Exit Wound
Rated M: Mature Themes, Explicit Language, Sexual Content, and Death.
A/N: Spoiler as said before, time jump. Thanks for all the reviews and what not.
Warning for this chapter: Child Death. Graphic Imagery.
Song for this chapter: Lullabies - Yuna
~Like lullabies you are.
Forever in my mind.
I see you in all.
The pieces in my life.
Though you weren't mine.
You were my first love.~
~.~
"Michonne!"
Michonne sat up instantly, her hand on her chest as she tried to calm her rapid breathing. Her bedroom was dark, the small moonlight peaking through her half closed blinds was the only thing that gave her light. She blinked to rid herself of her blurry vision, but it only made it worse. That didn't stop her from shaking her head to clear it. Someone was calling her name. She needed to focus. She needed to see.
A hand fell to her shoulder. She jumped, turning her head to face the owner of the arm. She gasped, grabbing onto her chest to ground herself to that bed.
It was Mike.
Her lips parted. Her vision still partially blurred.
"I thought...you were...dead." The word felt vile coming out of her mouth. It tasted like dirt as it flew from her lips. He looked very much alive. He was shirtless. His other arm under her covers. He was wearing his favorite Watchmen sweats. She could see the beginning of the smile with the blood stain on its lips resting on his thigh.
"In your dreams. You wouldn't stop tossing and turning. Do you need me to call Andrea?"
She shook her head slowly, trying to process the information. She was sure he was dead.
"She's...Mike..." She kept stopping, trying to catch herself. Catch the words from falling from her lips. She wasn't sure what was going on, but it couldn't be real. She got that call in the court room. She remembered falling to her knees and crying. The Judge had stopped mid case to know what was wrong with her. No one has ever seen Michonne, the hard core bitch of a lawyer break down this way.
She snapped too, raising her hand to her head, scratching at her locks. She had forgot to wear her headband the night before to keep them back from her face as she slept or she had taken it off. She couldn't remember now. It all seemed...
"Andre. He's in his crib sleeping. Want me to get him?"
Her eyes focused on Mike. She could see clearly now. She saw Mike's dark brown eyes. His wide grin. The small gash from his bottom lip to his cheek. Just as she remembered...
Wait. A gash on his face? That was never there.
She jumped from the bed, knocking the covers back. Her hair whipped wildly around her head as she tried to catch her footing. She had socks on and almost fell on the wood floor.
"You're dead. " Tears begin to well up in her eyes. She bit them back. "You died with my little boy."
He tilted his head to the side, blood fell from the gash onto her bed, staining her sheets with a deep crimson. "Your boy? My boy!" He raised his voice. His dark brown eyes growing darker with each second if that was even possible. He leaned his head forward, snapping at her. "I climbed on top of you all the same and fucked you till you got pregnant. Thank God it didn't take that long. I cheated the whole way."
"No." A small tear rolled down her cheek. She raised her hand to wipe it. This was not real. This was just a dream. She needed to wake up soon.
"You know what I liked about fucking around on you Michonne? After I'd stick it in deep in them. I'd come home to you and you'd suck it right off. How does pussy taste?"
Another tear fell.
His eyes popped out of their sockets, dangling by the small muscle there. He parted his lips, letting out a loud laugh. He brought his hidden arm from underneath the covers. Blood continued to fall from his gash.
What she saw as he revealed what was in his hands. Made her heart broke. It shattered within her chest.
There he was. Her pride and joy. Her beautiful Andre in Mike's hand. His fingers were wrapped around Andre's throat.
"Let him go." She dropped to her knees, her fingers clenched, trying to wipe her wet eyes, but she fought it. She didn't want to miss it. Miss his beautiful face.
"Why? So you can leave me? You don't give a fuck about us. You're moving on with this new man. This Rick." Mike spat his name as if it was hanging on the edge of his tongue and it wouldn't come off. "It's okay though. We're done with you."
