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Powder Pink Soul (Part II)
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Rick waits for Sasha to find a way to excuse Michonne's behaviours. Pathetically, he needs to cling on any word, which validates how he felt before the impressive fall from grace. Rick empties the tumbler of vodka.
The silence stretches between them. Rick can no longer endure the trip down the memory line.
"That's what I thought," Rick finally says after self -imposed torture, "Get out!" He asks with a tone, which expresses the height of his frustration.
Sasha does not move. Despite Rick's anger, she remains unfazed.
"I will leave once I have said what I need to say," She states with calm. "You got it better than she did," Sasha continues to speak even if Rick could care less for what she has to say. "Whatever she did to you, she is doing worse to herself." Sasha's facade cracks, and her desperation begins to slip through her words. "I tried to help...I did what I could, and It's not enough. It barely helps." She sighs.
Sasha begins to search in her pockets, and she pulls a packet of cigarette. She stops to smoke for a few minutes.
"You're part of the problem, and you should fix it." She finishes with a deep breath.
Rick stares at Sasha with amusement and confusion. Did she miss a bit of his sappy story? Can she see what has become of his life since he met Michonne?
"What do you want?" Rick sounds as exhausted as he feels. "I'm not going to sign those fucking divorce papers. When she wants it, she can come to see me herself." He adds with determination. "Now, fucking get out of my home."
Rick stands to leave the room. He does not care to hear more. Shane will handle the mess, which he created.
"Last week," Sasha pauses.
She hesitates on what to say. She walks to pick her coat, and she returns with it. She searches her pocket, and she pulls out the pill container.
"I'm sure these shit are yours." She hurls the container at Rick's chest. "I fucking have to walk with them around because god knows what will happen if she gets her hand on it again."
Rick looks at the pills spread on the floor. He does not react at Sasha's sudden burst of anger. He is exhausted, and he does not want to have a conversation.
"Michonne is strong," Sasha's voice trembles," I don't know if she wanted to...She is fucking powerful. She wouldn't do that." she laments. Sasha returns to the sofa, and her head falls in her hands. She needs a minute to think. She needs a second to breathe. "She says it was an accident." Sasha stops to breathe. "She almost drowned in a bathtub, and she swears she fell asleep." She continues with a breaking voice. "I found her right on time. I know she didn't fell asleep. She was high on this shit." Sasha points at the pills on the floor. "Michonne, she insists it was an accident, but she is fucked up. You fucked her up. Life did worse, and her mother broke her. So, I get it. It might have been an accident, or she might have wanted to die."
Rick stops, and he turns to look at Sasha. He is uncertain of what he heard. However, he is sure of what he lived.
"She left me on our honeymoon," He furiously repeats. "One morning, she woke up and left. She got whatever thrills she needed, and she left. She left." He repeats over and over.
He needs Sasha to understand his anguish. He found the woman who had him head over heels, and she left without a word. She picked her wedding dress, one of his shirt, and a backpack. She left her clothes and him.
Rick kept hope because she left her clothes. Ultimately, she asked for a divorce.
"She left," Rick struggles for breath, "and I fucked her up."
"She had to..." Sasha quietly replies." She didn't mean to leave, or at least, she never planned to leave that long."
December 31st (Two months ago)
When the rays of the sun hit her face, Michonne groans. She hates it when Rick leaves her so satiated that she cannot move. She slept on the wrong side of the bed. Michonne passes her hand on the other side of the bed, and she does not expect to find Rick lying there.
Every day, Rick is out of the bed by five in the morning. He does not matter that he wakes up so early. Rick is as quiet as a church mouse when he is working.
When her hand clasps on muscles and skin, Michonne is surprised. Rick soundlessly sleeps. She moves closer to him to snuggle. Rick whines when she squeezes her cold feet between his thighs.
She hides her face from the sunlight by resting her head on Rick's chest. The rhythm of his heart is soothing. Michonne anxiously thinks at the end of their honeymoon. She has already begun to work on a speech to explain her situation. She wants to tell him about her mother. She thinks of telling how he would have to wait before she makes him the centre of her universe. She prepares to open herself to him.
Michonne is slightly excited to return to everyday life with Rick. She wishes to build a life with him. She wants a routine with Rick Grimes. She is going to stop. Michonne has made enough money to pay for the transplant. She was only continuing to work as an escort because she has to pay for Evelyn's everyday care. Until she can find a donor, she has to remain alive. Daily medical care and assistance cost a lot of money.
