Chapter 4
Part 1
Michonne stepped from her bathroom, a fluffy purple towel wrapped around her damp, naked body, and began pulling clothes out of her chest of drawers. Pants, panties, socks, tank top... She rummaged around in the drawer. "Oh, seriously?" she muttered. "No clean bras?"
Her lack of bras was a serious problem. The Alexandrians had gathered up all the clothing in the unowned homes and used it to stock a community clothing closet located across the street from the pantry. Residents were free to go to the closet to get whatever they needed, and the supply was replenished with whatever was brought back from runs. Unfortunately, runs had become few and far between. In fact, the only goods coming in currently were what Aaron and Daryl brought with them when they returned from recruiting. There were precious few 32Bs available, and the bra Michonne had been wearing when she walked into the Safe Zone was practically in tatters. Though the thought of speaking to Daryl about her predicament made her laugh, she'd resolved to ask Aaron to bring her back a new bra the next time he went out. However, she hadn't gotten around to it yet. In total, she had been able to scare up two, and one of those two was in her hamper, drenched in sweat from her morning workout.
Michonne bit her bottom lip. It was Carl's turn to do the laundry for the household this week, and he wasn't as punctual about folding it and putting it away as he should be. She might have a clean bra waiting for her in the dryer down in the basement's laundry area. Well, she sighed to herself. I'll just have to go see.
She strode over to her bedroom door, opened it wide, and stepped into the hallway... directly into Rick, who had been standing right outside her door, his hand raised to knock. She bumped into him so hard that her towel came loose and fell to the floor. For a heart-stopping moment, she found herself completely naked while standing only inches away from her best friend.
"Michonne!" Rick whispered an exclamation, and he took in her bare form.
Move! Her brain was screaming. Move, damn it, and pick up your towel! But she was paralyzed, so shocked both from her unexpected disrobing and the heat of Rick's eyes as they swept over her breasts, her belly, her pussy, her brain couldn't remember how to make her body move.
Suddenly, Rick glued his gaze to a spot somewhere near her feet. One of his eyebrows was half-raised, and his eyes had a distant look to them. He picked up her towel and wrapped it around her, all while keeping his eyes fixed on that one spot. "I'm sorry," he murmured. He turned away, walked stiffly to the hallway bathroom, and closed the door behind himself.
Michonne let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Goddamnit, but I certainly just made an ass of myself. She tucked the towel more tightly around her body and headed down to the laundry room.
Inside the bathroom, Rick was holding on to the side of the sink so hard his knuckles had turned white. He leaned forward and rested his sweating forehead against the cool mirror. She's even more beautiful than I'd imagined, he groaned inwardly. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to stop himself from pushing her into her room and down onto her bed so that he could fuck her relentlessly. Self-control, he'd reminded himself when he had made the decision to avert his eyes. Self-control.
Don't think with the wrong head, he preached to himself now. That's what got you in trouble last night. He knew that one wrong move, one step past the boundaries of what was acceptable between them right now could ruin his chances. He didn't want to scare her off or give her reason to think he only wanted her for sex. He wanted all of her, every part that made her who she was. Breathing in deep, calming breaths, he waited in the bathroom until his erection went down. He utterly refused to masturbate for the second time in less than twelve hours. Self-control.
Part 2
Rick urgently wanted to speak with Michonne about his newly discovered feelings for her, but the day turned out to be far more hectic than he had expected. As soon as he stepped out of the bathroom into the hallway, he was greeted by the noise of someone banging on the front door. Father Gabriel was there, demanding he come see the crude and offensive scrawl someone had spray-painted on his church building. Rick had tried to keep a straight face when he saw "Good for nothing piece of shit!" painted in large electric-blue letters on the side of the chapel, but it was hard. Assuming the message was referring to Father Gabriel himself, Rick fully agreed. He kept his opinion to himself, however, and promised the priest that he would find the vandal responsible for defacing the building. In the meantime, he offered, he would ask Abraham about pulling a couple of guys from the construction crew tomorrow in order to task them with repainting that side of the chapel.
Having successfully assuaged Father Gabriel's wrath, Rick made his way toward his house. He'd missed breakfast, and his stomach was demanding he make it home in time for lunch. However, he was stopped in his tracks by Mikey. The teen spotted him on the sidewalk and raced towards him, waving his arms to get his attention. "Mr. Grimes! Mr. Grimes, sir!" he called out.
