A/N: Well, I made you wait long enough for the end of this story, didn't I? I'm really sorry. Life got in the way as usual. I appreciate all of the messages I've received on this story, looking for updates or just letting me know you enjoyed it. I know I have been MIA and I apologize. I'm working on an original manuscript and I've been pouring everything I have into it for the past year. I wouldn't even be doing that if it weren't for all of your support, so I just want to thank you all so much. I know this sounds like a goodbye letter, but its not. I do need to focus on the next phase of my manuscript, but I have a few prompts I am working on and maybe soon a short little epilogue to this for Christmas. I'll be around. Please hit me up on Tumblr. I have some one shots in me too. I can't promise another multi-chapter for awhile, but now that I know Rick is still alive, I have no intention of leaving this Richonne world. If anyone is interested in my original stuff, or keeping tabs on when you might be able to read it, here comes my shameless plug: please follow me on
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Love you all.
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Rick leaned back in the armchair of his hotel room, resting his feet on the window sill. The bright lights of the city and the pale blue light from his phone were the only things illuminating the room as he listened to the sound of the line ringing. It was late, but Michonne always waited up for a call when he was on the road.
"Hey, baby!" she answered, sounding wide awake.
Her velvet voice rippled through him, calming the adrenaline high he was still riding. "Hey." He'd been gone for a week and, as usual, the end of the road trip had him missing her like crazy. "It's good to hear your voice. How was your day?"
"It was good. I made a few deadlines, cleared my work plate so I can focus on other things tomorrow night."
"Oh yeah? Like what other things."
"I have a date actually."
"Yeah? It's about time."
Michonne laughed. "My boyfriend is a famous baseball player. I take what I can get."
"Now you're just breaking my heart."
"I'm joking. You know what they say. Good things come to those who wait… and I've been waiting really patiently."
He could tell by her flirty tone that she was in the mood to play with him a little. It had been four days since he'd seen her and his self control was waning. "Got any specific good things in mind?" he asked, his fingers walking down his bare stomach, lingering at the waistband of his sweatpants.
"I was promised a night out," she purred.
"Oh yeah? What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking tight little dress, maybe a few too many cocktails. Then see where the night takes us."
"I can tell you exactly where that's gonna take-" His response was cut short by the sound of yelling in the hallway.
"Rick?"
"One minute, babe. Hold that thought."
He pulled himself out of the chair and crossed the room to look out the peephole of his door. The yelling became more clear and he recognized Morgan's firm and steady voice behind it. Then there was a loud thud.
"I think Negan's throwing a tantrum," Rick said, laughing into the phone.
"About what?"
"I don't know. Let me go check it out."
"Take me with you!"
"Ok."
He switched the phone to speaker, then slid it into his pocket before opening the door. The bright light of the hallway hit him along with the sound of Negan's ranting.
"This is a bunch of horse shit," Negan yelled. "You all know this!"
Negan was pulling at his hair like a mental patient while Morgan stood against the wall, arms crossed and a look of pure fury in his eyes.
"What's going on?" Rick asked. Daryl had appeared in the doorway of the room next to his, looking as though he had been woken from a dead sleep. He shook his head.
"You think this team would be here in the playoffs if it wasn't for me?" Negan pounded his fist on the wall and paced. "You're gonna bench me for game five over a slump? I got us here. I saved this team."
Daryl shot Rick a look. "Son of a bitch," he muttered.
"You're one man, Negan," Morgan said calmly. "We have a whole team who got us here."
"You just keep telling yourself that, Jones," Negan said, stepping toward Morgan. "You tell yourself that all the way to getting knocked out of the next round without me at bat."
Rick reached in and adjusted the phone in his pocket to make sure Michonne could hear.
Morgan looked unfazed. "I guess we'll see."
"We'll see?" Negan sneered, his usual smarmy self melting into something a little more uncaged. "We'll see?" With two long strides he was in front of Morgan, his hand balled into a fist.
Rick and Daryl rushed toward them, each of them grabbing ahold of one of Negan's arms and holding him in place.
"Oh this is too much," Negan said, struggling against their hold and laughing like a maniac. "This is really just too much. Fucking Grimes is still here after all his shit, and I'm getting the boot?"
"Grimes is a team player," Morgan said. "You're a self-serving asshole who can't hit anymore. Pack up your stuff. You'll be watching the rest of the series from the bench."
Negan wrenched himself out of Rick's hold and disappeared into his hotel room with a slam of the door.
