5. A Little Bit Yours, continued
AN: I struggled writing this installment. It has been a start-and-stop process but at least it's a bit longer so there's that. And yes, I did end it like that. I thought I could conclude this story in this installment but like I said it has been a struggle. The next chapter won't be a long one. Thank you for reviewing.
Approximately eighteen months earlier…
…
I let myself want you
I let myself try
I let myself fall back into your eyes
I let myself want you
I let myself hope
I let myself feel things I know that you don't
...
Freshly showered, Rick leaned in and kissed Miconne's neck as he buttoned his shirt.
Michonne felt intoxicated from the fresh clean scent of soap commingled with his cologne as his soft lips touched the side of her neck. On contact, her body tingled from the electric charge which coursed through her and pebbled her skin. Her legs felt like rubber from the night before. Her addiction to his touch left her wanting more and he knew it but despite that, she found herself placing her hand on his heart, keeping their bodies apart, reminding him of his itinerary.
"You'll be late. Why don't you grab a quick bite to eat with the boys while I shower."
"The boys are sleeping. I could call an Uber," he countered, his lips lightly brushing her forehead then her nose on their way to her lips.
"I promised to drive you to the airport so they can spend a little extra time with you," Michonne replied kissing his cheek. "Your wake-up call really ate away at our time," Michonne smiled teasingly.
"What can I say? You are hard to resist," he replied, with featherlight kisses to Michonne's slightly swollen heart-shaped lips.
Michonne gave him a pensive smile. She could hardly believe it took them so long to reconnect and now they were on the verge of another physical separation. Lost in her thoughts, Rick's voice drew her attention back to the present. She felt the warmth beaming from his cerulean blue eyes as he took her hands in his and brought them to his lips.
"Last night felt like it did before," he whispered conspiratorially in her ear and kissed her cheek. "You have access to my calendar so call Sasha and set it up," he added, giving his consent to try therapy.
His warm breath against her skin caused her to moisten her lips in anticipation.
Rick knew they were both experiencing the same regrets. He saw the sadness in her eyes and he wished he could cancel his trip but being the keynote speaker, he couldn't bail at the eleventh hour, he had two speaking engagements over the next four days, so he offered the next best thing, "I could change my flight—." The invitation hung between them pregnant with hope.
Michonne couldn't deny him. She wanted him as much as he wanted to prolong their precious time together. She inhaled his fresh scent and bit her plump bottom lip. It had been five long months since they buried their daughter and they were finally touching each other like man and wife. She felt alive. The day before was a chanced meeting, in the middle of the afternoon when she arrived home early from work and he walked into their room and found her wearing only her bra and panties. Neither expected the other to be at home that afternoon. He was home to pack for an out-of-town conference and to put the finishing touches on his presentation. She on the other hand, just wanted to soak in a nice hot bath after a rather exhausting session with her therapist. A meeting she would rather forget. A meeting which highlighted for her that her marriage was on the rocks partly because she pushed him away. A meeting which revealed the last time they had been intimate was damn near six months before and she was pregnant at the time.
On the drive home that afternoon, she accepted the reality that their marriage was on the brink of no return. Her grief had pushed them there. It divided them. But as she stood there in his embrace she understood what he meant. It felt like they picked up an abandoned book and were back to the last page and same paragraph as before. It was a chemical thing. Their bodies had muscle memory. It was like riding that proverbial bike and god it felt good but they needed to go much deeper to make them stronger—stronger than they were before it happened, which meant opening up old wounds and learning to trust one another once more.
...
The afternoon before the morning after...
"Hey," he greeted, trying hard not to look but couldn't quite find the strength within him to completely avert his eyes. Instead, he turned to leave.
"Stay!" Her quiet command took him completely by surprise.
