A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading, especially to those who left feedback. Thank you for 1K+ reviews on this fic! That's amazing. I really appreciate the love you've shown this story, Dear Readers. You're the absolute best and I love you all. This chappie has a little bit of everything. Enjoy!

5 years ago

It felt like the quick flashes of light would threaten to blind me as I blinked in quick succession. Disoriented, the loud, high pitched beeping of some type of machine assaulted my ears. My mouth was incredibly dry, and my head was pounding. I blinked again, and tried to open my eyes. The bright light overhead stung me. I pressed my hand to my temple, and then rubbed my eyes before opening them fully.

Right away, I knew I was not in my home. The sterile smell and incessant beeping felt like a hospital. I was in hospital. Why? My memory was fuzzy and it somehow physically hurt to order my thoughts and focus. Someway, I found the strength to sit up in the bed.

I was in a room on my own. It was daytime, as evidenced by the sun that was shining through the window to my right. Flashes of memory came to me, but I still did not know why I was there. I found the cord attached to the buzzer to call a nurse. When I reached the button, I gave it a press and then waited. I was still very drowsy. Just as someone stepped into the room, and I began to speak, I became lightheaded once more and drifted off again.

…..

Whatever they had given me in the intravenous drip had me feeling dazed. I no longer felt the aching in my head. I felt calm, yet impatient. After the medical staff had checked me over, they walked off and spoke in hushed tones. No one had told me what happened, though I was still piecing it all together. I know something horrible happened to my brother, but no one was telling me. I sighed and closed my eyes hoping this was all just a terrible nightmare.

…..

I was not sure how many days had passed since I had woken up; or if any days had passed at all. I was in and out of sleep. Doctors and nurses had checked on me, asked me questions, and ran more tests. No one was telling me much about why I was in the hospital: What I did know was that I had been in a coma because of a head injury. No one confirmed it for me, but I knew Jeff had been hurt. I asked the staff if it was true, and the answer was always the same: We're not able to discuss the case with you.

The case.

Something bad had definitely happened; not only to me, but to my brother. I was not allowed to make any phone calls until someone from law enforcement came to see me. My frustration was mounting with each moment that passed. Many moments eventually passed and my frustrations grew more intense.

…

When I was awake long enough, I sat in bed eating some bland pudding. It was the most excitement I had all that day. I finished it off when there came a sudden knock at my door. Odd. The nurses and doctors usually just let themselves into my room. Straightening my posture, I told whomever was there to enter. A wave of relief washed over me when my best friend, Morgan Jones stepped into the room.

"I'm glad to see you," he said tentatively, glee shimmering in his stern, brown eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

"Of course I do, you silly bastard," I chirped, happy that someone I knew had finally come to see me.

He approached and we shared an embrace before he pulled up a chair.

"You had me scared there for a while," he said. "You tough sonofabitch."

"What happened?" I asked, needing answers.

"How much do you remember?" he queried, shifting uneasily in his seat.

"Philip Blake. Jeff," I offered, suddenly feeling cold. "I, ah…I remember bein' with Jeff, and Blake. Jeff was hurt. Shot. I don't know anything else after that. Is he?"

Morgan placed a comforting hand to my forearm, and then said, "Rick, I'm sorry. Jeff didn't make it."

I felt the lump in my throat swell as tears filled my eyes. I knew he had died, I just needed to confirm it before I let myself cry. We sat in silence for goodness knows how long before my friend spoke once more.

"Rick," he said softly. "Do you want the full story?"

I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, and looked at Morgan through my teary eyes, before replying, "Yes. Tell me everything."

…..

Have you ever felt so much pain and rage suddenly spill from every pore in your body that you just wanted to die? Have you ever felt emptiness and darkness assault your senses all at once? My heart felt as if it was being torn from my chest, carved out slowly with a dull, rusted knife. It felt like that same knife continued to dig at my flesh, tearing me apart. I was numb, yet hurting at the same damn time. I still cannot describe it. The feeling of being told that your wife and child had been ripped from their existence is the single most painful thing one can experience. When Morgan told me, I screamed out in agony; all of the air forced from my lungs.

I pulled the IV from my arm, and tried to stand. However, the weight of devastation, and my legs, weak from disuse and buckling underneath me, caused me to fall. I fell to the hard, cold floor. My friend rushed to my side and kneeled down to help me, but I pushed him away. He held his hands up in a gesture to say he would leave me alone, and then backed away. By the time the medical staff had entered my room, I was lying in the foetal position. My soul crushed; my heart broken. Even then, with people rushing all around me, I had never felt so utterly alone.

…..

Morgan sat quietly beside my hospital bed. His presence was calming. Something I needed, given the heartbreaking and tumultuous day I had endured. His patience with me was testament to his strength of character and kindness. His measure as a man and a friend. He had not abandoned me as my own father had. He was right there with me in the aftermath of my tragedy.

