"Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real."
― Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses
"I need you to think real hard, Rick."
"You got me really confused right now, Michonne. One minute we are talking about the cookout and the next minute you are going on about a possible plot to take your life."
"I have asked you a simple question. I have asked it in the same way you explained to me about a plane on the tarmac. Better to find a problem on the ground than up in the air..."
"Not my exact words but I think it holds true for us, you and I."
"There is no us in the way I think you are suggesting. Stop it."
Rick, eyed the ring. It was the very moment Michonne had given notice.
"How did this get on my finger?" Her eyes had widen in surprise. She had lost small gaps of time. No longer months or weeks, not even days, she was pushed to do this thing that they were doing at grueling intervals. It was like standing on stage with Rick as her only audience member in what use to be a darken Improv Theatre, the lights came from the diamond that blinded her eyes. Her heart began to race.
"I put it there."
"I want it off." Michonne struggled to pull the wedding ring off of her finger. "I can't get it off."
"Then leave it alone."
"I'm not married to you." Michonne shot back.
"I AM married to you. We are married, and the sooner you get used to that idea the better. We are All okay with it. The midnight train I took to get here to Georgia plans to go full speed ahead. You should be tired of riding on the last boxcar. If I have to go to prison for the Façade that was performed in August-I hope you will send ME a God Damn Care Package. If you can do that for Mike, I would hope you could do that for the real father of your children."
Michonne noticed the twinkle in Rick's eye.
"There's no care package. It's money on the books. I have no idea where I'm to get any extra money to send to anyone now that I am down to one job. Remember?"
"How many times have you sent money to Mike?"
"Is this Sinclaire?"
"You are talking to him, me." Rick was full of jealousy from out of nowhere. He had to find the strength to control it. The urge to put his fist through the wall was climbing if he didn't get an acceptable response.
"What's going on with you?" Michonne questioned because whatever it was it was going on with her too. It was a struggle to remain calm when she felt different, saw things differently. Her perspective changed, shifted without warning.
"What's going on? I have no idea if I am coming or going or if I am him or me. What I do know is that I feel," Rick points to his chest which caged his heart before he points to his temple, "very strongly for you and it causing me to lose my Damn mind. I will reconsider medication!" Rick shouted to the Alter who he knew could hear the exchange. The air he exhaled wasn't his but a sign that Sinclair was going to take it down a notch. He didn't like the Medication that he was on the last two years. It made him forget Suzanne and his kids and cause Rick to have unfathomable resentment towards Lori.
"You have lost your mind if you think we are married. The other two nutcases maybe but you and I? Think about it I like chocolate and you prefer vanilla. We had a long talk about it in the grocery store. I was present. I caught your drift, Rick."
"We were in the ice cream aisle Michonne! I like french vanilla. Not once did I say I wouldn't want to cover it in your chocolate."
Michonne had no words to what she had just heard him say. He couldn't be unheard. She went back to struggle with the ring. The ring would not budge or her right hand refused to grip it, Suzanne was not going to allow the removal of that damn ring.
"I just told you what was in my heart." Rick was in touch with his emotions more than ever now that two people had gone missing from the cheering squad in his mind.
"Leave me alone."
Michonne gave up on the ring in frustration. A part of her was relieved that she couldn't take it off. She turned her back to him to remove the dress she realized she was wearing.
"So what are you going to go do, run off and hide? You are good at that you know. You are very good at running away, Michonne."
Rick watched the colorful dress get ripped as she stripped it from her body right before his eyes. She hurriedly tossed it in the corner of the room with ass cheeks peeking from out of a pair of boy shorts she wore underneath. Instant erection of the intense kind.
Everything that raced in his brain slowed to allow just the one burning question that he hoped he would have answered tonight, 'Are we going to have sex or not?' This was the repetitive question he was afraid he would voice aloud. The rejection would stunt him.
His need was a turn off of sorts for his pretend wife. He wanted sex often and once a day would have been the ideal compromise. Twice a day his fantasy, more than that would have been heaven in the clouds. What he wanted was to become comfortable with Lori. He had tried to get used to his hands touching her, but he had to have her permission on where to touch her. It was a bone of contention between them.
Lori felt that he should know how and that he didn't need her to say it was okay, just do it!
Without expressed consent, it was a turn-off for him and having to continually provide encouragement didn't get Lori hot and bothered either.
