Recap: Rick discovered that a man by the name of Negan could be a possible suspect in Ed Peletier's murder and that same man might be from his old ZA world. Later that night, Rick broke the news to Lori that he wanted a divorce.

Chapter Thirteen

Tuesday

Anytime the door rang at the Grimes' home well past visiting hours, Rick and Lori knew it was their friend, Shane Walsh behind that ring. Lori would start pulling out the spare comforter, pillows, and sheets while Rick went downstairs to see what kind of state Shane was in. Shane was usually only in two; stupid drunk or paranoid. And most of the time it was the latter; paranoid Shane looking for sanctuary in the Grimes' home because a pissed off lover transformed herself into Claude Frollo.

This time, though, it was Rick who knocked on Shane's door after an hour of back and forth debate with himself on the merits of just paying for a motel. But, being alone with his jumbled thoughts and fragmented memories made the option of staying with Shane more favorable.

"That's your fourth beer, how bout' you pace yourself," said Shane.

Defiant, Rick stopped to open that fourth beer and chugged the alcohol down his throat.

"Imma have another one," said Rick, crumpling up the can. A smug smile planted on his face.

"Oh, I forgot we've been reversin' roles for the past week." Shane's annoyance gave Rick small satisfaction.

"If this your way of gettin' me to change my ways, it worked buddy," he continued.

Rick stood at the kitchen's archway, clutching another cold beverage and fighting off sleep, he didn't believe that Shane change at all, but instead was on his best behavior trying to win Rick's love again despite not knowing what made him lose that love in the first place.

Rick sat down in the chocolate leather armchair, nursing his beer and looked unseeingly at the Atlanta Braves go into the ninth inning with the game tied up against the Philadelphia Phillies.

No call from her.

There were hamsters running on their wheels inside his head.

She could be in danger.

His mind was on edge, hating the feeling of not knowing where Michonne was and how she was doing turned knots in his stomach. He wanted to hear her voice because it was the beacon he needed when he felt lost. And he was lost.

"You okay, man?" Rick's eyes met with Shane. He wasn't okay, he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Just a lot on my mind," Rick replied. He leaned his head back onto the seat, closing his eyes and replaying his last moments with Michonne. I should have made her stay, no better yet I should have gone with her.

"I know you don't want to hear my mouth utter her name, but what happened between you and Lori?"

Rick's lips slightly upturned, he was on the brink of laughing at his poor choices. He brought a hammer of bad news down on Lori and then left her on the porch crying her eyes out. Rick fumbled hard and he didn't think he could blame her if Lori hated him forever.

"Lori and I are—." Rick's words were cut short when a rock crashed into Shane's window, shattering the window, and landing on the couch beside him. Both men jumped up, Rick dropping his beer and pulling out his colt.

"Come out here, you son of a bitch!"

Rick's heart thumped loudly in his ear as a woman screamed obscenities outside on Shane's yard. Soon realizing that it wasn't Lori, Rick glanced at his friend, who looked uneasily out the window.

"SHANE!"

Confused, relieved, and now amused, Rick watched Shane quickly move away from the windows, scurrying past him and turning the lights off.

"Don't you think it's a little too late for that?" Rick asked, he holstered his colt and stood to the side of one of the windows. Since the lights were turned off, Rick had a better look at the wrathful woman.

She was pacing up and down the lawn, another rock in her hand. She would raise her hand to throw it, stop, lower it, and then continued to pace. Rick squinted, recognizing she was the waitress from the other day. And then the dots started to come together in his mind; she was another victim of Shane's immaturity.

"She still out there?" Shane asked, coming up from behind him.

"You lying piece of shit, get out here, NOW!"

Rick looked over at Shane and shrugged, "There's your answer." Moving back to his seat, Rick picked up his spilled beer and turned the TV off while Shane replaced him at the window. Is there ever a dull moment with him? Rick poured the rest of the beer down the drain and tossed the can into the garbage. His eyes scanned over the dirty dishes and clutter kitchen counter tops until he saw the paper napkins. Grabbing a bunch, Rick headed back to the living area and tried to soak up the alcohol he spilled.

"SHANE!" The waitress yelled.

Rick frowned and rested his arm on his knee, "Are you going out there or you going to make Kyle back at the station come down here and arrest her?"