"So, he's really gone?" I asked; my dry throat making my voice sound strange.

"Yes," he replied, not shying away from the difficult and awkward nature of our current conversation. "I've done some diggin', asked around, and no one's actually sure of where he went. What I know for sure is that he left all of his assets in your name and then left. From what old man Wheeldon told me, your Daddy's offshore accounts were emptied and he's been off the grid ever since."

I shook my head in disbelief. How could any of this be happening? How could it all be real?

"I don't understand," I admitted, shaking my head.

"Neither do I," Morgan agreed. "But I'm gonna do everything I can to make sure you get some answers."

"Thank you," I said sincerely.

"Don't mention it," he replied, placing a reassuring hand to my shoulder. "And I hear Deanna's been waiting to talk to you. She sure is happy you're awake."

I nodded my head and tried to smile.

"I...I just need some more time," I said. "Ya know, before I see anyone face-to-face."

"I understand, and I'm sure she does, too," he answered. "But don't avoid her for too long. She cares about you."

I nod my head again.

"And remember," he added. "You need to get in touch your father's accountant and a lawyer. If what they're sayin' is true, you've just become a very wealthy man."

...

Present day

"Seventy-five grand?" she asks, almost incredulously.

"Yeah," I reply, sinking lower in my seat. "A small fortune just to find that bastard. Paid off cops; judges; informants. And I'm so close now. The prick is most likely on the other side of that door, eating fuckin' Honey Nut Cheerios."

We sit in silence a moment and I admire her profile as she stares at the house. I speak again asking, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

She turns to face me and says, "Yes, I want to do this."

"There's no turning back after this," I explain, a little afraid that she will come to her senses and realize she is making a huge mistake. With the task at hand, with choosing me; the whole mess.

She reaches her hand over and cups my face before saying, "I know, but I want to support you. I want to be here for you, while I still can."

Seeing the love in her eyes makes my heart feel lighter. I take hold of her hand and press a soft kiss to her knuckles. I then shift closer to her, and we share a soft, languid kiss. Just as I begin to deepen it, I am alerted to the sound of a vehicle's alarm system being unarmed with a series of loud, sharp beeps. I draw away from Michonne, and turn my attention to Blake's home. I see red when my eyes fall on him. My hand comes to rest on my gun.

"Is that him?" Michonne whispers.

"Yeah," I offer in response, feeling the urge to step out of the car, walk over, and put a bullet in his brain. "That's him."

She places her hand on my thigh, sensing the shift in my mood, and then says, "Let me see the binoculars."

I hand them over, and then try to steady my breathing as the ire continues to rise up inside of me.

…..

Michonne's POV

He looks like any regular person, I surmise, as I focus my gaze on Philip Blake. Some average Joe starting his day in his mundane, suburban life. He is unassuming in his garden center work uniform as he places a bag in the backseat of his car. He closes the door, and then walks back toward his residence, before stepping inside.

"You okay?" I ask, giving Rick a concerned look. His entire demeanor changed from one that was emanating love, to anger. It still gives me chills how he goes from one extreme to the other. He nods his head.

"Looks like he's off to work," I say softly, thankful that he cannot see us through the tinted windows. "Let's give it twenty minutes, to make sure he's not coming back anytime soon, and then we'll check the house out."

…..

Rick seems eager to make a move. I check the clock on the dash of the car, and note that enough time has lapsed without Blake returning. It is safe to say his workday has started and there is little reason for him to be returning home soon.

"We should drive around the block," I offer. "Make sure we have escape routes identified in case he comes back and surprises us. We don't want to be caught in his home and have him alert the Marshals. We need a clear way in, and out."

"Good idea," says Rick. "Sometimes I forget you have law enforcement training."

"Yeah," I reply. "Ditto."

We share a smile, and then Rick starts the engine. We ride quietly as we circle the block. I vaguely think about all of the normal people that live in these nice homes. Living their normal lives; doing normal things. It is such a contrast to what Rick and I are doing right now. Casing the home of the man we are most likely going to murder today.

Fuck. How did it come to this? All I know is Rick wants to do this, so I am going to be here with him. And if I am completely honest with myself, I know that deep down I want to see Blake burn for what he did. I want to watch as Rick kills him.

I am drawn from my morbid thoughts when Rick says, "Would you look at that; we're in luck today, Baby."

…..

Rick's POV

I pull on the black latex gloves, and then place the handgun at the small of my back. Michonne does as I do, minus fixing a weapon to her person, and then we step through the discreet gate at the back of Blake's home; it leads into a small alleyway and gives us a perfect opportunity to access the yard. Once inside the fence, Michonne goes to the cut the power, and I pick the lock of the backdoor. We wait a short while, glad that we did not trip any alarms, and then we enter into the kitchen.

