Chapter Two - Partners
Rick Grimes was having trouble breathing, and he wasn't sure if he could attribute that sad fact completely to his injured ribs. Sure, he'd escaped the fate Negan had planned for him, but the woman who'd saved him presented a myriad of problems he was completely unprepared for.
First, he'd been forced to ride 15 miles on the back of her motorcycle. He'd never ridden passenger before, and it was an interesting experience to say the least. Dr. Samaha was a beautiful woman and extremely fit. Straddling the bike behind her, pressed against her firm, yet soft body as they traveled over bumpy, unpaved roads, had left him more than a little frustrated.
There was also the small issue of her riding like a goddamn maniac. The ride was fast…too fast…and he wasn't sure if both wheels stayed connected with the ground. He was a man who had once jumped from car to car on top of a moving train and who stood unflinching in the face of death, but thirty seconds on the back of her motorcycle had him praying for his life with his eyes clenched shut. By the time they made it to what looked like an airfield on the outskirts of Alexandria, his fingers ached from gripping the seat bar behind him so tight. At least being in constant fear for his life, distracted him from his original problem and halted a too embarrassing reaction from the friction of the ride. They climbed off the bike and he waited until her back was turned to adjust himself accordingly before limping behind her into a small house next to the hangar.
There, he was briefly introduced to a younger woman named Rosita and her mother, Nahal, before being pushed into one of the back rooms. Dr. Samaha disappeared for a little while but when she returned, she was carrying bandages and a bowl of water and when she commanded him to remove his shirt all of his efforts to control his growing frustration were made meaningless. Self-preservation took a backseat to the normal reactions of a man in the presence of a beautiful woman.
His eyes fluttered closed, and he bit the inside of his cheek as her gentle fingers traced his ribs during her examination of him. He tried to focus on anything except how silky her hands were, how her hair smelled like a mixture of honey and flowers, and how her mere proximity made him feel like he was coming apart at the seams.
What worried him, was the fact that women didn't usually effect him on that level; both before and after his wife's passing. He'd never been the type to develop crushes, and here he was feeling like a lovesick teenager. The realization that she made him that out of sorts after only knowing her a few hours, floored him. He was in trouble. The Nile and its crocodiles may have been easier to overcome.
"There," she said, and he'd barely realized she'd moved on to wrapping him in gauze and making his torso resemble that of a mummy. "Those ribs will be as good as new in a few days. Good thing they weren't actually broken."
"Yeah. Thanks for taping them up," he said, and she smiled. It was the kind of smile that illuminated entire rooms. He was sure that smile would be the death of him.
"No problem. If we're going to be partners, I need you at full strength," she said.
He nodded and shrugged back into his torn shirt, finally noticing the aroma of freshly cooked food that swept through the house. His stomach chose that moment to loudly remind him that his last meal had been almost a full day earlier.
Dr. Samaha laughed and beckoned for him to follow her out into the main room. Rosita's mother was making bread in the kitchen, and the dining table was filled with food. Dr. Samaha walked over to the woman and thanked her before joining him at the table.
"She always cooks like she's feeding an army," she whispered, "Eat something. Like I said, I need you at full strength."
She didn't need to tell him twice. He lowered himself into one of the chairs and grabbed one of the meat pies. It may have been because he was so hungry, but the first bite had him wanting to kiss the little old woman on her lips.
"Oh my god," he moaned; as he immediately put a second one on his plate along with some Koshari. She just smiled and filled a plate of her own.
"Rosita's mother makes the best Hawawshi in Egypt. Would you like some coffee?"
His mouth full of food; he nodded eagerly and watched as she poured the steaming hot amber liquid into his cup. They ate in silence until he was full enough to think straight again, and he spent the entire time trying to figure out what to say to her first. The researcher in him needed to know what made a woman like Michonne Samaha tick. She was a woman in field dominated by men, but she held her own to the point of showing up most of her peers. If that wasn't enough, she masqueraded as an adventurer who rode a motorcycle and wielded a sword. It was unheard of, and it intrigued him more than any artifact or ancient mystery ever could.
