A/N: Hello Richonners! I know…I'm back so soon. I'm really excited to start my next story. This is a tale of redemption and healing for our lovelies. There will be several chapters. I hope to update often. I hope you enjoy! As always, I appreciate meaningful reviews!

Chapter 1: Hurt

Michonne crookedly parked her silver SUV at the emergency room entrance of the hospital. She barely grabbed her purse and slammed the door before rushing toward the entrance, fear and anger threatening to consume her.

"Ma'am, you can't park here," she heard the security guard yell as she pushed through the rotating door.

She ignored him and marched up to the triage desk, trying to gather herself before speaking. "Excuse me, I'm looking for my son, Kyle Jameson. He was brought in a little while ago."

The blonde woman at the desk did not look up from her computer. "Just one moment, please. I'll need your driver's license and insurance information."

"Yes…of course," Michonne replied, digging in her purse to locate her wallet. "But, please tell me how my son is doing."

The woman finally looked up. "Ma'am I can't tell you anything. You'll have to wait and talk to the doctor." She took Michonne's information and began entering it into the system. "I'll need you to fill out these forms and someone will come get you from the waiting room."

Growing impatient, Michonne snatched the forms. "Miss, please have someone come and get me as soon as possible. I need to know how my baby is doing."

The woman offered her a sympathetic look. "I promise, someone will be out shortly."

Michonne took the forms and walked over to the waiting room. Half of the dark leather seats were occupied. Some people were moaning in pain, while others seemed to be growing impatient from the wait time.

"Michonne, over here," an olive-skinned young woman with long dark hair called to her.

Michonne took a seat next to the young woman. "Lydia, what happened? How did he get ahold of peanuts?" Michonne questioned, trying to remain calm despite her anger with the young woman.

The young woman wiped tears from her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Michonne. I forgot I had peanut butter cookies in my bag…I…I was on the phone and…"

"You were on the phone? Why weren't you watching him? Did you give him an injection?" Michonne asked harshly.

Before Lydia could answer, a nurse came out and called Michonne.

"Wait here," Michonne told Lydia before getting up to follow the nurse through the double doors.

"How is my son?" Michonne asked.

The nurse's face remained stoic as she led Michonne into an empty room. "Mrs. Jameson, please wait here. The doctor will be in to speak with you very soon."

Michonne was confused as she looked around the empty room. The standard items were there…a hospital bed, a leather recliner, a restroom, a small TV protruding from the wall, but her son was nowhere to be found.

"Where is my son?" she asked again.

"Please wait for the doctor," the nurse said before exiting.

Michonne took out her phone as she paced around the room. She dialed her husband's number again. The call went straight to voicemail…

'You've reached Edward Jameson. I can't take your call at this time. Please leave a detailed message and I'll return your call at my earliest convenience.'

Michonne huffed and began leaving a message, "Are you on your way here? They aren't telling me anything about Kyle. Ed, please hurry and get here!"

She suddenly felt claustrophobic in the small room. She desperately tried to ignore the feeling growing in the pit of her stomach, that something wasn't right.

An older white man with short gray hair and a lab coat entered the room. He was accompanied by a slender black woman with a short afro wearing a navy pantsuit.

"Mrs. Jameson, I'm Dr. Moser. Please have a seat," he gestured to the empty recliner.

"I'd rather stand. Please…just tell me where my son is…why aren't you taking me to him?"

The doctor sighed. "Mrs. Jameson, I'm afraid there were complications."

"What do you mean complications?" Michonne asked, her voice cracking as she tried to get the words out.

"Kyle went into anaphylactic shock. His breathing was compromised for too long. I'm sorry…there was nothing we could do."

Michonne felt her own breathing become strained. She couldn't process what she was hearing. She didn't realize she'd fallen back into the chair until the doctor was leaning down next to her.

"Do you need assistance Mrs. Jameson?" he asked taking ahold of her hand.

She shook her head as the tears began to stream down her face. All she could think about was the last time she'd seen her son. It was that morning when she dropped him off at preschool. He proudly carried his Spider-man backpack as he entered his classroom. "Bye mommy," he said smiling at her. His big brown eyes full of excitement at being a big boy attending school.

She heard a horrible wail and realized it was coming from her. Just then, her husband Edward entered the room. The well-built, caramel-skinned man cast his dark eyes on Michonne as he tried to decipher what was going on.