Michonne wants to find a job. She has not worked the specific, but she has a plan. Her speech to Rick will highlight that plan. Michonne is happy, and she deserves every second of her happiness. She leaves the bed with a heart filled with joy. She begins to cook breakfast. She never has the chance to make breakfast because Rick is always the first awake. She is not as good as he is behind a cooker, but she can cook a decent breakfast when she tries.
In the middle of her happiness and breakfast cooking, Michonne's phone rings. She runs toward it, and so Rick can continue to sleep peacefully. However, it stops ringing before she grabs it. The screen light turns green, and it begins to flicker. Michonne listens to the voice note. It is a few words, which would profoundly change her life.
"Hi, Michonne! It's Doctor Cruz's office. We have an urgent update on Evelyn's position in the recipient list, and it would be perfect if you could schedule an appointment to discuss the specific. The doctor would be taking his vacations tomorrow. If you can, I will recommend to you to come in the afternoon."
With their night flight, Michonne has to rethink her options. However, God might be on her side with her plan. She does not think beyond the instant euphoria. Michonne forgets to leave a message explaining the situation. She does not write a note to inform him of the meticulous plan in her mind. They should meet in New York. She hurries, and she does not make a bag. Michonne reaches for Rick's backpack. It is the one, which he carried during their wedding.
It contains her wedding gown and his shirt. At the door of the hotel penthouse, she remembers to switch off the stove.
Between the hassle to find an urgent flight and her excitement to see months of misery end, Michonne forgets that she did not write a sweet and loving note to her husband. She always writes a word when she leaves the room without him. Which is why for a long time she believes that she wrote that message.
Michonne barely makes it to the appointment. She anxiously waits for Doctor Cruz's assistant to announce her name. It is forty minutes of a painful wait before she finally walks into Doctor Cruz's office. She takes the same seat, which she always occupies in his office. It is a small and comfortable sofa meant for people like her, who often come to the hospital. The people with whom the medical personal begins to form an attachment.
"Hello, Michonne," Doctor Cruz says, "How are you? How have been your holidays?"
Now looking back at it, she should have noticed the oddness of the moment. Perhaps, she was too giddy to notice that a stern man like Doctor Cruz was wasting time on small talks. He never did it before not even when he announced Evelyn's prognostic with and without a new pair of lungs.
"I'm good, and the holidays..." Michonne wants to shout on the roof that she got married to a man, who she loves. She refrains because Evelyn should hear it before everyone. "They were better than I expect, and yours?"
"I will take them tonight," He sighs, "Quite needed." He has never been eloquent, and small talks are not his forte.
"You wanted to see me about the receiver list," Michonne cuts short the niceties, "Something new, has she made it to the top of the list?"
Doctor Cruz pauses. A silence, which is too long to mean anything good, continues for a few seconds. His expression reveals everything.
"Have I explained to you how the list works?" He asks while being aware that he did a dozen time in the last months.
"There are a few criteria to fill. Depending on the urgency, there is a ranking on the list." Michonne replies.
She has extensively read those criteria.
"Absolutely," Doctor Cruz pauses, "One of those criteria is viability. Will the organ remain viable in the recipient? It's the most crucial point. Organs are rare, some more than the others."
Michonne has already heard that pitch. She could finish his sentence.
"And so we can't waste organs on non-viable receivers."
The choice of words is poor.
"Evelyn is no longer viable." Doctor Cruz says.
Michonne blinks, and she has heard him. However, she has not listened to him. She certainly does not understand.
"We did a control CT, and we always check on the progression of her cancer. This time we found metastasis on different organs and extensive bone cancer. A lung transplant won't help her. She has no chance of survival. We have to withdraw her from the list."
After those words, Michonne is unsure of the nature of the conversation. Something about palliative care and ways to accompany the patient. She must have shed a few tears because Doctor Cruz awkwardly hugs her. It all ends with a "thank you."
From that second, Michonne forgets that she has a plan. She does not remember that she wanted to surprise her husband at the airport. Michonne does not allow herself the luxury to think of her happiness or herself.
Rick is part of her happiness and an extension of herself. Evelyn, Michonne only thinks of her dying mother.
Planning euthanasia is hectic. Even for a merciful and dignified death, there is a list and criteria to fit. The process takes a toll on Michonne, and she refuses to dwell on it. How damage, she becomes with each conversation, she continues to ignore the pain.
Evelyn takes the new with almost relief. She always knew it would end tragically. It is a thing about the proximity of death. If Michonne had listened, she would have known too.
Michonne contacts many clinics in Switzerland. Even death has a price, and the money for the transplant will cover the expense. On the multiple clinics, which she calls every day, many refuse to handle Evelyn's death due to the complicated logistics.
