A/N: Hello friends! It's been a minute, sorry about the wait! Hopefully, this lengthy chapter makes up for it and sucks you right back in! Thank you all for the reviews, follows, favorites, and shares! I really appreciate all of you! Things are slowly unraveling in this tangled web. As I mentioned, a character list is posted on my Tumblr to help you keep track of the players. I hope you enjoy this chapter! REVIEW and let me know what you think. Some of y'all are spot on in your assertions, lol! Happy Reading!


Chapter 5: Something in the Air

"Here you go honey, have a seat," Eleanore said, handing Rick a glass of ice water and gesturing to the sofa in her living room.

Rick took a seat, sipping the water, and appreciating the coolness of the liquid as it trailed down his throat. "How have you been, mama?"

"I've been all right, honey," Eleanore answered, taking a seat across from him. "I've been busy handling church business for Reverend Greene, and with my book club. Things are going well."

"That's wonderful…I'm glad to hear you're keeping busy. You know I worry about you," Rick smiled weakly.

Eleanore, always being able to read him, knew there was something on his mind.

"The question is, how have you been honey? Is something troubling you?" she inquired; her voice heavy with concern.

Rick sighed, setting his glass on the end table. "Yeah, actually there is…I um…Lori and I decided we're getting a divorce," he replied, looking into his mother's eyes.

Eleanore nodded, "I see…well, I can't say that I'm surprised, but I am sorry to hear it. Have you spoken to Carl?"

"Yeah," Rick nodded, "We told him a few days ago. I don't think he was shocked, either. Kids are perceptive. He's known all along that things were different between Lori and me. He took it better than expected."

"Well, I suppose that's a good thing. Having children together always makes things more complicated. You have to protect him, Rick."

"And I will," he promised her. "We want to make this as easy as possible for Carl's sake. I'm gonna give Lori the house and we plan to share custody. Everything will be fine," he said, almost as if he were trying to convince himself more than her.

"Oh, sweetheart," Eleanore sighed, taking a seat next to her son. She took his hands into hers, and stared into his blue eyes, which mirrored her own. "You did the best you could. No one can ever question that. You were a good husband to Lori and you're always going to be a wonderful father to Carl. You remind me so much of your father," she said squeezing his hands.

"That means a lot, mama," Rick offered appreciatively. "Part of me feels relieved…I know that sounds terrible," he admitted.

"No, it sounds like you're tired. This decision is best for all three of you," Eleanore comforted him. "You know, when you and Lori were younger, we all thought you were destined to be together. You two would follow each other around, all starry-eyed and lovestruck," she laughed.

Rick chuckled, remembering his teenage days pining over Lori Shepard. She was pretty, in a girl next door sort of way. She came from one of King County's most prominent families. The Shepard's were old money, the patriarch having made his fortune in the paper mill industry at the turn of the century and passing that wealth along to his descendants. Yet, what attracted Rick to Lori the most, was her intelligence and passion for the things she believed in. She didn't conform to the expectations placed on a wealthy, southern girl, and he loved that about her.

"Listen, Rick…sometimes despite your best efforts, things fall apart, and people grow apart," Eleanore continued. "This may seem out of place to say right now, but you're young, handsome, and a good man…I'm sure you'll find happiness again."

"You're biased, mama," Rick laughed, appreciating her ability to amuse him, while also putting things into perspective.

That was Eleanore Grimes. The woman never sugarcoated anything. Still, she had a gentle way of relaying her message. As much as Rick loved and admired his father, he was his mother's son, through and through. They shared the same personality, accepting whatever life threw at them and confronting it head on, never allowing anything to impede their happiness, even if it meant going through hell to get it. This is exactly how Rick felt about divorcing Lori. She was the only woman he'd ever been with; their life together was all he knew, but he realized that if he stayed in the marriage, he'd be compromising not only his happiness, but Carl's, and that was something he simply couldn't do.

As Rick pondered his mother's words, he thought back to his dream about Michonne. More like dreams. He'd dreamt of her almost every night for the past two weeks since sharing coffee on her back patio and thought about her during his waking hours more than he cared to admit to himself.

"Um, mama…I spent some time with Michonne Hawthorne the other day," he announced.

"Oh, really?" Eleanore replied, somewhat intrigued.

"Yeah…I'm wondering if you could tell me a little more about you and daddy's history with the Jamesons. I actually had a dream about me and Michonne playing in the yard. I don't know if that ever happened, but it seemed real," he chuckled lightly.

Without another word, Eleanore stood and walked over to a large wooden bookcase standing against the wall. She trailed her fingers over the contents on the shelves, stopping when she came to a thick photo album with a red, leather binder. Reclaiming her seat next to Rick, she placed the album between them and opened it, turning a few pages until she reached what she was looking for. She slid the album closer to Rick and he cast his eyes down at the photo. There he was, a young boy with messy brown curls, wearing the same outfit from his dream. Next to him, stood a slightly shorter Michonne, with her thick hair in pigtails, and her pretty dress making her look like a doll. They were standing in the yard, smiling at one another as Michonne held the peony Rick had given her.

Rick couldn't contain the wide smile spreading across his handsome face. "It was real," he stated, just above a whisper.

"Yes, honey…you and Michonne got along very well. The two of you adored each other, it was the cutest thing." Eleanore confirmed. She turned to another page, pointing out the people in the photo. "Here's Anna and this is Michonne's father, Lawrence.

Rick stared at the picture of the couple. He couldn't help but notice how much Michonne resembled the younger version of her mother. The same beautiful umber skin and head full of pretty dark hair, but her eyes…those belonged to her father. The man's complexion was much lighter than his daughter's, but they shared the same captivating, deep brown stare.

"Mom…how did Darlene and Jack know the Jamesons?" he asked, thinking back to what Lori had mentioned to him about the photo she saw.

Eleanore's eyes widened at his question. "They didn't know them," she responded flatly.

"Lori saw a photo of all of you together," he informed her, somewhat confused by her answer.

"Oh," she replied, closing the photo album, and standing to put it back on the shelf. "I don't recall them ever meeting. I must have forgotten. It's possible they could have met during one of the youth events." She turned to face Rick, offering him a sweet smile, and taking her seat across from him.

"Why did the Jamesons leave King County?" Rick pressed on.

"Well…they did what they needed to do for their family, I suppose. Things were…complicated back then," Eleanore answered, avoiding her son's gaze.

Rick was troubled by his mother's obvious discomfort with his questions. He was certain there was something she wasn't sharing with him. He wrestled with himself about prying any further, ultimately deciding to drop the matter.


A few days later…

Rick and Daryl each carried two heavy suitcases in their arms as they entered the small, one-bedroom bungalow. Rick stepped inside the tiny house, placing the bags on the floor, and plopping down on the sofa. The place was small, but tidy and he appreciated not having to live in a slop house until he found his own home.

"A'ight, you can take the room in the basement," Daryl informed him, sitting in the armchair across from Rick. "There's a pull-out sofa and bathroom down there, it's all yours, long as you need it."