"Are you sure about this, Michonne?" He asked, wanting to be absolutely certain there were no mixed signals between them. Seeing her partially nude body before him had already begun conjuring things in his head and the physical signs were already visible from the tightness of his pants. Sure he missed her, but they were nowhere near where they needed to be for such things. But they were both human beings and sometimes they just needed that warm contact and he missed her so much. Laying next to one another night after night in the same bed without connecting the way they used to was sheer hell for him. He respected her boundaries until he couldn't. Eventually, he began sleeping next door. They hadn't exchanged too many words of late and whenever they did, they were mostly weapons that served to hurt one another. He took extra shifts to avoid these encounters and whenever he couldn't, the bottle dulled his pain and allowed time to pass. They danced a well-choreographed ballet away from prying eyes never allowing their boys to see them fight. For their boys, mommy and daddy were happy, but for the flatness in their eyes. Hell, they got so good at it they deserved Oscars for their roles. It was torture to be able to touch her without being able to have her.
"I am," she replied.
Rick closed and locked the door behind him.
"You look the way I feel, so we might as well be miserable together."
Rick cautiously approached his wife knowing deep in his gut something was wrong. He opened his mouth to speak but her carefully manicured index finger touched his lips and silenced him which was her way of saying, not now; she wanted to feel something—anything but the way she felt at that moment.
Suddenly, the air between them became charged. He stepped closer into her personal space infused with a hint of vanilla, orange blossoms, sultry patchouli and musk. His hooked index finger gently caressed her cheekbone.
There was an undeniable hunger in his eyes. It heated her. His touch caused her skin to pebble but when he moistened his bottom lip, it made her wet. She had forgotten what it felt like to be wanted—to be completely and utterly ravished by him.
...
The morning after...
Michonne woke that morning to an empty bed. She heard the water running in the shower and gathered the sheet around her then walked over to the french doors which led to the balcony outside the bedroom.
The sunshine boded well for travelling.
Suddenly, she felt a fleeting pang and dismissed it. She was under no illusion that the sexual marathon from the night before meant things were fixed between them, sex was never their problem. Love was never their problem, but perhaps too much love, if ever that was even a thing might just be the crux of the matter. They used to be in sync, they literally breathed together—their hearts kept time together. But over the past several months, she felt as though she was trapped between crushing pillars because her heart ached for their loss and it hurt to breathe because her oxygen was half what it used to be. She felt his absence in their marriage—his touch. Sex couldn't fix the fissures which sprung from their mutual pain, but she understood his words; his eyes were alive again and her body felt recharged. So, perhaps—perhaps in time, and with work, perhaps it could be like it was once more.
"I love you!" Rick added, as he stepped out of the master bathroom and crept up behind his wife and hugged her from behind.
Michonne turned to face him. He planted one hand firmly on her ass and the other tilted her face up.
Rick's lips gently brushed against her silky soft swollen heart-shaped lips. His cobalt eyes basked in the heat of her molten chocolate gazed.
"I love you too," she added, recognizing the hunger in his eyes and feeling the warmth of his breath on her face as his lips hovered near waiting for permission and with her acquiescence, his lips urgently claimed hers.
Michonne's lips parted slightly and his tongue slid inside tasting hers; lost in the minty freshness their tongues duelled once more and her fingers thread through his silky curls.
Their kiss deepened and Michonne moaned. She felt his member come alive and she knew it was over. She could no longer protect her fragile heart when seized by her own intense desire to be set afire and as if by magic, the flimsy white barrier between them glided gently to the floor in surrender.
Michonne ripped his shirt open, the buttons flew across the room and his shirt floated through the air. Lips still locked in a passionate kiss, Michonne's hands worked at lightning speed to undo his buckle and unzip his fly. She broke their kiss and in one fell swoop, she slid his jeans and boxers down.
Rick freed himself of his clothing, scooped Michonne into his arms with her nakedness straddling his bare hips.
Michonne's arms encircled Rick's strong shoulders. Her delicate fingers playfully laced through his silky curls and they moaned as their lips connected in a searing kiss.
Rick carried his wife to the edge of the bed, flipped her face down with her ass up and took her roughly from behind.
...
Two years later, present-day—2 hours later...
Down the hall, Rick tossed and turned in bed. The bright white light at the end of the bed beckoned him so he followed. Suddenly, he found himself in a strange place under a bright blue sky without a cloud where birds and bees flitted from flower to flower chirping buzzing in an open field. His heart raced not understanding where he was nor the reason for which he found himself there.
