128 days to the present:

Michonne's phone buzzed against her dresser table, the screen illuminating the bedroom as she came to. The sound of Mike's snores filling her ear drum until she rose her hand to pick up her phone. The brightness of the screen burned, causing her to squint her eyes and blur the sight in front of her until it didn't sting.

A glaring whatsapp icon stared back at her, indicating a message from Rick.

She pressed it.

A picture discreetly blurred had been sent to her but alarm bells of what it could be were already ringing in her head.

She pressed the picture for it to begin to download.

Then the image started to move upwards as more and more messages found their way to her.

Rick: U are 1 of the sexiest woman I've ever seen.

Rick: I wouldn't mind having u on me. I bet u feel nice

Rick: Ive never wnted anyting so badly

Michonne almost started to giggle to herself, but stopped herself before she could wake Mike. As he had said earlier, he had gone out with Jessie and probably got himself a little drunk in the process. It was no biggy. She wouldn't hold this against him.

Rick: I want to feel u on my tongue :P

The irrelevant emoji made her smile as she reread the messages. Admittedly, some parts of them made her burn a little, made her mind wonder – even though she was pretty good at convincing herself that his action and her response were nothing out of the ordinary.
Her mind wandered to times when she had seen him lick his lips, the soft point of its tip and the rich pink of it was alluring to her in those times. She almost began to wonder how it would feel against her, flicking across her at an alarming pace and…

Michonne sighed, scrolling back up as she remembered the picture she had downloaded and what she saw made her jolt.

What should I do?

Michonne pondered, staring at the image and the few following messages she could see below.

Michonne: Hey Rick, I think you're drunk. It's Michonne, are you sure you want me to see all this?

Her hands typed a mile a minute as she tried to prevent anything else from occurring – a spontaneous phone call or video call or more messages. Her heart raced a little bit more at the idea – which she dismissed at the same time – of Rick being attracted to her like this… if it was meant for her that is. It could have been for Jessie. And if that were the truth, it made Michonne feel green in some ways.

Rick began to type and then stop and then repeat this cycle for what seemed like hours, until all capital letters found her eyes.

Rick: DO NOT OPEN THAT! I'M SORRY I'M RELLY DRUNK N I THOUGHT I WAS SENDIN IT TO JJJ!

Rick: CHOOOOONE ANSWER ME.

It was too late to not have opened it and seen it, but she decided to save his pride and reassured him that she had not. The frantic texts from him stopped soon after, probably because the mix of stress and alcoholic put him to sleep. Maybe he had wanted that to be Michonne's job.

Still in a small state of shock, Michonne put her phone back on her dresser, attempting to close her eyes and forget what had just unfolded.
Just before she caved back into sleep, she gave herself a mental note to delete it in the morning – and for some reason, this felt like the most guilty action of the night.

But the morning came in a rush.

She washed Andre and fed him, then made breakfast for Mike and herself before they piled into a car to go to Michonne's mothers house.
It was a Sunday and Michonne hadn't seen her mother in a while, although they spoke on the phone frequently enough. It felt good for Michonne to not have to prepare anything and if she had, given the events of the night, she may end up lost in thought and burning the whole thing.

Once in the house her mother greeted her with a large hug and a kiss, followed by the lifting of Andre, who she squished to oblivion with love. This was normal and the only shift in normality came from her interaction with Mike.
Previously, they would have great big smiles towards each other and her Mother's arms would find him in an even bigger hug than it found her – but that wasn't the case these days. The interaction was rigid, cold, felt tactical as it minimised the amount of contact that was needed between the two. A soft nod and murmur of 'Mike' left her Mother's lips before she walked back into the kitchen. At times like this, Michonne ignored Mike's face and continued to do whatever task was in front of her – right now that was following her Mother to the kitchen and taking up any cooking duties.