"Thanks, Daryl. I don't plan on being in your hair for long. It's just been a little awkward at home since Lori and I agreed to the divorce. We're meeting with the lawyer next week. I just want this thing to be over with, so we can get on with living," Rick sighed, resting his head on the back of the sofa.

"I hear ya', man," Daryl said, lighting up a cigarette. He took a drag and exhaled. "What's the deal with the custody issue?"

"We're planning on sharing joint custody," Rick answered. "I just need to find a house soon, so I have somewhere stable for Carl."

"Yeah, I get it," Daryl returned. "Hey, you mind if I ask you somethin'?"

Rick raised his head, staring at his friend in anticipation. "Shoot."

"What's goin' on with you and Michonne Hawthorne?"

Rick swallowed hard, unprepared for this line of questioning. "What do you mean?"

Daryl smirked, shaking his head. "You know damn well what I mean. A couple weeks ago at the restaurant the two of you are all friendly and then you show up askin' for her address. So, I'm askin'…what's the story there? She the reason you speedin' up this divorce?"

Rick nervously ran his hands through his hair. "I like her…I mean, she's a nice person. Our parents were friends when we were younger and I remember being close with her…as close as kids could be, I guess," he grinned.

"Was she mad about you showin' up unannounced?" Daryl wondered, taking another toke of his cigarette.

Rick thought back to his conversation with Michonne. It was the most at peace he'd felt in a long time. She was so easy to talk to, so kind and understanding.

"No, we had a nice talk," Rick answered.

"Cut the bullshit," Daryl stated plainly. "I know you're attracted to her.

"Daryl," Rick groaned.

"Nah…I get it. She's beautiful, but you gotta be careful. Foolin' around with another woman in the middle of a divorce ain't a good look, especially a black woman."

"I'm not foolin' around," Rick countered. "We're friends."

"Rick, I'm just tellin' you 'cause I love ya'. I don't wanna see any problems for you or Michonne. She's been through enough heartache."

Rick nodded in understanding. "The last thing I want to do is hurt Michonne."


A couple of hours later, Rick pulled his Skylark into the parking lot of the supermarket near Daryl's house. He entered the store and grabbed a shopping cart. Browsing the aisles, he picked up a few necessary items to take to his temporary home. As he walked through the store, he thought about Daryl's warning to be careful with Michonne. He knew his friend was right, he needed to work through this divorce with Lori and allow Michonne time to grieve her husband without him putting any pressure on her to rekindle some long-lost friendship they had as children. He chuckled, throwing a box of spearmint and baking soda toothpaste into his basket, followed by a new toothbrush. "You were just kids, Grimes. A whole hell of a lot's changed since then," he whispered to himself.

"Rick," a sweet voice he immediately recognized, called softly.

He turned and there she was, the object of his thoughts, looking beautiful as ever, with her big brown eyes staring back at him.

"Michonne, how are you?" he smiled.

"I'm good…surprised to see you in this neck of the woods," she commented, glancing at him quizzically.

"Uh…yeah, I was just visiting Daryl and thought I'd stop for a few essentials, he laughed nervously, glancing at the items in his cart.

"Michie, there you are," Sasha's animated voice interrupted them. The young woman joined them, standing by her cousin's side and eyeing Rick suspiciously.

"Hey, Sash. I just ran into Rick on my way to get the mouthwash," Michonne said, noticing her cousin's glare.

"Mmm," Sasha murmured. "Okay, well we best be on our way."

"Actually, could you give us a minute?" Michonne requested.

Sasha hesitated, shifting her eyes between the two of them. After a moment, she nodded, "yeah, I'll just finish grabbing a few things." She gripped her cart and made her exit down the aisle.

"Your cousin doesn't like me much, does she?" Rick smirked at Michonne.

"Don't take it personal. She's not real big on authority figures," Michonne joked.

"Oh, I see," Rick chuckled. "I guess that makes me feel a little better."

They stood there with their eyes locked, smiling at one another for a spell. Normally, it would feel awkward, but nothing seemed to feel out of place between them. In fact, everything was organic.

"Um, Rick…I've been thinking and, I want you to take Andre on that fishing trip…if the offer still stands," she smiled sheepishly.

"Yeah…absolutely," he grinned, shaking his head.

"Great! I think it'd be good for him…and me," she added, meeting his welcoming gaze. "I could use some respite."

Rick could barely contain his smile at the thought of her joining him and their boys on the little excursion. "Like I said, you're more than welcome. Carl and I were actually thinking about heading to the lake on Saturday. Is that too soon for you?"

"Saturday is perfect," she submitted, "Dre will be so excited."

"Okay, good. I'll pick y'all up at 7:00," he exclaimed, feeling flushed. Michonne had that effect on him and the thought of spending several uninterrupted hours with her made him giddy inside.

"Sounds good. Well, I'll let you get back to your shopping, besides Sasha is probably having a fit by now," she laughed. "I'll see you Saturday."

"See you Saturday," he nodded, watching as she turned on her heels and walked away.


On the ride home, Michonne could sense Sasha's frustration. The woman's discontent was oozing off of her as she gripped the steering wheel.

"Why don't you just go ahead and spit it out," Michonne quipped, glancing over at the young woman.

Sasha briefly looked at her cousin, before focusing her eyes back on the road. "Spit out what?" she asked flatly.

"You have a problem with me talking to Rick," Michonne retorted.

"Yeah…I do," Sasha huffed. "You don't know him."

"And you do?" Michonne shot back.

"Nope, I don't…and I don't want to know him or any other pig in King County, and I can't figure out for the life of me why you do?"

"Sasha, Rick is harmless. He's a sweet guy…and furthermore, who I befriend is none of your business."

"Oh, wake up!" Sasha shouted. "You have no business cozying up to some cracker cop, especially after one killed your husband…remember him? What would Mike think about your little friendship with the good deputy?"

Michonne didn't know whether to scream or cry at Sasha's words. They cut like a knife, and she wanted nothing more than to get out of the car before she did or said something she would regret. She didn't have to wait long. A few minutes later, Sasha pulled into Anna's driveway.

"Michie, I'm sorry…I'm just worried about you," Sasha stated quietly.

Michonne sat on the passenger side, tears burning the back of her eyes. She slowly glanced over to her cousin. "How dare you accuse me of doing anything to dishonor Mike. You have no idea how much I miss him, what I would give to have him with me and Dre right now. Even still, if I find some comfort in talking to Rick, that's exactly what I'm going to do, and I don't give a damn what you think about it. So, from here on out, I suggest you stay out of it," she concluded, before getting out of the car and slamming the door shut.


Saturday morning arrived and Michonne stood at the kitchen counter, sipping the last of her coffee as she contemplated her decision to accompany Rick on the fishing trip. Although she didn't agree with Sasha's approach, perhaps she had a point. People undoubtedly would feel a certain way about her relationship with Rick, even if they were just friends. She'd gotten a glimpse of it that day at the soul food restaurant. She wasn't sure if she had the strength to combat the dirty looks and gossiping, or heaven forbid anything worse. Then there was the matter of her growing attraction to this man. It was something she'd been battling almost every night as he visited her dreams. And every night, she'd given into her feelings, waking up wondering when she'd see him again.