Ultimately, Michonne receives a call. On that odd day, she thinks of Rick for a few second. It has to do with her misplaced happiness.
"The seventh," Michonne repeats as she receives the date for an interview with the euthanasia clinic. "If the interview is a success, she would go through the process the following week." She only repeats what she hears.
It is nothing to celebrate, but it is a victory.
Michonne does not talk about what is coming.
She does not sleep at night.
She barely eats.
Michonne survives day after day.
She does not want to talk about her mother. She plans Evelyn's death day and night. Talking is pointless. What she often does is smoking. She smokes every second. Evelyn is dying from lung cancer, but Michonne's solace is nicotine and a balcony to dangle her feet over the city. Death wishes linger in her mind. She makes it to the following day.
….
…
…
"You have to do well at your interview, mama," Michonne explains as she realigns Evelyn's oxygen mask. "We're still waiting for the other clinic to reply. This is a solid chance."
It is a peculiar conversation to have in an airport. Rick bought Michonne's wedding ring in this airport. She picked his wedding band in the duty-free jewellery shop across from her. Michonne has not removed her ring. Evelyn has yet to ask about the light purple diamond on her daughter's finger.
In the airport, Michonne cannot ignore those thoughts of Rick. Two weeks have passed since she left. She has ignored many calls, Rick, Sasha, and anyone who was not calling from Switzerland.
"I will be back," Michonne says, "I need to head to the bathroom." She adds a smile to reassure her mother.
Michonne looks over her shoulder to make sure that Evelyn's nurse is doing her job.
…
…
…
Michonne wants to call Rick. She is uncertain of how she left, but she assumes her radio silence is driving him insane. In the week, which they have spent together, she has learned that he loves communication. He does not move a finger without telling her, and he expects her to do the same. It is part of his controlling and O.C.D tendency like the shampoo, which he only wants to see at the same spot every day.
Michonne's closes the toilet seat, and she sits. She searches a cigarette in his pocket to replace a missed meal. She lights her fifth cigarette of the day, and she puts on her earphones. Michonne goes through the list of her voice note to find those, which Rick left. She takes a deep breath, and she begins to play them.
"Sweetheart, I'm worried. Please, call me."
Michonne erases the message, and she intends to call after listening to all her message.
"Babe, please, call me." Rick sounds desperate," Fuck, I know you found the pills." Rick sounds guilty.
Michonne erases the message. She found the pills two days after their wedding. She never mentioned it because it did not stand in the way of their happiness.
"Chonne, what did I do wrong? It doesn't matter. I'm sorry either way. Talk to me."
She blows away the smoke. Michonne's fingers tremble. She draws a deep breath, and she attempts to remain focused.
"You don't marry your favourite whore," He yells, and Rick is furious. "Fuck you, sweetheart."
His words do not affect her beyond the surprise that he took so long before he gives into anger. Michonne has learned through their week as a married couple that Rick is quick to anger and even quicker to forgive and forget. She would fix their issues. It would take a bit of grovelling, but she would fix them. She thinks of ways to explain the why behind her irrational actions until his broken voice fills her ear. She picks the edge of drunkenness. From the slurred speech and his endless mood swing, Rick is as high as a kite. Michonne knows when he is on Xanax. Whatever he took is stronger than Xanax.
"I'm sorry...I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Rick repeats more than Michonne cares to hear him beat himself up for what he has not done.
Long minutes of sobbing sounds follow, and when he stops, it pours all his rage into his words.
"You're such a bitch. Fuck you. You're a monster. Come back, please. I will fix whatever I need to fix." He fails to remain angry. Ultimately, he returns to a softer tone. "I know I'm not good enough for you. You're fucking perfect. I'm this broken addict. You're amazing. It hurts, Michonne." She presses pause.
Michonne drains her cigarette. She stares at her feet while tears pool in the corner of her eyes. She inhales until tidal volume. She continues where she stopped.
"I can't sleep, babe. I can't feel, breathe, or eat. If I don't numb it all, I can't work, sweetheart. I can't take it." He is agonising, and she hears through each heavy breath following his confession
"It hurts. I miss you." Michonne hugs her knees.
"I fucking need to work. It hurts, and I can take it. I fucking need it to hurt less. It hurts, and you don't get it. Just come back, sweetheart, and I will be clean. I will stay away from the hard stuff. I don't touch that hard shit, but it hurts. It hurts..." Michonne snatches the earphone.