In the distance, he saw a shade tree and beyond it on the hill, a cabin. He had to find shelter from the harsh sun so he wandered naked through the field for what seemed to be an endless amount of time through a field of blue, red, orange, yellow, purple, and pink blooms under the hot June sun until such time when he reached the huge birch tree not far from the cabin on the hill. He sat for a spell under the tree but his thirst propelled him to carry on. Eventually, he arrived at the cabin on the hill. It was abandoned as he first suspected—not a crumb nor drop to be had. Exhausted from his trek, Rick sat down and reclined onto the cot on the far side of the desolate shack. He reasoned he would stay until dawn when the sun would be less of an issue. As such, he closed his eyes and willed his mind to focus, it was then he heard it in the stillness of the shack. The sound was faint but distinct. It summoned him so he gathered his strength and walked outside once more. He walked the back of the shack and further up the hill and peered over the hillside. Below he saw the stream and instinctively he knew what he had to do.
After making his way to the bottom of the hill, he knelt down and placed his cupped hands into the cool water and drank from the clear stream. Once his thirst was slaked, he sat back on his heels and allowed himself to relax. And it was in that moment of reprieve he heard her screams and like that, Rick jumped out of bed and ran out the door and down the hall to their former bedroom.
...
But I'm still a little bit yours
You're not mine anymore
But I'm still a little bit yours
All I do is get over you
And I'm still so bad at it
We outgrew the love we knew
But I still wish I had it
...
Meanwhile down the hall, Michonne's dreams took her back in time. She woke up that morning feeling rested for the first time since they buried their stillborn child. It had been two days since they parted but she still felt his phantom touch on her body. She felt giddy like a schoolgirl with her first crush. However, she constantly reminded herself that they had work to do before they could get back to where they once were, but his recent openness to therapy now gave her hope.
Michonne yawned and stretched then checked her phone because Rick had missed his call with the boys the night before. She read the text apologizing for missing their call and noticed the video clip he sent a few hours later. Curiosity got the better of her before showing it to the boys first so she played it, but she was unprepared for what she saw. The video quality wasn't great. There was no audio, the entire thing was amateurish in nature but it was the content that mattered most. She watched the back of a brunette's head bobbing up and down between a man's legs. A man's legs with an identical birthmark on her husband's right thigh. She felt ill. The image changed and the brunette could be seen riding the man whose arms held her waist and she continued in the throes of ecstasy until such time they climaxed and she rolled off him. On the screen before her was her husband lying next to his ex-wife. The phone slid from Michonne's hand and dropped to the floor as she raced to the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach.
Michonne tossed and turned in bed as she wrestled with her mind. "You bastard!" she cried out in her sleep. "I hate you! Don't touch me!" she screamed, her hands flailing wildly in the air.
…
I let myself want you
I let myself try (I let myself try)
I let myself fall back into your eyes (I fall back into your eyes)
I let myself want you
I let myself hope
I let myself feel things I know that you don't (I know that you don't)
...
Rick opened the bedroom door and saw his wife's arms flailing in the air. He rushed towards her and gently shook her shoulder in an attempt to rouse her from her distress. Her clothes were wet and stuck to her skin. "Michonne, baby, you are dreaming. Wake up!" he calmly commanded and gently held her arms down.
At the sound of his voice, Michonne's resistance lessened and her eyelids fluttered open. "Rick?" she questioned, a bit confused.
"You were having another episode," he replied, gently releasing her clammy arms and held his hands mid-way in surrender to convey he meant her no harm.
…
After her shower, Michonne sat in her white terry cloth robe at the foot of the freshly changed bed and sipped from the glass of water Rick provided.
Rick sat in the armchair across from the bed. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees with entwined fingers, his brow creased with concern as he watched his wife attentively. Neither spoke for several minutes which amplified the stillness of their surroundings.
After what seemed like forever, but was no more than ten minutes, Rick spoke. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really," Michonne replied, averted her eyes and took another sip of water.
Rick waited patiently.