"Mama, I'm ready," Andre beamed as he entered the kitchen, releasing her from her reverie.

She smiled down at her son, who looked adorable in his fishing outfit, consisting of denim overalls, a pair of red and white Chuck Taylor's and a red baseball cap.

"Is Deputy Grimes here, yet?" the boy asked, bouncing on his feet.

"He'll be here any minute," Michonne chuckled.

Andre had made her decision for her. The excitement was evident in his bright, brown eyes. There was no way she was going to deny him this bit of happiness.

A few minutes later, they heard Rick pulling into the driveway. Michonne opened the front door, just as he made his way on the porch. She smiled, taking in his ruggedly handsome appearance. He looked every bit the outdoorsman in his brown boots, denim trousers, and thick blue and green flannel. The color enhanced the blue of his eyes, and for a moment, she got lost in them.

"Nice hat," she said, pointing to his blue bucket cap. She decided on anyone else it would look ridiculous, but on him it was perfect.

He grinned at her, "Thanks. Are y'all ready to go?"

"Yeah, um…am I dressed okay?" she wondered.

His eyes trailed over her as he nodded in approval at her fitted, high waisted jeans and canary-yellow turtleneck. The outfit was simple but hugged her delicious curves in all the right places, and the color of her shirt looked like a ray of sunshine against her pretty dark skin.

"You look great," he smiled bashfully. "Uh, it's a good thing you wore your hair up," he noted, pointing to the neat bun on top of her head. "It might get a little windy."

Michonne nodded in agreement. "Okay, let's go." She waved Rick and Andre outside, following after them and locking the door.

"Where's your mother this morning?" Rick inquired, as they waltzed toward the car.

"She's away this weekend at a church retreat in Memphis."

"Oh, nice," Rick nodded. "She okay with you and Andre joining me and Carl?"

Michonne stopped in her tracks and looked at him contemplatively. "I didn't actually tell her where we were going, but I'm sure she'd be fine with it."

Rick smirked at her, not quite sure if she was being honest. "After you," he said, opening the passenger door for her.

She offered him a warm smile and got in, watching as he buckled up Andre in the back seat next to Carl, who had his head buried in a comic book.

"Hello again, Carl," Michonne said sweetly, garnering the boy's attention.

"Hello, Ms. Hawthorne," he offered quietly.

Rick settled into the driver's seat and turned back to his son, "Carl, this will be Ms. Hawthorne and Andre's first time fishing, so I'm depending on you to help me show them the ropes, okay?"

"Sure, dad," Carl replied. "It's really easy," he continued, turning to face Andre.

"All right, are we all set?" Rick asked Michonne.

"Let's go, deputy," she smiled, as he put the car in gear and pulled out of her driveway.


After a while, they ventured onto a narrow dirt road, leading to Herman Lake, a secluded area surrounded by lush greenery, located just outside of King County. It was the perfect place for them to be alone. Most people opted for one of the lakes or ponds closer to town. Rick preferred this spot, having spent a lot of father and son time there growing up. He parked the car and glanced over to Michonne.

"You ready?" he asked, looking her in the eyes, and gently patting the hand resting across her lap.

She grinned and nodded affirmatively, still a little surprised that she'd agreed to tag along on this trip. She'd never been an outdoor person but realized it couldn't hurt to try something new, especially when Andre was so eager about the experience.

"Carl, help me carry the gear," Rick instructed his son as they got out of the car. Carl followed his dad to the trunk, grabbing his backpack, the tackle box, and bucket to carry any fish they caught, while Rick gathered the fishing rods and a few folding chairs.

"Do you need help with anything?" Michonne asked, making her way to the back of the car.

"Sure, can you grab the cooler? Wouldn't want to forget our lunch."

"At your service, deputy," she chuckled, retrieving the red and white cooler from the trunk.

"What can I do?" Andre asked, joining them.

"You can carry the bucket with the bait," Carl announced, handing the boy a small, plastic pail.

"Okay, everyone follow me," Rick directed, leading them down a dirt path.

They walked toward their destination, stopping by a shed with picnic tables to set down the cooler and Carl's backpack. The sun was just making its ascent into the sky and as expected for a fall morning, the temperature was brisk. Birds serenaded them with a sweet tune, as they got closer to the lake. The smell of the freshwater was thick in the air, as they settled on a good spot.

Rick handed off the chairs to Michonne, "Go ahead and set these up while Carl and I get the rods ready."

"Can I help?" Andre asked willingly.

"Sure, buddy…come on," Rick replied, waving Andre over to him and Carl.

Rick grabbed one of the smaller fishing rods, prepared the line and attached a bobber. "See, this here will let us know when the fish are biting. It will bob against the water and when something is caught on your line, the ball will get sucked under."

"Wow…cool," Andre looked on in awe. "When do we put on the worms?"

Carl and Rick laughed at the young boy's enthusiasm. Rick was glad he'd invited Andre along, and even happier that Michonne decided to join them.

"Here Andre, I'll show you how to bait the hook," Carl offered, grabbing the small bucket full of live worms.

Michonne joined them, watching intently as Rick prepared his line. "He's enjoying himself already," she smiled, nodding toward Andre.

"Yeah, looks like it," Rick agreed. "You want to give it a shot?"

"I think I'll just watch for now. You boys seem to have it under control."

Rick chuckled, detecting her reluctance. "It's okay, you can admit you don't want to touch the bait."

"Okay, okay…you're right. I'm not a fan of slimy creatures," she shot back, twisting her face in disgust.

"Well…how 'bout I hook the bait for you?" he suggested, placing his free hand on the small of her back.

She gazed at him, noticing how the sun's rays highlighted a few golden strands in his hair and enhanced the blue of his eyes. Those eyes again…they were doing a number on her, along with his firm touch and syrupy southern drawl. She reminded herself to tread lightly with him. They were just getting to know one another…just beginning to explore this friendship because it's something she decided she needed and it seemed like he needed it, too.

"Yeah," she replied softly, "if you handle the icky part, I'll give it a try," she smiled.

Rick chuckled, amused by her squeamishness, but also thankful that she was willing to let him pull her out of her comfort zone, even just a little bit.


A short while later, they sat at the water's edge, their lines cast into the depths, waiting to claim their prize.

"How long before we catch anything?" Andre asked Rick. "Did we do it right?"

Rick smiled at him, "Yeah…we did everything right. Fishing takes patience, buddy. Sometimes it may take a while for them to catch on, but eventually they'll come. While you're waiting, it's a good way to clear your mind, and just…be," he proffered, glancing at Michonne sitting beside him.

She returned his gaze with a knowing smile, silently agreeing that this was indeed a very relaxing pastime. The crispness of the fresh air, the surrounding greenery, the stillness of the water, the company…all of it making her feel calmer than she'd felt in a long time, even before her husband was taken from her.

"Oooh, my bobber went under…I got one!" Andre shouted with glee, grabbing their attention.

