At first, everything is way too bright, like when you walk outside on a summer day after being in a dark movie theater. The brightness slowly starts to fade, and I can see blurry shapes. My eyes feel sore, dry, I blink and blink, trying to focus my eyes. I realize I can see the window clearly, the clear blue sky! I bring my focus back to my side.
And that's when I see her…I finally see her and oh fuck, she's so, so beautiful!
Her eyes are so big, sultry, and perfectly shaped, long fluttering eyelashes stare at me with such an inviting gaze. Her features soft and feminine, her figure petite, yet curvy, so delicate; in those pristine white scrubs, she truly looks like an angel. Her expression is worried and hopeful all at the same time; Her stunning doe eyes look at me, trying to discern what is happening in my crazy head, so I smile at her.
"Beautiful," I whisper, not really caring if the doctors heard me or not.
I see a silent tear slide down her face, but before I can say anything else to her, Dr. Greene is in front of me, flashing his penlight in my eyes and asking a million questions.
"Try moving your eyes very slowly to the right...now left, up…up and down…good job...Any pain?"
I shake my head no and hold her hand tight because even though she promised she'd stay, a little part of me is afraid that the angel is just going to disappear now that her work is done. I am still in awe, she's so beautiful, inside and out.
Dr. Greene finishes his questions and says something about medications and physical therapy. I'm already tuning him out. My eyes shift back to her, and I squeeze her fingers tighter. She's looking at me like I'm some sort of miracle when the only miraculous thing in the room is her. Everything is really quiet for a minute, while Dr. Greene writes on his chart and then clears his throat.
Her eyes dart from me to him all scared, and I'm thinking oh shit, he knows, but I don't take my eyes off her face, not after all this time, and the doctor just smiles and says, "I'll check in on you later, Captain," and leaves with an all-knowing smile on his face like he's just made some big discovery.
"Come here," I say, and I pull her to me, and her lips find mine, and I whisper, "I love you."
Her tears fall, salty and hot, but she's kissing me back and it's like I'm more alive than I've ever been. In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment. In this kiss I am home.
"I love you too, " She kisses me again, "No one is coming for you, are they?"
I shake my head no, "You're here, that's all I need."
"So, my place then?"
"Yes, take me home."
My darling smiles and helps me get into my clothes. My wound, the injury to my flesh will heal long before I can heal my brain. Trauma is that way. Yet with time, with Michonne, I will be well once more. I'm in uniform again, but not for long... I hope.
I sign my hospital discharge papers and I realize how long I've been here. It's surreal, twenty-one days later, I'm finally able to leave the hospital. As I walk into the room Aaron comes in, "Aww, shit, I don't need that!" I grumble at the nice man because they're making me ride in this fucking wheelchair!
And she's laughing at me because I'm pouting like a moody teen, but damn it, it's emasculating, you know?
On my way out another officer in uniform nods at me and I nod back, and when Michonne and I get out to the sidewalk, I hurry and get my gimp ass up and follow her to her sporty Jeep Wrangler. I climb in, and I know I'm just fucking lucky that I can.
One thing is for sure, I'm going to marry her. I'm going to ask her very soon because I have to make sure my angel isn't going anywhere. She's my angel, and I know she's going to keep helping other soldiers, and I'm so proud of her for that, but I want my ring on her finger, and I want them to know she's mine...all mine...forever.
The ride home is quick and sweet. On a quiet street a few miles away from the busy Atlanta hospital is Michonne's quaint two-story duplex and just like her, it's beautiful. I inhale the scent of the freshly mowed lawn and smile at a garden full of floral splendor.
Inside, her home is just as warm and welcoming as she is. The home held the scent of fresh laundry with traces of her signature honey. The soft grey walls of the entryway connect the open living room, dining room, and kitchen which are adorned with colorful African art; visions that soothed right to the soul. The floor is a blend of slate grey carpet, and russet hardwood floors. The kitchen had a white backslash that complimented the white and grey speckled tile and countertops. My eyes are drawn to the African vase of flowers upon the teak wood table. The flowers are fresh, some open and others in bud.
