I don't own the walking dead
Prologue: airport break-up & consequences
Rows of empty chairs stand before Rick. Last calls for late passengers clash with the airport's announcements. Her flight has left. The room shrinks around Rick Grimes. A sea of people swarms around him. In the busy crowd, Rick cannot pick the details of a visage. He cannot tell her apart from others.
Scared and undoubtedly desperate, Rick calls his wife, but he cannot reach her. Her phone rings in the void, and his battery begins to die. Breathless, Rick starts to panic. His vision blurs as his heart pumps blood at unprecedented speed. She might have left the country without Rick's knowledge.
There is the word departed next to her flight number. Out of rage, Rick throws his phone to the floor. His blood boils, and Rick cannot bear his thoughts. He needs a semblance of quietness. Anything, which can mimic silence and peace, will do. Rick fails to draw a breath.
The rage is rabid.
He feels sick and disenchanted.
Rick's wife has left.
His mind is convoluted, and his many thoughts carry rage and powerlessness. Rick almost feels insane. The fury eating him is beyond what he can control or hide. His loss is beyond anything, which he can bear.
Rick's rage is part of a problem in addition to the secrecy, which ruined his life. Rick does not know what he needs to do. Tears fill the inner corner of his eyes. With his thumb, he tries to wipe them as they fall. Fazed and lost, Rick stands in the middle of the airport. People fill the place and parade around a frozen Rick.
Reluctantly, he shoves his hand in his pocket. Rick drags out a small plastic container. The yellow plastic is nothing too fancy. He stares at the box with disgust, and he takes another step toward his ruin. Rick opens the container. Pills roll on his palm. The usual amount is two because he long ago developed a habit.
Eager to sedate his mind and emotions, Rick decides to double the dose. The pills, which Rick took early on, have not cleared from his system, and yet, he consumes more drugs. Rick needs quietness, and nothing can offer it to him besides chemically engineered happiness.
Rick desires nothing but numbness, and he does not dare to aspire to happiness. He knows himself undeserving of the joy of any nature. Clonazepam melts on his tongue like cotton candy. He has long grown accustomed to the bitter taste of pharmaceutical happiness.
The rage fades quickly, and there is no euphoria to replace. How could Rick find happiness on such a day? High like a kite, Rick still has enough mind to suffer. The pain is sharp and piercing Rick's heart.
One more pill should suffice to silence every emotion and more as well Rick hopes.
Another dose could kill him as well. His heartbeat might cease.
Does he care? The response is unclear or perhaps revolting.
Rick is mentally sane. He is far from suicidal.
He cares for his life.
Rick takes another pill. Luck has it that he survives.
The pain is dulling. Rick's mind is foggy. However, Rick has not evaded reality. He looks around the airport. He helplessly stares at any silhouette, which resembles her. No pill will sedate his soul. Not if she has left. If she has left, Rick will drown in sorrow.
Michonne has left, and with her, she took Rick's sanity and reason to fight the vice, which consumes him. Although, there lies the problem. Rick never controlled his addiction, and he pretended to appease Michonne. Rick lied to keep Michonne by his side. Now after unveiling the truth, Michonne chose to leave.
Rick has lost the love of a lifetime. Despite the pain, he deserves to lose her. He cannot erase her presence from his mind. Rick drags the container out of his pocket. Fortunately, it is empty. Rick draws a pointless breath. Michonne has left, and he will not survive a day without her.
Three thousand six hundred seconds, sixty minutes, or an hour too late, Rick mourns his loss.
Her flight left an hour ago. Time is meaningless.
Rick cannot see the importance of it. He has never used time efficiently. Now, he cannot wrap his mind around that hour, which changed his entire life.
Rick feels numb. He is superficially happy. His heart beats slowly, and his vision is slightly blurry. There is a forced apathy in his thoughts. The chemical sense of content lies like an old band-aid on his broken heart. Rick is intoxicated now. Reality begins to mean nothing, and yet Michonne's memory keeps him from complete delusion.
