"Your eyes tell me everything about you.
Your words only confirm it."
― Anthony


"Who did I just make the agreement with that it is only going to be you and me? Rick and Michonne? Michonne and Rick? I don't want to sleep with you Michonne. I don't want to have sex with you. I don't see you like that if that helps."

What he had said kept looping in her head. There was a sense that he had once said something similar to her before the time in the car. Definitely a time that she couldn't exactly remember but felt sure about. She couldn't get his words out of her head and the desire to wake him to prove that he desired her was developing into a compulsion. A cold shower was needed to shock her senses as she deftly removed herself from the bed while he slept.

Michonne had taken her shower and quickly dressed. She was surprised to run into Rick as she was exiting the bathroom. He wore a look of relief that he could enter and take his turn and not have to wait.

"I didn't know you were gone," Rick whispered upon her exiting.

Michonne wasn't sure why this observation he made was necessary or if he wanted a response because she didn't have one that came to her quickly like everything else. She was in a delayed mental mode.

A few things that she did notice was that he was a sound sleeper and he slept facing her. His warm breathing didn't bother as much as she thought it would and the sex he allowed her was a bonus.

He was a definite liar about not wanting sex. He never said no, even allowing her to undress him last night. The eager look on his face when he put the papers down on the nightstand was evident. He was a calculating liar, Michonne summarized in her mind.

His restraint was a turn on, though. He never tried to kiss her. He didn't try to touch her. He didn't even really move or thrust even though she could feel the swell and his upheaval translated from his loins into her, mixing flagrantly in with her song and aroused dance.

"Did you want me to wake you every time?"

"It would be nice to let me know you are up."

"Rick?" Michonne was suspicious.

"I like to think if this arrangement continues at the pace it has for two nights in a row it is best to give you a warning that I don't know how much longer I can not react to it."

"Why would you react? You told me while we were in the car you didn't want anything from me."

She found her way to put it out there since this was a conversation he wanted to have first thing in the morning and it bothered her that he didn't want anything from her but he would take from Suzanne.

"I didn't know then, what I know now."

"What is it that you know, Rick?"

"Things are true. About me. About you. Us."

"What?"

"The rumors."

"What rumors?"

"Do you want to talk about it now, or when we have more time?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Understand this, Michonne. If you choose to do what I am not against, I am going to actively participate. If you don't want that I suggest that you find another room or locate one for me."

"I want to discuss the rumor, Rick."

"I have to drain a snake."

"A snake?"

"I could have said a pipe but around this house it would be literal." He shut the door on Michonne who didn't walk away until she heard the toilet flush.


Michonne was lost in thought. She didn't realize that Rick was standing in the doorway of the bedroom that they were sharing watching her undo the two braids from Ghost hair to start brushing it upward into a ponytail. She sat at the foot of the bed while Ghost stood.

"Oww...Ow...ouch." Ghost complained.

Watching the redhead girl with skin the color of paper flinch and cringe was too much for him to endure.

"There isn't a better way?" Rick asked.

Michonne was surprised to see him standing there. He was looking directly at her. His blue eyes seeking to understand as if more could be inferred from more than what was presented on the surface.

"She's tender headed. If she had her way, no one would touch it. It has to be touched, or it would knot and tangle in places."

"I wish I had Abigail and Billie Jo's hair." Ghost began to cry out.

"Abigail and Billie Jo don't have what makes your hair special, Jasmine." Rick offered.

Ghost stopped her sniffling, and Michonne stopped brushing once she was able to get the hair swiftly into a neat ponytail. They both gave Rick their undivided attention.

"My name is-"

"Jasmine Amber Jean," Rick stated.

Ghost had no opinion because her Daddy spoke with so much authority she accepted it. At that moment she was sure she would have allowed Sally if he said that would have been her name.

"Is it okay with you?" Rick didn't expect silence.

"You can still go by Ghost in this house until you decide otherwise. Outside this house when dealing with people, I would much prefer they use what will be your legal name for they have no right to call you by any other that you haven't given them expressed permission to do so. The world doesn't have the same right that it is afforded under this roof. Your name is Jasmine. Jasmine Amber Jean. I have to talk the last name over with your Mama. It is only right you carry my last name, but that is up to your Mama if she has or hasn't done it for the others."

"Do you understand what he is saying to you?" Michonne turned her daughter around to face her. Ghost nodded that she understood.

"Do you like the name Jasmine?" Michonne asked.

Ghost nodded again. She couldn't find her voice but broke into a sob. Michonne held the little girl whose face was buried in her chest. She tried to console her by holding her tightly and rubbing her small back.