"Okay, hold it steady now," Rick instructed, standing to assist the boy. He covered Andre's hands with his own as the boy held the rod, and gradually helped him pull the line out of the water, swinging it toward them. They were greeted by a largemouth bass attached to the end of it.

"Look, mama! I caught a fish!" Andre happily exclaimed.

"Good job, baby!" Michonne replied, traipsing over to get a better look at her son's catch.

"Cool!" Carl added, still holding his own rod steady in the water.

"You did good, Andre," Rick noted, carefully removing the fish from the hook, and placing it inside the large bucket filled with water.

"Are we going to eat him?" Andre asked, his eyes wide with pride.

"Not this time bud, we'll throw him back in after we try and catch a few more," Rick responded with a pleased grin.

He caught Michonne smiling at him and winked at her, before rebaiting Andre's line so the little boy could get more practice.


After catching a few more fish, they decided to have lunch under the nearby shed. Sitting at the wooden picnic table, they quietly ate ham and cheese sandwiches, apples, and chocolate chip cookies.

"This is good. My compliments to the chef," Michonne declared, taking a bite of her sandwich.

"Oh, well I appreciate that," Rick grinned from across the table. "The cookies are store bought, though. I haven't quite mastered baking."

Michonne laughed, "Baking isn't my strong suit, either. However, I can cook," she emphasized, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Is that so? I'd love to taste a sample of your cookin' sometime," Rick quipped, licking his perfectly pink lips.

Michonne's eyes were locked on them for a moment, her head feeling a bit dizzy from his effortless sexiness. Realizing she was staring, she looked up and matched his cheeky grin.

"Sure, maybe one day," she replied softly.

He chuckled and took a bite of his own sandwich. He could tell she was desperately fighting to hold up the walls she built around herself. He understood it. He knew it was common after experiencing something traumatic…hell, he'd done it himself. But being with her was dismantling his walls, brick by brick. Even if she wasn't ready to admit it, he knew he was doing the same for her.

"Dad, can Andre and me go find some rocks for my collection?" Carl asked, interrupting Rick's thoughts.

"It's Andre and I…and yes, you may," Rick noted. "Just be careful around the water."

"Ok, we will," the blue-eyed boy promised, before grabbing his backpack, taking Andre's hand and running off.

"I hope that's okay with you?" Rick tentatively asked Michonne.

"Yes, it's fine. Andre is having so much fun," she exhaled softly. "I'm happy we came."

Rick furrowed his brow in concern. "Were you having second thoughts?"

Michonne shrugged, "Maybe a little. I don't know, Rick. This is all so new for me," she told him, sincerely.

"Michonne, like I said…I want to get to know you, but we do this at your pace."

"I appreciate that," she smiled, truly amazed at just how understanding he was regarding her feelings.

Rick returned her smile and stared into her warm, chocolate eyes. "I'm glad I could bring some happiness to you and Andre. He and Carl seem to be hitting it off well," he chuckled, taking a sip of his soda.

"They are," she agreed with a nod. "Andre really misses Atlanta and Mike's family. Mike's mother called asking that I let her keep him for Thanksgiving."

Rick sensed the hesitancy in her voice. "You don't want him to go?"

"It's not that…it's just I've never been away from him before."

"Why don't you spend the holiday with them as well? I'm sure they miss you," he suggested.

"No," Michonne stated, vigorously shaking her head. "Our relationship has always been rocky. Mike's mother never thought I was a good fit for him."

Rick was truly dumbfounded that anyone would think Michonne was anything less than perfect. He hated to seem intrusive but wanted to know more.

"And why is that?" he asked curiously.

"I'm too dark," Michonne answered flatly, pointing to her face.

Rick looked confused, which made her chuckle. "It's complicated, but some black people have a problem with skin color. The root of it goes back long ago, way before our time," she shrugged.

"That just seems…crazy to me," Rick declared, admiring the undeniable beauty of her skin tone. In fact, he had yet to meet any woman whom he found more stunning than the woman sitting before him, his soon-to-be ex-wife included.

"What's even crazier is that neither Mike nor his father were light. Joanna just has a problem with dark women…maybe some untold trauma in her past, who knows. Either way, I no longer have to be around her toxicity and for that, I'm grateful," Michonne sighed.

"Michonne, I'm sorry," Rick said, reaching across the table to caress her hand.

She smiled for what seemed like the millionth time that day. She loved his comforting touch. His hands were firm, yet soothing.

"It's okay," she assured him. "Enough about me. How are things with you?"

Rick released her hand and exhaled heavily as he sat up a little straighter.

"You don't have to tell me," She quickly added.

"Hey, I told you I don't mind sharing things with you. We're getting to know each other, remember?" he reminded her. "It's just that things aren't going so well. Lori and I are getting divorced."

Michonne was a little caught off guard by his confession. "Oh…I'm sorry," she replied, just above a whisper, unsure of how to respond.

"I recently moved in with Daryl, that's why I was in the neighborhood the other day. It just seems to make things easier."

"How did Carl take the news?" Michonne inquired.

"He wasn't surprised by it. He's only eight but he's observant. He could tell things haven't been the same between me and Lori since Judith died. I honestly think he's relieved. He just wants everyone to be happy."

"It sounds like you're raising quite a thoughtful young man," she noted. "How are you feeling about all of this?"

"I'm okay. The truth is, my marriage has been suffering for a while now, even before our daughter died. Lori and I grew apart. Nothing in particular caused it…it just happened," he reflected, hoping he didn't appear to be cavalier.

Michonne reclaimed his hand, gently rubbing her thumb across his palm. "Still, I know it isn't easy to walk away from the only love you've ever known."

They stared quietly at one another for a spell, feeling thankful to be able to unleash their troubles without being judged or having to sit through empty declarations of understanding when that couldn't be further from the truth. Most people had no idea how they felt…no idea of the loneliness of it all.

"It isn't easy," Rick continued. "What's worse is, I have a feeling Lori's father will try and make things harder. He isn't exactly a fan of mine."

Similar to the thoughts Rick had earlier, Michonne pondered the notion that anyone could dislike Rick. Sure, in the beginning, she was skeptical of his motives, but even then, she found him to be very charming and kindhearted.

"Really, how come?" she asked in surprise.

"Too liberal," he shrugged.

"Imagine that…a liberal white policeman in small-town Georgia," she teased, appreciating his efforts to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, I know. There are more of us than you think, Miss Michonne," he grinned.

She smiled at him, noticing the small creases at the corners of his eyes when he laughed. She found them endearing and it just added to his handsomeness.

"How would he make things harder?" she asked, her tone turning serious again.

"Lori's family has a lot of sway in this town. Her father knows people…attorneys, judges, legislators. When it comes to his baby girl, he can be persistent. He'll push her to seek full custody, just to spite me for breaking her heart, or whatever lie he chooses to believe."

"Oh no, do you think Lori will go along with it?" she worried, clutching his hand.

"I hope not. I don't think she holds any ill-will. We both agreed to end the marriage. I just know that Carl is my number one priority. I don't want him being used as a pawn. I'll do whatever I have to do to make sure that doesn't happen," he stated firmly.