Blood rolled off his lips now. His eyes popped from their restraint, bouncing about the bed, rolled around, facing her. She gasped at the sight. She dare didn't want to face the empty black holes that used to be Mike's eyes.
"That's the way the cookie crumbles. You ate it all up." Mike singed, throwing himself off the bed. Michonne jumped from off her knees, lounging forward to grab for them on the other side of the bed. But they were gone. She let out a loud scream in response and cried Andre's name.
~.~
She woke with a start, sitting up in her bed. Her hand grabbed from her heart. It was beating so hard. She was scared it was going to pop from her chest. Her breath ragged. Her throat dry. Her whole body covered in sweat. She shook her head, trying to clear herself of the dream, it still stuck to her. The same dream for two weeks. Ever since Shane dropped her back off at her house she had been having that dream and each time something new changed. A fight between her and Mike was brought up. A new wound on him. The one dream before this; Mike had lost his arms and was eating Andre. He was screaming for her, screaming for her to come save him, but she couldn't move. Her feet were cemented in the ground.
Each dream his death grew worse. When would it stop?
She hunched over, wrapping her arms around herself. Her heart was almost beating normally. She was almost calm. However, in this dream, Mike mentioned Rick. She knew the dream was part of her subconscious. She hadn't been there when they died, so she likely felt guilty for not being there, watching him take their last breaths, but why did Mike bring up Rick?
Her phone rung loudly on her end table close to her bed. She gave herself a second. Who could be calling her at this hour? Not like she knew what time it was but still. She sighed, breathing out the dream, inhaling the reality of where she was. Her phone ranged loudly again. She slapped her hand to it, bringing it to her ear as she answered the call.
"Hello?"
"Chonne."
His deep raspy voice. Her eyes opened wide. Most nights she'd welcome this. Welcome to hear his voice, but not tonight. Not after that dream.
"Rick." She replied. She could still hear Mike's voice in the back of her mind.
"Why? So you can leave me? You don't give a fuck about us. You're moving on with this new man. This Rick."
"Did I wake you? It's almost...two. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry."
"It's fine." She nodded her head, leaning back to stretch out in the bed, bringing the covers to wrap around her body. Only her head was left out from the blankets.
"You sure? I don't want to interrupt your beauty sleep. Not like you need it."
A small smile parted her lips at his words. He was always so sweet. The short time she had known him; he always gave her a compliment. She teased him about it. Every night or every other night they spoke on the phone, just like this. They whisper and laugh and he tell her about his day and she'd do the same, but not tonight. The dream, even if it didn't happen. It lingered.
"I'm fine, Rick. How was your day?"
She wanted to tell him. She wanted to blurt out her past because she liked him. But each time she came close into saying something, she'd lose her breath. It was like her mind was trying to tell her not yet. And now, this dream, the first time in ever. Mike, who never met Rick, said his name and she just wanted to cry.
"Good. Shane and I can't figure out the Anderson case. We have leads, but they aren't following through." He paused. He was talking to someone on the otherside. He cleared his throat. "Sorry bout that. Bob's back so we're catching him up with the happenings."
"Oh. That's good. No more double shifts?"
"Thankfully. Now I can go home and rest. The boys said I needed a break, but I want this case closed before I even think about stuff like that."
"I understand. I was the same way when I was a lawyer. I had to finish the case, get closure before I tried anything else." She swallowed hard, rolling onto her back. Perhaps if she wasn't so determined to see something end. Andre would still be alive.
"See you get me." There was another pause. More questions. More answers. This Bob missed a lot. "I knew there was another reason why I liked you."
Michonne closed her eyes. Her heart was supposed to flutter at his words. They were meant to warm her body, but they only made it cold.
It's the dreams fault. She couldn't blame him for what had happened long before she met him. Her subconscious was eating away at her and it only started because she was trying to move forward. Move forward with Rick.
How could she do that when she still had skeletons in her closet?
"Did you pass out on me? I've done it...twice and now I'm being punished."