"It was nothing," Michonne added and bit her lip.
"It was something, Michonne. You were fighting off something or someone." Rick sighed. "I thought you were getting better."
"I'm fine, Rick. I didn't have an episode in almost six months. That came out of the blue."
"Yet, it happened. Do you think it's because of the anniversary?"
"Let it go, Rick." Michonne instructed and pivoted. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I was a dumbass earlier but that's my cross to bear not yours."
"We're finally in a good place and I really don't want an argument with you right now. I have a therapist for shit like this," Michonne countered.
"I don't want to argue either but something upset you. Your therapist isn't here—I am, let me help you."
"Rick, you can't help me. I'm the reason we're here. I couldn't cope with you wanting to fix me—I pushed you away because I needed my husband—not the professional. You wanted to fix me but you failed to recognize you were broken too. You're only now coming to that conclusion." Michonne sobbed and placed the glass down on the edge of the bedroom bench.
Rick's heart clenched at her words. He raised himself mid-way from his seated position to advance towards his wife but Michonne's outstretched arm arrested his progress.
"Tonight, when you showed up at my door drunk, I was forced to recall all those nights when you took that extra drink just to cope with being around me. Eventually, you left our bed because we didn't work anymore."
"Michonne, I'm an alcoholic, you didn't cause me to become something I am. I will always be a recovering alcoholic. My father was an alcoholic. It's in my genes. I told you that when you decided to date me. I left our bed because I was weak. It had nothing to do with me not loving you. I needed help. I just went about it the wrong way and it led to what happened in Vegas."
The moment the words left his lips Michonne stood up and walked towards him. She hated that he blamed himself. She knelt before him and took his face into her warm hands. Her warm brown eyes seized his sad blue eyes. "You can't blame yourself for that. It was not your fault."
Rick's voice cracked. "I hurt you, Michonne. I never meant to do that—you were already in pain and I feel like an asshole for compounding it."
"She raped you, Rick."
"What she did hurt less than what happened as a result of it. I was supposed to protect you. I didn't do that. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry I didn't—believe—you—" Michonne's voice cracked and her words came out choppy as tears welled up in her eyes. A silent tear escaped and slid down her cheek.
Rick used his thumb pad to wipe away the errant tear. "Baby, don't cry."
Michonne sniffled but continued. "The afternoon before you left, I thought you were having an affair. That afternoon, Sasha asked me when was the last time we actually had a conversation, one where we shared our feelings with one another. I had no clue so when I didn't answer, she asked when was the last time we made love? I knew the answer to that because I was still pregnant. At the time she asked it had been five months since we buried Mudiwa and we hadn't been together nor were we even sleeping in the same bed. When I saw the video I didn't want to believe it, Rick, but it came from your phone. It was shot in a hotel room, your room, your suitcase was in the shot. You were in that bed."
Rick wrapped his arms protectively around Michonne and drew her into his bare chest. "I'm sorry, baby," he replied, understanding for the first time her visceral reaction to him when he scooted into their bed next to her sleeping form after returning home later than usual that night due to a delayed flight.
"I didn't listen, Rick. I couldn't. I chose to save myself—I wasn't there for you so you bottled it all up. I'm sorry—I was wrong."
"Baby, that's over now. Lori's where she should be getting the help she needs. She'll never come between us again.
After eighteen months, they finally recognized their mutual pain in the other's eyes and in their voice and held one another tighter.
RIck's lips gently grazed Michonne's forehead.
Michonne raised her head and Rick lowered his and captured her lips. His touch was featherlight like air on moistened lips and Michonne saw her love reflected back at her in the depth of his cerulean blues and a stray tear slid down her cheek.
Rick used his thumb pad to wipe away the tear as it slid down her cheek. "Baby, don't cry," he added, and gently kissed her cheek.
"Rick?"
"Baby?"
"You were wrong when you said I needed an excuse to leave. I didn't. I didn't know how to trust you. You splintered my heart when it was already broken. I felt so lost and I shut down because you're the only man who could ever hurt me that way."