Michonne admired Rick's tenacity when it came to protecting his son. She was sure he was a good father. It reminded her of Mike and the way he always did his best to take care of Andre.

"I really hope everything works out for the best, Rick. You and that precious little boy deserve to be happy, especially after everything you've been through."

Rick smiled, appreciating her sincerity. "I can say the same about you and your boy."

He slowly raised her hand to his mouth, placing a tender kiss to her knuckles. She exhaled, briefly closing her eyes, once again relishing the feel of his delicate lips. When she opened them, he was looking back at her. His stare was intense, and she wondered what he was thinking. She didn't have to wait long to find out.

"About the other day, I hope I didn't overstep. It's just that…I'm quite taken with you, Michonne Hawthorne. Does that make you uncomfortable?"

She pondered his question, reflecting on how he made her feel. How he somehow managed to push through her defenses, helping her to let down her guard and relax. He accepted her as she was and that was certainly something she needed as she continued to wade through her grief and uncertainty about the future. Finally, she answered him…

"It should. I should look at someone like you and run the other way, but I won't. You don't make me uncomfortable, Rick…quite the opposite" she replied breathlessly.

Rick didn't respond. He simply lifted her hands to his lips, once again gifting her with a kiss and silently expressing his gratitude that she'd walked into his life. They grew quiet again, taking a moment to finish their lunch and enjoy the tranquility of the outdoor setting.

Eventually, they heard laughter and decided to check on the boys. They walked down to the lakefront and spied Andre and Carl, busy drawing.

"Mama, look what Carl drew for me!" Andre beamed, running over to show Michonne his picture.

She took the paper and examined it. It was a drawing of Andre's favorite airplane; the one Mike had given him. She forced herself to hold back tears as she looked at her son and then over to a smiling Carl.

"Wow, this is really good, Carl. That was very nice of you," she said softly.

Rick stepped beside her, taking a look for himself. He tenderly stroked the small of her back, before approaching his son and ruffling his brown hair. "Great picture, Carl".

"It's no big deal, I just figured Dre would like something to remember his dad," Carl stated. "He drew me a pink butterfly to remember Judith," he added, holding up the picture.

Andre smiled proudly; happy he could do something nice for his new friend.

Rick glanced at Michonne, each reading the other's mind as they exchanged content smiles. Today had been nothing short of perfect, for them and their children.

"You boys ready to head home?" Rick asked.

"Yeah, I guess. It's time for my nap," Andre replied, eliciting a round of laughter from everyone.

Michonne made her way to Rick's side and grasped his hand. "Thank you for this. I really needed it," she whispered, softly kissing him on the cheek.


Several days later…

Lori made her way down the peripheral of the crowded auditorium, glancing at Rick as she walked past him and Negan standing against the wall. Rick offered her a friendly but awkward smile, while Negan simply sneered. She continued toward the stage and took a seat next to Penny in the front row.

"Hi, miss Lori," the little girl greeted her with a friendly smile.

"Hello, sweetie," Lori returned, stroking the girl's long hair.

Philip stood tall behind a wooden podium, looking confident in his navy-blue suit. They shared a brief smile, both feeling good about how things would go today. Across from Philip, Pete Anderson stood, glaring at the crowd, as a few more stragglers entered and found empty seats. The man looked like a pompous asshole with his cropped brown hair, parted on the side, and expensive charcoal suit. The smugness floated off of him, even without him saying a word.

Lori glanced across the center aisle to see Pete's family sitting stiffly. His wife, Jessie, ever the dutiful southern belle, looked over to Lori and gifted her with an insincere smile. Lori kept her face stoic as she studied the woman, taking note of her perfectly coiffed blonde hair, shallow blue eyes, and pale skin sitting against a peach-colored dress. Jessie certainly appealed to the good ole' boys in this town, but Lori found the woman to be highly uninteresting. She followed her husband like a lost puppy and didn't seem to be able to offer a substantive opinion on anything without Pete telling her what to think. The woman was a Stepford wife. Lori thought she was pitiful, feeling slightly sorry for her. Lori's eyes reached the two boys sitting next to Jessie, ten-year-old Ron, and seven-year-old Sam. Again, they fit the part, but Lori could see the emptiness behind their eyes. They probably wanted to be anywhere but here.

Before long, the moderator, a local news reporter named Andrea Walsh took centerstage. Lori was somewhat familiar with the woman, as her late husband Shane was one of the higher ups in King County's sheriff's department. He died in a boating accident several years ago, before Andrea joined TV 4 News. Lori considered Andrea to be a no-nonsense woman but also fair. She was a great pick to moderate the event.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Andre stated into her microphone.

"Thank you all for joining us today to hear from our two mayoral candidates. We are going to get started in just a moment but first, let's go over a few ground rules. I will be asking each candidate questions from a pre-submitted list. They will have two minutes to respond and thirty seconds for rebuttals. Gentleman, please do not interrupt while the other is speaking or you will forfeit your own time, is that clear?" she asked turning toward the men standing to either side of her.

Both men nodding in agreement before she continued.

"Following the conclusion of my questions, we will take some questions from the floor. I have my mic runners ready to go," she said pointing to a couple of women standing near the wall.

Andrea stepped off the stage and took her seat at the small table located just across from it, "Okay, let's get started."

~~~

Rick leaned against the auditorium wall, watching and listening as the town hall meeting got underway. The room was packed with mostly white citizens, and he was curious to see how this was going to play out. Although he had his suspicions about the nature of Lori and Philip's relationship, he hoped the man did well today. In his mind, Philip Blake was a far better choice for mayor than Pete Anderson. At least he and Lori agreed on that.

"Where's your boy, today?" Negan asked, breaking through his thoughts.

"With my mother."

Negan nodded, "hmm...everythang all right with you and the missus?"

Rick exhaled sharply, running a hand over his stubbled jaw, "Negan, mind your own business for once, okay?"

"Oh, excuse me," the man replied, dramatically holding his hands up. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Grimes. I noticed the weirdness between you two, thought I'd ask…but…if you don't wanna talk about it, that's fine with me."

Rick shook his head in frustration and crossed his arms over his chest. "On second thought, you might as well hear it from me before Sherry tells you…we're gettin' divorced."

"Oh…damn," Negan responded, somewhat surprised at the revelation. "That's a tough one, but I'm sure y'all will bounce back just fine," he grinned, patting Rick on the back.

Rick chuckled, actually amused at how aloof his partner could be. "Yeah…I'm sure we will."

~~~

A short while later…

"Okay, gentleman, let's take some questions from the audience," Andrea announced to Philip and Pete. "Amy, how about this man in the yellow shirt," she said to her assistant, directing the young blonde to a middle-aged man standing near the stage.

The young woman made her way over to the man and handed him the microphone.

"Thank y'all for comin' here today. My name is Joe and I'm a lifelong resident of King County. I got a wife and two daughters. My question is for both candidates. I wanna know how you feel about fully integratin' our schools. I know what the federal government said, but we like how things are right now. I don't see no need to change them. Besides, I ain't comfortable havin' my girls goin' to school with coloreds. Next thing you know, colored folk will start wantin' to move into our neighborhoods. When will it end?"