Michonne shook her head, sitting up once again, trying to clear her head. "I'm sorry. I had a nightmare." She swallowed hard, her mind went right back to the dream. It was all she could think about.
"A nightmare, you say. Let me clear some things up and I'll be there soon."
"Rick." She whined his name. She didn't mean that she wanted him to come check on her. She was just trying to let one skeleton out of her filled up closet. "I'll go back to sleep. I need rest. This book...it's kicking my ass. I should have never tried to rush the second book..." She was lying. She bit her tongue to shut herself up. Why couldn't she just tell Rick of her past? Every time he tried to get to know her. She shut down, change the subject. Last she heard from Andrea, she was seeking professional help in dealing with her trauma. Carol Peletier the town's psychiatrist. Andrea offered it to her, but she turned her down. She could do this. If Michonne was so set on becoming who she was before she lost Andre. She'd have to move forward.
"Why? So you can leave me? You don't give a fuck about us. You're moving on with this new man. This Rick."
There it was again. Mike's voice in the back of her head, reminding her.
"Fuck it, Michonne. I'll be there soon. Wait for me. Sheriff Grimes is gonna protect you from the monsters."
He hung up the phone. She dropped her hold from her own. She closed her eyes. Andre's face was the first thing she saw as he died in his father's hands.
She broke out in a loud sob, her vision blurry with her tears.
~.~
Michonne wiped her eyes as she rolled out of bed. A loud knock at her door shook her from her cry bubble. Before she started up again, she had been tempted to text Rick. She didn't want him to see her like this, but didn't or couldn't find the strength to pick up her phone. She couldn't see through the tears and didn't want to focus.
She was just a little bit thankful that she hadn't passed out from exhaustion and fell back to sleep. She wasn't sure what scene her mind would come up with this time.
The knocking got louder. She leaned back, wiping her eyes one last time as she walked out of her room. When she passed the mirror hanging on her bathroom door. She caught her breath. Her headband was wrapped around the ends of her hair. Her tank top was up, showing off her flat stomach and small boxer shorts she wore were low, riding her hips, reminding her of the fact she worn no underwear the night before. Not like it mattered. She didn't have enough time to change into something decent with Rick knocking on her door.
She sighed, turning her head away from the image to go for the door. She unlocked it, wrapping her hand around the knob to turn it, opening the door to reveal him. His hair was swept back and his face was freshly shaved or had been since the last time she saw him. He was still in uniform. She popped her hip out, resting it on the frame of the door as she let out a yawn.
"Gonna stand there all day Sheriff Grimes or is there a problem?"
Rick smiled, shrugging as he stepped forward, an arm wrapping around her middle, putting an inch to their bodies. Most moments she would gasp, tease him. But not now.
"Was just about to call you. I told you I'd be off soon."
She nodded, glancing over his shoulder to stare at his apartment door down the hall. "What about Carl?"
"He's at Shane's house. Andrea wanted to hang out with her favorite Godson. I'm all alone."
Michonne smiled softly, shaking her head. "Yeah? What's that have to do with me? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"
"Yeah. I just wanted to see you." He pushed her inside and she followed. He closed the door behind them with his foot, reaching behind him to lock it. "Take me to your bedroom."
She wiggled out of his hold, raising her hands, eyeing him. Her brow arched. "Excuse me? So fast there Officer."
"It's..."
"Sheriff. I know. Don't cha think that's a little fast? I haven't been in your bedroom yet."
"You could be if you wanted too. I think you know I can't deny you now. Or ever."
"It's been two weeks, Rick. Miss that almost on your couch already?"
"Always." He laughed, unwrapping his gun holster from around his hip, folding it up to place it on her table. "May I, Ms. Ryler venture into your bedroom to protect you from the monsters?"
She didn't say anything. She just reached out for his hand, lacing their fingers together. She turned around, letting out a quiet sigh as she began to pull him towards the bedroom. If she told him to go. He'd understand. He wouldn't argue with her over it would he?