Rick turned around and marched towards the boy. "Mikey, what is it?"
Mikey was huffing from his run. "School - was about - to start - we were all getting - out - our history books -"
"Breathe, son, okay? Just take a moment and breathe."
Mikey caught his breath and continued urgently, "All of a sudden, Ron turns on Carl and starts hittin' him in the head! Mrs. Johnson sent me to come get you. She said come quick!"
Rick raced towards the garage that housed the Alexandria school. Mrs. Johnson, the thin middle-aged school teacher, greeted him at the door with a stern look on her face. "I tried to separate them," she explained, "But those boys are half-grown men and stronger than I am. Carl is inside, waiting for you. I told Ron to sit out on the front step, but he took off."
Entering the schoolhouse, Rick spotted Carl sitting in a chair next to the teacher's desk. His son had a two-inch long cut on one side of his face, and it looked like the area might bruise, but he seemed otherwise no worse for wear. Rick sighed and put his hands on his hips. "Well, let's get you on home, then."
When they stepped in the door, Carol took one look at Carl's damaged face and Rick's brooding expression before setting Judith in her playpen and fetching a bag of crushed ice from the freezer. Carl pressed it to his cheek and recounted the incident to his father as they sat at the dining room table. At first, his version of the story was very similar to Mikey's: he had been sitting at his desk, minding his own business when Ron stood up and punched him hard across the face. Carl had shoved him back and ordered him to stop, but Ron had advanced on him again, so he had given him a right hook directly in the nose.
"His face is probably messed up, Dad. There was a lot of blood. I'm... I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize for defending yourself if it was called for, son. If he instigated this and wouldn't back down, it's not your fault." Rick looked Carl steadily in the eyes and waited.
"Well, he did say one other thing," Carl hedged. "He accused me of stealing his girlfriend."
Rick was silent for a long moment. "Enid, right? Do you and her have something going on?"
"No... not really. We've been hanging out, more than she's been hanging out with Ron. But we haven't kissed or anything like that. She's not my girlfriend, so I didn't steal her," Carl emphasized.
"Yeah," Rick sighed, rubbing the spot just above his eyebrows. "But apparently Ron doesn't see it that way. If she's spending time with you while she's avoiding him, you have understand what that looks like."
"They're not married, Dad. She can spend time with whoever she wants."
"Son, everything you're saying is true. Still, you have to remember that Ron just lost his father. You remember how hard it was for you when your mother died? It still hurts, doesn't it? Ron is experiencing all of that, brand new, right now. He's going to be a little mixed up. I understand that there's a lack of teenage girls around Alexandria, but you and Enid? That's just going to make things worse for Ron. You do see that, don't you?"
Carl hung his head and nodded.
"I'll go down to the Andersons and see what's going on with Ron. Hopefully, he did the smart thing and headed for home when he left the school building. Why don't you take the rest of the day off and rest? Enjoy your comics or a DVD. I think you've had enough excitement for one day."
"Thanks, Dad," Carl replied and headed upstairs to his room.
Rick found Carol wiping down the countertops in the kitchen. She had moved Judith from her playpen into the highchair and given her some wooden blocks to play with. Rick kissed the top of his daughter's head and built her a tower of blocks while he asked Carol, "Is Michonne around?"
"No, she headed out after breakfast. She had some constable duties to see to, I believe."
Rick nodded. The conversation he wanted to have with Michonne was still at the forefront of his mind, but it would have to wait.
"Make you a sandwich?" Carol offered.
Part 3
Though he loathed approaching the Anderson house again, he did his duty as a proper constable and checked on Ron. Jessie answered the door and told him through the screen in a markedly polite voice that her son had come home, and she would be taking care of him. His nose might be broken, but she would see to that. She would, of course, speak to Ron about the matter of picking the fight and urge him to apologize to Carl. With that, she thanked him for coming by and practically shut the door in his face.
Shrugging to himself, Rick walked off the Andersons' front porch. The less interaction he had with Jessie, the better, he reasoned as he set off in the darkening evening for home. He stopped by Abraham's house next door to his own to request assistance with the repainting of the chapel. The burly man promised to send two of his guys over in the morning to handle the job.
Rick walked across the yard and let himself in the front door. He strode directly up the stairs, eager to find Michonne. The door to her bedroom was open, and he rapped his knuckles against it. "Michonne?" he called out hopefully.