A couple of people nodded and shouted out in agreement while the man handed the microphone back to Amy and waited for a response from the two men on stage.

"I'm glad you asked that question, Joe," Pete began, "I completely agree with you. There is nothing wrong with keeping things the way they are. All of King County is a wonderful place to live. Our Negro families have everything they need in their own neighborhoods. I believe in preserving our way of life, everyone should be happy with their own kind."

"Now, hold on a minute," Philip interjected in his commanding southern drawl, disturbed by what he was hearing. "What you're talking about is an archaic way of living. Times have changed…things are changing all over this country and it's time that King County changes along with them. The Negroes in this town are good, honest, hardworking people. They pose no threat to anyone's safety. I have a daughter of my own and trust me, I wouldn't say this if I didn't absolutely believe it to be true. If we all come together, we can help this town thrive."

Philip received a few positive affirmations from the crowd after finishing his statement. He glanced at Lori, and she gave him a discreet thumbs up and a bright smile. Penny stood clapping, which made him chuckle.

Andrea nodded, "Okay, thank you for your responses. Let's get another question."

Andrea's other assistant, Tara, walked over to the other side of the room and handed the microphone to a young man with dark hair.

"My name's Gareth Wiley. I been out of work for a few months now and I want to know how y'all feel about giving jobs to Blacks? I got a family to feed, and I don't need to be competin' with them to get a job. We start givin' everybody access to everythang and the next thang you know, we're all struggling. How is that right?" the man asked, clearly exasperated.

"Well, if I'm elected, you won't have to compete," Pete responded. "I'll make sure more jobs come into King County. I have a few friends in high places who I'm sure would be able to get a few big companies to invest here and open new businesses," he said confidently, looking over to Jack Shepard.

Lori followed his gaze and spotted her parents sitting on the other side of the auditorium. She sighed in disappointment that her mother was evidently backing her father in his support of Anderson. She hoped just this once that Darlene would stand her ground. She looked back to the stage, once again making eye contact with Philip. His skin was slightly flushed, and she knew he was nervous about the way the meeting was going.

"That's a nice idea, Mr. Anderson. However, I happen to be a businessman, so I know a thing or two about creating jobs. We need to invest in education, whether it be college or trade schools. There are already opportunities here in King County, but we need a skilled workforce to take advantage of them. Besides, I believe that small businesses are the way to go. We don't need rich bigwigs coming in here and wreaking havoc. You want to talk about preserving our way of life, let's take care of our own."

Once again, Philip received several applauds from people in the audience, causing him to relax a bit.

"That include Negroes, Mr. Blake," another man yelled from the crowd. "You gonna hire them in your businesses?"

"I'll hire whoever is qualified for the job," Philip answered deliberately, earning another pleased smile from Lori.


Following the town hall meeting, Pete Anderson and his family made their way over to Dale's diner since it was close to the high school where the event was held. Pete, Jessie, Ron, and Sam took a seat in a large booth and were joined by Jack and Darlene.

"Pete, you did a fine job today," Jack congratulated him.

"Yes, you were brilliant, honey," Jessie concurred, kissing her husband's cheek.

"Thank, you sir. I think I won over the crowd. They'll vote for me if they know what's good for them," he said arrogantly.

Darlene swallowed hard, fighting to hold her tongue. She found Pete to be incorrigible, but Jack believed in him, and she believed in Jack. His shrewd sense of judgment had gotten him far in life. He'd held their family's legacy intact and made sure they would never want or need for anything. So, she twisted her thin lips into a smile and played along.

"I'm sure you'll be successful, Mr. Anderson," she added.

"Oh, call me Pete," he corrected her.

"You know, people aren't as ready for change as Blake likes to believe," Jack continued. "George Wallace won our state in the last Presidential election. People don't want to see everything being handed over to Negroes when good, decent white folks have to work for what they get."

"You're certainly right about that, sir" Pete agreed.

~~~

Over at the front counter, Michonne and Carol stood listening to the conversation between the Andersons and the Shepards.

"What a piece of shit," Carol said, quiet enough that only Michonne heard her. "You sit this one out, honey. I'll take care of them."

"Thanks, Carol," Michonne nodded, watching as Carol made her way over to the table to take their orders.

She redirected her eyes to the diner entrance and saw Rick entering with Negan. Butterflies danced around in her abdomen, portraying her excitement at seeing her new friend. They hadn't seen or spoken to one another since the fishing trip, and she was glad he was here. His presence alone quelled the uneasiness she felt after listening to Pete and Jack's ugly tirade.

"Hey," she greeted him with a smile as he sat down at the counter.

"Hey yourself. How have you been?" he asked, returning her smile.

"I've been good, thanks for asking. What can I get you?"

"What's good today?" he asked flirtatiously.

Her face grew warm as her eyes perused him. He looked amazing in his tan uniform shirt. He'd cut his hair since the last time she saw him. The sides were tapered short, but his chestnut waves remained on top. She admired his square jawline, light stubble covering it. Rick wet his lips and her eyes fell to them, causing her to recall how they felt against her skin.

"Michonne, you okay?" Rick asked, snapping her out of her musings.

"Um, yeah. Sorry…today's special is turkey pot pie. It's pretty good," she stated, slightly embarrassed.

"Okay, I'll take it," he grinned. "That and a lemonade, please."

"Uh, hello…what am I, invisible?" Negan interjected.

Rick scoffed at his rudeness, "Nope, just waiting your turn."

"My apologies, deputy. What can I get for you?" Michonne asked.

"It's Negan, darlin', and you can get me the same thing he's havin'," the dark-haired man replied, shamelessly staring at her breasts, licking his lips at the bit of exposed cleavage peeking through the top opening of her dress.

"Sure thing," she replied, annoyed with him.

Negan rubbed her the wrong way from the moment she met him. She could tell there was something unsavory behind his piercing eyes and sly grin. She couldn't understand how Rick put up with him. They were so different, like night and day.

"I'll go put in your orders,".

"Thanks, Michonne," Rick replied, watching her walk over to the large open window near the kitchen.

"Will you look at that ass," Negan said, staring at her backside as she stood, turned away from them.

"Knock it off," Rick demanded.

"Now, why would I do that? I like to appreciate a beautiful woman when I see one, and Michonne is exquisite. Judging from the way you're gettin' pissed right now, not to mention the way you look at her, I'm certain you agree with me," Negan smirked.

"Whether or not I agree with you ain't the point, you're bein' disrespectful," Rick chided.

"Lighten up, Rick. You're a real fuckin' buzzkill, you know that?"

"And you're a chauvinistic dipshit, but we all have our thing, don't we?" Rick noted sarcastically.

Before Negan could think of a witty comeback, Michonne reappeared with their food and drinks.

"All right, here we go. Y'all enjoy," she said, speaking to both of them, but keeping her eyes on Rick.

"I'm sure it's good," he grinned, taking a sip of his cold lemonade, and matching her stare.

Negan turned slightly in his stool, noticing Pete and Jack having a lively conversation.

"Looks like Anderson and your daddy-in-law are cozier than we thought," he noted, turning back to Rick.

Michonne frowned, shocked to hear that the man spewing hatred with Pete Anderson, was Rick's father-in-law.

"That's Lori's father?" she asked, quickly scolding herself when she remembered Negan was there. She didn't want him asking questions about her and Rick's relationship.

"Yeah, that's Jack Shepard," Rick confirmed with a sigh, wishing he'd been more forthcoming about his in-laws track record concerning race relations.

Michonne bit her lip, as a thousand questions ran through her mind. Was Lori anything like her father? If so, how could Rick be married to someone like that? She glared at him, wishing they were alone so she could get answers.

He could see her wheels spinning as he looked into her eyes, wanting very much to provide her the answers he knew she needed.

"At least old Jack knows how to back a winner. Blake doesn't stand a chance," Negan added. "What do you think about this election, darlin'?" he asked Michonne.

"I hope you're wrong, deputy…I mean, Negan. I think Mr. Blake is just what we need," she replied.

"He might be what we need, but he ain't what we're gonna get. This ain't Atlanta sweetheart," Negan declared, taking a bite of his food.

"Oh, what are you goin' on about?" Carol interrupted them, making her way from the kitchen in the back.

"Carol, I see you're as pleasant as ever," Negan chuckled.

"Hey, Carol. We were just discussing the election," Rick informed her.

"Ah, yes. I'm rooting for Philip Blake. I'll be damned if that other guy gets my vote," she stated intentionally.

Rick and Michonne both laughed at the older woman, appreciating her zero tolerance for bullshit.

"Yeah, well we'll see," Negan added.

"We will, now hush and eat your food," Carol chuckled.

"You're the only woman I let talk to me like that," Negan said. "But don't get carried away."

"Man, just shut up and eat," Rick interjected.