"Chonne, what happened? Where's Kyle?" he asked.

"He's…gone," she wept, unable to control the anguish spilling from the depths of her soul.

"I'm sorry Mr. Jameson," the woman finally spoke. "My name is Patricia Sinclair. I am a grief counselor here at the hospital. Your son has passed away."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Edward roared. "Michonne, what the hell is she talking about?!"

Tears blurred Michonne's vision and the room went dark.


"Shit", Michonne groaned as her eyes fluttered open. Her silk sheets were damp from perspiration. She realized she'd been sweating, which often happened when she had one of her nightmares. They had become less frequent over the past year, yet it hurt no less every time she relived the most horrible day of her life.

She threw off the comforter and swung her legs over the bed. Stretching, she stepped into her slippers and made her way to the window. She pulled back the curtains and peered outside. The bright rays of the sun caught her eyes, causing her to squint. She vowed to make it out there today, even if to simply sit on the porch for a few minutes. She'd been in this house for two weeks and had yet to step outside since moving in.

She walked into the kitchen to inspect how much food she had available. The cupboards were bare, but she did have cereal and milk, along with a few apples, and cans of chicken noodle soup. She sighed and took a bowl down for her cereal. She would have to go into town today to retrieve more food and toiletries.

She sat down at her small wooden kitchen table and scrolled through the voicemail messages on her phone…two from her mother wondering if she'd gotten settled in okay and begging for a return call…one from the principal at Tannon High School, confirming what time she needed to report on Monday…and finally one from Edward asking for a forwarding address to send her things. He still had the same vitriol in his voice that was present for the last six months since she'd asked him for a divorce.

She put down the phone and finished her cereal in silence before showering and getting dressed.


Rick Grimes wandered the aisles of the market, throwing a few items into his cart as he went along. He stopped in front of the frozen food section and rubbed his hand over the scruff covering his chiseled jawline.

"Hi Rick," he heard a soft voice say from behind. He turned, recognizing the clerk from the post office in the middle of town.

He glared at the petite brown-skinned woman, with shoulder length dark curls. "Oh hey…Elaina, right?

"Yes, it's good to see you again. How are you settling in?" the woman asked cheerfully. "Are you receiving all of your mail?"

Rick exhaled. He wasn't in the mood for small talk. "Uh, fine. I'm settling in fine. Thanks for asking…and yeah, the mail is coming in. I appreciate you helping to set that up," he replied, grabbing a few frozen dinners.

The woman trailed her eyes across his body. His worn jeans hugged his bowlegs and his white t-shirt was sticking to his firm chest. Rick averted his eyes, feeling uncomfortable under her stare.

"No problem, it's my job. Well, I'm glad you're settled. Umm… if you ever want a homecooked meal, you are welcome to come by anytime," she said, gesturing to the frozen dinners.

Rick guffawed. He hadn't so much as had a cup of coffee with a woman in the past year, let alone a meal. "Yeah, maybe. Listen, it was good seeing you. I need to get going."

"Ok sure…see you around," she replied, a tad put off by his abruptness.

Rick paid for his items then made his way to the parking lot to load up his black F-350. As he walked out, he noticed a woman walking ahead of him. She dropped a box of toothpaste as she walked to her vehicle, parked next to his.

"Excuse me ma'am," he called out to her. She stopped in her tracks, turning to face him.

Rick was stunned by her attractiveness. He hadn't crossed paths with many women who looked like her in his small town of King County or since he'd been in Tannon Falls. Her long, wavy locs flowed down to her waist. Her rich sepia skin contrasted beautifully against the flowy tangerine sundress she wore. A small diamond nose ring sparkled in the sunlight.

He cleared his throat, before handing her the box of spearmint and baking soda toothpaste. "You dropped this."

She smiled, brushing her fingers against his as she took the box. "Thank you. I wouldn't want to forget this," she joked. She stared into his crystal blue eyes, feeling a bit disarmed.

Rick nodded. "Yeah, I guess not." She found his southern twang endearing.

They stood there for a few seconds, staring at one another.

"Well, thanks again. Have a good day," she stated.

Rick nodded again, before continuing to load his groceries.


Later that afternoon, Michonne took a cup of tea and sat on her porch swing. The sun would be setting soon, allowing the temperature to cool down. She admired the quaint cottages that lined the street, most of them identical to hers.