Michonne was different. To have her consent made him heady and full of lust that would blind him soon. He had to keep his wits about him. He breathed in slowly and exhaled hoping to disperse some of his energy that still lingered from the kiss out in the field when he had gone to retrieve her from out of the darkness to come back in the house, safe. His eyes followed her every movement in the bedroom. He watched her climb into the bed that they have been sharing for the last four nights. She hadn't given him a second glance as she covered her body with the thin bed sheet.
Rick stood at the foot of the bed throbbing for an intimate connection. He was under her spell, or it could have been the influence of losing a couple of Alters that made him painfully aware to the excruciating point that he needed a cold shower or a quick dip in the River. The river...
His weight caused the bed to squeak, he fell upon his back, his head resting on the pillow. His body on top of a small portion of the sheet she used to hideaway.
The stain on the ceiling seemed more significant including the peeling drywall. The brown encasing the white, similar to a scab requesting or enticing a removal from the skin. Rick eventually closed his eyes to prevent himself from getting up to tear away the layers that were in wait, begging for him to repair, to make new again. Fresh.
Michonne opened her eyes.
Rick realized the game after a few moments of the back and forth. Her eyes were closed. He counted seconds before they would flutter open. He shut his eyes the moment hers would open.
"Stop looking at me."
Michonne took the sheet and covered her face more from his view.
Rick waited no more than a minute before lifting it slightly from her head to peer inside.
"You aren't hot?"
"No."
"I was thinking about getting an AC unit installed."
"Uncle Charlie won't allow it."
"Why not?"
"Electric bill."
"I will take care of the bill."
"What kind of card do you have?"
"We are back on that?"
"What limit is on it?"
"Limit?"
"Credit card limit. I may not have credit, but I have had plenty of people in my check out line with Decline."
Rick closed the sheet down over Michonne's face. He allowed her to relish in the warm darkness that she much preferred. Rick breathed in the warmth and humidity in the air. This was going to be another night without sex he surmised with a heavy sigh.
Michonne moved the sheet from her face to watch him. She needed him visible if they were going to have a conversation.
The game of pretending was officially over.
"I want to have a talk about what kind of credit card you have and-"
"Go in my wallet and look at it. I gave it to you in the car to look at it so you can see for yourself."
"Your wallet is in the nightstand drawer on your side."
"I know."
Michonne was suspicious of why he wouldn't just reach for his own wallet and hand it to her.
Rick wondered if Michonne was going to get up or climb over him. He had eagerly hoped that she would press her body against his to open the drawer, she did not, Michonne did not move from her spot.
"I want you to cut this off." Michonne referred to the ring on her left ring finger.
"I won't."
"Why?"
"Because you are my wife."
"You have a wife."
"I thought I did. Memories are swimming in my head. I feel strongly about it all, Michonne."
"What memories?"
"The one about the River. You almost drowned. I rescued you. Carried you out of the water."
"I would have never drowned. I know how to swim. You lie."
"It's the reason for this scar and the one that you have on your ankle." He pointed to the healed over scar that was on his hand. "Your left ankle was caught between some rocks and your pant leg was snagged by a branch. The branch cut your upper thigh pretty bad. You have a scar there too. I was with you. I wanted to know you. We walked the railroad tracks. It was me, you, Daryl, and Shane. I asked Daryl if he was your guy. I had a feeling he liked you."
"He didn't like me. He was protecting me from you."
"I asked him if you were his girl. He said you didn't like guys like that. That was his response to me. He asked me what I wanted with you and I told him I didn't know if I like girls like that."
The more he spoke, the more Michonne was able to recall the moment of actually drowning.
"You didn't want me to follow you."
"You looked crazy with those dreadlocks."
"I was crazy about you."
"I told you to stop following me. I almost drowned because you scared Michonne. She doesn't like to be followed."
Michonne spoke of herself through The Third Person. The third person was Onne. Onne did not like boys nor men. Onne was stirred from his slumber. Onne carried all the hurt and pain. Onne held the memories of scars that lay randomly upon Michonne's flesh and heart. He was the one that released the memory of the drowning before retreating in the darkest recesses of her mind.
"I wanted you from the first moment, but Daryl was always in the way."
"I asked him to make you go away. I told him to tell you that he was my guy."
"I wanted to be your guy."
"Why?"
"You are the only one that can look at me and see me. You are the only one that can see me when I am the most me."
Those very words caught Michonne off guard before she could retreat into the dark room located in her mind. The door was locked. Padlocked.
