The Stranger On The Roadside
A/N: My apologies I forgot to thank my awesome reviewer's in my last update and for that, I am truly sorry. Please know reviews fuel me to write. I appreciate them. Updates may be infrequent, but I will always try my very best to finish a story. I can hear some of you saying well what about this story and that. The answer is this, the characters don't always want to play.
That being said, while this is a Richonne fic, it seems that some of you support the fact that Michonne should just sit around pining for Rick. I'm sorry, she ain't gonna do that. In the tv show, Michonne was on her own for God knows how long before she met TF, then she travelled on her own hunting the governor and it took 3 seasons before we got Richonne. So, please don't expect me to write a Michonne who's sitting around pining for Rick while he gets to live his life not even aware of Michonne. Rick is the ultimate love of her life and Michonne, Rick's but it didn't start out that way so please stop telling me how disappointed you are to see Michonne happy—that you're upset someone other than Rick can appreciate her friggin awesomeness. On the show, there was no one else strong enough to handle her greatness. In the comics, that douchebag had her brutally raped and after, she had her hands down every Tom, Dick and Harry's crotch, so just stop. This is fanfic, a universe where both Rick and Michonne can be truly be appreciated by others before finding their true soulmate.
I truly hope you will enjoy this chapter.
Six years earlier…
Michonne's uber awareness of the stranger's presence next to her caused her to prattle on. A characteristic rather foreign to her especially in the presence of strangers. Her alertness, however, stemmed more from curiosity as opposed to any potential danger he may pose to her. Oddly enough, she felt at ease in his presence. She wondered how he came to be on the side of the road. And better still, how his vehicle ran out of gas because the car seemed to be in decent enough shape. Then again, she knew absolutely nothing about cars since Malyk usually took care of servicing their vehicles.
"Wonderful night for a walk, isn't it?" she quipped.
The stranger chuckled, "Just tryna' help out a friend," he replied in a thick southern drawl.
"And they didn't wait around to see whether you had things under control before taking off?
"I'm afraid nothing quite so dramatic. I actually took a cab out there. The problem described to me seemed simple enough and it was, except by the time I got there, the gas had been siphoned out. I guess they couldn't get it started so they took whatever they could from it and moved on."
"Interesting. And your phone?"
"Would you believe me if I told you it died on me? He laughed.
His laugh disarmed her and she turned to look in his direction. The oncoming lights briefly caught his eyes as he looked at her. She could have sworn there was something there, a twinkle in grey-blue sapphires. Was he actually flirting with her? It's insane, she had to be imagining things she thought.
"It happens to the best of us, Michonne replied."
"And you, what brings you out on a night like this? The stranger inquired curious as to why she'd be out on a night like this but more so, he wondered why the hell she'd do something so reckless as to pick up a man in the middle of the night, and one walking on the side of a desolate strip of road.
"I needed some fresh air."
"A bit counterproductive wouldn't you say since the windows are shut tight?
Michonne chuckled, "What can I say, it seemed like a good idea at the time." It was her turn to laugh at herself. "Plus, somebody had to rescue you," she laughed.
Her soft melodic voice seized his attention and he chuckled.
"I guess that would make you my guardian angel, wouldn't it?"
"Something like that, I suppose," Michonne added with a smile.
The stranger noticed the radiance of her smile and it drew him in. The energy in the car was seemingly effortless. He tried to understand how he felt so at ease with the stranger he'd just met when only hours before, he had been so miserable. He was soaked and chilled to the bone from the rain, but sitting next to her in the leather-upholstered car with the seat warmers on made a world of difference. It felt comfortable—organic even and the bit of conversation they shared came uninhibited.
But when he suddenly fell quiet, Michonne feared he was uncomfortable. She hadn't asked him what he wanted but automatically turned on the heat and the seat warmer knowing he would no doubt have been chilled given that his clothes were soaked and stuck to him like a second skin.
She briefly turned her head towards him, "I'm sorry, are you comfortable?" she asked, reaching forward to adjust the controlled settings, "I naturally assumed warming the seat would take away a bit of the chill—but if—."
As she reached for the controls their hands and eyes connected.
"No—it's perfect. I really appreciate it. Thanks." He added, touched by the concern he saw reflected back at him.
It was fleeting but he felt a slight tingle at their contact which caused both hands to retreat to their original positions.
The two fell into a comfortable silence but a small smile tugged at Michonne's lips as she focused on the road once more.
...
Ten minutes later, the rain stopped as Michonne pulled the car into the gas station only to find it closed.
"Shit," the stranger beside her cursed after reading the hours of operation posted on the door and realized they had missed the closing by thirty minutes.
Michonne who grew up in King County wasn't completely surprised, given they were on the outskirts of town and not much happened in the fringes after hours to warrant an open gas station.
"Would you like me to take you further into town?" she asked.
"Nah, just drop me at the motel down the road."