"It's...you."
"Me." She snapped herself out of her thoughts. She walked forward to pull him towards her bed, but he stopped in her doorway. His head glancing about to take in her room. The small moonlight peaked through her half closed blinds to show him just enough it seemed.
"Your room. It fits you."
~.~
There were books everywhere, stacked on her dresser. Half stacked on the small tables by her bed. She even had a small pile in front of her closet door. It was half opened, papers of some kind were sticking out of two of them. He leaned forward to peak. He didn't see much just messy writing. Was she taking notes for her stories or was it notes from her old days as a lawyer?
"Thank you, Rick. Here's my bed."
He turned his attention from her room to focus on her. He hadn't noticed it before but she looked sad. Defeated. Were her eyes wet from crying? He wanted to reach out and touch her, hug her, but he fought against it. Right now, standing in her room. He didn't want to make sudden movements. Back in the living room she almost had that look in her eye that she wanted him to go. He was glad she didn't say it. For two weeks, they talked on the phone, casually quick conversations in the hallway, but they never had alone time.
Maybe they were cursed to not have any.
He moved forward, wrapping his arms around her middle again. His finger nails scratching at her lower back. His jeans tightened as he glanced down. Dark tank top that showed her flat stomach and boxer shorts that hung low on her hips. His fingers clenched. He wanted her bare, wanted her arms around his neck. He wanted to kiss her lips and lower her onto her bed.
"Distracted Rick? Like what you see?"
"No. I was just checking for the...umm...monsters."
"They aren't on my stomach." She replied, popping her ass out. His hand instinctively went to grab for it, cupping her firm cheeks. His eyes half rolled back as his other hand rose to meet it, grabbing both her cheeks.
"Fuck. I...honestly didn't come over here for that...this."
"I know. Take off your shoes if you want to get in my bed." She broke away from him, turning around to bend over, crawling up the bed. His head tilted to the side to watch. His tongue ran along his lips to wet them. Maybe it was a bad idea to come over here, but he dreamt about this moment for so many nights and now that he was home earlier than he expected and Carl was at Shanes. Perfect opportunity.
He kicked his boots off, stepping out of them. He grab for his shirt, though thought it would be better to keep that on. Even as fun as it was to get naked with her in her own bed. He didn't want to give her the wrong idea. He copied her, bending over to crawl up her bed, stretching out beside her. Her back was faced to him and he gave them just enough space so she wasn't up against him. What a way to go to sleep though.
"Tell me about your day?" He started. Every time they spoke on the phone. She always asked about his day. It was nice to let loose, shake his troubles from his mind. However he wanted to hear about hers. He moved one hand underneath his cheek to hold his head up as he looked down at her. His arm flung over her middle, his hand on the bed, his fingers tapping at it.
"It was good." She shifted, rolling over, moving closer. She was an inch away from him. Her hand underneath her cheek. Her hand touching his stomach, lightly tugging on his clothes. "You know you can take your clothes off. I'm half naked."
Not like she needed to remind him. He swallowed the forming lump in his throat. She wasn't exactly doing anything, but he could feel his cock throb.
"I'm a gentleman. Tell me how good of a day yours was." His hand was now resting on her back, his fingers touching her exposed soft skin. Fuck, she felt good. He wondered if every part of her was just as soft.
"I tried to write, but didn't find the spark I'm looking for. My characters are stuck on this scene and I can't get them out of it."
He nodded his head. His eyes focused on her lips as her tongue ran along them.
"I can help, if you want." He stated, pressing his hand flat on her back so he'd fight the urge to raise it up.
"It's almost three in the morning. You need sleep."
He shrugged, not caring. "If I wanted sleep so bad, I would have went to my own place. I came here. Let me help you, Michonne." His voice dropped to a whisper. Hair fell into his face as he stared at her.
"Alright. Lay on your back."