The entrance to the place that kept her hidden would not open on demand. She couldn't run away. Suzanne had the key. Suzanne locked her out from running away from this memory.
"I see you, Michonne. I see you, and I still want you."
"I want you to stop talking right now."
"I know you do."
"Stop."
"You've got me here. You've got me, and I need you to believe me when I tell you I won't hurt you, Michonne. If you are ever inclined to stay, I will prove it to you. I want to take care of you. I want to take care of the kids we have that didn't ask for any of this. I can make a way for us. I know there is a need. I know what you need, and if you just let me try to give it to you, you will be surprised, Michonne. You and the kids are All I Need, and you have always been All I want."
"Why don't I remember?"
Michonne began to cry as she searched for memories to attach to the most intense feeling she had towards a man that was a stranger but he and what she felt wasn't unfamiliar.
Fear squeezed her heart and crept through her mind like a Dementia Patient with Alzheimer's. I know this feeling but why do I feel this...?
"Don't cry Michonne."
Every corpse of long ago Alters rose from the dead before burning to ashes, leaving behind memories, bittersweet, conversations, hand holding, first kiss. Levels of intimacy re-attached and reaffirmed as her own. This was hers.
One that didn't participate in the enlightenment held all the things that happened when she was a little girl in her Granny's home, the church and the Red Neck Hollar. It was the one that Michonne wasn't even aware of when he took over, moments ago, Onne.
Suzanne was nowhere in sight. It was the first time she began to wonder if she was her or if she was her and had it always been that way?
Rick wanted to touch her face as he moved off his pillow to be closer to her. His hands hovered close to her cheek waiting for permission to touch, to proceed in helping wipe the tears from running across her nose in a never-ending stream.
"Can I please touch you?"
Without thought or consideration to what he was asking, Michonne shook her head, no.
"Please?"
She refused him.
Rick did something that he gave no thought or consideration, he knew she was in need as much as he needed to connect. He had made contact anyway without the use of his hands. He kissed her.
His movement was awkward, but he traveled the inches and kissed her closed eyelids that were wet with tears, the cool moisture slowly absorbed into his lips.
She didn't refuse him or strike him. He did it again.
Michonne didn't tell him to stop, and before he knew it her eyes were open, her expression held the look of wonder and curiosity. Touched.
His lips may have touched her eyelids, but it was felt by her heart that pounded within the walls of her chest. His advances had her heart racing, and she saw nothing but sincerity in his blue eyes.
"Please?"
"I'm scared."
Rick had taken the back of his hand and caressed the side of her face. He could feel the contact caused her to tremble. His mind was cloudy. Overthinking went out the window, and additional permission wasn't sought, he was going to kiss her as Rick. The idea of a fully aware Michonne had him so full of something he couldn't name at the time other than, this took years in the making.
Knock Knock. The door slowly crept open.
Romeo and Juliet were halted in officially becoming one in their host body's.
"Mama, I can't sleep."
The spell was broken between the two adults who rose from their position to observe a five-year-old Andre wiping the sleep from his eyes.
"Why can't you sleep, baby?"
"Had a bad dream."
"Come. Come over to Mama."
"I need to sleep with you."
"Come on."
Rick was speechless. His mind was going into overdrive. A young child in the same bed with him? He didn't realize he was shaking his head until Michonne spoke.
"Lay next to me and tell me about your dream."
Andre climbed into bed next to his mother and snuggled inside the sheet with her.
"I don't want Daddy to leave us."
"What?" Rick questioned.
Michonne shushed the man that was still sitting up. Her back was to him. He didn't like it. Michonne was comfortable enough to do it.
"Do you know where your Daddy is?"
Michonne was curious about what her son was thinking or his thoughts because his Daddy was in jail. She knew this was going to be hard for Andre when the other 7 kids have their real Daddy while his father was still locked up.
Andre sat up and pointed to Rick.
"You damn straight! Now come over here, son."
Andre eagerly climbed over his mother to his Daddy to snuggle up with him with his small head resting on his father's arm like a pillow as they got into a comfortable sleeping position.
"How old are you, Andre?"
"Five, Daddy."
"Old enough to know that you belong to me. Always will belong to me. I am your Daddy. You got my blood running through your veins. My blood and don't let no one tell you otherwise. We don't do pretend. We do for real around here. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"What am I saying to you?"
"You are my Daddy!"
"My son is smart."