Morgan looked at the group that had gathered in the hallway. "Team meeting as soon as we land at home, guys. For now, go to bed."
"Jesus," Rick said into the phone as soon as he was back in his room. "Did you get all that?"
"He really is crazy."
"No doubt."
"And you'll be ok without him?"
Rick laughed. "You mean without the guaranteed out he's been for the last couple months? We'll be fine. Benching him in the playoffs, though? I gotta say, I'm surprised. There's a story here, you know? Morgan isn't telling us something. "
"Rick…"
"I'm just saying. I know you're past having to write about sports, but someone's gonna look into it. Might as well be you after all the hell he's caused."
"I'll think about it."
"All right." He plopped back down into the chair and leaned back. "Now back to where we were."
...
"So are all dates with Rick Grimes like this, or is this just because we had to wait so long?" Michonne leaned against the railing at the rooftop bar, taking in the view. Champagne, candlelight and a panoramic of the downtown skyline- her aversion to fancy was wearing off as she glanced at the man beside her in the tailored suit that matched his eyes.
"Well, I did owe you something special after everything. But I'll take you here every night if you want." She lifted an eyebrow, knowing that even after the media mess had cleared, his schedule had pushed this night off for months. "In the off season," he amended.
"You just keep winning playoff games. There will be time." She tipped her glass to his, the chime of glass on glass turning a couple of indiscreet heads in their direction.
"We got time right now. Let's get out of here."
"Is there a part two?" she asked, stepping closer to sidle up to his warmth in the chilly night air.
"You didn't think our first real date was going to end at nine o'clock, did you?" He circled his finger in the air and a waiter came rushing over.
"All set, Mr. Grimes?" the eager kid said. His cheeks had turned bright pink every time he had spoken to Rick, and his voice shook. Michonne couldn't help but smile at the Rick effect, now that she knew how much he hated it.
They decided on a walk before heading to the suite Rick had booked for the night. The air was thick with the scent of early fall and knowing the winter that awaited them, the whole city seemed to be out enjoying the last of this type of night out.
They were traversing a particularly bumpy cobblestone path, laughing at Michonne's trouble navigating it in her strappy heels, when a car door closing up ahead caught their attention. Mike stepped out of a black town car and almost walked right into them.
"Michonne," he said, running a hand over his head.
"Hi Mike," she said, glancing between the two men. Rick remained silent, and she was grateful for small favors. His hand was already tightened around hers.
Mike noticed the gesture, but he kept his eyes on hers with a look far more diffident than she expected from her ex. "It's been awhile," he said, clearing his throat. "Congrats on that award. I didn't get to say it that night at the dinner."
"You were busy sitting two tables away from us, Mike. I get it."
"Michonne," he said with a sigh, glancing quickly at Rick then back to the ground. "Listen, I've actually been meaning to call you."
"Whatever for?" she said with a laugh.
"I'm sorry about how everything went down. You didn't deserve the way I treated you."
Michonne shook her head. Mike apologizing was a first and she had a hunch there was more to the gesture than humility. "Are you just saying this because Hershel doesn't give your magazine inside access to the team anymore?"
"No. Really." Mike shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers and hung his head. "I was a jerk and I'm sorry."
Michonne eyed him suspiciously, but ultimately Mike was a non-factor. Whether he was sorry or not, she'd moved on. "Okay," she said graciously. "I accept your apology, Mike. Have a good night." She pulled on Rick's sleeve to keep them moving.
"Wait!"
Rick gave her a look in askence, but she waved him off. "What is it, Mike?"
"Negan being benched," he said, chancing a step toward them. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "The story is blowing up. There are rumors he had bookies in every state, he was getting paid off the losses. It's complicated and it's going to take a real journalist to dig up all of the dirt on this guy. Whoever breaks the whole thing is gonna be a star. Maybe it could be you."
"She's already a star," Rick said, making no attempt at hiding the displeasure in his voice.
Mike nodded. "It's a good opportunity," he said. "I need someone who's up to the task and I owe you one. Just think it over. Goodnight, Michonne. Rick."
With that he turned on his heel and walked on. Michonne stood, watching him retreat.
"You were right about there being a story," she said to Rick once he was out of sight.
"And you were right that you didn't need it."
"Maybe."
Rick nodded, running his hand over her cheek. "Well, think it over. Whatever you decide to do, either way, Mike's coming to you for help now. In my world, where everyone's always keeping score, I'd say you've already won."