He followed her order without compliant. Even as hard as he was, he was going to keep reminding himself that Michonne needed his help and he was helping her. No matter what happened.
"Move your hands behind your head." He lifted his head up, watching her, curiously.
She moved to sit up, throwing her locks over her shoulder as she moved over him, straddling him. He hissed in a breath as she rested her firm butt on top of him, just in the perfect spot. Thank goodness he hadn't taken off his jeans. But fuck he felt trapped.
"Tell me what you're stuck on."
She nodded her head, slapping her hands to his chest. "As you know I write erotica and sometimes I like to ask Andrea's help in sex scenes. I like making them...real. I like to see what's going on while the characters involved are fucking."
He leaned his head back as she leaned forward, rubbing her lips on his. "See like this." Her voice was low, seductive. His cock throbbed once more. A small smirk appeared along her lips. She grinded her hips. His eyes half rolled. "She's on top of him. She wants to fuck him." She pauses, reaching out with her hands, thrusting her body forward, rubbing her breast on his chest. Her hands grab for his elbows. "He's tied down to the bed, just jeans and she wants him so bad. Her pussy..." She licks her tongue along her lips. His heart begins to thump fast. "...She just wants to take him."
"Why doesn't she?" Rick asks her, clearing his throat of the forming lump, flexing his arms as she holds onto his elbows.
"Because. She wants him to..."
Rick pushes his head up, grabbing for her arms. He tilts his head to the side, catching her mouth with his own. A small moan falls from Michonne's lips as their lips meet. Her lips are soft and tempting. He slides his tongue between them to part them wanting more entry.
She wiggles her bottom on his erection. He bites at her bottom lip in response, tugging on it.
"What does she want him to do?" He asks, letting go of her bottom lip with a quiet pop. He brings himself to sip up, pressing her chest against his. "Does she want him to kiss her? Fuck her? Drink from her pussy like a dying man?"
Michonne gasped, her eyes fall to slit.
"No. She wants...this."
Michonne dips her head, grabbing onto his throat, gliding her tongue on his skin, tasting him. Rick growls, using all his strength to roll them over, slamming her on her back. Michonne arches her back at his sudden aggression. Her legs wrap around his waist, the heel of her feet digging into his ass to hold him in place.
Rick circles his hips, grinding into her. He bites back his groan. Now he wished he didn't have clothes in the way. He'd be inside of her already.
"Rick...take off your shirt."
He pulls back, leaning off of her to do just that. The less clothes between them the better. He quickly makes do of the buttons, sliding the shirt off of his arms to throw it behind him not caring where it landed. He makes way for his jeans. He might as well get rid of those as well, but her hands touch his. Stopping him.
He looks at her, wondering if she wanted to stop this. Maybe he was going to fast.
"Just your shirt. Now take off mine."
"Right." He nods once, placing his hands on her hips as her arms spread out on either side of head, clutching at the bed sheet. He taps at her exposed skin, sliding his hands up underneath her tank to pull it up, a small moan falls from his lips as a piece of her skin is revealed to him with each passing second. "Fuck. You're gorgeous." He mumbles, resting the rolled up tank above her bare breast. His head dips, parting his lips to take a harden tip into his mouth. He sucks, flicking his tongue, teasing it. His hand grabs for the other, using the pad of his thumb to make it harder.
"Rick..." She moves underneath him. The rest of her tank continues to slide up her body before she too lifts up to throw it off her body. She throws it behind him, thrusting her breast further into his mouth. "Don't stop..."
He broke free from her nipple, kissing his way to the other, growling as he lightly bit down. She moans, her eyes close.
"Make all the sounds you want. I'm not done with you yet." He told her, flicking his tongue against it, wetting it. "I bet you're wet, no? Waiting for me."
She mumbles a soft incoherent yes. He chuckles, amazed at just this. She's speechless.
He kisses his way down her body, his hands cup her breast as he stops at her boxers, biting at them with her teeth. He pulls on the material. His mind rattled with, 'Stop this now Rick.' and his dick telling him, 'It's okay. She likes it.'