The well-kempt neighborhood was quiet, which was a selling point when she decided to move to the small town of Tannon Falls. The town sat just outside of Savannah and seemed far enough to escape her life in Atlanta…to leave behind the pain exacerbated by the constant reminders of her little boy.

Her and Edward had tried to pick up the pieces after Kyle's death, but every time she looked into his face, she saw their son. It was something she could no longer live with, so she asked him for a divorce and moved in with her mother.

A few months later and she was in this small town, seeking a fresh start, something that resembled a life. She'd been a painter in Atlanta and owned a small gallery. Her partner, Aaron was now running the business there, while she was set to begin her new job as an art teacher at Tannon High. Part of her looked forward to teaching her craft to a few budding artists.

Still, even with the small glimmer of hope that she could actually make this work…the guilt from her son's death haunted her daily. It was something she couldn't escape, even with a year of counseling and a three-week spiritual retreat, both of which were her mother's idea. The guilt remained, along with the pervasive sadness hidden just beneath the surface.

Michonne sipped her tea as a familiar sight caught her gaze. It was the truck from the market. Soon, the blue-eyed man exited the vehicle and began walking to the house next door.

"Hello again," she called out.

Startled, he turned around and met her gaze. "Oh…hey."

"It looks like we're neighbors," she smiled. "Thanks again for earlier."

"Yeah, it looks like it…and don't mention it," he said, leaning against his truck. His expression remained flat.

She got up and walked over to him, extending her hand. "I'm Michonne. I just moved in two weeks ago."

He accepted the handshake. "Rick…I just moved in last week," he replied. He looked into her deep brown eyes. There was a sadness behind them that he instantly recognized. He supposed it mirrored his own.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Rick."

"Yeah, you too…I gotta head in," he declared, a hint of exasperation in his tone.

Michonne watched as he entered his home. Something about her neighbor intrigued her. Sure, he was attractive, but there was something more there…a hardness, perhaps even sadness that made her want to know more about him.

Her curiosity felt a little out of character for this new version of herself. Prior to Kyle's death, she would have described herself as a free spirit…a carefree woman who enjoyed people, art, culture, and life. It's one of the many things that had drawn Edward to her. He was the opposite, a level-headed, often overly serious corporate attorney. He said she balanced him out, made him remember to appreciate the little things in life.

Now, that woman felt like a stranger. She'd spent the last year avoiding connections with anyone. So, her interest in knowing her neighbor felt foreign, but also gave her hope that she was making progress toward rebuilding a sense of normalcy.


A couple of days later…

Rick pulled his truck into the parking lot of Walker's hardware store. He entered the store and looked around. There was a curvy, dark haired woman at the front register. A tall gray-haired man joined her.

"Welcome, to Walker's. Anything we can help ya' find?" the man asked.

Rick shook his head. "Nah, just getting a few essentials."

"Okay, well holler if you need assistance," the cheerful man replied.

Rick walked through the aisles grabbing a few tools while listening intently as the man and woman chatted at the front. When he heard a third voice, he stopped.

"Hey Tim, you're just in time. I got a shit ton of stock to unload in the back," the older gentleman said.

"Sure thing, boss" the younger man replied.

Rick watched from afar as the two men walked to the back of the store. His pulse was racing, anger building in his chest. It was him…the man who had changed his life for the worse. The man who had taken all that he had left in the world. No way was he going to allow this man to go on living his life, like he hadn't destroyed his.

Rick quickly made his way to the register and paid for his items. When he got back in his truck, he opened the glove compartment and pulled out his colt python. He glared at the shiny weapon, the cold metal feeling heavy in his hands. He put it back in its resting place and drove off.


Kaley happily held her daddy's hand as they walked to the car, bouncing on her heels the entire way.

"Did you have a good day at school, baby?" Rick asked his daughter as he strapped her into her booster seat.

"Yes, daddy…but Sammy was making fun of my hair and freckles. He said I looked like Ronald McDonald," she whined.

"Sweetheart don't let that bother ya'. Your red hair is so pretty, and your freckles are adorable. You look just like mommy. You remind me of her every day."

"Really?" she beamed.

"Yep, just as pretty as can be," he answered.

"Daddy, do you think mommy can see us from Heaven?"

Rick felt a hint of sadness in his heart, thinking about his late wife, Melanie who died of cancer a year earlier. Since then, he'd being doing his best as a single father.

"Yes, munchkin. She's looking over us all the time."

