A/N: Thank you for all the kind feedback! This story is a blast to write. As always, thanks to my unofficial beta. I hope you enjoy
2000MVP: Baby, you should be sleeping
Lawyer_grl41: Me? What about you?
Lawyer_grl41: It's only midnight
Lawyer_grl41: it's like...2 in the morning for you!
Lawyer_grl41: :(
2000MVP: Can't sleep
Lawyer_grl41: Y? Are you nervous?
Lawyer_grl41: Seems like you've got nothing to be nervous about
Lawyer_grl41: Mr. 3-game home run hitter :-)
2000MVP: Nah
2000MVP: Baseball I ain't worried about
2000MVP: What's bothering me is
2000MVP: Ur not here.
2000MVP: It's too quiet
Lawyer_grl41: Are you saying i'm loud
Lawyer_grl41: ?
2000MVP: No.
2000MVP: Ur warm
2000MVP: soft
2000MVP: and some other things…
Lawyer_grl41: Lol. Nice save.
Lawyer_grl41: Anything I can do to help you sleep?
2000MVP: Well...
2000MVP: R U studying right now?
Lawyer_grl41: Just finished
Lawyer_grl41: about to get in bed
2000MVP: U bringing your laptop?
Lawyer_grl41: idk
Lawyer_grl41: I don't want to keep you up
2000MVP: But I'm already up!
Lawyer_grl41: All the way up? ;-)
2000MVP: I could be…
2000MVP: U want to stay up with me for a bit?
Lawyer_grl41: I'm not taking my laptop to bed…
Lawyer_grl41: But i'll call you
Lawyer_grl41: Deal?
2000MVP: Deal. Grabbing my phone.
2000MVP has signed off.
Lawyer_grl41: Lol, baby.
Lawyer_grl41 has signed off.
-l-l-l-l-
The National's stadium shook with the force of the fans' cheers, the echo reverberating around the stadium.
"That didn't take long," Aaron laughed, hitting Rick lightly on the top of his head.
Rick adjusted the batting helmet, smiling at his teammate. "Don't know what you're talking about," he said, picking up his bat from the corner of the dugout.
"Don't choke," Bob joked. "They're expecting a helluva show."
"Maybe point like Babe Ruth," Gabe suggested. "That'll really give them something to scream about."
"I know!" Simon stepped forward, all faux eagerness. "How about you just hit the damn ball and stop worrying about whether or not they like you?" He spat into the corner.
Morgan shook his head. "Only one person in here stays concerned about that, Ogg," he pointed out. Simon didn't look chastised a bit.
"Well," he jerked his head towards the base. "Better get out there and give the people what they want then." He smacked Rick on the ass with more force than was necessary.
"Will do," Rick replied, stretching his arms overhead. He turned the bat in his hands.
T-Dog laughed at the display. "Go get 'em slugger."
The crowd roared all the louder as Rick left the dugout, heading for home base.
"Next up to bat, number 41, Rick Grimes…" the announcer of the home team read in a flat voice. It did little to dissuade the support from the crowd. Perhaps they had no love for the Dodgers, but that disdain did not seem to extend to the southern boy who had managed to hit one home run per game for the last four games.
Focusing his mind, Rick reached home plate. He choked up, knees bent, elbows up, breathing rhythmically. The pitcher on the mound was known for his screwball. Rick had studied tape of him the night before in his hotel room, taking advantage of his newfound insomnia to prepare.
The first pitch hit the catcher's mitt with a resounding thud. The crowd let out a cry, but Rick was nonplussed. He cracked his neck, honing in.
The second pitch never made it to the catcher. Rick's bat connected with a solid smack, sending the ball soaring arching over centerfield. He watched it with satisfaction, head tilted up as he ran for first base. The outfielders scrambled, rushing towards the wall to try and snag it. Rick smiled as it landed deep in the stands, causing a frenzy as spectators dove for it.
Rick took the rest of the bases at a jog, waving towards a section of blue in the crowd as he crossed home base again. His teammates greeted him warmly.
"Five games in a row," Morgan patted him on the back, watching the replay on the jumbotron. "Not bad, Rookie."
"We're moving you up in the lineup," Horvath told Rick. "Let's see how long this streak of yours lasts."
"Sounds good, coach," Rick removed his helmet, grinning as he shook out his hair before putting his cap back on.
Simon spat again, pushing past Rick as he headed to bat next.
"Don't let him bother you," Aaron whispered, handing Rick a stick of gum.
"I don't," Rick winked, popping the gum in his mouth before taking his place beside his teammates to cheer Ogg on.
-l-l-l-l-l-
"Baby!" Michonne's voice was bright inside the phone receiver. "Congratulations!"
"How do you know already?" Rick chuckled. "I barely found out."
"I have my sources," she said cryptically. "And ESPN ran the story during the game highlights."
"It's kinda surreal," he laughed, wishing Michonne was beside him and not hundreds of miles away.
"Why?" Michonne asked. "We always knew you'd be here."
"Yeah," he admitted. "But being here is completely different than imagining it."
"Well, take it all in, All Star. You earned it."