He decided to go with his dick. If she wanted him to stop, she'd voice it and he'd stop. He honestly didn't come over to do this. He just wanted to spend time with her. Especially since he saw her eyes.
"Wait..." She sat half up. His hands fell from her breast to move to her hips, digging his nails into her skin. "You don't have to go..."
"I want too." He said, sliding his fingers into the waistband of her boxers to pull them further down her legs. It was then he noticed it, she wore nothing underneath. He ground his hips into the bed, just to cause some friction on his length. He'd die right here, he knew that if she kept surprising him like this.
"Rick...please." She laid back down, her hands grabbed for her breast. He watched her. Her fingers pinched her harden tips. When her boxers got to her feet, she kicked them off and spread her legs wide to accommodate him. Yup, he was going to die of a heart attack.
His moments with Lori were never like this. She got under the covers, expected him to do the same. After he went down on her, now, looking back it felt like hours. She wouldn't let him kiss her. He'd slid inside and thrust, just thrust. The bed would rock from his movement, but he could never...try anything. Right now, he knew if he went down on her, tried to kiss Michonne, she'd accept the kiss. The covers would be thrown off of her body and he'd get to watch her orgasm from their tryst. Least he hoped it happened like that.
His hands slid underneath her butt, lifting her up. His tongue slowly traced his lips. He inhaled her scent in deeply, just to remind him that this was real. He was about to go down on Michonne. She was going to let him...
He parted his lips, lifting her butt up to his level. She moaned underneath him as his tongue thrusted out to touch her sex.
"Fuck, Rick. You told me you were good at this. I can't..." She paused, he latched onto her pussy with a new hunger, sucking, his tongue flicking. His nails digging into her skin. "Oh God! Pull hard..." Her voice broke. She turned her head away. Her body vibrated with pleasure as Rick ate.
Her legs twitched from his aggression. His fingers sneaked up to play with her, thrusting in and thrusting out. He twisted his finger inside, buried deep inside of her till the knuckle.
"Fuck...Rick..." He rotated his hips into the bed, tilting his head to the side as he let go of her folds. They spread open like a flower. He licked his way up to her clit, rubbing his tongue roughly against it. He pushed his finger inside of her deeper, curling it. His other fingers continued to dig into her ass, scratching at her soft skin.
"So...Oh...Spell your name." She said, her breath ragged.
He pulled back, eyeing his work. Her folds were parted, wet, dripping with her arousal and his spit. His tongue traced his lips to clean himself. "Are you sure about that, Michonne? I'm suddenly becoming tired."
"Fuck. You."
He chuckled, tilting his head the opposite way, pulling his finger free to pop that into is mouth. Sucking his finger of her pleasure.
"Full name?" He was teasing her now. He was so rock hard that he was surprised he hadn't died from the lack of blood in his brain.
"Rick...do the damn thing." She was looking straight at him. Her leg lifted to rest her foot on his lower back.
"You asked for it." He warned her, his eyebrow arching as he locked eyes with her. He wanted her to focus on him, watch him as he brought her crashing down. He was that sure of his skill.
He blinked once, thrusting out his tongue again. He started with the first letter, curving his tongue at the very end. He did the next letter, adding pressure as he added the dot. When he got to the next letter, she was whimpering.
"Please...just..." She closed her eyes. Her foot pressed harder on his back. He groaned. His eyes rolled back as her taste flooded his senses. All he could feel was her.
He rolled his tongue around her hole, fucking her with it. He wanted her undone around him and just when he was about to do his last letter. He was being nice their first time around.
Something changed.
She tensed up. Her hands grabbed at the back of his head, pulling him from her sex. She pulled him up. Her fingers clenching his hair so hard it hurt and the other dug into his shoulder. His hands came into fists, resting on either side of her head. His eyes searching hers for something, anything to explain what just happened.