"Yay, I'm gonna talk to her when I say my prayers tonight."

"I'm sure she'd like that. Hey, guess what…" he exclaimed, "I have a surprise for you."

The little girl bounced in her seat as Rick drove down the street. "What is it, daddy?"

"Since you're 5 now and a big girl, we're getting a puppy. Do you think you can handle taking care of a pet?"

"Oh my gosh…yes! When are we getting him?"

Rick smiled, catching a glimpse of his daughter's excitement in the rearview mirror. "As a matter of fact, we're heading to pick him up right now. He's a little Bichon Frise. He's fluffy and white and super cute. I know you're gonna love him, baby."

"Thank you, daddy. I can't wait to meet him," Kaley exclaimed.

Rick smiled again as he proceeded to drive through the intersection, elated at making his daughter happy. She'd been asking for a puppy for the past six months, now he was finally giving in.

The next few minutes were a blur. They seemed to happen in slow motion…tires screeching, metal scraping, Kaley screaming.

He felt the car rolling as he urgently tried to reach for something…for anything to regain control…and then everything went black.


"Damn it," Rick grunted as he awakened from his nightmare in a cold sweat. His head was throbbing from the amount of beer he consumed the night before. It had become a nightly ritual for him…coming home from whatever tasks he completed during the day, eating a meager meal, searching Tim Taylor's social media accounts, memorizing every detail of the young man's life…then drinking until he nearly passed out.

Often, he would dream of them…Melanie and Kaley. At times, those dreams were happy, and he would wake up smiling until the sadness hit him all over again. Other times, he would have the recurring nightmare, replaying the accident that robbed him of his precious baby girl. The morning after he would wake up with a renewed sense of rage, building in the pit of his stomach.

He counted the days until he could carry out what he came here to do. It was his sole reason for moving to this little town…to make Tim Taylor pay for what he'd done.


Rick stepped out into his backyard and surveyed his lawn, rubbing his hand through his thick, chestnut curls. There was plenty of work to be done, starting with mowing the grass. He figured he would get an early start before the heat from the Georgian sun made it unbearable. He walked over to the shed and retrieved the lawnmower.

He looked over to the house next door and saw Michonne leaning over a patch of dirt. It appeared she was planting seeds. He watched her for a moment, her long hair was wrapped into a bun and secured with a colorful head scarf. He was able to get a good look of her long legs, barely covered by her denim shorts. He noticed she was curvy, but fit. Not wanting to look like a creep, he steered his attention back to tending to his lawn.

Michonne was startled when she heard the lawnmower come to life. She stood and peered across to her neighbor's yard. She eyed Rick as he worked with determination, his tanned arms flexing as he moved. His scruff from a couple of days ago had sprouted into a lowcut beard. She immediately decided she liked the look on him. When he caught her gaze, she waved. He simply nodded and went back to mowing.

They both worked in silence for the better part of the morning.

Once he was done for the day, Rick took a rag from his back pocket to wipe the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead. He looked over to see Michonne sauntering over to him, two bottles of water in her hand.

"I figured you could use a drink," she said, handing him one of the bottles.

He looked at her pensively before accepting the cold beverage. "I appreciate it."

They stared awkwardly for a spell. Michonne could tell he was going to be a tough nut to crack. "So, how are you liking the place so far?" she asked, examining his home, which looked identical to hers except for the chipped yellow paint that covered the outside.

He sighed before answering, "It's alright, I guess. Look…thank you for the water, but I still have work to do inside and I'm not really one for small talk."

Michonne was a bit jarred by his candor. "Oh…yeah, of course. I'll leave you to it." She turned and went back inside her house.

Rick chided himself. He didn't mean to be rude, but over the past few years, his social skills had taken a hit. He was a shell of the man he once was…a hardworking sheriff's deputy, a husband, a father…all of that had been stripped from him.

Now, he was a lonely, broken man on a mission. He couldn't let anything…or anyone deter him from it, not even the beautiful woman living next door.

He wanted to know more about her…wanted to uncover the sadness behind her eyes. The man he was before wouldn't have hesitated to draw her in…but she was a distraction he couldn't afford. So, he said what he needed to say to keep her at a distance.

Whatever her story was, it wasn't his concern. He made up his mind about that, even as he thought about her for the rest of the day and night. In fact, it was the first night in a long time that his dreams weren't invaded by his deceased wife and daughter…instead they were filled with images of her…Michonne.