"Rick if you can go out—."

"Naw," Rick soaked up as much liquid as he could until the carpet was damp and stood up. "I've got my own mess to sort through, man up, Shane." Rick went back to the kitchen as he heard the front door open and then close.

Throwing the soiled napkins away, he wondere d if one day Lori would show up at whatever place he lived and throw rocks through his windows or worse, maybe even try to attack Michonne. He shook his head, ridding those thoughts from his mind while Lori attacking him tonight was surprising, he knew she wasn't that kind of woman. Rick touched the scratch Lori left on the side of his face, scabbed over and in the process of healing.

The front door slamming shut interrupted Rick's heavy contemplation.

"Crazy bitch!" Shane walked into the kitchen, wiping his eye. "She s pat in my face," he said. Shane's jugular vein twitched underneath his skin, Rick moved over so that he could have access to the sink.

"What did you do to her?"

Splashing water on his face, vexed, Shane shot Rick a look, "Man… I did the right thing, telling her I was done instead of going behind her back and pretending she didn't exist." Shane rubbed his wet hands through his hair and sighed heavily. "You know what?"

"What?" Rick folded his arms and leaned his butt against the counter.

"I'm tired of this town," Shane's shoulders slumped. He sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and put his head in his hands.

Rick's eyebrows raised.

"Don't look at me that way man. I've come to realize that there ain't nothing here for me, nothing I can call my own."

"You've run through all the single and some married women in town and now you ready to go? What about your work here?"

"With a recommendation from Sheriff Watson and you, I'll be working for the Atlanta PD in no time."

Rick stood straight up, his hands resting on his hips. "Atlanta?" The eerie coincidence that Shane wanted to pick up and leave King County and go to Atlanta just like Rick wasn't lost on him.

Shane grinned, "I met this girl—woman over the weekend. Stunning, sexy, and smart."

"She knows how to turn the lights off?" Rick quipped.

"I bet she does. We talked the whole weekend and not once did I think about wanting to take her home and screw her."

Rick looked at Shane in disbelief. His friend's eye gleamed with delight like a kid in a candy store.

"Okay, maybe twice," Shane continued, his sly grin widening. "She's different. I can't stop thinking about her, she's been on mind constantly and all I want to do is make her happy. You know what I mean?"

Rick knew exactly what Shane meant, it wasn't long after they met that Rick started yearning to do things for Michonne that he knew would make her happy. Sometimes he wasn't aware of it like making a decision that would affect the people he was leading was mostly done for her happiness. And sometimes he was aware, like grabbing mints when a crate of toothpaste Michonne wanted, sunk to the bottom of the lake. Even now, he created scenarios of all the possible ways he would make Michonne happy when he saw her again.

"What were you going to tell me before that psycho broke my window?"

Lori. I can't make her happy anymore. And I don't care. Even after Lori's death in his old world, Rick could never pinpoint the moment he stopped being a source of happiness for her. Lamenting on the what ifs over and over again until his heart grew exhausted. Now, he was given a second chance, no, a third chance yet a wave of indifference was coming at him, ready to sweep him off his surfboard of marriage and drown him. Rick just didn't care, he loved Lori, he would never stop loving Lori, but he was no longer in love.

Rick rested again on the counter, ready for bed, ready to seek out Michonne and start anew tomorrow, but first, he decided that there was no point in keeping this news from Shane. He'll find out anyway, but for the sake of their friendship, Rick wanted Shane to hear it from him.

"Shane, I'm divorcing Lori."

Muggy hot air that made everything stick to you like second skin greeted him when Rick stepped out of the car. Rick and Shane stood in the parking lot of King County police station, Shane with the intentions to start a day of work, Rick with the intentions to take a leave of absence. After a short talk with Shane about his fight with Lori and giving short answers as to why he was leaving Lori, Rick didn't sleep much. His body was tired, even now, his eyes dropped, but his brain wouldn't shut off.

"I don't remember it ever being this hot," Rick said, closing the door.

Shane rested his arms on the roof of the door and whistled, "Look behind you. I think I found the source."

Rick turned as Carol walked out the station, he expected her to throw him a dirty look and head towards her car, but instead, her face was pensive as she walked towards him.

"I'll be inside," Shane said. And then he looked at Rick, smirking, "I would stay and bail you out, but you gotta man up!"

Rick rolled his eyes, he stood up straight and mentally prepared armor around him for another encounter with Carol. He was confident that he knew her in his other life and despite details still muddled in his mind, he was equally confident that in the other world their relationship was also complicated.

From the corner of his eye, Shane grabbed his gear and headed into the station. It was just Rick and Carol standing awkwardly several feet apart from one another. They stared at one another, silently waiting for the other to speak first. Carol wore another long sleeve shirt still covering up the bruises that had yet to heal from her last encounter with Ed.

"Is everything alright with Sophia?" He asked with a quiet voice, hoping that his question won't set her off into another tirade against him.

Carol's face was a face of grievances unspoken and burdens that have gone unprotected. But there was also a spark of defiance, a will to not submit to a destiny of misery. "She's fine. I came to sign some forms and to speak with you."

Rick's eyebrows furrowed and then released, "Is Morgan not in yet?"

"I need to speak with you. It's about Negan."

Rick took a step forward, "You knew he was giving Ed money? Sophia said he came to the house one day, did Negan threatened him? Has he harassed you?" Rick fired off the questions rapidly, one after the other.

Carol moved back from Rick, holding her hand outward in a stop gestured, "I don't want to be interrogated, I came to tell you that Negan isn't your suspect." Her eyes downturned for only a moment and then she looked Rick in the eye, "He's the only one who's given a damn about my situation."

There was a thickness in Rick's throat, he had an urge to dispute that assertion, but what right did he have to take offense to her statement?

"Negan has been giving me money behind Ed's back. The banks statements you read were to an account he helped set up for me," she continued.

So many thoughts and questions poured down in Rick's mind like heavy rain, he tilted his head and cleared his throat. "How do you know him?"

"When it got bad between Ed and me, I would take Sophia to a shelter in Atlanta. Negan worked at a dealership across the street and volunteered often there."

"How long have you known him?"

"Almost a year."

Rick shook his head and turned slightly away from Carol. This can't be the same guy, a year? Rick searched through his mind, hoping to jargon up another memory of Carol or even Negan from his other life. Carol's story felt alien to reality.

"Negan came to your house, why?"

"I don't know, maybe because I wasn't able to speak to him for weeks. I think he wanted to make sure I was okay."

Rick faced her again and studied her features, looking for any nuances in her face that would give away a lie.

"Did you ever ask Negan to take care of Ed, for good?"

Her eyes widen with alarm, "No!" She said. "Negan giving me money was part of the plan to leave Ed. Negan even offered to help me retain a lawyer, he's not a murderer." Her voice was calm and polite, but he could feel her hard, accusing glare.

Rick ignored it, "I need his contact information, and you may not believe he's a suspect, but we need to speak with him and officially cross him off our list."

Contemplative, Carol stared off to the side, every now and then a lonely vehicle would pass by the station. For a moment Rick thought she would ignore his request until she opened up her purse, got out a pen and a scrap piece of paper and scribbled something on it.

"He's a good man," she said, handing him the paper. This time, the conviction she had earlier was lost in her tone.

A number and an address in Atlanta was written on the paper, Rick nodded his head and slid it into his pocket. "Thank you for coming to me."

A long pause was caught in between them, Carol picked at the long sleeve shirt she wore. It saddened Rick that Carol would rather suffer in the heat than show the physical proof of Ed's abuse.

"I'm sorry," she said. Her voice barely above a whisper. "For accusing you in front of your colleagues, I wanted someone to blame and I was still angry about what you did the day before."

"I understand."

Carol gave Rick a terse nod and a weak smile, turning on her heel she walked to her car. He didn't think that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship but was relieved that they weren't at odds.

Since it was Tuesday, most of the officers and employees were lounging around desks and the watercooler and a few sluggishly working on whatever tasked they were assigned to. The only one that appeared to be hard at work was Morgan. Rick saw him in a room that was once used as storage space, now transformed into Morgan's briefing room. Morgan walked back in forth from a board to a desk with papers and photos in hand. Sometimes he would stop, a frown etched on his face, arms folded with his finger rubbing against his lips, and studied the board. Rick's accusation that Morgan wasn't taking Ed's murder case seriously, seemingly proving false.