I smile contently. I love being here in this tranquil suburbia, the eye in the storm of this world.
He looks so hot in his uniform, brooding, I'm smiling from ear to ear while lacing-up his boots with pride. I was a little worried when Dr. Greene made it apparent that he was aware of Rick and me. But when he provided us with his wise and honest smile of approval, I knew he would be supportive of us. I shouldn't be surprised; Dr. Herschel Greene was an army medic who married a nurse back in Vietnam.
These military officers had signed on to become a hero, to make the kind of sacrifice that could bring a better world into reality. The least I can do is always be there for them. Although I will never be there for them in the way I was with Rick, I will always be there, nonetheless.
Usually, I jump on the highway, one mile, and the next exit left, and three city blocks are my home. It is less than five minutes from the hospital. But today, I take the extra five-minute scenic route, so Rick can enjoy the sites and get a better view of the neighborhood I…we live in.
All my gardening and cleaning paid off. I was relieved to see that my neighbor Noah kept his promise and mowed my lawn today. And Rick's expression told me he was impressed with my modest home. I showed him around and we settle in nicely.
"I usually cook soup for the week and pair it with homemade loaves of bread and salads for the workweek," I inform him while pulling out the fresh ingredients from the fridge. Cooking soothes me. This is how I keep mom's memory alive, by cooking from the heart, being creative, always nurturing with what I make.
"Do you need any help, is there anything I can do?" He asked still taking in the new environment and stepping nearby.
I shake my head no and usher him to the bench by the counter; "Just keep me company."
"There is no place on Earth, I'd rather be." In those blue eyes are the sweetest filaments of passion in ice, "what am I watching you make?"
"Chicken-Andouille Gumbo with Roasted Potatoes and Cheddar Biscuits."
"I'm sure it will be amazing."
His face blushing was that of pink champagne, turning into the blush of roses, he is unable to hide what is truly on his mind. We casually chat for a while and just like he's always lived here, he makes us a glass of lemonade. After a while, I gather the guts to ask him something that's been on my mind.
"Do you regret being a soldier?"
I ask because I've always wanted to know, I wanted to ask my dad and Daryl too. I feel I can ask or say anything to Rick and he'll be honest and understand.
"There are times I wondered about being a soldier if I'd made the right choice in this world. People need a safe life, we need stability, because if we lose that if we can't help ourselves… or at least that's what my heart tells me. My heart also knows, I'd rather carry food aid than a gun. I'd rather drop emergency aid than bombs. I'd rather build communities up than destroy what generations have built. I'm still hoping for that day when peace becomes reality and the institutions that conduct war become institutions that conduct peaceful logistics and ground support. But I'll still were my uniform with pride. I'll recall my memories with pride."
I nod my head, understanding fully. I know there was a part of him he'd locked away to do this job, and he'd suffer if he ever tried to unpack it. It's part of the sacrifice protectors make. His conscience was clear, I could tell, yet we aren't born for this, it is a thing we can become when the need arises. The soldier in all loving heart signed on as a protector, realizing what he sought to protect in others he sacrificed in himself.
There is a fraction of a moment between our eyes and the smile and our mouth follows, and that anticipation is as exquisite a feeling like anything I've ever felt.
"Come here," he says, pulling me in by the waist. With his flexible arm-cast, he can wrap his arms around me. In uniform he knew his job, in my arms, he knows his job too.
One Month Later
My old house was a medley of memories, of photographs adorning the walls, each of them conjuring the emotions of those sweet eternal moments. My former home is scheduled to close next week and I actually get a lot more money than I expected. My savings from Dad's house paired with my military benefits affords me time to figure out the kind of job or career I want. For right now, I'm still processing the fact that I'm alive, well, and with an earthbound angel named Michonne.
I'm finally off the pain meds and we decided to celebrate that. I had my first beer in what seems like years, she had a glass of wine. Yesterday was my last physical therapy session too. I needed something to do with my time while Michonne is at work so I signed up to be a volunteer at the local animal shelter and the Boys and Girls Club. Michonne is one semester away from her Bachelor of Science degree and is steadily moving up in the ranks at the hospital.