"Why do you do this?" He asked, after deciding that she would appreciate the direct approach.
"All I've done is play nursemaid and feed you breakfast. That's what women are expected to do, right?" She smiled at him over the rim of her coffee cup, but he wasn't going to let her coy act get him off track.
"You did all that after fighting bad guys with a sword and saving my life. You're also an esteemed Egyptologist at the American University, so all of it is unexpected in my opinion."
She shrugged and popped one of the dates into her mouth.
"I could say the same about you. Why does a renowned archeologist teaching at one of the most prestigious universities in the world, moonlight as a soldier of fortune?"
It was a tough question to answer because he wasn't quite sure of the answer himself. It was just something he'd always done; ever since he was a kid. His father was a historian; obsessed with his work throughout his childhood. Some of it must've rubbed off on him because here he was in Egypt instead of home with his son.
He pushed the thought of being like his father out of his head. This was always supposed to be his last adventure before he devoted himself to being a full-time parent. Nothing was going to get in the way of that, especially not this unplanned delay in getting the amulet back.
"It's a hobby," he finally answered, not wanting to give away too much. From her narrowed eyes and inquisitive stare, he knew he'd only succeeded in making her more curious about him.
"A hobby? If I was getting my ribs nearly broken and almost becoming dinner for a crocodile, I'd find a new hobby."
Her teasing only fanned the flames of his attraction but, much to his dismay, she seemed to be only amused by him. He was going to have to up his game.
"You just met me on a bad day," he challenged, but it didn't faze her. She only seemed to grow more entertained by him if that were possible.
"Is that what we're calling it?" She asked, as she did a terrible job of hiding a laugh. If she was any indication, maybe he should've gone into comedy. He was definitely going to have to up his game.
He grumbled, "That's my story and I'm sticking to it. What's yours?"
For a moment, he thought she was going to ignore his question, but instead, she leaned forward across the table and sighed.
"Let's just say, I got tired of watching artifacts go missing from the museum and from dig sites, only to end up in someone's private collection. No one was doing anything about it, so I decided to take matters into my own hands...which brings us back to the Eye of Horus amulet."
"Everyone dismissed Zahrah's Eye as a myth until it turned up in that hidden tomb at Deir el Bahari a few months ago. We think the tomb belonged to Senenmut; architect of Hatshepsut and her supposed lover. The amulet also looks exactly like the one Hatshepsut is often depicted as wearing."
"You were here for the evaluation," she inferred.
"I was working in Abu Simbel when I received a wire from Lacau asking for help because Cairo's most brilliant Egyptologist...his words...was out of the country," he answered; and she dropped her gaze to the floor. He could've sworn he saw her chest swell for a minute there. She quickly shook off any pride she had as a result of Lacau's compliment, and her eyes met his again.
"I go to Paris for a few months and you all manage to find and promptly lose one of the most treasured artifacts we've come across in a long time."
The laugh erupted from him before he had a chance to think about it.
"We didn't lose it, it was stolen," he argued.
She shook her head and laughed right back.
"Same thing."
They stared at each other for a moment; stuck in a moment of comfortable silence that both of them seemed to relish. It had been a long time since he'd been able to just sit and talk about Egyptology with someone who shared his passion for it. It was refreshing in a way he hadn't expected to to be. It also didn't hurt that Dr. Samaha was very easy on the eyes.
He cleared his throat, and said, "Anyway…it took deciphering the hieratic inscribed on the back to conclude that Zahrah's Eye had actually been found."
She nodded and took another bite of her meal. "The amulet may be real, but that doesn't mean the fairytales that go along with it are."
"Real or not, the Nazis want it for a reason, and it's not because it's pretty."
She shrugged and said,"I, for one, don't care why they want it. I just want to make sure they don't get it."
That point was little muddy for him, but he didn't want to get stuck on that. She was obviously a skeptic when it came to the more mythical side of Egyptology, and an argument over the magical properties of Zahrah's Eye would only slow them down.
"Fair enough," he agreed.
"I need to go. I'm meeting a contact who should have some information for me."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
She grabbed another date and moved toward the door.