"How are you this morning, Detective Grimes?" That sweet voice belonged to Jenny Jones who stood by Rick's side. In her hands were a picnic basket and a big jar of what Rick assumed was sweet tea.

"I'm doing well, ma'am. And you?"

She nudged him in the side, "I told you to call me Jenny. You're making me feel old," she said, chuckling.

"My apologies, old habits die hard."

"I understand. And I'm doing well too, I figured I drop by and see where my husband will be spending his days and nights at from now on and to bring you two lunch."

Rick shook his head, "Oh you didn't have to do that. I'm not staying."

"Is Morgan working your nerves?" Jenny asked.

Rick shrugged, amazed at how correct she was despite it being a joke. "You can say that," he said, breaking into a small grin.

Jenny had an aura of cool surrounding her, she looked to be a tell-it-like-it-is woman with a soft touch. And when she laughed, she laughed with her whole body, her hair bouncing freely around her shoulders. She was a woman who enjoyed life, but if it was time to go she wouldn't hold onto it.

"Same. Switching careers and moving was a big step for him, for us. I think he just wants to make a good first impression and unfortunately that will be judged by how well and fast he solves this case." She gently elbowed Rick's arm, again, and looked at him with amusement in her eyes, "But that isn't an excuse if he's being a, excuse my French, jackass."

"He's not," Rick lied. "But, like you said a murder like this has never happened in a town like ours, so the stress isn't a surprise."

"I don't think Morgan planned on a sleepy town like this being stressful. I don't think he planned at all. Just woke up one day and decided we needed a change in our lives."

Rick turned to Jenny, "Morgan just randomly out of the blue wanted to quit the FBI?"

"I'll let him tell you the whole story, but that day was," she laughed softly. "Weird, but nice. He acted as if I died and came back to him. Been a changed man since. I think that was when he started telling me these stories about you."

Rick tried to control his face in order to make sure Jenny didn't see that her words put a knot in his stomach. 'You wouldn't understand' is what Morgan told him yesterday. Rick turned back around, he spotted Morgan walking out of the backroom and then Shane coming up from the rear.

More questions were added to an already gigantic pile of questions he wanted to ask Morgan, but Rick decided to ignore them for another day. The most pressing matter was heading to Atlanta to find Michonne and he now had an excuse. Excusing himself from Jenny, Rick motioned to Morgan to follow him to a semi-secluded area.

"Carol stopped by, we spoke outside and she told me how she knows Negan," Rick watched Morgan perk up and nod his head, staring at Rick intently. The indifference he showed yesterday, gone. Rick shared with Morgan everything Carol told him, the money, her friendship with Negan, and Negan's contact information.

"We should head up to Atlanta, ask this Negan guy a couple of questions. What do you think?" Rick asked. Morgan's stoned face soften, his eyes twinkled when he looked Rick in the eye and he broke into a grin.

"If I say we should wait, are you going to listen?"

Rick gazed over his head, his true intentions laid out like a gutted fish for Morgan to see. "No," he said, shaking his head.

"I called Michonne's office about an hour ago, a secretary picked up and said she was sick."

Rick's stomach churned, besides her hand, Michonne was healthy when he was with her not even 48 hours ago. How could she be sick?

"I was given a number to contact Michonne's assistant, Christie, for any questions about her trial. And—."

"Christie?" Rick—in a daze overhearing Michonne and sick in the same sentence—didn't notice Shane standing just a mere foot from Rick and Morgan. Rick blinked and then frowned, feeling as if he wasted precious minutes by not asking Shane more questions about his new girl.

"I need to call your… girl." Rick moved behind Morgan, holding out his hand and expecting Shane to give him his phone in a speedy fashion.

Instead, Shane clutched his pants pocket, protectively, shielding it from Rick's view. "Why?" His eyes darted from an exasperated Rick who looked ready to punch him in the face again to an inquisitive Morgan, patiently awaiting Rick's reaction.

"I need to get in contact with the lawyer she works for?"

"Well, I can call her."

Rick felt if he rolled his eyes any harder, permanently stuck to the ceiling will be where they stayed. Whipping out his phone, Shane made the call to the stunning, sexy, and smart woman he wanted to pick up and leave King County for.