And although it was not easy at first, we've talked about her husband, and about her life before me, just like I told her about my life as a soldier. We've both lost everyone, and maybe that's our connection. She seems to think so, but I don't know. All I know is that we've got each other now, and it's a precious gift.
She makes me dinner and by the smell, it's probably going to be the best dinner I've ever had. She's humming that tune again and suddenly it hits me, the name of that song, and I smile because it's "Angel of the Morning," and how fucking appropriate is that? I hum along with her, and soon we are both singing aloud, smiling, and having fun.
Just before dark dinner is ready and just as I predicted, it is the best food I've ever eaten, and while we eat, I find out that almost all my breakfasts didn't come from the hospital kitchen but hers. For the first time since all this crazy shit started, tears form in my eyes, but I manage to shake them off. After dinner, I clear the table while she is at the sink washing dishes. In the middle of the kitchen, and even though it's awkward, with the cast still on my leg, I get down on my knees.
"Please Michonne, marry me, make me the happiest man on Earth," I beg her to spend the rest of her life with me, because somewhere out there in the desert and hills of Iraq, God, Christ, Jehovah, or Buddha, you pick, took pity on us two mortals and threw our paths together, and nothing in my life has ever been righter.
Dr. Greene, of all people, helped me pick the engagement ring; turns out he's quite the romantic. When I open the little black velvet box she gasps with delight at her gift and my proposal.
"Oh my god Rick, I thought you'd never ask!" She throws her arms around me, and without any hesitation, says yes.
I pick her up and carry her to the couch because I am better, but even I know I'm not getting up the stairs carrying her with my leg-cast on. So, I make love to her there, on the couch, and this time I can touch her, and move with her, and make her scream aloud. My fingers trace her entire body, and my tongue follows in their path. I bury my face between her legs because I'll never tire of how good she tastes; I nearly come when I hear her screams and taste her juices. I slide into her and hold her face in my hands, looking her in her passion-filled eyes and it is a vision to behold as I bring her to the edge again and again.
I realize that in her ecstasy is my salvation, the home I've needed all along and I chant, "My darlin angel, angel, angel," as I find my indescribable release.
While in the hospital, I was finally told about what happened to the men under my command. I was honorably discharged from my active duties, placed on reserves, and awarded a bronze star for valor, but it did not appease my anger at the deaths of so many. During my recuperation, there were a few anti-war protests, but Michonne and I said nothing. I was, and still am, angry about the wasted lives, but it brought us together, and for that, I will be forever grateful. So, we stay silent, and we love each other, and we make love like the world is ending because we've both learned that you never know when it will. Perhaps one day I'll process all this fully, rid myself of the trauma. Until then, to all those who still serve, to all those working for peace and sustainability, I salute you.
The Beginning
A/N: Hi! This story has given me so much joy and it is all because of you all. I am so happy that this story means as much to you all as it does to me. I have to let you all know; this is the final chapter and I do not have a follow-up planned at the moment. Thank you! #keeprichonnealive ~Muse~
Song Inspiration:
Angel of the morning: P. P. Arnold (version)
There'll be no strings to bind your hands, not if my love can't bind your heart
And there's no need to take a stand for it was I who chose to start
I see no need to take me home, I'm old enough to face the dawn
Maybe the sun's light will be dim and it won't matter anyhow
If morning's echo says we've sinned, well, it was what I wanted now
And if we're the victims of the night, I won't be blinded by the light...
Just call me angel of the morning angel
Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby
Just call me angel of the morning angel
Then slowly turn away from me
Through the tears of the day of the years baby, baby, baby
Just call me angel of the morning angel
Just touch my cheek before you leave me baby (Trust we baby?)
Just call me angel of the morning angel (Angel of the morning)
Just touch my cheek before you leave me (Trust we baby?)
(Just call me) Just call me angel of the morning angel (Angel of the morning)
Just touch my cheek before you leave me (Trust we baby?)
(Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby)