. And I lift my gaze to peer into his.
"Today? I don't think so Doctor Gri —"
"I'm not… Doctor Grimes," he interjects.
As the words slip off of his tongue an eerie tingle exchanges between us causing me to shiver. "Excuse me?"
"From the way you're gaping at me, think you heard what is I said. I'm not, Doctor, Grimes." Moving his hands to his hips he flashes me that stupid grin. "Although, I am glad that you've finally given him a chance. Took you long enough. I've been waiting Michonne. Like I told you the last time, he's an important man."
My heart stutters. "No…" I shake my head, "…No… Go away!" Why is he here? I thought I got over this?
"I said not to be scared. It's me."
"I'm not scared..." I swallow hard. "There's nothing to be scared about, because you don't exist. Not then and not now."
"Yes Michonne, I do exist. It was me, down there, with you."
"I was hallucinating. No one was there. Every damned day I've played that conversation over and over, and I realized…it was all in my head! You simply regurgitated everything I already knew. But I-I… I learned nothing new about you. Which firehouse you were with, if you had a family of your own, middle name…nothing. We talked and talked and I learned nothing!"
I press my fingertips between my brows and squeeze my eyes shut. I'm having another nightmare.
"What about there being two car bombs?" he says.
My shoulders shrug. "It's a big school, powers of deduction."
"It's a huge school. So why not three or four?"
"It's usually two."
"And Titus, told you 'bout him... "
"Go, away!"
Instead, this defiant vision comes and sits at the foot of my bed. "No."
"Seriously?"
"Tell me, first, why then. Why was I there?"
I am not having this conversation. I am lucid and have all my faculties. I will not continue to fight with myself. So I slide down into my bed and turn my back to lay on my side.
"Hey… hey. What is this?" He taps me on my leg like a nagging child. "You giving me the silent treatment?" He goes quiet for a few moments, and then I hear him sigh. "Hey, I need you to talk to me. C'mon Michonne. Tell me why was I there?"
Annoyed, I cave in. "Because I was scared, of course," But I keep my back towards him. "…I was terrified actually, and alone. Felt myself dying so my mind needed something to hold on to. I needed hope to survive. So I made you up." I turn and face my delusion, confident in my conclusions. "A perfectly normal psychological response, to an abnormal event. My anxiety, my fear. You were only in my mind."
"So you were listening to the good ole doctor huh?" He rises off the bed and positions himself right before me. "Well, Michonne… tell me, why am I here now?"
I shake my head and clutch my blanket trying to formulate an answer. "I… I don't know. Fear, again, maybe. I'm scared of facing my empty home? I… I'm not sure."
I drop my gaze from his unwavering eyes.
'And maybe because, I'm sad.'
With my silent admission I bite my lip to hold back the torrent threatening to flow out of me.
"We talked about desire, remember?" He traces his finger along the bridge of my nose and I slap his hand away.
"That wasn't real. This isn't real. I have the stitches to prove it."
He releases a heavy breath. "Why won't you just believe in me?"
"Are you serious?"
"Fine Michonne... let's just see okay?" Next thing I know he reaches over and grabs my call button. "You sure are stubborn I give you that. Gonna make me do it?"
In boldness I narrow my eyes at the figment of my imagination. "Do it."
Calling my bluff he presses the button and...
Ha! Nothing! No one responds.
I'm surprised at how relieved I am when his smirk falls away.
Puzzlement draws his brows inward as he studies the contraption, tapping the side of it as though the device has a problem and there's a malfunction. "Wait wait, hold on you gotta give it a second now."
Drumming my fingers against my hospital wristband I chuckle at the silliness of this dream, or vision, or whatever the hell it is. "Alright, no, this was good. I'm amused…"
"Oh shut it," he pouts.
Folding my arms I watch as he tries one more time, a bit more forceful. But again, no one comes through my door.
'I knew it.'
"Okay Lieutenant, clearly there's something wrong with me...they must have missed something," I gather my hair to the side and, using all ten fingers, make a quick search for bumps along my scalp. "I'll request another MRI in the morning, don't want to go home and drop down from a seizure–"
Then it happens…
"Oh Mrs. Anthony, I am so sorry."
...A nurse enters my room.
"...Dr. Grimes? I, I did hear the buzzer but I..."
"That's okay Nurse Niedermyer. Just happy you responded."
'God dammit!'
The grin on his smug face is so huge I just want to grab him by his collar and slap him. "Our patient here, she's thirsty. Do you mind Ma'am?"
"No, no, of course not. You like some water dear?"
I am flabbergasted and all speech evades me.
"Grapefruit juice, please Nurse," he responds for me. "That's been her favorite since she's been a child, spending summers with her favorite aunt and uncle in Trinidad." The s.o.b. winks at me. "Isn't that right?"
He was right. "Grapefruit's my favorite," I manage to whisper, cowering in my bed.
Nurse Niedermayer flashes a sweet smile. "No problem. Oh Doc. I could've sworn I saw you leave an hour ago. You were wearing that awful salmon shirt. This blue looks a whole lot better. Brings out your eyes like I always say."
Is this woman flirting with him?
"Thanks. I always get that." He tosses me a look of victory. This son of a bitch is enjoying himself.
As the nurse runs on her errand, he closes the door behind her and turns the lock. "Now can we talk? Before she gets back?"
Oh God I need to get up. I need to get out of here. But how? Throw myself on to the floor? Calling for help, won't do me any good. They'll think I'm crazy, and I'll never get to leave this hospital.
What's his plan here anyway? The nurse is coming back, isn't she? Not if she gets paged or worse Michonne, drawn into a conversation about… god, about anything! So I am on my own, and I have no clue what's going to happen to me.
Regardless, my eyes dart around the room and my fingers fumble for something, anything, to defend myself from this...this...
"What are you?" He's not Dr. Grimes, and he sure as shit is no Lieutenant. So who is he? What is he? He's real but he's… different. Not like anything or anyone I've ever encountered before.
Okay, okay... I need to stay calm. Stay calm Michonne. Breathe. Don't panic. Be smart. And think clearly...Grab the lamp and smash it on the side of his head.
Shit! He's sitting on the bed, right in front of me.
"You okay?" His hands reach around my arms, he draws me forward, and I let him. "I won't hurt you."
And I swear… Oh god! There's a blaze in his eyes.
My body limps and my pounding heart wants to force its way out of my bloody chest. I need to get a hold of myself. But I-I can't. I'm too afraid.
I need to get out! I need to get out of this room. Right. Now.
'Scream Michonne. Scream!
"Ssh! Don't, don't scream," he whispers. "Please?"
W-wait… Wait a minute. I think, I think I missed something…
"If you do that, if you scream, " he says, "I can't have my talk with you. And what I have to say is important."
His lips…
"And I've been waiting to visit you."
...Why? Why aren't his lips moving?
"Don't shut me out. Keep this up now you're gonna blackout Mrs. Anthony."
Okay no… No, no, his mouth is still closed. But I know I can hear him, distinctly. He is talking to me. He's-he's…
"Yeah..." he drawls. "This is what it would be like if I were inside your head."
'Son of a...'
My blood chills. In an instant, I summon the strength to shove him off of my bed, and I scramble for the emergency button.
"Wait!"
A sharp pain strikes me in my temple, and my eyes squeeze shut. Something's happening. What's happening?
"Dammit Michonne" he cried out. "Hold on."
…and darkness engulfs me.
~0~0~0~0~