~~~

Rick and Negan sat quietly eating while Michonne and Carol tidied up the counter and tended to a few other customers. After a while, a young white man with dark hair approached the counter.

Rick turned to see it was Gareth, the man from the townhall meeting.

"Aye, girl…I ordered a refill on my iced tea five minutes ago. Where the hell is it?" he rudely asked, addressing Michonne.

Rick dropped his fork, looking at him incredulously. "I think you oughta watch how you talk to the lady."

"Rick, it's okay," Michonne quickly intervened.

"Like hell it is," Rick scoffed. "Ask nicely!" he sternly instructed Gareth.

Gareth smirked at him, before turning to Michonne. "Go fetch my drink you black bitch."

Before anyone knew what was happening, Gareth's face was slamming into the edge of the counter, with a loud crack. Michonne gasped as the man yelped in pain and his blood spread across the glossy white surface.

"Fetch it your damn self!" Rick stated, as he let go of the man's head and watched him slump to the floor.

"Ughhh…you son-of-a-bitch! I think you broke my nose," Gareth complained, trying to stop the blood gushing from his face.

By now all eyes were focused on them, trying to make sense of the commotion.

"What the hell is going on out here?!" Dale asked, swinging open his office door and briskly walking to the counter. His jaw dropped when he saw the blood and the man wreathing in pain on the floor.

"All right, get your ass up," Negan chimed in, pulling Gareth to his feet. "Next time, practice using your manners."

Carol stood by Michonne, smiling to herself, knowing Negan was trying to take the heat off Rick. The outburst was sure to raise questions…questions she presumed, neither of them were willing to answer. Hell, they probably didn't have all the answers themselves. Their friendship was new, but Carol could tell the day she walked in on them in the breakroom that there was more to it than that.

"Don't worry, Horvath. Nothin' for you to be concerned with. Just an unruly customer, but Deputy Grimes and I took care of it," Negan continued.

Gareth stood to his feet, stumbling a bit in the process. Carol grabbed a handful of napkins and set them on the counter. The young man grabbed them and held them to his face.

"Get the hell out," Rick ordered him.

Without another word, Gareth turned and stormed out of the restaurant.

"Rick, what was that all about?" Jack and Darlene both inquired, rushing to the front counter.

"Nothin'…It's all under control now," Rick said, reclaiming his seat.

"What did you do to that man?" Darlene pressed on.

"I said it's under control," Rick repeated.

"It was warranted, Mr. and Mrs. Shepard. He threatened us and we had to get him in line," Negan lied.

Jack looked between the two of them, still slightly unnerved by Rick's behavior. He never really cared for his son-in-law, but he never knew him to be violent. Even as a sheriff's deputy, Rick prided himself on upholding the peace.

"Please get this mess cleaned up, people have to eat up here," Dale instructed Carol and Michonne.

"I'll take care of it," Carol told Michonne, rubbing her back. She knew Michonne was still in shock over Rick's reaction to Gareth's disrespect.

Michonne stood frozen, glaring at the deputy. "I think I need to go home…I don't feel well," she said softly to Carol, not taking her eyes off Rick.

Rick looked at her apologetically, realizing he'd gone too far. Gareth was out of line, but he shouldn't have caused a scene, especially when it could have brought undue harm to Michonne. He wanted to reach out to her and tell her how sorry he felt, but he knew he couldn't. So instead, he turned and addressed his in-laws once more…

"Everything is fine. Y'all should get back to your friend," he suggested, gesturing to Pete.

"Are you sure?" Darlene asked hesitantly.

"Everything is all right, ma'am," Carol reassured Darlene. "Michonne and I witnessed the whole thing, and the deputies had no choice."

Darlene and Jack both looked at the two women as if they hadn't noticed them before. They stared at Michonne, both with a blank expression.

Rick followed their gaze, remembering Lori's questions about the Jameson family and his mother's vagueness when he spoke to her about their history. The way Jack and Darlene stared at Michonne, confirmed for him that there indeed was a story there, but he'd have to look into it later. Right now, all he wanted was for Lori's parents to leave him alone.

"Thank you for cleaning this, Carol. I owe you," Michonne said, before hastily walking toward the exit and out of the restaurant.

It took all of Rick's good sense not to follow her as she left.

"I guess I'll see y'all soon," he continued speaking to Jack and Darlene.

"Hopefully, not too soon," Jack huffed, taking Darlene by the hand, and going back to their table.

"You can't do shit like that. People are watching," Negan warned Rick as he settled back into his seat.

"I lost it…I shouldn't have but I did. It won't happen again," Rick shrugged.


Later that afternoon…

Following their lunch with the Anderson family, Jack and Darlene entered their home. Darlene was unusually quiet during the ride home and Jack sensed she was upset. She remained silent as she walked up to their bedroom and shut the door. Jack scowled and went into his study, grabbing a bottle of brandy from the liquor cabinet. He filled the glass tumbler halfway and swirled the brown liquid before swallowing it all in one gulp. It went down smooth and warm. Suddenly, Dorothea knocked on the slightly ajar door.

"Mr. Shepard, can I get you anything?" the elderly woman asked.