Michonne sits on the toilet for a few minutes. She feels numb, and yet she cries. In days, she has not grieved. She broke Rick beyond what he can endure. It feels like punishment for undeserved happiness. She cannot clear her head long enough to think. She has endured two weeks of purgatory, and she drags him into her misery.
Rick's pain, which she caused, ostracises Michonne. In her anguish, she rushes a poorly made decision.
Michonne regrets their union. She hates herself for clinging at him. For a few minutes, she allows herself to be selfish. Michonne cries and it is a succession of suffocated broken sound. She endlessly listens to Rick telling her how much she hurt him. When she finishes, she wants to torture herself for ruining his life beyond fixing.
Michonne does not call Rick. She calls her lawyer. She leaves the bathroom to return to her mother's side.
"Are you okay, baby?' Evelyn asks when Michonne remains silent for too long.
Oddly, she is not endlessly talking about the legal aspect of her mother's choice. Michonne has not involved anyone in the process for legal reasons. An attempt to help her mother die with dignity can rapidly become a criminal case where they might judge her for manslaughter. Divorce sounds like the remaining way to protect Rick from more harm, which she can cause.
Evelyn's interview is a success. Michonne does not talk about it, and Evelyn only hopes they will have a conversation. Michonne insists on the legal aspect. She obsesses on legal details.
It is a form of control.
Evelyn's death is three days after the interview. Michonne does not have a week to say her goodbye.
She unwisely uses her three days. For three days, she pretends that Evelyn's death is not imminent. She forgets about her mother's death by legally planning it.
On the third day when she has done everything, Michonne cannot escape it. On that third day, Evelyn asks for her company. Before death, the bravest people tremble too.
The room is a quiet place in the Alpes Mountains. Looking at the window, Michonne notices the thin carpet of snow on the roofs. It reminds her of a picturesque postcard. She absently hears when the nurse and the doctor explain the procedure. She forces herself to catch meaningful words. It is technical with almost a lack of empathy. It is legally complex.
Michonne finds comfort on the technicalities of the laws. No one has to assist with the physical part of the death, or it turns into a crime. Michonne nods, and she slowly accepts to watch her mother commit suicide. She does not want to talk about it.
The pills sit on the bedside. Michonne cannot fetch the water.
It will become a crime if she does.
Evelyn struggles to carry her glass of water. Michonne stares at the bed. It is small and looks comfortable. She has not slept in weeks. The room smells sterilized. The bedsheets are immaculate. Evelyn sits on the bed, and Michonne stands at the corner of the room. She quietly watches her mother swallow each pill. Once she finishes, they wait for hours.
Evelyn taps a spot on the bed where she is going to die. The bed frightens Michonne. She lies by her mother, and she is as frightened as a young child is. She chooses the window side, and she needs the sun to warm her. Cold is nipping at her heart. Evelyn rests her head on Michonne's shoulder.
"Is he a good man?" She whispers.
Her eyes rest on Michonne's ring. The purple diamond reflects the sun on Evelyn's skin.
"Better than any man I have known," She replies with a sinking heart, "Despite his demons, he manages to be a good man." Michonne sincerely answers.
"That's what matters." Evelyn takes Michonne's hand, and she lifts it to display the ring. "He tries to be a good man." She warmly smiles. "What's his name?" Evelyn inquires.
"Rick Grimes."
"Is he gorgeous?"
"He is pretty."
Evelyn laughs, and it is an effortless joy, which Michonne would miss. She kisses the crown of Michonne's head. Today, she does not smell like a drugstore where the medicine spilt on the floor. Michonne nuzzles her mother. Evelyn's scent is the same as in Michonne's youth. Soft citrus and burnt sugar fragrances fill her nose and lungs.
"Michonne Grimes, it has a nice ring to it." Evelyn smiles, and it will turn out to be her last one. Michonne will find out in a few minutes. "You go right back to him when this is over." She uses her motherly tone. Now it is not Evelyn, Michonne's best friend. It is the woman, who Michonne has called mama all her life. "You will need a good man or one who tries. Someone has to keep you happy." Evelyn cradles Michonne's cheek. "I have stolen enough of your happiness." She kisses Michonne's cheek. "I love you, baby."
The sudden silence does not announce Evelyn's last breath. Evelyn sleeps for a few minutes. The coldness, which assaults Michonne's lips when she kisses her mother's forehead, is the first whisper of death.
Evelyn's unresponsiveness when Michonne desperately shakes her is the roaring confirmation of her death. For a few minutes, Michonne holds onto her mother. She clings to Evelyn's cold corpse until she has to allow the doctor to do their job. Michonne holds her tears to deal with the legal aspect of death. An hour and a cause, which she has to sign, lay on death certificate. Death is a complex event.