"So you think you can just come up in here and walk straight past me?" Sasha commented the moment Michonne entered the kitchen, getting up to promptly hug her with Amelia in her hand.
Amelie was Sasha's 4 year old daughter, cute and fiery just like her Sasha – both of them joked about how her lips always looked pursed, as if ready to say a bad word just like her father.

"Where's Abe?" Michonnes question was soon answered as the sound of heavy boots clomped down the stairs. Abe's giant moustache rose with his grin as he picked up Michonne from the floor, squishing her in a bear hug.
"Long time no see!" He leaned in closer to her ear, "still with the scumbag I see." Chuckling at his comment he stepped back, recieiving a look of approval from Michonne's Mother and disapproval from Sasha. "What? You say it all the time! Doesn't she little Amy?"

Amelie giggled in return, as if to solidify that yes he was saying the truth and yes, she was a daddies girl.
"Yeah, but I'm allowed. Coming from you that's just plain rude, right Michonne?"
"I mean… he didn't swear." Michonne discreetly rose her fist to bump it with Abe, cueing Sasha to roll her eyes into the back of her head.

The laughter between Abe and Michonne faltered as Mike ended the room and Abe's face grimaced, just enough for Michonne to identify it. Still, his firm hands rose to clasp Mike's in a stiff handshake and he invited him outside to 'get out of the ladies hairs' with the children.
This action left the kitchen free for the three ladies to manoeuvre, Michonne taking to preparing the macaroni and cheese, whilst Sasha accompanied by washing and drying the dishes.

Her mother, who was preparing the chicken legs, was a woman of few words. She had always been that way, and Michonne hadn't appreciated it much when she was younger – if a no ever left her mother's mouth, it was definite and no matter how much her teenage self would try to argue back, not a single word would follow.

Michonne never knew if the offset was due to her father's own death, who had died when she was very young. But the short video recordings they have of them before he died show her to be the same, just louder, still bright and strong and stable… just louder.
Eventually, Michonne grew to like the silence, the definitiveness in it. She applied it in her work and she found that it would make even the strongest minded people unravel, the awkwardness of it – if you didn't get used to it – would force you to think you needed to fill the silence, when you really didn't.

So it had been shocking, months ago, when whilst sitting in silence with Andre in her lap that her Mother had started to speak deeply in regards to Mike's behaviour.
"You remember Auntie Joy? We ain't seen her in a while, the last time was about 15 years ago." After looking at her for a period, her mother's face scrunched up. "Michonne, close your mouth. I'm trying to talk here, yes or no?" The nod received from Michonne acted as reassurance and she settled again, her eyes still on Andre, never flickering to Michonne as she spoke. Only when she waited.

"Well, this happened to her. All her kids and all, you know, a good four of them." She shifted in her seat, tapping at the arms of the chair. "And she cried and cried over the phone to me, just like you did. And I told her to leave, because you don't stay with someone after that. But she didn't. The four kids made her stay because she couldn't pay her way on her own." The obvious frustration built within her expressed itself in her hands running through her hair.

"Now I'm going to tell you, I would like for you to leave. But that situation showed me that you can't tell people what's good for them, even if you know what's good. I had what was good – your father was a good, pure hearted man. And when I see what's not good, I tell people to get rid of it, because they'll never experience what your father gave me if they stay. Do you agree?"

Michonne had nodded, understanding what her mother was trying to say. The hurt in her voice when she reminisced on her lost love. Michonne had wanted that, been determined in that moment to keep going and keep moving. But the goal shifted when Andre's behaviour had changed, had become slower and more sad and it had broken her heart – more than Mike had – and directed her behaviour more than her brain ever could.

Right now, Michonne was facing the large window that gave a view of Andre kicking a football with a smile on his face. It made her heart warm. The memory of her mother talking to her hand flicked off something within her, it had killed something, she could feel it. The advice was real within her again, making her feel determined.

'But determined to do what?' she wandered.