"The Bluebird?" she asked, wanting to be certain they were both referring to the same place. She knew of it because as a teenager, a murder occurred there and it was the talk of the town. Over the years, the place had undergone several management changes and paint jobs but the story always stuck with her—it was a reminder of the darker side of life on the forbidden side of town.
The place was located in what one would call a ghost town this time of night, but for the strip club and a pool hall which were located near several warehouses. There was a certain lifestyle that happened in this part of town, one that didn't require a gas station to be opened all hours of the night.
"I don't exactly know the name of it, but you can see it from the Interstate. I want an early start tomorrow and it's the closest place to the county line."
"Are you sure? I really don't mind taking you someplace friendlier," she added, concerned for his well being.
The stranger chuckled. "I'll be fine. I wouldn't want to keep you any longer, your husband must be worried sick."
Michonne ignored his comment, placed the car in drive and pulled back onto the county road. "Let me worry about my husband". She felt a pang of guilt because she hadn't thought about Malyk in the past twenty minutes. As a result, her concern for the stranger's well-being ceased. She fell quiet. She no longer looked at him but focused her attention on the road ahead.
…
He immediately noticed the changes in her. Her posture became stiff, her curious eyes were now laser-focused on the road and she gripped the wheel a little tighter than before. Though it rained harder now, something instinctively told him it wasn't all about the weather. He had struck a nerve. "Shit," he thought. He never meant to upset her. There was something about her—her energy, her sense of independence and flaunting the norm. He found it refreshing. It made him smile.
Her sudden retreat from the conversation, however, gave him the opportunity to observe her. The occasional light from oncoming traffic allowed him the briefest glimpse of her, and from what he saw, she was a beautiful woman. He wondered what the poor sap of a husband had done to push her away. It was clear she was running from somethang. Why was her phone silent, had she turned it off? If she was his, He'd be blowing up her phone to find out where she was. Hell, he couldn't imagine him being stupid enough to drive her away. The irony of their situations wasn't lost on him because his long time girlfriend and now fiance suddenly accused him of working too much. He couldn't understand where the allegation came from, sure he had more duties and she had no problem planning the ways in which she intended to spend his sheriff's salary since he popped the question. She talked incessantly about becoming his wife but suddenly his duties were an issue. Rick shook his head to clear the thoughts he had of the fight which resulted in him being stranded on a rural road in the middle of the night.
...
After some time, they approached the white L-shaped two-storey building which lit up the area like a beacon. It beckoned travellers and temporary visitors.
Minutes later, Michonne pulled off the rural road and into the parking lot of the Bluebird Motel. She slowed down in front of the front office. The building was nothing spectacular, it had pastel-coloured doors with white a balustrade on the upstairs balcony.
The stranger exited the vehicle and returned minutes later with a key on a lilac coloured tag. He was assigned unit number eighteen. He entered the vehicle and Michonne drove him to the end unit.
"This is me. Thanks again for saving me, he added, by the way, the name's Rick. You know—I thought you ought to know since you saved my life and all," he added with a smirk and moistened his pouty pink bottom lip. His blue-grey eyes stared at her as if daring her to speak.
Michonne's warm chocolate brown eyes met his and subconsciously she moistened her lips too.
"Nice meeting you, Rick," she replied and checked the clock on the dashboard.
He noticed, she didn't offer her name. Smart woman, he thought. "Yeah. Look, I'm really sorry for taking you out of your way, tonight."
"You didn't. It was my pleasure, I was happy to help." Michonne added conflicted because a part of her wanted to leave, but part of her also wanted to stay. His company was pleasant—no pressure. His blue-grey eyes twinkled. His smirk enticing. Michonne shook her head and cleared her thoughts.
"I really should get going. Have a good night, Rick."
"Yeah, you too. Be careful out there and don't be picking up strange men on the roadside," he counselled as he exited the vehicle and they both laughed.
...
Michonne watched the silhouetted bow-legged strut as he sauntered off and disappeared from her rearview mirror. The red and blue neon lights flickered on and off as she drove further away from the Barbie-doll looking motel located just inside the county line.
Michonne knew cruising this part of town even in daylight was never a good idea because the place harboured a tougher clientele. She had questioned Rick's choice to stay there but his argument was sound. The gas station opened early and he wanted an early start to his day so it made sense due to the motel's close proximity to it.
Why did she care? She had done her good deed for the day, so she shook her head to dislodge the memory of the man who sat beside her for less than an hour. What the hell was it about him that intrigued her? She couldn't understand why she felt so drawn to him. Sure, he was an attractive man but she was a married woman and never once in thirteen years which included a six-year marriage had she ever looked at another man, but she flirted with this one and he flirted back.
It was probably best he insisted on staying in the fringes, she thought. It was crazy but she missed his presence. A faint scent of sandalwood and musk lingered in the air and triggered memories of the twinkle in his ever-changing blue eyes.
...
Michonne knocked on the door and waited. It had been forty minutes since she dropped him off and she knew he had no clothes in which to partake in the nearby activities. That is of course unless someone brought him some. Then again, all he really needed was a phone and he needn't be alone.