The tears are cold on his burning skin, and his sobs threaten to break his lung airflow. Rick's thoughts are successive ramblings. There is a mixture of reason and illogicalness. Ultimately, Rick lost the most amazing woman to grace the earth. Michonne is his peaceful and sweet angel. Rick would be dead without her, and he might die even if she stays to help.
Michonne's love no longer suffices to save the day. For the longest time, she stood by him. Michonne took a few hits to bear Rick's pain. She sacrificed her sanity for his delusion. Yet, she chose to leave when she could not endure it anymore. Michonne could no longer witness the violence, which Rick inflicts on himself.
He searches his pocket to see if he can find more pills. Rick needs a semblance of silence. If Michonne saw him now, she will not regret leaving.
Now, Rick is a danger to everyone, and Michonne cannot be an accomplice while he ruins his life and reputation. With time, Rick has ceased being the man who deserves her, and she has grown to want more than souvenirs of love.
When Michonne tried to help him, Rick should have listened. Facing her loss, He begins to admit his shortcomings and wrongs. The shock of her departure clears the fog, which covers his mind. Pain renders Rick wiser, and his reason resurfaces. His artificial joy cannot stitch every wound.
Rick cannot live without Michonne, and Michonne cannot live without him. Yet Rick's marriage cannot continue. Together, they are heading toward a tragedy, which would make the Greek ones pale in comparison. Rick and Michonne's relationship is complex. As their love grows, the end of their relationship approaches.
Every time they argue, Rick pushes Michonne beyond her mental limits. In the end, love no longer matters. He broke the promises which he made to her.
A woman like Michonne cannot tolerate the hypocrisy of his world. He won her heart with dedication and withheld promises, and Rick lost Michonne because of lies and secrets. Michonne found out the ugly truth, and she could no longer stare at it. Rick is an addict.
The drug, the alcohol, and the parties, Rick should have stopped or hidden it better than he did for a year.
Rick tumbles backwards and sits.
He stares at travellers in a hurry.
Michonne's voice echoes around him. His tears are dry, and his heart stops beating. He is falsely content. What he feels through the effect of benzodiazepines is a vulgar insult to Rick's reality. Michonne has left, and with her, Rick has lost what mattered the most to him. Yet, he is falsely content.
He is high enough to reach an overdose. Rick will make Michonne a widow before he makes her happy. Rick undoubtedly knows the truth, and yet he selfishly wants Michonne to remain for as long as he lives.
Their multiple ruptures have cemented Rick in his belief. He does not know how to live a life without Michonne. She is an addiction within a thousand others. Michonne is Rick's salvation. She is his obsession. Michonne Barnes-Grimes is the love of his life. He will cease to love her when he takes his last breath. Therefore, ruptures mean nothing when forever is a certainty.
Each rupture happened to help Michonne, but they did nothing to help Rick. It will take no time before numbness invades his mind, and alcohol may help to fasten the process. Alcoholism, drug abuse, and so much more have ruined Rick. In ruin, he has attempted to pull Michonne down with him.
Michonne claims that Rick has a problem. She never called it what it really was. Ironically, she met him while he was having an overdose. Not the ideal romance and its fairytale encounter, their relationship is one where love is an act of martyrdom. Michonne loves until her heart breaks, and Rick adores until his heart bleeds.
Rick swears that his problem is one, which Michonne exaggerates. In a professional setting, he uses all types of things to enhance his performance or to numb his nerves. His addiction is functional.
Rick is a trader, and the job comes with some toxic practices. He is talented and reckless, though he has become too reckless for the woman he loves. When Rick met Michonne, he was divorcing because he could not love anyone. Yet, he fell in love with Michonne.
Rick was young and reckless at the time. Michonne was surviving her tragedy. It mattered little if Rick needed drugs. Sentimentalism, love, and the need for a saviour mattered more than the practicality of a healthy relationship. Michonne fell in love.