Watching Mike scoop Andre into his arms sometimes filled her with something she could not name or place. And recently, it had been nagging at her more and more often. Sometimes, the feeling made her wonder whether her being was questioning the decision to remain just for Andre.
Maybe there was another way? Maybe there was more? Maybe she could step away and be like Rick and still have Andre and be less restricted, less cautious. Free.

She caught her mother looking at her from the other side of the kitchen, her right eyebrow raised in a question. A quick shake of Michonne's head made it lower as she placed the chicken into the oven and went to wash her hands. "I'm going to rest, you girls okay to finish?"

"Of course!" Sasha commented, wiping her hand on a towel as she walked towards where Michonne stood and rested her back on the counter. Once she was sure they were alone, she grinned, prodding Michonne in the arm. "So, are you going to tell me why you seem so different? An ear piercing doesn't do it."

Scoffing, Michonne finished the salad with a drizzling of oil before pushing it to a side and resting against the counter with Sasha. "A silly little thing happened. Rick… uh… sexted me."

"WHAT?!"

"Could you be any louder? Gosh." Shaking her head in disappointment, Michonne leaned in. "He was drunk, it was an accident. He's been apologising for it so much I've had to turn my phone off for the day. Vibrate after vibrate, even after all the reassurance."

As they laughed, Sasha walked towards the fridge, gathering a jug of Kool aid from the fridge to pour into glasses.
Michonne hadn't had time to remove the picture this morning, due to the rush of the day. She would have to when she went home – to give her friend some dignity. Part of her wanted to laugh at the situation and brush it over, but it had turned in her mind, made her question things.
Like whether he felt the jolts that she did when she touched him, and if that played on the back of his mind like an old song from someone's youth, where you keep skipping over a set of lyrics in the chorus that you can't remember but hope you will.

The burning in her pit of her stomach at the thought was enough to say that this topic was delicate and in some way wrong, and that it would not appear at any time in counselling.
She was glad the money for counselling wasn't coming out her own pocket, because – as ashamed as she was to admit – some parts of her lacked honesty - this did.

"Do I tell Mike?" The self doubt had crept up, making her stare into the glass as she took a sip, the back of her neck burning waiting for Sasha's response. This silence was uncomfortable, so much so her hands started to shake just a little. Her defense mechanism was prepared for action, ready to talk about something else, more gossip that would gather Sasha's attention more than this.

"Well who would deny the mighty chocolate goddess Michonne?" Sasha joked, patting her cousin on the back before her face changed to a serious position. "If it was just a sext, a drunk one, no. Just make sure it never happens again… if you really want to work on this marriage." The tone in her last words made Michonne raise an eyebrow, flicking her eye at Sasha, who's hands flew up to defend herself. "Sometimes, your cracks show and I'm just waiting for you to see that too."

Before Michonne could reply, the backdoor opened, leaving her mouth hanging open in suspense. Mike's voice boomed in the space of things left unsaid.

"Hey, what did we miss?"

After they had arrived home, Michonne still hadn't turned her phone on. She was afraid of the buzzing of it, of the look on Mike's face when he heard it and rose an eyebrow to question her without a w rod. Instead, Michonne took to cooing with Andre and watching his favourite shows until his head began to dip and she had to quickly wash him and rest his head on a pillow.

Eventually it was her turn to be washed, her quick heated shower left her feeling smooth as she rubbed cocoa butter up her leg as Mike entered the room.
"Showered without me?" He attempted a joke, licking his lips as he pulled his shirt over his head.
Michonne didn't respond, but chose to flick a smooth smile at him as she settled into bed, pulling the covers up above the over-sized shirt she wore.

He began to maneuverer around the room, acting as though he wasn't putting on a small show as he removed items of clothing one by one. Michonne was present, but not really. She played the role of interested, flicking her eyes to and from him when needed, to make it seem as though what he was doing was the only thing occupying her mind. But it wasn't.
The uncharacteristic silence of the room, absence from the buzzing of her phone bugged her. There was a temptation to reach under her pillow and turn on her phone with Mike there, but she withdrew from it – she would have to wait for him to be gone, to give him this moment of attention.