She poked her head out the doorway of her bathroom. "In here. Come on in."
Rick's heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was getting ready for her date, and she was a vision of loveliness before him. Her strapless, crimson red dress skimmed the top of her thighs, and her dreads were swept up into an elegant bun. She was applying some lipstick the same color as her dress.
"You look so beautiful," he breathed, and she smiled her brilliant white smile at him in the mirror before turning to face him.
"Thank you, but, listen, about this morning —"
"No, don't... don't say anything. You don't have anything to explain or apologize for. Please, just... don't worry about it."
She smiled at him again. "Okay." She turned back to the mirror and began putting in a pair of gold earrings. "I spoke with Carl when I got home, and he told me what happened this afternoon. We had a long talk about girls."
"Yeah," Rick grimaced as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I tried to do that, too, but it was pretty awkward."
"I think fathers and sons are just like that most of the time," she shrugged. "Don't let it bother you."
"Not so long as I have you here to fill in the gaps," he said. He leaned against the wall opposite the mirror and let his eyes follow the length of her chocolate-brown legs up to the hem of her skirt. "That dress is a little short, don't you think?"
She turned back to him and raised an eyebrow. "You don't like it?"
"No, I love it, and that's the problem. Morgan will, too. You're really going to sit down on a picnic blanket in a skirt that short?"
"I think I can handle it."
"You are wearing panties, right?"
Michonne expression was shocked and pleased all at the same time, her eyes as wide as her smile. "Rick! What a thing to ask me!"
"Well, you are, right?" Rick pressed.
"It's not enough for you to be a constable; now, you have to be the panty police, too, huh?" she teased him with a flirtatious grin.
"Only when it comes to you. I don't give a damn about other people, but I have to make sure you're modest if you're out with another guy."
"What about when you're out with other women? Are you going to let me make sure you're being modest?"
Rick's expression turned sober. "I don't think you'll have anything to worry about. I broke it off with Jessie."
Michonne's surprise registered on her face. "What happened?" she asked in a soft voice, her brow wrinkling with concern.
Rick sighed wearily. "I went over to her house last night. Late last night, after you and I talked. Things went too far and I..." He swallowed hard. "I almost slept with her." He looked into Michonne's eyes. "My whole life I've only made love to one woman, my wife. And now there I was, about to hop in bed with someone I barely knew. It doesn't make any sense, even to me."
"You're lonely, Rick", she sympathized. "I know how it is. It's... it's been too long. Too long for both of us," she finished in a whisper.
They stood there a moment, gazing at one another, not moving or speaking. Finally, Michonne asked, "You said you almost slept with her. So what happened?"
"Ron came downstairs and nearly caught us. Jessie asked me to hide, so I did. I swear, it was like something out of a bad soap opera. And she told me that she had no intention of being seen with me. I guess it was just fine for me to be in her bed, as long as no one knew about it. Apparently, I'm something to be ashamed of."
"No, no, Rick," Michonne insisted, shaking her head. "She shouldn't have treated you like that. You deserve so much better."
"I feel like such a — such a — a tool," Rick muttered, lines of disgust and anger appearing at either side of his nose.
Michonne gently cupped his face in her hands. "You are the best man that I know, Rick Grimes. You deserve all of the love and affection a good woman has to offer you."
He ran his hands up her forearms and onto her bare shoulders, tracing the ridge of her clavicle with his thumbs. "Stay," he requested in a whisper.
Her eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. "What?"
"Don't go tonight. Stay with me." He knew it was the most selfish thing he could say, but the words just tumbled out of his mouth. He tilted his face towards hers, but she lowered her head and directed her words towards his feet.
"Rick, I can't. It would be rude to Morgan. I can't just... I can't just call it off because you want to hang out with me tonight. I'd be happy to commiserate with you about shitty exes tomorrow, but I just can't tonight."
She didn't understand. He had to make her understand.
"Fine, then. Morgan gets his date tonight. But I get mine tomorrow night. I'll put on your favorite movie, pop some popcorn, give you a foot massage. I can give one hell of a foot massage. Bet you didn't know that. And I don't want to talk about my exes. I want to spend the evening focused on you and me."
Michonne's looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. "Rick, are you asking me for a date?"
"I am, indeed." He nodded firmly.
"Well, alright then. I accept." And her smile lit up the room.