It's small and dull; very plain, like a motel room. There's a little table with two chairs; an oven; fridge; coffee pot; and microwave. Michonne moves through into the living room, and I follow. It's just as dull as the kitchen, though marginally larger. One sofa; one armchair; a coffee table; and a small television on a low stand. There are no photographs adorning the walls. There is nothing to even suggest that anyone lives here, let alone what kind of person lives here.

"Looks like a crash pad," Michonne offers, as she peers into the door that leads to his bedroom. "I've lived in plenty of them and this looks like one."

"They're not doing much to make him seem integrated here," I offer. "But I guess he ain't been here that long."

I follow Michonne to the bedroom. She searches his drawers while I go to the closet. There are no signs of him being in possession of any firearms or anything else. I step into the bathroom to be certain that he isn't hiding any weapons under the sink.

"All clear," I say, as Michonne takes a seat on the bed. I sit next to her. "What now?"

"Get Abe to drive up here with a van and leave it in the alley out back," she offers, a seriousness to her tone. "He can take the other car back with him, and we'll use the van to get Blake out of here."

"All right," I reply, thoroughly impressed with how calculating she is. "Sounds good."

She offers me a nod, and I can't help but notice for the hundredth time just how beautiful she is.

"What do we do in the meantime?" I ask, staring intently into her eyes.

"Hmm," she shrugs, before biting her bottom lip; her expression changing from stern to playful with a glint of wickedness in her pretty brown eyes. "We should fuck on his bed."

My cock starts growing hard. I smirk at her and then ask, "Really?"

"Yes," she replies, running her gloved hand up my thigh, inching closer to my hardness.

"What about DNA evidence and all o' that shit?" I ask, covering her hand and bringing it to my growing erection; half serious, half not giving a fuck if we come all over his boring little house.

"We'll just take the bedcovers with us," she says with a devilish grin. "Wrap his body in them before we burn it."

…..

Michonne's POV

When I thought about where I wanted to be in my life, in my career, I never imagined this. I never thought I'd be face down, ass up and waiting to be fucked on the bed of the man who was going to die that day; whose murder I was going to be an accessory to. But, whose life ever turned out the way they imagined anyway?

Fuck.

My current train of thought is interrupted when I feel Rick's hand reach between my legs. He strums my clit from behind and I let out a little moan. His fingers massage my nub, as he slides his thumb into my pussy to see how wet I am. And I am wet for him. The thought of what we are going to do, the revenge Rick is going to have, has had me worked up all morning. His steely gaze and dedication to getting this task done, plus knowing the violence he is capable of, has turned me on. I can admit that now. The darkness is part of him, and I want all of him near me, surrounding me, and inside of me.

"You ready?" he asks, positioning himself closer to me.

I turn my head to face him, as he grips my hip with one hand, and uses the other to guide the tip of his big, red cock over my dripping opening.

"Yes," I reply, readying myself to once again be impaled by him. "Fuck me."

…..

Rick's POV

God.

She is so amazing.

Being caught up in the moment with her, having her commit to helping me with what I need to do, gives me such an indescribable sense of contentment. She is my equal in every way. My match.

My soulmate.

There is no one I would rather be with right now.

Fuck.

I'm drawn from my thoughts by the way she clenches her walls around me. I let out little grunts as I drive my dick into her again and again. I love watching the way her ass shakes each time I thrust forward. I love the sound of our skin slapping together; the way she moans when I hit her spot. I love the way her tight, wet sex envelops my engorged manhood. I love watching my cock slide in and out of her sweet pussy. How it is drenched and glistening each time I draw it from between her swollen lips. She's close. I see her cream coating my thick, veiny shaft.

"Hmmm, Daddy," she moans as I reach around and rub her clit before hastening my movements.

I use the other hand to grip her throat as I fuck her harder, faster, relentlessly. My sex is straining and dripping; aching to come, but I have to get her there first. She starts to rock her hips backwards, meeting my thrusts and her whimpers grow louder, as her breathing quickens.

"Fuck," I whisper as she clenches around me again. "Ffffuck."

My cock quivers as the steady stream of semen shoots from my tip. I keep driving into her, as the she is filled with my essence; small drizzles of come now coat my dick as I continue to slide in and out of her.

"Oh, god," she finally cries out when I bring her to her climax. "Hmmmm, Rick."

My hands shift to her hips. I hold her in place, still with my cock rooted deeply in her womb, as her pussy pulses around me, milking me of the last few drops of my seed. After my breathing evens out, I withdraw myself, and then collapse on the bed next to my love. She shifts toward me, covers my body with hers, and kisses my neck.

"I could do this all day," she whispers in my ear.

I let out an impressed laugh, and then stroke her face, before saying, "Well, we'll be waiting a little while, so I just might hold you to it."