"No. Stay here and rest. We have a long few days ahead of us."
With that, she disappeared through the door and he stared after her, completely lost under her spell. She may not believe in magic, but she wielded it with ease without even knowing it. She was right. It was going to be a long few days.
He was sitting outside when she pulled up on her motorcycle. His hair looked dark and wet; and combed back away from his face which was still losing the war, thanks to his scruff straddling the edge of becoming a full blown beard. He was in clean clothes that Rosita must've scrounged up for him, and the stark white shirt made his eyes even more strikingly blue. Not that she noticed that sort of thing.
Dr. Richard Grimes was known for his brilliance in the field of archeology and for his ability to make any woman between the ages of 18 and 70 swoon with just a smile. She hadn't quite confirmed the level of potency, but there was certainly something about him that made her take a second look.
She brought the bike to a stop and frowned at the amount of dust and sand she was covered in, becoming irrationally jealous of the fresh and clean Dr. Grimes. She really wanted long soak in a nice, hot bath back at her apartment in Cairo, but she had a feeling it was going to have to wait till they got to Casablanca. The hangar doors were open and Rosita seemed to be close to finishing getting the plane ready.
Rosita was one of the few people she trusted with the less mainstream part of her life. They'd met in Morocco a few years ago when a recovery mission for an idol from the tomb Tutankhamun went sideways. Rosita had been able to fly her back to Egypt well ahead of the army of goons chasing her; taking off from Casablanca's airstrip under a hail of bullets. They'd bonded during that adventure, and Rosita had become her go to.
She was barely off her bike before Dr. Grimes was standing next to her. Rosita's mother must've let him use the nice soaps because he smelled like jasmine with a hint of sandalwood. The top two buttons of his shirt were left undone, giving her a glimpse of his dark chest hair peeking through. It reminded of her of what he looked like with that shirt off and what those muscles felt like beneath her fingers. She closed her eyes and reminded herself not to stare, as she turned to face him. They were partners; a temporary means to an end. They would get the amulet back and then go their separate ways. She refused to be distracted from the mission by him.
"Any news on where Negan is?" He jumped right to the point and she liked that about him. She'd never had a lot of time for small talk.
"According to my contacts, The Governor has decided to meet them in Casablanca. Negan and his men chartered a ship from El-Dekhelia and they should arrive there in two days," she answered.
"So, what's our next move? I know a guy who could get us to Morocco fast," he began, until the corner of her lips quirked up.
"Already taken care of. We'll be on our way shortly," she explained. "Rosita is getting the plane ready now."
He glanced over to the plane in the hangar and she could've sworn he turned a little bit green.
He swallowed hard and said, "I was afraid of that. Is she a good pilot?"
"Rosita is the best pilot in Africa." She laughed at the unease written all over his face. "Don't tell me the intrepid Dr. Grimes is afraid of flying!"
He glared at her like she'd grown two heads.
"I'm not afraid of flying! I just prefer keeping my feet on the ground."
"I'd love to accommodate your preferences, but we have to beat Negan to Morocco, and the only way to do that is through the air. My source says the sale is set for three nights from now at Hotel Transatlantique."
He whistled low at the name of the most glamorous hotel in Casablanca, and he was right. World leaders and movie stars congregated there over drinks and cigars; ruling the world from their Moroccan vacation.
"Swanky. This…governor…he has expensive tastes."
"He does," she agreed, "He also has a taste for exotic women…"
His eyebrows furrowed for a second, before shooting up to his hairline as his jaw dropped open.
"You're not thinking what I think you're thinking," he said.
This wasn't exactly the way she'd wanted to discuss the plan with him, but it was going to happen sooner or later.
"I'm going to get close to the governor and nick the amulet," she explained.
He blinked a few times before his sarcastic laugh filled the air.
"No offense, but on the list of terrible plans, that one is right there at the top."
She folded her arms over her chest and stared at him, trying and failing to control the anger that laugh had inspired in her.
She retorted, "Oh, really? What do you suggest, then? Going in with guns blazing, getting ourselves killed, and losing the amulet?"