Michonne smiled, a little competitive cheer pushing her grin wider. "What a power couple we are."
Rick laughed, heartily, pulling her into a hug. "Damn right."
...
"Carl, I think that's enough hotdogs." Carol shared a look with Michonne while she swapped the second hotdog on his plate with some apple slices she had packed in her bag. "If he ate like this at every game, we'd have to roll him out of here."
Michonne chuckled. This was a very important game and besides the luxury suite Rick had assigned them, there were also some perks to be had by having an in with the team owner. Hershel had more trays of food delivered every inning.
"Can I at least have a rootbeer float before the end of the game?" Carl asked, looking first to Carol, then arranging his features into a sad little pout and turning them on Michonne.
Michonne held her hands up. She wasn't getting involved in this one. Besides, Rick was about to take the mound and despite her utter confidence in him, her belly was in knots. She stole one of the apple slices and took her seat in the leather stool overlooking the stadium while Carl and Carol negotiated his dessert allowance.
"This is unbelievable," Aaron said, as she plopped down beside him.
"Amazing," Eric added, rubbing his hands together to keep the brisk September night air at bay.
Andrea was bouncing in her seat. "Championship game, luxury box, after party!" She reached over the two men to give her a hug. "Michonne, Rick is the best thing that has ever happened to our friendship."
"Maybe Rick can hook you up with one of his teammates tonight, Andrea. Isn't Shane Walsh your new crush now that Michonne said you can't lust over The Cowboy anymore?"
"She says I can't, but what is she really gonna do about it?"
Michonne was vaguely aware of her friends banter while she kept an eye on the bullpen. Rick had already gone through his warm up and was chatting with his catcher, the both of them bouncing on their toes to keep warm. He'd said he had a good feeling about his start. His arm was in tip top condition and without Negan around, the general disposition of the team was optimistic. They were ready. One more win and they were headed to the World Series. And it was Rick's turn with the ball.
The hype music blared over the speakers and she watched him trot out to the mound. When he took his spot, he dug the tip of his cleat into the fresh dirt, dragging it back and forth. His eyes stayed on the divot he was creating and her heart began to skip. It looked like a nervous gesture and she leaned forward to get a better view.
Just as the first batter took his spot in the box, Rick tipped his head to the crowd, looking toward their suite. She stood from the stool she was sitting in. He couldn't see her from there, could he?
She waved her hand nervously, feeling a little silly, but when she looked at the jumbo screen that was zeroed in on his face, she watched a grin pull at the corner of his mouth. She put her fingers to her mouth and blew a kiss in his direction and just before the camera cut away, she saw him wink in response.
Carl rushed to take the seat beside Michonne, and Aaron whistled and clapped beside them while the crowd roared.
"Here we go," Carl said.
Whatever the end of this story was going to be, it was in Rick's hands now.
…
"Grimes!"
"Over here!"
Reporters were lining the tunnel exit as he pushed out of the locker room with Walsh and Dixon. He'd already given what felt like a hundred interviews after winning the game, but they were still shouting and calling to him. He told himself one more and he would politely excuse himself and go find his family.
He was scanning the crowd for someone that looked like they might cut him some slack and make it quick, when he saw her. She had a big puffy parka on and a thick scarf almost obscuring her face, but his eyes knew instinctively to stop when they found her.
He ducked behind Walsh, sacrificing him to the crowd, and made a beeline toward Michonne.
"How'd you get down here?" he asked, pulling her against his chest.
"I used my press pass. I couldn't wait any longer." She pushed up on her tiptoes and took his face in her gloved hands. "You did it."
He nodded and the emotion of the moment began to burn at the corner of his eyes. He laughed and shook his head to keep it at bay. "Who woulda thought we'd be standing here."
"You earned every bit of it."
"Christ, Michonne, what a season." He held her tighter and pushed aside the hood to her coat to whisper in her ear. "This is a dream come true, but walking out here afterward and seeing you? This is the real win."
"Rick Grimes, you are too much." She wiped at her eye and laughed. "Let's celebrate."
"Let's." He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up, crushing his mouth against hers. The cameras flashed around them and the line of reporters hooted and cheered. He could only imagine the Twitter posts, but hiding was a thing of the past and this was the best night of his career. They might as well capture it.
He set her down on the balls of her feet with one last kiss on her nose. "Where's Carl?"
"Waiting for his hero. Let's go, cowboy."
Michonne tugged his hand and he followed, letting the calls disappear behind him. "Let's go."