"Stop." There it was again. That look in her eyes. The one he saw in them earlier.
"It's okay, Michonne." He cleaned himself of his lips again. He had to fight the urge to kiss her, to claim her mouth as badly as he wanted to claim her body. "Do you want me to go? Was it to fast?" He was speaking his mind. He couldn't stay in his thoughts. He was still deciding whether to use this, use this moment to help her forget about what she was feeling, at least for right now and be there for her.
"No and No. It was perfect. I just...I'm not ready for that." Her eyes begin to water. He lifted his hips up to release the pressure of him grinding it into the bed as he moved around, placing himself at her back as she rolled over. Her bare butt pressed into his tight jeans. He moved his hips off of her, but she reached around him to grab for him, holding him there.
"I...blame myself for his death. I was never there and my nightmares. They are eating me alive." She confessed.
He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head close by her own. She grabbed for his arms, wrapping them as close around her as she could.
"Mike fell into drugs. That wasn't your fault. You couldn't have seen that coming." He wasn't sure what to say to make her feel better. She had had this pent inside for awhile and was finally letting it out it seemed.
She didn't say anything. It was complete silence. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. He didn't know exactly how she was feeling, but he heard the stories. The drug addict blames whoever they can for their reason. In this case it was Michonne.
She rolled over, looking at him with those big beautiful brown eyes of hers.
"It is my fault, Rick. I never said I loved him enough. I loved him, but never showed it." She was shaking her head, glancing down. He watched her. He should have noticed it earlier, but it didn't sound like she was talking about Mike anymore. She was talking about someone else.
"I'm trying to move on from his death and it just hurts. I feel like and I've never told Andrea this. I lost the love of my life."
Rick felt hurt. Not that. Not hurt. He felt...
He sighed. His lips formed a tight line. How could he respond to that? He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know.
"I used Morgan. I didn't care for him. I did what I had to do, but meeting you. It's changed everything for me."
He closed his eyes, trying to process the information as she gave it to him. He had to look at the facts. One, she wasn't talking about Mike. Probably never was. Two, she was in love with this other person. Three, she was trying to fill that empty hole she felt.
"Why did you stop being a lawyer?" He wondered if it would help now that she was talking.
"One day in court..I got a call. He died. I died that day. I left and I never looked back. How could I?" She turned her head, looking off in the distance. It almost felt like he wasn't there. "I was never there. Never watched him..."
And just as quickly as she lost herself, she shook her head, pulling herself back. "Can you hold me, Rick? I need it."
He nodded, wrapping his arms around her body. Her nose pressed into his bare chest. He rubbed his lips against her forehead, kissing her softly there.
He told himself not to pry, but now. He needed to know what was wrong with his Michonne. Whoever this him was.
He now had two cases to solve. Who the hell killed Pete Anderson and who the hell was this him?
~.~
"Have ya'll noticed the Boss looks a little happy lately?" Bob Stookey said as he threw himself down in his chair, kicking his feet up. He reached over on top of his desk, picking up his can of Coke, opening the top to take a small swig.
Daryl was at his desk, messing with some app on his phone and Shane's desk was littered with paperwork. Shane was pacing the front of his desk, mumbling something under his breath, two pieces of paper in his hands.
"Does he have a woman in his life?" Bob reached back over to place his can of Coke back on his desk, folding his arms across his chest. His eyes glued to the men in front of him. He had been gone for awhile. Time bled together so he exactly wasn't sure. All he knew he got shot out in the field and he woke up in the hospital. The hot nurse, Sasha something was standing over him telling him he shouldn't move because of his injury and now he was back out. He had missed a lot which was understandable, he had a legit reason why.