"No, I just think there has to be a better way than using yourself as bait," he snapped.
She poked out her bottom lip, mockingly.
"Aww, huluwti! Are you worried about me? I've been doing this for a long time, Dr. Grimes. I can take care of myself."
For the first time, he bristled at her teasing and she detected a hint of fire behind his icy blue eyes. She'd gotten under his skin and she wasn't sure if it was because he didn't like her idea, or if there was something else.
"I know you can take care of yourself, Dr. Samaha," he said, his tone low and clipped, "but 'ant dhaki jiddaan 'an takun ghabiun!"
Her face flushed and she clenched her fists at her sides. She suddenly wished she'd left him to the crocodiles.
She stalked over to him, not stopping until they were standing toe to toe, and placed both hands on her hips. He didn't back down either. He stood there glaring at her with just as much ire as she felt toward him. The problem was, there was something else there too; something she'd refused to let herself feel in a very long time. When his gaze briefly flicked down to her lips, that feeling solidified into a knot in the pit of her stomach.
Yep. She should've definitely left him tied up next to the Nile. Now she was stuck with him and his ruggedly handsome face and pretty eyes at least until they got the amulet back. That only made her more certain that her plan was the way to go. It was the fastest way to get the amulet and get Dr. Rick Grimes out of her hair for good.
Her jaw tightened and she said, "Well, that's the plan. If you don't like it, you're welcome to stay in Egypt!"
She marched past him toward the hangar where Rosita was working on the plane, making sure to bump him out of her way as she passed. She'd spent too many years proving herself in a field dominated by men who liked to question and second guess her every thought. There was no way she was going to allow him to do the same, regardless of her untimely, and unwanted attraction to him.
Rosita peeked out from under the plane, and became the undeserving focus of the anger she was feeling.
"Is this thing ready to get in the air yet?"
Rosita frowned and replied, "Don't blow your wig! It's almost ready. This is pretty last minute even for you."
She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Rosita was her friend; one of the few people she could count on when she needed help. She didn't deserve to be treated poorly.
"Sorry. I'll owe you for this," she said.
"I'll add it to the other 150 you owe me," she laughed. Rosita nodded toward their guest. "¿Quien es el pote 'e leche?"
She rolled her eyes and glanced outside to where Dr. Grimes was pacing with his hands on his narrow hips and muttering to himself.
"A pain in my ass," she answered.
Rosita smirked and went back to her work.
"Obviously. Who is he other than that?"
She leaned against the plane next to where her friend was working.
"He's an archeologist from America, and let's just say it shows. Against my better judgement, I saved his life last night and now I'm stuck with him."
Rosita looked up and raised an eyebrow.
"Want me to take care of it? You know I will…"
She shook her head, laughing at the memories of Rosita "taking care of" irritating men in the past. They usually ended up embarrassed and flat broke in an Alexandria bar, begging someone to wire them money to get the hell out of Egypt.
"Not yet. Ask me again when we get to Morocco."
Rosita narrowed her eyes and placed a hand on her jutted out hip.
"Mierda! You like him!"
She shook her head; irritated that Rosita would even insinuate a thing like that.
"I do not! I'm just putting up with him because we have mutual interests."
"Uh-huh…I've never seen a man make you that damn mad and keep breathing. Maybe after you're done with your mutual interests, you can see if he gets you just as hot between the sheets," she proposed, and she didn't know if she was more upset by the suggestion or by the fact that she'd already thought about it.
"Rosie…"
"What? He's cute, he has nice eyes that he can't keep off of you, and he looks like a man who knows how to treat a not so ladylike lady like you. You should take la polla out for a ride," Rosita teased, and her personality was nothing like anyone she'd ever met. Her mother was a quiet Egyptian woman, and her father had been in the Spanish Navy. She could only assume that cursing like a sailor was somehow hereditary.
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth," she asked, but Rosita just kept on grinning.
"This mouth speaks the truth. At least think about it, Mich."
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, both to get Rosita off her back and to shake away the idea of having anything more than a working relationship with Dr. Grimes.