"So, now that you're naked, are you going to bathe? You just up and left this morning, acting like I didn't see you!" Michonne attempted to remove the eagerness in her voice by moving around the bed under the covers, acting as though she was trying to get into comfortable position.
"Observing me, huh?" She nodded. "Is that good or bad?" Michonne shrugged, winking and nudging her head towards the bathroom door. "Unbelievable." Mike muttered, shaking his head as he picked up a towel and left the room.

The pounding of her heart was immense as she turned on her phone, Rick's name the first to show once she was unable to unlock her screen. Zooming past other messages her eyes settled on his frantic ones, each as laughably pathetic as the last:

Rick: I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me.

Rick: Or maybe I d

Rick: That message wasn't meant to send Michonne

[1 hour later]

Rick: Listen, Michonne I don't know what to say

Rick: I feel like a fool

Rick: I'm going to start texting you now

[3 hours later]

Rick: Michonne are you ok?

Rick: You haven't responded, I'm worried. I'm sorry if I've offended you.

She felt her heart melt, like ice in the palm of someones hand.

The sound of the shower filled her ears and she knew that Mike was now in there.

Michonne: Hey Rick, as I said, no big deal. I'm alive so you don't have to worry. Hope you're okay!

She lay for a few more minutes, re-reading the text messages, thinking about how sincere he came across. Michonne lay there, aware that now she had the time to remove the photo from her phone. That it was unfair she had carried it around all day and needed to just get rid of it in the sake of his privacy.

Before opening her gallery she looked around with guilt, afraid that cameras were hidden somewhere and that she would be caught on a show like Maury or Jerry Springer or something. Although, she wasn't doing anything bad, she was simply deleting an image. Sent with no secret intention. Sent with no desire on her end.

Michonne felt something in her stomach hum low and steady as she looked at the image. Looked at the soft curve at the tip of his cock, the veins that pressed against the soft of his skin and climbed up to the tip of him. He was different to how she had imagined, thicker and longer – she was ashamed to think that she had thought about it before in this moment in time.

Okay, it must go.

Once her thumb pressed the delete button, Michonne thought that would be it. That the low, humming ache in the pit of her stomach would subside and she'd be fine. But that didn't happen. Instead it moved, lower, causing her to clench at the intensity of it, clasping her legs together in a sudden jolt of hormones and wanting.

Well, she rationalised, I haven't had a good decent finish in some time.

She looked towards the door and allowed the sound of the bathroom water to fill her senses, something familiar setting in her chest and making her weary of her next actions.
But Michonne didn't stop herself as her hands snaked down to her wetness, shocked at much was there. And she didn't stop herself when the smooth rubs came to follow at her nub, as her eyes closed, and her mouth opened, and she began to imagine what it would be like. With him. How different it would be. She had never felt anyone else, stretched for anyone else, cum on anybody else.

The water turned off and Michonne was aware she had limited time to finish herself. Her finger sped up as her back began to curve.
Rick's hands always looked so strong, would they ever handle something as gently as this?
Is this what Jessie would feel soon enough?
Was she really masturbating to the thought of her good friend?

Michonne was nearing the end, the heaviness of her breathing and the twitching jolts finding her leg. She thought about yesterday, about the way his blue eyes had flickered over her body when he thought she couldn't see, and other days where his skin touched hers and there was a jolt.
If his hands could do that to her, what could he really do?
If he could make her jolt with so little, what could he do with a lot?

The images were too much for her as she collapsed in on herself, the bathroom door opening just as she did – which forced her to turn and face away, so it looked as though Michonne was merely turning in her sleep. Her legs were still clasped together, riding out the strength of her orgasm, the wetness still slick between her thighs.
Remaining still as Mike entered the room, Michonne kept her eyes shut. Afraid that if she opened them, Mike may figure out what she'd just done.