Michonne cries three hours later. She does not know what she grieves.
She has many lives to mourn.
Michonne cries because she can no longer endure it. She cries until it becomes a painful outcry. She continues to cry until she sleeps four days later.
A voice note sets a tragedy in motions. For the last day, she has held up her soul with pieces of tape. A cigarette here and there keeps Michonne from crumbling. Sasha has eyed her movement with cautiousness. Michonne no longer wears a mask. Time and tears have eroded her facade of happiness. She is a shell of a human at best. She certainly fills empty of a soul.
It is a moment of weakness. A message, which Michonne has no heart to delete like the previous dozen, tempts her.
"I saw the divorce papers," Rick's voice fills the room.
Michonne does not care for how angry he sounds. She feasts on the velvet smoothness of his drawl. His timbre warms her.
"I'm not going to sign them." He continues.
She does not dwell on her sentiment of almost joy. It reassures her that he does not want to take everything from her. Her thumb begins to roll her ring. She likes the cold comfort of the platinum band.
"Not because I want to remain married to you," he lies, and Michonne's heartache engrosses her too much to hear the hesitation in his voice. "I regret the doing that shit. I regret the day when I dumbly fell in love with you." The sincerity cuts through Michonne's wall. "I'm not going to sign them because you want me to sign those papers. It will fuck your life over when you get that man who you care for half as much as I cared for you. You would still be married to me. Fuck you, Michonne."
Michonne does not care much for his anger. It is the hurt oozing from his voice, which echoes on the heart bleeds through the gaping wounds.
Michonne drags Rick's backpack. She only wants her shirt, but under the shoved clothes, Michonne finds the Xanax. She understands what Rick meant. She needs to dull the ache. She wants a clear mind to think of Rick.
She needs a light heart to yearn for him. Michonne wants to sleep. She opens the container, and she picks enough pills to lace a horse.
She draws a cold bath. She throws in citrus and mint bath bombs.
Michonne swallows the pills. She wants a bath to feel better. She wants to scrub the horror of her life away.
After a few minutes, Michonne feels drowsy. She falls asleep, and she slowly slips under the water.
The weight of water is oppressive and pushes her body to the bottom. The cold water flows through Michonne's nose. Her lungs feel as if pearl of iron clogs each alveolus. She begins to drown, and she is too asleep to notice.
Sasha finds her a few minutes too early. Michonne is barely breathing. She sleeps from Sasha's fingers each time she attempts to pull her out of the water. It takes twenty minutes and lungs drenched in bath water before Sasha can pull her out. Another thirty-nine minutes of endless chest compressions, a day of swore arms, and two broken ribs for a month to hear the first coughing sounds leave Michonne's lips.
After several days of hospitalisation, Michonne calls everything an unfortunate accident. Sasha concludes that she cannot help. Rick Grimes is a need recourse.
February 21st (present-day)
.
.
"I'm fine, Sasha."
Michonne does not bother looking at the sound of her door opening. She does not wish to face those concerned brown eyes.
"Do you want to inspect my room again?" Michonne exasperatedly asks. "Are you going seriously to do it every day?" She sounds offended when she hears the approaching footsteps.
"Tell me it was an accident."
His weight makes her bed sink.
His arms come around her waist.
Michonne freezes at the sound of his voice.
She almost combusts at the contact of his delicate touch.
"Rick," Michonne sighs, and she switches her bedside lamp. "Hello," She feigns a disinterested tone.
"Was it an accident?" He asks as his chin comes to rest on Michonne's shoulder.
Michonne twists her neck to look at Rick. She is not good at lying to him. She does better lying to herself.
"I think," She breathes the words. "I don't know," Michonne reflects on Rick's question. "I didn't think it would go that way." She compromises between her belief and the truth. "I may have wished it hard enough." She moves out of Rick's embrace.
"Come here," Rick says as he reaches for Michonne's hand.
"No," She deadpans. Michonne leaves the bed. "Did you sign the divorce paper?" She asks.
Michonne begins to pace back and forth.
"Do you want me to sign them?" Rick retorts.
He leaves her bed to stand in the way of her pacing.
"Yes," She quietly replies, and she avoids him.
"Then It's settled. I'm not going to sign those papers."
Michonne takes a deep breath, and it does nothing to calm her mind. She returns to her bed. She allows her head to fall in her hands.
"Sweetheart."
Rick wraps his arms around Michonne, and she immediately breaks his embrace.