Rick held her tighter as though his life depended on it. His sniffles interrupted the quietness which fell upon the room. "Michonne, I can never undo what happened, if I could I would. You know I would, but if you were to give me—us another chance, I swear—I'll do better."
Michonne captured the lonely tear which slid down Rick's cheek then squeezed him tight.
"I'll do whatever it takes to get you back."
"You never lost me completely because I'm still with you, but we have work to do."
The two remained entwined in their embrace for some time until Michonne released her hold on Rick and he followed suit. Michonne then took his hand in hers and added, "Stay with me tonight."
Rick accepted the invitation. At her command, he scooped Michonne into his arms and carried his wife to bed. That night, they made love slowly and passionately healing the fissures in their bond as their bodies became one over and over well into the wee hours of the morning when exhaustion claimed them.
…
You're not mine anymore (anymore, anymore, anymore)
But I'm still a little bit yours (little bit, little bit, little bit yours)
You're not mine anymore (anymore, anymore, anymore)
And I'm still a little bit yours
...
Michonne heard voices down the hall as she opened the door to her bedroom. The indistinct chatter caused her ears to perk up. She knew without a doubt one was that of her husband but the other male, this early in the morning had to be Bob, the nosy neighbour to the left of her property. Bob the retired army medic next door was the neighbourhood watchdog, not much occurred on the street that he didn't know. She figured he naturally saw Rick's car overnight and no doubt figured something was up so he came by to suss it out.
Michonne shook her head because she knew more about which of her neighbours were hooking up and with whom than she ever cared to know. It was part of the reason she insisted that CJ walked over to her place rather than drive there and he left once the deed was done in the middle of the night well after Bob's bedtime.
...
"CJ, I really wished you had called first before dropping by. I know it must be awkward to find me here, but you do know she's still my wife, right?" Rick asked raising his left brow. He was surprised that the boy accepted his half-hearted invitation to come in and wait for Michonne.
After the initial shock of being greeted at the front door by Rick Grimes with damp curls wearing a pale pink bathrobe, CJ tried hard to keep his disdain for the arrogant asshole before him in check. The man's entitlement annoyed him. He wanted to break his face, but that would only score the arrogant arse brownie points with Michonne, so instead, he replied, "That may be so but she deserves better."
"And you think you're that? Better?" Rick chuckled derisively. "You think you know my wife's needs?" he scoffed as he walked over to the far counter where the coffee machine was located and poured them two cups of coffee. He then turned and walked to the nearby table and placed a cup of coffee in front of CJ.
"I know she tolerates you because she believes she's responsible for what happened to you, but she's not responsible for your actions."
Rick allowed CJ's words to sink in as he sipped his coffee. He then placed his mug on the island and walked over to the refrigerator to retrieve the ingredients he required to make breakfast.
Upon returning to his workstation at the island, he laid out the ingredients. "Let's get one thing straight you little twerp, I get it—Michonne's an amazing woman. I remember how you use to drool over yourself whenever Tobin brought you around as a teenager to help out. You got lucky, most kids your age can't say they got lucky with someone in her league; so, be happy. But remember this, at the end of the day, Michonne's still a married woman. We have a ten-year history and a family together. Sure we're separated for now but the fact remains, your crush is still my wife. She loves me and I love her and I'm not going anywhere."
At that moment, Michonne rounded the corner and cleared her throat as she approached.
CJ turned at the sound of Michonne's presence.
Michonne walked into the kitchen and stood not far from the table stunned to find CJ sitting in her kitchen being lectured by her husband.
Rick busied himself at the stovetop but looked up to address her. "Mornin', gorgeous. I intended to surprise you this morning but got waylaid."
"Mornin'."
"Good morning, CJ. What are you doing here?" Michonne asked as she watched her husband parade back and forth in the kitchen wearing the pink terry cloth robe.
"I just wanted to check up on you. I know yesterday must have been pretty hard for you. I called several times but they went directly to voicemail.
"That's because we were busy doing stuff and thangs, you know—grown-up stuff."
"Rick!" Michonne reproached. "Walk with me CJ," Michonne added, leaving the kitchen.