"I kinda always pictured you being here," Rick said before he could stop himself.
"Well, you could have played worse. Held out until I was done with school. Bad planning, baby." His wife quipped without missing a beat.
"Damn," Rick shook his head, grinning despite himself. "I didn't think of that."
"Are you going out to celebrate tonight?" she asked.
"Thinking about it." Rick sighed. "I'm tired though. Got a few more games before All Star Break." He'd been planning on coming home to California, spending the weekend with Michonne in the Bay Area. The victory was bittersweet.
"Well, I'm sure your mama is waiting with a good old southern dinner for you when you get to Atlanta." Michonne laughed. "Eat double biscuits for me."
"That I can promise," he looked towards the door of his hotel room. "Any chance you're alone right now?" he asked, voice deepening.
"I wish," Michonne sighed. "But I'm studying tonight. There's a huge test coming up."
"Right," Rick nodded, shifting his one-track mind. "Are classes still killing you?"
Michonne laughed wryly, "classes aren't killing me, but not sleeping might."
"Baby, you promised you were going to be careful with this," he reminded her.
"I know, I know…" she exhaled. "I just really need to nail these tests."
"You need to take care of yourself," Rick stood up, walking to the nightstand beside his hotel bed. He plugged his laptop in and opened it. "You always make yourself sick when you do this." Once, during their undergrad, Michonne had gotten herself so ill from stress that they'd spent a night during midterms in the ER.
"I promise I will," she reassured him. "Please don't worry baby."
Rick said nothing, only sat on his bed, attempting to gather his thoughts.
"Baby," Michonne began again. "Don't do that thing."
"What thing?" he hedged. He bent over to untie his shoes, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder.
"That thing where you're mad at me but you don't want to yell so you just get all quiet," Michonne explained.
"I ain't mad," he said. "I'm...worried."
"You don't need to worry about me," Michonne soothed.
"But I do," Rick responded. "You got so sick that time in the middle of the night. I'm not there Chonne-"
"I'm not going to the ER," she cut him off firmly. "And I appreciate that you worry, baby, I do. But we're supposed to be focusing on you making the Home Run Derby, not my sleep habits."
"You want me to focus?" he asked.
"Always," she responded easily. "This is your dream, Rick."
"And you're my wife, Chonne." Rick sighed roughly. "If you think I'm going to put baseball before you, then I haven't done a good job at all showing you what my priorities are."
A long silence stretched between them, charged and awkward. Somewhere, hundreds of miles away, Michonne sniffled. Rick's stomach clenched.
"Chonne-" he began again.
"No," she cut him off. "Rick, I know you would never put baseball before me. I know it. It's just…." she broke off. Rick remained silent, hoping she'd continue. "I miss you so bad, baby. I'm trying to be positive. But the internship is so time consuming, and school is so stressful. I see you on tv and I just wish that I was with you."
"I wish you were here too," he said. His throat felt tight. "But you can't stop doing what you're doing because of me."
"I could have taken a year," she said. "I didn't have to rush to school. This is our honeymoon period and I just dove into work."
"And I didn't?" Rick chuckled wryly. "Baby, we did what we had to do. Would you be happy just following me from place to place, watching a hundred games? What if something happened that delayed school even more?"
"Like what?" she asked, her voice wavering.
"Like you getting pregnant," Rick said. Michonne laughed lightly. "I'm serious, Chonne," Rick found himself smiling. "If I had you here every night, that would be a real concern."
She laughed in earnest. The sound of her amusement warmed him greatly. "You're probably right," she admitted.
"It's been known to happen from time to time," Rick leaned back against the headboard of his bed.
"I'll make sure I rest," Michonne said. "You're right. I'm stressing too much. I'll ace this test, then I'll take a break. A whole weekend."
"Good," Rick grinned. "You ace this test and I'm going to win this contest for you."
"Oh you are, are you?" Michonne sounded amused.
"Yup, then I'm bringing the trophy home. And you and me are going to celebrate." The thought alone was enticing.
"Sounds good, All-Star," he could hear her smile in her voice. "But I better go study now."
"You're at your room?" he asked.
"Yup. Just me, myself, and I," she chuckled.
"All right baby, thanks for calling. I love you."
"I love you too," she promised, disconnecting.
Rick lowered the still-warm phone from his face, dialing in a number blinking up at him from his computer screen. A voice picked up on the other end. A quick conversation later and Rick hung up, satisfied for now.
"Grimes," T-Dog's voice at his door startled him. "Come get dinner, man. We're going to try this BBQ place."
"Coming!" Rick called, slipping his shoes back on and heading outside.
He returned several hours later, full, content, and tired. His laptop was still open, glowing from its place on the nightstand. He clicked into his email, spotting his wife's name.
A picture of her, surrounded by empty takeout containers and books greeted him. He grinned at the image, satisfied to see that she'd devoured the baked macaroni-her favorite- down to crumbs. She was wearing a Dodgers t shirt and smiling.
"Thank you, All-star," she'd written simply. "I love you."
"You're welcome, baby," he typed back. "Love you too."