"Sign those papers, Rick," She repeats with growing frustration. "You cannot handle this." She points at herself. "You sign for the fun girl with the pink bubble gum dress. Do you want to join me down the sewer? Sign those papers before it begins to hurt." Michonne is brutally honest.
"I don't need saving, Michonne," Rick calmly states. "You always needed it more than I did. I knew what I signed. I read the fine print."
Michonne wants to argue, but Rick interrupts her.
"I focused on the details. Those melancholic smiles and that laugh, which reeked of pain, I always knew." He insists, "Meeting you felt like staring at an ethereal picture in restless water. I didn't know what your issues were, but I could tell they were there."
"Sign the papers."
"Only when it feels right." Rick agrees, "Until then let me be your husband."
Michonne is exhausted. She has no will or strength to argue against something, which she wants. She allows Rick to wrap his arms around her.
Michonne does not believe Rick will stay for long. When he would face the ugly reality of her, He would leave. It is going to hurt, and Michonne prepares herself for that moment when he does.
He does not leave during the first week, when she clings to him for each of her breaths.
They share a bed because they share so little words. A bed feels like a safe thing to share. Rick sleeps by the window side. She never opens the curtain.
"Day 6," Michonne taunts him. "Six days without going to work." She says as he comes to lie on the side.
"I took an extensive leave."
She does not have an immediate answer. Michonne leaves the bed. She begins to pace. She often does it. She feels caged too often for her liking.
"You enjoy being miserable," She laments. "What is wrong with you?" She asks with growing anger.
Rick sits, and he looks at Michonne. He watches as her anger consumes her. It is flame licking her soul.
"Many things are wrong with me," Rick replies," It didn't matter to you before now."
She looks at him. Michonne analyses Rick. She searches for the right provocation. She searches for the perfect stone to cast him away.
"What is wrong with you?"
Michonne does not expect the question. It overwhelms her. She loses track of her mind. She returns to the bed. She sits in complete silence.
"Everything," She says when he almost falls asleep. "Everything is too broken. My mind, my soul, and my heart," she mumbles those words. "I'm broken. You need to see it. You need to leave before I find a way to break you." She wipes the warm tears. She does not know what broken part of her cries. "Sign the paper, baby." She pleads with him.
Rick takes Michonne in his arms. It is the first contact, which she does not avoid in a week sharing a bed, an apartment, and misery. She stays in his arms until she feels the need to sleep.
"Goodnight, Chonne." Rick kisses her temples.
In the third week, she begins to doubt that he will leave. Michonne continues to hope that he will be selfish. She is already selfless. He does not have to do the same. She carries his burden, and she refuses to share hers.
Rick finds her on the balcony. Her feet swing over the city. Her locks fly with the breeze when it randomly blows. She looks beautiful, but she has never ceased to be through all of the horror going around her.
He picks the cigarette from her lips, and he takes a blow. She cringes at the sight of him smoking. Rick sits by Michonne.
She snatches the cigarette from his hand.
"You should quit smoking while you can do it," Michonne tells Rick as she takes a blow. "This is poison for your lungs. Your loved one would see you die. It kills everything around you." She laments between smokes.
"Evelyn used to smoke like a chimney." She tells him. "Then, it was too late. It did not matter if she stopped. She needed new lungs. She couldn't take a breath without crying of pain. Then the air wasn't free. I had to pay for the air, which my mama breathed. You should not smoke."
Michonne has not spoken about her mother since the eulogy at Evelyn's funeral.
" I had to pay for her death," She bitterly tells him.
Rick looks at Michonne. He takes her hand, and she lets him have it. His thumb brushes the back of her hand. She leans to rest her head on his shoulder. He takes the cigarette from her hand, and he throws it after the last blow.
The next day, he wears a patch. She only takes one because she does not want to ruin his lungs. She begins to eat more as the day passes.
Michonne questions Rick's sanity when he drags her to his lawyer. She almost hopes that he would sign the divorce paper. Michonne laughs because the situation is insane.
"You cannot force me," she yells at him.
He has never seen her so angry. He does not flinch when she shouts.
"I'm fine."
It is less of a lie that Rick believes. She feels better than a month ago. Spending almost two months with him helps. He has not left. She wants him to say sometimes. Other times, she needs him to sign the divorce and save himself from the poison dripping from her life to his.
"He is your husband," Shane says. "He can involve the court."
"Fucking shut up," Michonne interrupts him.
"I don't need therapy." She glares at Rick. "Why do you think you will achieve this? Do I drag you to rehab? Do I comment on how many pills you take?"
Rick scratches his head. He would not have to force her if she cared enough for herself. He would not have to be selfish if she could be.
"I cannot do it on my own," Rick admits.