"I am very smart. Uncle Charlie said he never saw kids in his life that can cursive write like us."
"Uncle Charlie's approval?"
Andre nodded.
Rick watched Michonne turn to face them. Andre was in between them happy to be close to his Daddy.
"You had a bad dream?" Rick questioned Andre.
"Yes."
"I want to make this very clear to you son and you can pass it on to your brothers and sisters or tell them if they have questions they can come and ask me. I'm not going anywhere. I am going to fight for this." Rick motioned from him to Michonne and back. "I think you can rest assure I was close to a victory before you came knocking on the door."
"You and Mama fighting?"
"No, Baby, we aren't fighting." Michonne reassured Andre by caressing his arm.
"It's a different kind of fight, son." Rick informed the young boy dressed in Superman PJs that were a size too small.
"What kind is it?"
"I want your Mama. I don't want no one else, and it's been that way for a long time. Way before there were a you and the rest of your siblings."
"You want my Mama?"
"I do, and you want to know something?"
"Yes."
"Every time I look at your Mama, and then I look at each one of you kids, it is apparently evident that there was a lot of love and effort orchestrated to create every single one of you. I have to make a conscious effort to be present to guide and set an example. I can't do it hiding and not actively participating. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"
Andre glanced over at his mother who was sniffling and then back at his Daddy with an honest response.
"No."
"I'm not going anywhere. I'm home. I'm here. I'm YOUR Daddy."
Sinclaire emphasized his possessiveness for it to ring true in Michonne's ear.
"Can you tell me a story, Daddy?"
"I have a story about how I met your Mama. You want to hear it?"
Andre was excited. He was sleepy too. The young boy had more similar features to his Daddy than Michonne cared to admit but was forced to acknowledge with them both lying together.
Andre made it to the part about his Mama fainting at the grocery store when the sandman unexpectedly sent him off to dreamland.
The morning sun rose high in the sky. Rick awoke to the feel of tiny fingers holding on to his earlobe. Andre was still fast asleep. Rick didn't realize that he too had fallen asleep until then. He had become aware that his pinky finger was connected to Michonne's as if they had made some type of pinky promise before sleeping, he didn't remember if they had, but they were joined in that way.
He had his son, Andre sleeping between him and Michonne. The idea of it was no longer bad. Nothing terrible happened nor would he had allowed anything to happen. This was a healthy connection.
The scent of biscuits indicated another lapse of time. Rick watched Michonne instruct their son to follow the morning routine of washing up and meeting in the kitchen. Andre did as was told but not before encasing his Daddy in a tight hug when he received something no other kid had gotten yet from their Daddy, a kiss on the forehead.
"Now, listen to your Mama."
"Okay, Daddy!"
Rick was ready to rise from his side of the bed to get ready for the new day. He had no intentions of asking for his phone even though he still wanted to call his father and see if Lori had left a message for him, this was the day he was just going to follow Michonne's lead.
Once Andre was out of the room, Michonne had locked the bedroom door. She pulled down her boy shorts after taking off her tank top. She was totally naked walking to his side of the bed. Instantly his mind went blank, his hands reacted by opening and close fisting. The desire to grab her was intense, and he was close to giving in to it when she began stripping him naked.
She climbed on top. Her lips hovered just inches from his before she spoke and when she did, he knew he was with Michonne.
"My waist and my hips. Nothing else." She instructed.
Then she kissed him, and he couldn't control how that affected him. A moan escaped. When Michonne's lips departed from his, a desperate whimper released. He wanted more.
Rick couldn't hide his anticipation for her to lean down again and have her kiss him nor did he try to rein himself in. He bolted upward from lying prone on his back to a seated position with a slight incline, taking what he wanted using his lips, his mouth hungrily reconnected with hers.
This kiss escalated her to take him fully inside of her.
Michonne wanted that kiss at the airport, and she got it, and it had her crazy with desire for him. She was on fire as she held the side of his face and kissed him as her hips began to whip back and forth, back and forth. Bounce. Bounce, Bounce. Back and forth. Back and forth until they could no longer continue to kiss because of their panting breaths. They were ready to crescendo out of control.
Rick braced Michonne's hips from moving. He was ready to explode as he held tight driving her down to grind against his base as he shot up inside of her. His labored breathing and his staggered grunts indicated he had let loose moments before she sputtered with a whine of her own that caused shivers down his body with her mouth close to his ear. Morning Sex. He knew he was never going to leave.