CJ followed closely on her heels relieved to be escaping Rick's insufferable presence.
"Exactly," Rick replied, to no one in particular as his wife and her ex-lover retreated from the kitchen, a damn puppy dog, he thought.
...
Michonne walked a disappointed CJ to the foyer and stood next to the staircase.
"CJ, what were you thinking coming here like this?"
"Like this? Don't you mean without my truck in broad daylight? I didn't expect such a warm reception. I thought he was here to pick up the boys not having a sleepover."
"CJ. I'm not having this conversation with you."
"You not answering my calls should have been my first clue when I saw his car out front. After all, that's how he found out about us."
"We're not having this conversation, CJ. Please don't play the victim. You ended this thing between us. Remember? And you were right, I do love him. I was just too damn stubborn to admit it."
"And I suppose, you think he's been celibate for the past year and a half?"
"CJ, what he did after I threw him out is his business not that it concerns you. And what makes you think we haven't discussed it?"
"Look, Michonne, you're still my friend and I care about you. I just want to make sure you were okay."
"Mrs. Grimes, breakfast is served. Doctor's orders." Rick called from the kitchen.
"I am, CJ. Thanks for checking in on me but I think you should go."
At the sound of Rick's voice, CJ rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Whatever." He answered crestfallen.
At that moment, Michonne felt a pang of guilt for having allowed their relationship beyond friendship knowing she couldn't reciprocate his feelings, so she hung her head low. "I'm sorry, CJ."
CJ's shoulders sagged. He felt eviscerated. He turned away and unlocked the front door and left the house.
…
Four weeks later...
Michonne sipped the cool liquid and placed the glass on the coaster on the corner of her cherry oak desk. She took her cell from atop of the desk and dialled Rick's number.
Rick stood on the elevated deck and answered the call on the first ring. "Hey, beautiful. Your ears must be burning," he joked light-heartedly. The smile in his voice was evident.
"How so?" she teased.
"You've been on my mind all day."
"Oh, is that so?" she asked playing along as a means of distraction from her problems.
"I miss you."
"I miss you too," she replied with a smile hearing her boys squeal in the background noise. She could see their smiling faces in her mind. "You're at your mom's?"
"Yeah. The boys wanted to swim and mom prepared a barbeque. You should come by."
"Baby, we agreed we would respect the boundaries while we work things out so as not to confuse the boys."
"I know. I know, but whenever they are with me I don't get to see you. It sucks."
"I know. We knew this wouldn't be easy."
Andre and RJ exited the pool and raced up the stairs to the deck. "Daddy, is that mommy? Can we say hi?" Michonne heard the twins in the background and chuckled.
"Mommy will talk to you at bedtime. This is a mommy and daddy call— nana's calling after you, get your towels and dry off. Daddy will join you in a minute"
'Ah." the boys replied and the sound of their disappointment hit Michonne like a sucker punch in the pit of her gut.
"Let me say a quick hello."
After a few minutes of talking with her boys, Michonne managed to repair the rough patch between her boys and their father with a promise their father would take them for ice cream after supper.
"I owe you one," Rick conceded after returning to the call once more.
"About that, do you think your mom would mind watching the boys for a couple of hours tonight?"
A slow smile spread across Rick's face as he recognized a welcomed opportunity.
"Without a doubt," he replied a little too quickly, putting Michonne on notice.
Michonne recognized his intent just from his words and she knew she had to manage his expectations. Based on their conversation alone, she knew what he now saw as an opportunity had the potential to derail what they were trying to rebuild.
"Baby, we need to talk. That's it."
Rick felt a shiver run up and down his spine from the ominous tone in her voice. "Are you okay, Michonne?"
The knock at the door was a godsend. The door opened slightly and Aaron popped his head in, "Hon, we're on the clock. Aaron pointed to his watch for emphasis. We can't bill your booty call."
"Be there in a minute," Michonne replied, waving Aaron off.
"Rick, I'm fine. I have a meeting I'm running late for but I should be home around seven—seven-thirty at the latest. Love you. Bye."
"Love you too," he answered and end the call.
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