Michonne looks at him. She stops for a second. Rick and Michonne look at Shane. He understands and leaves the room.
"Sign the papers, baby." Michonne tenderly says. "You think I don't see how bad you're hurting. I see it in every look. You wonder when I will be me. I don't know when it will happen, Rick." She confesses. "I feel dead inside. I don't know when it started. It was before Switzerland. It was before I learned what I did to you. After Vegas, I thought I could breathe again. I think it happened with the first client. I think after that first time. I began to crumble." Michonne admits. "You didn't create this. Don't let me create this." She points at Rick.
He looks like a shadow of himself. It is her fault. When she does not sleep, he stays awake with her. If she spends her night on a cold balcony, Rick would hug Michonne to keep her warm. She took his job away from him. She can see how insane it drives him.
Rick looks exhausted. The heavy bag under his eyes tells a long story of sleepless nights.
"Do you want to hear how well I held two months without you?" He asks her with no intention to share such an ugly reality. "Rick pulls his sleeve. He shows her his arms. I'm only pulling out. I stopped a month ago. You would have noticed if you worried less about how you drive me insane." He drags down his sleeves. "You didn't create this. Cocaine withdrawal did. In the many lists of the things wrong with me, cocaine is out because I can't be high around you. I cannot do that shit to you. So don't do this shit to me. You have power over me, and I cannot help it. You cannot do a fuck about it. Get help Michonne. I cannot do it alone."
Michonne sits. She only wants to set him free. Rick comes to kneel before her. He cradles her face. It is far from the gentle touch, which he often gives to comfort her. He wants her, and Michonne thoughts. She would never again see the lust for her in his eyes. She kisses him. It feels like a first breath. It is painful. It is a need and freeing. She presses her fingers in his skin. She kisses him forever.
He waits for her out of the therapist room. He always stays after making sure that she attends her session.
Michonne leaves the room exhausted.
She returns with less pain. It is a form of insanity to stretch scar tissues until it bleeds to help for smooth healing.
"Thank you," Michonne says.
They are four months into living together. They shared one kiss in Shane's office.
They share a bed every night. They are not intimate. They have not come to term with how ugly their relationship can be.
Rick has stopped using the nicotine patch. He does not smoke. She has a harder time stopping, but she does it occasionally when she needs to glue her soul.
Rick looks at Michonne. He smiles, and she does not know if he is happy. She wants him to be content.
"We talked about you," Michonne tells Rick when they enter his...their home.
"You don't have to tell me about your therapy session." Rick states.
Sometimes, He pries when she comes out of the room bent out of shape. Today, she came out with a smile. He does not have to worry.
"Not with my therapist," Michonne clarifies. "My mother on her deathbed wanted to know if you were a good man."
Rick stops, and he looks at Michonne with a certain curiosity.
"She would love you," Michonne admits." No, she would adore you. I think you're a good man. Slightly rough around the edges but almost too good to be in this mess with me." She tells him. "Shut up, Richard." She presses her finger on his, and so he does not interrupt her. "I couldn't understand why she would want to die when I was ready to give her my lungs." She breathes out the words. "She wanted to die to help me keep my lungs. I was miserable all along, but I would have been worse if I didn't give everything I had. It wasn't enough."
Michonne steps back. She has not been so close to Rick in months.
"Don't give me your lungs." Michonne gently caresses his cheek.
Rick does not respond. He kisses the palm of his hands.
Michonne does not know how a caress turned into a kiss, which led to shedding clothes. They are not ready for sex. It was too chaotic at the time. Her therapist says they need to rebuild a foundation to their couple.
She does not think beyond their kiss. Rick initiated it. Michonne moans, and his forefinger dips in her cunt. She gyrates her hips for more friction. Michonne voraciously kisses Rick. Her fingers run on his back and tangle on the hair at his nape.
He is tender. Rick hesitates, and what he learned of her body during their honeymoon has escaped her mind.
However, Rick still knows how to coerce an orgasm from her. Michonne comes undone quicker than she expects to do. The interlude should end before it becomes to them.
Michonne holds Rick tightly.
She is not ready to let him go.
Rick's lips graze Michonne's stomach, and his breath flirts with the mound of her cunt. His kisses turn into licks when his lips brush her cunt. Rick sucks and kisses her inner core with devotion. She comes harder than the first time.
"I want you," She pleads with him to stay in this bed with her. "Baby, please." Michonne holds his manhood, and she lines it with her parted labia.
He penetrates her with a swift movement. He curses in her ear, and her name soon follows. She understands the effort, which he makes not to come by his rough grip in her arm.