There was something off about his boys though. Daryl was more closed off than usual. Shane was more antsy. He was looking for something to pop off and Rick. A day ago he walked in on him on the phone. He had a question about the Anderson case, what they had collected on it hadn't added up. He just wanted to make sure that everything was there. Whoever was on the other line made his Boss smile and for once Bob was curious. Usually he stay out of their lives. He known them for awhile. Shane was married to a lawyer named Andrea. Daryl lived out in the woods, almost. He been to his place once and Rick had a thirteen year old and was still dealing with his ex-wife lingering around. Not like it mattered to Bob. He was an open book. Though this woman. For the whole week since he got back, every time Rick's phone ranged. He'd kick them out of his office, close the door.
"Yeah." Shane snapped out of his trance to grab for the almost empty bottle of water off his desk, twisting the top to finish it, tossing it away in the trash. He moved himself to sit down, kicking up his own feet. The pieces of paper in his lap as he tilted his head to the side, watching Bob. "Why does it matter?"
Bob shrugged. "Just curious. He's been leaving a lot early lately. Most days he's rushing us out of the office." Which was true. Before he got shot, Rick was always around, going over old case files trying to put two things together that didn't mix. Something in Rick had changed.
"I'm glad he's out of the office. I'm happy for him." He smiled, leaning over to reach for his Coke again.
Shane arched his brow, eyeing him.
That's one thing that Bob disliked about Shane. He was always angry.
"You got somethin' to say to me, Stookey?"
Bob shook his head. It was then that Daryl raised his head, clearing his throat. "Bob, let it go. He's not in the mood."
Bob turned his head to face Daryl. Most of the time Daryl was quiet, in the back watching. Bob took note. When Daryl spoke up. It was time to...listen.
"Sorry, Shane. I'll back off. I'm just glad that Rick has found someone."
"Why?" Daryl placed his phone on his desk, his own brows arched high.
"He seems tense is all. Always was." Bob closed his mouth shut, not sure where he was going with this. He might as well get back to work. Everyone seemed lost in their own heads.
He took one more good drink of his Coke, placing it back down, removing his feet off his desk to grab for the first file he saw. It was opened. The papers were either folded in half and some were slightly ripped. He mumbled outloud trying to get a better understanding of why a... "Dale Horvath."
He heard a deep intake of air. He glanced up breaking away from the file to look at Shane. He looked crazed. "How did my file get over there?"
Bob shrugged. He probably took it off his desk because he thought to help Shane lessen his load. He had been gone for awhile.
"His name doesn't sound familiar. Is this an old..."
"Don't." Shane raised his hand, pointing his index finger at him. "This is one of those times you stay out of my business, Bob."
"Alright. No issue here brother." He stood up, closing the file, walking around his desk to hand it to Shane, who all but snatched it out his hand.
"First thing. I'm not your brother. Second, stay off my desk. It says Shane Walsh not Bob Stookey." Shane placed the file to his chest, removing his feet from his desk to stand up. His head turned to face Daryl, who had leaned in his chair. His hand covering his mouth. "I'll be in Rick's office. I need peace n quiet. When Rick gets here. We'll try and but heads on the Anderson case. I'm tired of looking at her make moon eyes 'em."
Daryl nodded.
Shane stormed off.
Bob watched the whole thing, waiting till Shane was out of ear shot and in Rick's office before he opened his mouth to speak. "Did I do something?"
Daryl shook his head, reaching forward to grab for a file off of his desk, dropping his hand from his mouth. His eyes locked on Bob's lost ones. "No. It hasn't been a good week for Shane."
"Maybe Rick should stay and Shane stays home." Bob teased, moving back to his desk to sit on it.
Daryl shook his head. Bob saw something there. He wasn't sure what to call it. "I'd rather Rick didn'. The more free time Shane has. The worse off we all are."
Bob opened his mouth to ask, but Daryl's phone vibrated like crazy on his desk. He told himself he'd ask another time. Wouldn't a vacation be good for the hot head?
Bob would think so.
I hope Bob's point of view was alright. When I was writing up this chapter. I was trying to find a way to transition out of the heat that was Richonne and decided Bob. He needs a little time in the spotlight.
Hope you all enjoyed. Have a good weekend.