Rubbing his hand through his hair, a grin rippled across Shane's face. "Hey beautiful," he said quietly. Viewing Rick's puzzled expression, Shane's grin grew wider.

Rick stood astonished, seeing genuine happiness from Shane was a strange sight to him, but then like lightening, Shane's smile was erased, replaced with a deep frown.

"How do you know my friend's name? Shane's eyes cut over to Rick and then back to the ground as he listened to Christie on the other line. "What do you mean it doesn't matter? Christie?" Shane then stalked towards Rick, irritation etched on his face and handed the phone to Rick. He didn't wait for Rick to have the phone securely in his hand before he stalked back to his seat.

"Hello?" Christie's voice was soft and almost child-like.

"Hi, I'm Officer—."

"I know who you are," she sighed heavily into the phone. "I am going to so regret this."

"Is Michonne with you? Is she in trouble? Why hasn't she called?"

"Jesus, dude. She's not with me, she's kind of in trouble, and she hasn't called because she can't."

She's kind of in trouble was not what Rick wanted to hear. Pacing in a circle, he rubbed his eyebrow trying to keep his worse thoughts at bay. "Did Mike hurt her? Tell me where she lives."

"Look," Christie said. She sounded unfazed by Rick's frantic questions, "The rational part of me is wanting to tell you to leave Michonne the hell alone and that this weird connection, fling, ugh, I don't really want to know, should end. But, my instincts say that if you're here maybe she'll see the forest from the trees and get her shit together."

Rick's face tighten, "Christie, I need to see her, I need to talk with her, please?"

Rick really wanted to tell her it was none of her business, that she didn't have a right to dangle Michonne's whereabouts over his head, but he also knew that if he was in Christie's shoes, he would do the same thing.

"Come to Atlanta tomorrow."

"Tonight."

"Tonight. Tomorrow. I don't really care. Just meet me at Rositas, there is only one in downtown Atlanta. When you get here, text me and I'll give you the time we can meet."

Jumping through hoops just to see Michonne. Rick was tired, but he thought about their future. A future without walkers, where they can raise a family without fear. The only downfall was dealing with exes and judgmental friends and he could face those things with a smile on his face.

"Fine," he said, reluctantly.

"Michonne's fine by the way, so you can stop shitting your pants," said Christie. "See you later." And with that, Rick heard the click that ended the call between them.

"Rick?" He turned around and faced Morgan who still hadn't left his spot and most likely heard the entire conversation. "I'm going to stay here, you can follow the Negan lead in Atlanta." Rick nodded, Morgan grabbed Rick's arm and pulled him in closer. "Promise me, you'll focus on this case while you're there."

"I promise."

Morgan slowly nodded, "I'm going to call the Atlanta folks, let them know you're coming. They're probably not going to be too helpful considering they think their case is all solved up. Take care."

Morgan held out his hand, their short, yet complicated relationship making tiny steps towards improvement for now. Rick shook his hand and gave Morgan a nod of gratitude.

Rick walked to Shane's desk and placed Shane's cell on the table. Without glancing up, Shane put it in his pocket, his sour mood emanating from his face.

"I owe you a punch in the face," Shane muttered.

Rolling his eyes, Rick sighed, "Can we take a raincheck on that? I'm heading out."

Shane stood up quickly making Rick take a step back. His jaw clenching, Shane stepped towards Rick, getting right into his face. Rick's fist tighten if Shane wanted a drag-out fight right here in the station, Rick could oblige him. The two men stared at one another for what felt like an eternity until Shane's face relaxed, he smiled and then broke into riotous laughter.

"You should see your face," Shane said in between laughs.

Rick nodded his head, eyebrows furrowed, and softly chuckled. "I said I was sorry about the other day."

Patting Rick on the back, Shane picked up his bag and swung it over his shoulders. "I'm coming with."

"No." Shaking his head, Rick headed towards the door, his feet walking faster than usual. But, Shane was right on his rear.

"You can't stop me, now we can really fight it out, but it'll just be a waste of both our time. Rick?"

Just outside the station, Shane grabbed Rick's arm, forcing him to stop. Rick snorted, impatiently, the morning was turning to the afternoon and at this pace, he would be arriving in Atlanta later in the evening.