He does not trust for a few seconds.
Their pants fill the room. Rick's teeth graze her skin.
When he gets a grip, He begins to move.
Michonne closes her eyes.
She knows how contained Rick is.
For tonight, she wants the chaos, which their love is. She sinks her teeth in his shoulder. Pain drives Rick's desire. Michonne grabs his chin, and she forces him to look into her eyes.
"I want you," she reiterates. "I won't break." Michonne kisses Rick.
It is rough and brutal at some point. There is a violence, which she needs to glue her back into herself. Rick thrusts harder each time. She ascends when his hand closes around her throat. She enjoys the powerlessness and the trust, which she has in his control. He keeps her hands plasterer on the mattress.
He drives in her with ardour. He chokes her when her lungs carry needs. She moans and grunts. Rick kisses her. He drinks her lust. Her body burns and tingles. Michonne's orgasm is warm like a summer wave. It crushes her as an angry sea breaks the stones at the shore. Rick follows seconds after her climax. Michonne cannot let him go.
Rick and Michonne sleep in an odd position where she desperately holds onto him.
Rick and Michonne bury that episode as they did with the kiss in Shane's office. They pretend to be blind to many things. However, Michonne refuses to ignore the truth on bigger things.
"I have it," Michonne pulls out the pills container. "I thought it was to keep up with work."
Rick chuckles, and she caught him in a lie. He does not know what else to do. He extends his hand to reclaim his pills.
"It is for work," He does not retire what he previously claimed. "or it was," Rick admits. "Now, it helps me think about anything but work."
"Give me something," Michonne asks. "Do you want another broken piece of my story in exchange? This bottle is empty. I found four more. Don't die on me, Richard. Don't you dare do that to me!"
"I don't know how to be complete without my work," Rick admits. "I get anxious when I don't have that little rush. I get anxious when I'm Rick Grimes, son, to my bigger than nature father. It drives me insane when I don't have a big sale to prove that I don't owe my success to a trust fund. I don't want to be like him. I don't want to be the other failure. I can't be the second disappointment. I'm so much like him. The cocaine, the crazy side, it is all of him. I'm like my dead junky brother. If I don't have purpose and focus, I do what he did when you left." Rick begins to hyperventilate. "I panic. My work kept me out of the home when it happened. It kept me out of those looks, which dad would give him. If I can't work, I can't control those thoughts. So what if I take some pills? It keeps me from getting worse."
Michonne did not expect the entire truth.
"I will be fine," She tells him. "There won't be any accidents." Michonne returns the pills container.
Michonne stands on her toes, and she kisses his forehead.
Rick does not stop with the pills. He returns to his work the day after. She wants something similar. Rick Grimes has been her anchor for too long.
She faces the signed paper. He keeps his words. Now, it feels right to end their relationship. Michonne is too good for Rick. He loves her beyond what he can admit.
Eight months into a rash relationship with odd moments, unspoken kisses during certain nights, and sex, which happens when it should not, Rick and Michonne need to rebuild their lives
Rick Grimes is often an asshole. Tonight, Michonne has a taste of it. She removes her work clothes. She is preparing for her first trial in a week. She does not have time to find a new home.
"Rick?"
He does not reply. She searches for him in the house. Rick is at work. Michonne sits on the sofa. She might wait all night. Living and ridiculously loving Rick Grimes is learning to wait.
"You packed my clothes," Michonne says when the door opens.
"I packed my clothes." Rick corrects Michonne. "Your trial is coming in a week." He explains when she raises her trimmed eyebrow in confusion.
"And you want me to lose?" Michonne inquires.
Rick comes to sit by Michonne. He leans to rest his head on her shoulder. She rests her head on his head.
"I don't want to ruin your life anymore." Rick states, "It's not without flaw, but you earned that divorce. I think I have to let go. It does not matter how much I'm in love with you." He kisses her shoulder. "Sign the paper, and Shane will handle the rest."
"Do you want me to sign those divorce papers?" Michonne asks. "I don't want to end this life we share. I don't want an empty bed. I need to know where the bottle of shampoo goes." She gently says. "I need to stop smoking." She scratches her nicotine patch. "I need to tell you that I'm in love with you. I don't want to stop being Michonne Grimes." Michonne admits with a smile. "Do you want me to sign those papers?"
Rick grabs the papers, and he offers them to Michonne.
"Tear them apart." Rick kisses Michonne with tenderness
Fin
After writing the last line, I noticed that Pink bubble gum is a prequel of break-up and consequences. Therefore, If Michonne's devotion to Rick needed explaining here we're.