"Just let me know when we're ready to take off, ok?"
"I'm almost there. Wanna tell the American to get ready for take off?"
"Fine," she mumbled; fighting to maintain her patience as she walked over to where her "partner" was standing.
As if he sensed her, he turned around, and instead of the scowl she was expecting, he wore a look of contrition. It startled her enough to stop her in her tracks, and she was startled again when his slightly bow legged gait carried him over to her. He rubbed the back of neck before looking up to meet her stare.
"The plane is almost ready. Rosita says we should get ready," she announced.
"Look," he sighed, "I'm sorry for implying that you're stupid. That wasn't the right way to say I don't like your plan." He wasn't going to let go of the fact that he hated her plan, but he was at least willing to admit that he'd communicated that badly. It was more than she'd gotten in past in similar situations, and he earned a little bit of respect because of it.
"Do you have anything better?" She asked.
He shook his head and grinned in that way that lifted his entire expression and made him look younger and almost at ease.
"Not yet, but luckily I've got a long flight to work on it," he answered; that cocky grin firmly in place. She should've known that he wasn't seriously apologizing to her, and she was about to start in on him again the he spoke. "It's just…your plan…it's dangerous. I don't want to see yo...anyone...get hurt or worse."
The genuine concern in his eyes, tempered her anger. He was coming from a place of concern, even though he'd gone about it completely wrong.
"Everything about this life is dangerous," she admitted, "It's what you sign up for when you decide to chase villains around the globe."
He nodded, "I know, but if he's involved with the Nazis like you say he is, this could get ugly fast. If he catches on…"
"If he catches on, I'll handle him."
He tilted his head to one side, and he squinted at her like he was trying to figure something out about her.
"I have no doubt about that," he finally conceded.
They descended into silence as she debated apologizing to him for being so patronizing earlier. He deserved it, but she may have taken it a little too far. He was still wearing that grin that was both sexy and irritating at the same time, so an apology was out of the realm of possibilities.
Instead, she offered, "How about I listen to whatever scheme you come up with, and we'll go from there."
"Deal," he agreed, right before the sight of Rosita moving the plane out of the hangar stole both their attention. "Well, Dr. Samaha, looks like we have a plane to catch," he sighed.
"Indeed we do," she agreed. "I'm going to change clothes and grab my stuff."
She headed back toward the house to grab her things, thinking that if they were going to be working together for the foreseeable future, she was going to have to call him something other than Dr. Grimes.
"By the way," she called over her shoulder, "…you can call me Michonne."
She smiled when she heard his response just as she stepped through the doorway of the house.
"Only if you call me Rick."
Notes:
1. Koshari is a dish of spiced lentils and rice with chickpeas and pasta with tomato sauce.
2. Hawawshi is an Egyptian meat pie. Kinda like an empanada.
3. Abu Simbel is famous for the Great Temple with the four seated statues of Pharaoh Ramses the Great.
4. Pierre Lacau was a French Egyptologist who was the director of Egypt's antiquities from 1914-1936.
5. Etienne Drioton was a French Egyptologist and Director of the Egyptian Wing at the Lourve in Paris.
6. El-Dekhelia is a port in Egypt.
7. Hotel Transatlantique is a luxury hotel in Casablanca, built in the 1920s
8. Huluwti is Arabic for sweetie
9. 'ant dhaki jiddaan 'an takun ghabiun is Arabic for "how can someone so smart be so stupid" ( I think. You know how online translators can be. Forgive me if it isn't quite right)
10. ¿Quien es el pote 'e leche? is Spanish for who is the "pot of milk" which is slang for "white person".
11. La Polla is Spanish slang for "the cock".
This was kind of a filler, but fun I hope. I hope it did a good job setting up the next bit which is Adventure!Richonne in Casablanca. It might be a couple weeks for this. I'm finishing up the Love Tumbles Down update in the next few days (finally, right) and I have a couple of deadlines for other stories I need to meet. This wasn't supposed to be a thing, but it's turning into a thing lol
Thank you all for your support! I love your reviews! They mean so much. Truly.