It was unclear to Rick if what he spoke was a good thing or a bad thing. His feet led him to close the distance between the two that were at the foot of the bed. He knelt down on both knees to be eye level, placing a hand on Ghost shoulder to get her to turn and to look at him.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Rick spoke honestly to the small girl who wrapped her arms around his neck. he had instinctively hugged her back.

Michonne spoke for Ghost, "She isn't upset, Rick. She's happy."

Rick loosened his hold and asked his daughter, "Are you happy?"

Ghost nodded.

"Why are you happy?"

"Because you came back."

Rick didn't know what to say or how to respond. He glanced over at the ceiling where the water stain was peeling away the wallpaper from the wall along with some of the plaster. He was going to cry too and without a way to stop the dam that was threatening to break a tear or two slipped by the guards who were reluctantly activated to keep the emotions as subdued as possible. The cheering squad sat quietly, encouraged by the moment.

"Alright then, Jasmine. Tell everyone that I, Mama said, to get their clothes out on the porch. Linen, sheets, pillowcases. Everything!" Michonne tried to change the mood.

"Okay, Mama." Ghost allowed her Daddy to take a small pack of Kleenex he found in his unpacked luggage to dab at her tears.

Rick wasn't prepared for the magnitude of-everything to wash, but he didn't let that show when he quickly refocused on his little Jasmine Amber Jean with the fiery red hair done up nice. Her swollen red eyes took a slight back seat to the beautiful smile she had given him before another quick hug. She ran out the room shouting, "Mama said..."


"What's wrong with him Michonne?" Uncle Charlie stood on the porch next to Michonne. Granny and Ghost were in the backseat of the running car.

"He's not used to smelling what we have become accustomed. Nothing more."

Uncle Charlie was worried about the white man that had walked off more than 50 yards away from the car that had the laundry piled in the trunk. A second trip to get the rest off the porch was needed since Rick refused to have it in the back seat.

"You may have to leave him here." Uncle Charlie suggested to Michonne with her arms folded.

For a split second, Michonne was worried the man that was in their lives was going to keep walking. She didn't care that he was still dry heaving five minutes later from where he stood 50 or so yards away. All she knew was that if he had left the property on foot, she would have told Granny and Ghost to get out the car because she didn't need any witnesses of her taking that very car to run him plumb over. She would leave his body in a nearby field with all the piss clothes to cover him up. She had it planned and he better had thank his lucky stars he stopped when he did.

The sight had Carlton worried, and when he saw that his Daddy stopped walking, he ran after him to make sure he was okay.

Rick was trying to find the energy to stand up straight. He was hunched over. His hands rested on his knee as he decided to take the much needed fresh air into his lungs. His nostrils still burned from the inhalation of marinated piss that he and Michonne loaded into the trunk of his rented BMW.

"Are you okay?" Carlton eased up beside his Daddy who acknowledged him by ruffling his hair.

"No." Rick squeezed his eyes closed before opening them again.

"Are you going to be okay?" Carlton sought reassurance.

"Who's doing that? Is it only Marty?" Rick motioned his hand to the car that waited in the distance.

"No. Gladys and Knight too. They are scared to go to the bathroom at night with you here in the house. Marty just gets too excited and pees all over himself a lot. It's just them-but Marty mostly. He hides most of his things."

"Well, it has to come to an end." Rick declared.

"Mama has been working on it, but it has been a slow process."

"Well, Daddy's here. Shit's got to stop." Rick's hand rested on his hip.

"I can tell them-"

"No. I will. I have yet to set eyes on Gladys and Knight before they run off into the wind or around the corner. All this time I thought it would be your Mama to kill me. Who would have thought it would be the smell of piss to practically knock me to my knees?"

Carlton couldn't help the smile that threatened to break free. He said he was their Daddy. From his lips to Carlton's ears, he heard it.

Confirmation.


A/N: The beginning of this chapter is before Michonne goes in the kitchen where she find Uncle Charlie eating the bucket of chicken and Rick entering offering to pay for everyone's laundry. I guess this is how to look at how I write. A chapter is presented or conversations beforehand or relayed after the fact. I am about to full blown give up linear. It is hard as hell and it is slowing my writing down to a snail pace. I will try again on another story. Waving white flag.

I failed to point this out and I will do so here...

Dissociative identity disorder, formerly referred to as multiple personality disorder, is a condition wherein a person's identity is fragmented into two or more distinct personality states. People with this rare condition are often victims of severe abuse.

There is also amnesia or very suppressed memories when dealing with people that have been diagnosed with the condition. My portrayal may not be as accurate and I am taking great liberties with the use of imagination.