She rapped on the door a little more forceful than before and waited. But after what seemed like an eternity, she turned to leave when she heard the door open behind her.
Rick stood behind a slightly opened door wearing nothing but a towel wrapped low around his waist. His crystal blue eyes registered surprise at first then his signature smirk from earlier greeted her. His head was covered with medium length dark unruly wet curls and beads of water glistened on his bare chest. He was even more handsome than she initially thought, even in the poor light conditions.
Michonne's eyes shamelessly scanned down his chest to the towel. She swallowed hard and quickly forced her eyes to engage his face.
"I'm sorry, am I disturbing you?" she asked, twirling the plastic handles of the bags she carried around her wrist trying desperately hard not to objectify the amazingly half-naked Adonis in the partially opened doorway. Suddenly, she felt a pang of jealousy.
...
Rick heard the knock at the door as he wrapped the bath towel around his waist and thought it was the pizza he ordered. He grabbed his wallet and took a couple of bills from it and headed for the door. He was pleasantly surprised when he saw his guardian angel once he opened the door.
"I was expecting a pizza." He replied with a crooked smile and opened the door wider displaying the empty room and the undisturbed bed to answer her question. "Care to come in?" he asked.
"I really shouldn't. When I drove past Walmart it occurred to me that unless your friend brought you clothes or you arranged with housekeeping to wash and dry your clothes you really wouldn't have anything to wear tomorrow, so I brought you these." Michonne rambled on as means of an explanation extending her hand and offering the bags to him, but instead of taking them, Rick retreated further into the room forcing her to enter.
"Would you mind closing the door behind you? It's chilly out there and the hot water here doesn't amount to much."
Michonne entered the room and closed the door behind her and Rick stared at her because, for the first time, he was truly able to appreciate her beauty from head to toe. Gorgeous dreadlocks crowned her head and fell shoulder length. Her eyes were soft and warm the colour of molten chocolate, her cheekbones a make-up artist's dream, and her lips—her luscious full heart-shaped lips looked silky soft. He subconsciously moistened his lip wishing he could taste hers.
She wore a red poncho-style raincoat over what he presumed to be a royal blue dress which fell mid-thigh exposing long toned mahogany legs in black heels.
He heard her cleared her throat and realized he had been ogling her.
"I'm sorry," he added nervously, his face slightly flushed like a schoolboy being caught staring at a beautiful girl. "So, you've managed to rescue me twice in one night? It's becoming a hazard, but it's nice to know that someone's watching over me." He teased, reaching for the proffered bags.
"They say once you've saved a person's life you're—" but before she could finish there was a knock at the door.
"Hold that thought," he added and threw the bags onto the bed. "Sorry. Pizza."
Rick walked towards the door eager to get rid of the intrusion. He opened the door to find a blonde, blue-eyed woman staring back at him with her mouth agape. She held the insulated pouch in her hand but failed to open it to retrieve the pizza she carried.
"Er, the pizza," he stated, redirecting the woman's attention to the pouch in her hand.
The dazed woman fumbled with the pouch and dropped it. She stooped down to retrieve it but her nervous hands failed her.
Rick stooped down, opened the pouch and retrieved the box containing the pie and shoved the money on the woman.
"I'm sorry about that." The woman stood and apologized and offered him his change.
"Don't worry about it," Rick added and slammed the door in her face.
Michonne who sat on the edge of the bed witnessing the entire debacle cackled.
...
Rick noticed his guardian angel had made herself comfortable. She had removed her coat which she draped over a chair and her handbag sat on the small desk. She looked regal sitting on the corner of the bed in a white silk long-sleeved blouse and a royal blue skirt.
"Somethang funny?" He asked, his southern drawl oozed with his annoyance.
Michonne laughed once more at the sight of him with one hand holding the towel in place and the other carrying the pizza box.
"What exactly did you expect when you opened the door wearing only a towel?"
"It didn't seem to have the same effect on you."
"What can I say, I'm not thirsty!"
"I see. Are you at least hungry?"
"I'm always hungry." She smiled knowing he either willfully misinterpreted what she said or he just missed it altogether. The fact he had no idea the effect he had on women was endearing. It made him that much hotter.
"So, do you have a name? If I'm to break bread with you, I think you at least owe me that much," he argued.
"It's Nikita."
Rick sat the pizza box on the nearby desk and turned to her with a cocked brow. Both statements were contradictory. She loved food but she looked like empty calories never touched her lips and her name, Nikita, she looked anything but the images the name conjured for him. There was a lie in there somewhere. He needed more information in order to suss it out. He took the bags from the bed and looked at the items: a navy blue heavyweight cotton tracksuit, Jockey boxer briefs, running shoes and socks but no invoice.
Confused by his look Michonne asked, "What? Is something wrong?"
"How much do I owe you, Nikki?"
"Nothing. Just a part of my responsibility as I was saying before the incident at the door."
"I can't accept this gift. It's too much. We'll have to work somethang out that I can live with." He added and moistened his lips.
"It's not that complicated, just say, thank you!"
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