Shane huffed and shifted back and forth on his feet. "I wasn't kidding last night. I'm going with you to see my girl and to start looking for a place. I won't get in the way of whatever you're doing, although, just last week we were partners."

"Yeah… whatever." Rick didn't have the energy to argue and bringing Shane along for the ride could prove useful.

The Watsons' property was twenty acres of lush greenery with a private pond and surrounded by thick forest. Lori's childhood home was a grand two story colonial-style house with a gray gravel driveway that went around the front entrance. At 21 years of age, Rick stood on that driveway with a shotgun pointed at him. Lori with laughter in her voice whispered in his ear that it wasn't loaded and her father was a harmless man. A year later, Rick stood there by himself, pacing back in forth, each step gaining him the confidence to ask that man for permission to marry Lori. Now, he had to face her parents again, not knowing if Lori had already tearfully called them up about their fight last night.

"You coming in?" Rick asked, shifting the car to park. Shane resting his head on the window lazily opened one eye and shook his head.

"I'm going to call Christie."

Rick licked his lips trying to figure out how Shane got himself so quickly wrapped up with this Christie but shrugged his curiousness off. At least he doesn't want Lori. Rick closed the car door and made his way up the stairs. And if Shane does, do I have a right to stop it? The more Rick thought about it, bringing Shane with him to Atlanta was a great idea because deep down, selfishly, he didn't want his best friend anywhere near his soon to be ex-wife.

"Dad!" Rick glanced down as Carl opened the door, grinning from ear to ear. He kneeled down just in time for Carl to come barreling into him, Rick pulled his son into a bear hug, feeling Carl's heart beating fast and strong. Rick would never grow tired of seeing his son happy.

"Glad to see you too," Rick said, pulling apart from Carl only slightly.

"I gotta show you something dad, come!" Carl tugged at Rick's arm, forcing Rick to get back to his feet. He guided Rick through the living room with extravagant furniture, tall windows with heavy pewter blue drapery, Renaissance-styled paintings, and other decorations that screamed 'do not touch'.

Rick never felt comfortable being at the Watsons for long periods of time, the house always seemed out of place as if it was plucked from the 1800s and brought into the 21st century. He was often in awe of how down-to-earth Lori was despite the pretentiousness of her childhood surroundings and parents.

"Is grandpa and grandma here?"

Carl continued to guide Rick through more rooms, "Grandma is upstairs and grandpa went hunting with some friends, he wanted to bring me along, but mom said no."

"Your mom's here?"

"Upstairs with grandma."

Great. Arguing with Lori was the last thing Rick wanted to do.

Carl and Rick headed outside, Carl still clung to Rick's arm as he guided him to a shed.

The shed looked far from an actual shed and more like an extended guest house. Carl opened the door and gestured for Rick to come inside. The room was a boy's dream, 40-inch screen TV hung on the wall, a futon right across from it. An entertainment center with practically every single video game console that was ever made and dozens upon dozens of video game titles. The room included another smaller room which was a half bathroom, there was also a mini-fridge in one other corner and a bookcase filled with comics. Lori's father always talked about how he wanted to build this for Carl, but Rick always said no. He thought it was overboard and while grandparents tend to spoil their grandchildren, Rick believed Mr. Watson wanted to highlight the fact Rick couldn't afford to give Carl the same luxury.

Rick clenched his teeth as Carl excitedly chatted away, showing him all the gadgets and electronics. His pride spurning delightful images of him tearing down everything and telling his father-in-law to shove it. But then shame came along wagging its finger at him, making him come to the realization that all of these things could be gone in a second. That in another world and life, his boy has one eye and far from the kid that's bouncing around with glee before his very eyes.

"This is cool, Carl."

"Patrick's coming over to stay for the rest of the week." Carl sat down on the futon, grabbing a comic and flipping through its pages. Rick sat next to him, he too grabbing a comic from the pile that sat on the floor.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm leaving for a bit, going to Atlanta for work."

"What kind of work."

"Police stuff."

"Does it have anything to do with that murder?" Rick eyed the top of Carl's head, Carl looked unbothered that a murder happened in his hometown.