"Actually yes…Anna and Lawrence Jameson's daughter, what is her name again?" he inquired.

"Michonne," Dorothea answered pensively, curious as to why he was asking.

Jack nodded and placed his empty glass on the nearby Cherrywood desk. "Yes, Michonne," he sighed. "Did you know she was back in King County?"

"I wasn't aware of that, sir," she replied, smoothing the fabric of her black dress.

"Oh, yeah. She's here…and from the looks of it, she's staying. She's got a job over at Dale's," he sighed.

Dorothea remained silent, unsure of what to say. It seemed the past always had a way of eventually catching up to you. It started with Lori's questions, and now Michonne had joined her mother back in King County. Dorothea surmised Jack's past would soon be at his doorstep, just like she always knew it would.

"That will be all, Dottie. Mrs. Shepard and I will be down later for dinner," he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

Dorothea nodded and traipsed out of the room. Jack watched her leave, then walked up the stairs to his bedroom. He gently knocked on the closed door.

"Dar, it's me. Can I come in?"

"Yes, Jack…come on in," Darlene replied softly.

He entered the large room, finding her sitting in her resting area in front of the bay window. She was curled up, staring blankly out at their front yard.

"What's wrong?" Jack sighed, taking a seat on their bed.

Darlene slowly turned and faced him. He could see she'd been crying. Her eyes were puffy and tinged red.

"Where do I begin?" she wondered out loud. "First, I have to say…Pete Anderson is a vile man. I want you to pull your support from him."

Jack's eyes widened, "Why would I do that? He's the right man to lead King County. His values align with those of the people living here."

"What values, Jack?!" she asked, her voice slightly raising in contempt. "Those so-called values are a lie and we both know it. You've been living a lie your whole life and now it's come back to haunt you."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" he responded, cutting his eyes at her.

Darlene chuckled and shook her head. "Jack, I know you saw her today. She was standing right in front of you. We can't keep pretending she and her mother don't exist. And now Lori is asking questions…"

"Wait, what kind of questions?" he interrupted.

"I overheard Lori asking Dottie about a picture…one that was taken that day, the last time you spoke to Lawrence," she answered, sweeping her long dark hair over her shoulder.

Jack stood from the bed. His face was full of concern. "Where did Lori find the picture?"

"Oh, Jack…it doesn't matter," she replied, moving to stand in front of him. "The point is, she wants to know who the man in the photo is, and now that Anna Jameson and her daughter are back in town, more questions could be raised."

"No, don't worry about it. The past will stay in the past. Lawrence Jameson is dead and gone, and he's gonna stay that way," he stated harshly.

"And how are you going to stop anyone from asking questions? You can't control everything Jack," she responded, her voice laced with desperation.

Jack paced back and forth with his hands on his hips, contemplating the situation. "I've done all right so far. I won't let Anna Jameson destroy what I've built and from our last conversation, she has no interest in doing that. Besides, her daughter doesn't even know we exist. The past will stay buried, Darlene. It's in all of our best interest," he assured her, reclaiming his stance in front of her.

She looked up to her husband as he towered over her small frame. She had always supported him. She never questioned him because she trusted him, but this time she had to voice her feelings.

"Jack, it's in your best interest that things stay buried," she carefully commented.

"And yours too, don't you forget that. It's my job to protect this family and that's what I will always do. The Jamesons are not a threat to us, and I don't want to hear anything else about them! Are we clear?" he growled.

Darlene looked up to him, nodding as her frustration boiled over in the form of tears. She watched as he angrily marched out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.


That evening…

Rick took a deep breath as he sat in his car parked outside the Jameson residence. It was getting dark, and the street was quiet and empty. He quickly opened his door and got out before he could talk himself out of it. Strolling up to the front door, he surveyed his surroundings once more, making sure no nosy neighbors were peeking through their windows. He tapped his knuckles against the door, holding his breath and hoping that Michonne was the one to answer.

After a short wait, the door swung open. Michonne stood in the doorway with a look of shock on her face. His eyes traveled the length of her, she was wearing a plush lavender bathrobe and he figured he'd caught her as she was getting ready to bathe.

"Rick, what are you doing here?" she questioned, waving him inside.

He stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Is your mom home?" he asked quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone.

"No, her and Dre are having dinner at a friend's house. You didn't answer my question…why are you here?"

He moved closer to her, attempting to stroke her cheek. She backed away from him, her face twisting into a frown. He lowered his head and sighed heavily.

"I came to apologize for what happened earlier. I shouldn't have reacted that way."

"You're damn right you shouldn't have. Rick, I could have been fired because of you!" she retorted.

He stepped toward her again, this time gently gripping her shoulders. "Michonne, you didn't do anything wrong. There's no way Dale would fire you over something like this. It was my fault. I didn't think…I just reacted, I'm sorry," he submitted.

She looked into his eyes, acknowledging his remorse. "Rick, you can't do that…when it comes to me, you can't act without thinking. We're walking a fine line here."

"Yeah, I get that…but you don't deserve to be talked to that way."

"You don't think I know that?" she scoffed. "It's not the first time something like that has happened and it won't be the last. I know it isn't right, but I need that job right now, so I keep my mouth shut."

Rick let go of her, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew she was right, but it pissed him off all the same. The thought of her being treated like dirt by anyone, let alone some backwards thinking, redneck lowlife had him ready to explode.

He looked back into her eyes, "Don't worry about your job. If Dale has an issue, I'll take care of it."

"See, that's your problem, Rick. You can't take care of everything. Stop trying to save me!" she replied, harsher than intended.

She recognized the hurt on his face and amended her statement, "I mean…I appreciate your concern, but your behavior can cause problems for both of us. You're going through a divorce, Rick. You shouldn't be putting your energy into worrying about me," she said softly.

"I can do both," he intimated, moving closer to her.

"No," she shook her head in disagreement, trying her best to ignore the heat radiating between them as they stood closely. "Go home, Rick," she whispered, looking up into his stormy eyes.

Rick didn't respond. Instead, he gripped her waist and slowly pushed her against the adjacent wall. Their eyes remained locked on each other, frustration, adoration, and lust warring between them. He grasped her tighter and lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle…soft but passionate. He slowly pulled away and met her longing eyes.

"Rick," she breathed, as she lifted her hand and tenderly caressed his stubbled jawline with her fingertips.

Before he knew it, she was kissing him back, hungrily crashing her luscious lips into his. His hands moved to her supple ass and squeezed it through the fabric of her robe. The kiss grew frenzied, as their tongues met, doing a perfectly choreographed dance, unleashing the pent-up sexual energy that lied dormant from the moment they'd met.

Rick's hands snaked under her robe, and he sighed, getting confirmation that she was indeed naked underneath. He kneaded her soft flesh, lifting her and securing her body against the hard surface of the wall as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Mmm," she moaned into his mouth as their lips connected again.

"Michonne," he panted, barely able to speak through the sheer pleasure he was feeling.

Suddenly, they heard the sound of a closing car door, bringing their lustful moment to an abrupt halt.


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