"Yes, you're not following it?"

Carl shook his head, "Patrick's into that stuff. He said he likes to help his dad come up with ideas for villains in his comic book, so he researches murders and serial killers."

Rick frowned, one of these days he needed to meet Patrick's dad. "You're not allowed to look up stuff like that, you hear me," he said sternly.

"Dad, I won't. I promise." Carl met Rick's stare, his bright blue eyes giving Rick the reassurance he needed that Carl would keep that promise. Rick turned to the comic in hand, it was unlike any that Carl has read before."

"What's this comic about?"

"It's a manga."

Rick feigned interest, "What's a manga?"

"It's like a Japanese version of a comic book. Michonne told me to start with Akira." Rick's head swiveled back in Carl's direction, "She's this nice lady I met at the toy store."

Rick smiled, happy that Michonne and Carl hit it off in this world too. "And she reads mangas."

Carl shook his head enthusiastically, "You should meet her. Mom already has."

Rick's stomach turned, Michonne didn't tell him that she had met Lori. What if Sunday night was Michonne's way of saying goodbye? What if she doesn't want to see me?

"I would love to meet her," he said quietly. He leaned forward, kissing Carl on the forehead. If Michonne wanted to end their relationship, he knew she was the type of woman to be upfront.

"Carl!"

Rick groaned, hearing Lori just outside the door. Carl sighed and tossed his manga on the floor, he stood up and walked to the front door, opening it for his mother. Rick stood up as well, knowing that it was time for him to make his exit. He and Lori made eye contact, he noticed she was still wearing the same clothes from the other day and her hair was pulled up into a tight bun.

"I need you to go inside and get cleaned up for lunch."

"Mom," Carl whined.

"Don't," she said in a harsh tone.

Carl looked back at Rick, his face downturned yet hopeful that his dad will give him a pardoning, but Rick shook his head. "Go inside."

"Fine. Bye dad," Carl said. He trudged past Lori and Rick heard his footsteps until they grew faint.

Now that he and Lori were alone, tension swept into the room, thickening the air. The once spacious room now felt cramp. There was only one way to escape and he had to get past, Lori.

"Did you tell him?" She asked.

"No, I want us to break the news to him." She scoffed, clicking her tongue and resting her shoulder against the door.

"I saw Shane in the driveway, invited him to come in and he pretended to be sleep."

A laugh bubbled at the bottom of his stomach, he wanted to let it out. "I don't know what that's about."

"I feel like I'm the bad guy, the bad guy who doesn't know what she did wrong."

She wasn't the bad guy, he wished he had the right words to make her believe that. "Lori—."

"Is it a crime to want your husband to be passionate with you? To talk, to just be my friend. That's all I wanted from you."

Rick swallowed, his gaze ping-ponged back and forth from her to the floor. He felt as if she was slapping him around again, this time with her words.

"Divorce would have always been the very last option for me," she continued.

"I can't do this anymore," Rick said flatly. He ambled towards Lori, it was time to go, and if he stayed any longer the tension would choke him. Lori blocked the door, her heavy breaths grazing his face, her face tightening, and her eyes growing dark. She started to shake and Rick knew in a matter of seconds she was going to erupt.

"How does she feel?" She asked, tilting her head, biting her lip, mocking him.

"What?"

"Michonne. Is she tighter? Wetter?" She took a step forward, her chest bumping into his and her lips mere centimeters from his. "Does she suck your dick better than me?"

Eyes widen, Rick gently moved Lori back, surprise that she didn't resist. The door unblocked, Rick made his way towards the car.

"Talk to me!"

Her demand was like an invisible hand, stopping him and forcing him to turn and face her.

"You think we can work it out?" Rick asked with a disbelieving tone.

Lori's face relaxed, nodding her head, she reached out to him; hopeful.

"Because I don't," he continued, watching her hope fade.

"Rick!" One last time, Rick turned to look upon her sullen face. "She'll never love you like me. She'll never be me. And when she's done with you, don't come back."

Lori rushed past him, bumping his shoulders and then, this time, Rick was the one left stunned.

Author's note: I want to thank from the bottom of my hard, all of you who have continued, to follow and review this story despite the fact that my updates are never consistent. Thank you, I appreciate you guys so much!