Michonne needed him, and Rick swore he could control his use. At his third overdose, Michonne no longer believes such patronizing lies. Rick is an addict dying from the poison he swallows every day. His slow death is Michonne's torture.
Rick does not want her to struggle, but he is selfish. He needs her, but Michonne no longer needs him. Rick is not oblivious to the hurt, and often he asks too much of Michonne. Despite his flaws, he loves her. It used to justify everything and earn her forgiveness. Now, his love is a pitiable excuse for what it used to be. Michonne is better without him.
Rick does not find the courage to leave the room. He ends up in the corner of an abandoned waiting room. Head in his hands, he waits for the drug to wash over his mind. The airport announcements are a bitter reminder of his predicament.
He quietly mourns his loss. Rick, too afraid to face the loneliness awaiting in their home, remains in the airport. Time flows with the departure and arrival of passengers. Rick remains frozen. His heartbreak eats at his sanity.
The clicking of heels filled his ears. The sound is painfully familiar. The pace and lightness of those steps almost return hope to Rick, but Michonne has left. He is too high to make the difference between his wishes and reality.
Rick senses someone sitting by his side, and he wants to ask the person to leave. Yet, he is too exhausted to care for trivialities. Rick barely flinches when a breath of exhalation brushes his skin.
Strangers could barely bother Rick when he is afraid of loneliness. Therefore, he does not care when the said stranger draws closer.
"Hello," She breathes out.
Her voice halts the beating of Rick's heart. She lays her head on his shoulder. Dreadlocks scratch his neck as she presses her cheek on his shirt.
Frightened by the possibility of being delirious, Rick opens his eyes to stare at the crown of her head. Her loose hair spread on his shoulder like a sinuous river. Rick hopes that the drugs are not palliating his pain with a delusion.
Eager to live in such a fantasy, Rick does not move. He takes in his lover. With her head turned toward the exit and the luggage at her feet, Michonne quietly rests on Rick's shoulder. He knows her to be real after a few seconds. His fingers have slipped in Michonne's hand. She is warmth and flesh. Rick can hold her. Michonne has not left.
For a minute, Rick is silent. He does not know which God to thank after spending so many years adoring the woman before his eyes. He kisses Michonne's hand. Rick silently thanks Michonne. His glistening blue eyes filled with tears take a long time to find her warm brown ones.
Ultimately, he stares at the brown of her eyes, and Michonne quickly averts her eyes. She cannot stare at the reflection of Rick's intoxication.
Rick slowly recovers his senses. His hand is almost crushing Michonne's one. He does not want to lose her. In this empty airport, the love of Rick's life returned to him. Rick does not trust his fortune. He stares and waits for Michonne to vanish.
"You're late." The words reshape her beautiful lips. "My flight left two hours ago."
Rick cannot remember when Michonne's voice brought him to tears. His happiness seems fleeting. Rick does not dare to trust it. Michonne sounds so calm. Despite her calming presence, Rick's agitation does not decrease.
Rick's eyes never leave her, and Michonne's fingers graze his jaws. Her touch is a comforting home. Tonight, Rick needs her caress as proof of her realness. Michonne pulls her luggage to the side, and Rick looks at the offending object. She almost left.
"You're still here," He unconfidently declares. "Are you not, sweetheart?" Rick pursues, and his words are empty of arrogance.
Rick does not feel as confident as he sounds. His question disguises other fears. Michonne nods as an answer.
"I couldn't leave," Michonne confesses.
Ultimately convinced that fate was merciful, Rick cradles Michonne's face. He frantically caresses her visage. He touches her skin until content with Michonne's realness.
Rick kisses her to silence his commanding heart and his fears. He takes away her air, and Michonne melts under his touch. She kisses him with abandon. Offering all her love and devotion in each touch and tongue stroke. Michonne pours her soul in her love. Her kiss carries the violence of her emotions. She quickly grows breathless.
She permanently shut her eyes. Michonne does not dare to open them, and she is afraid of what she may see. Michonne no longer dares to look into Rick's eyes. In the gorgeous sea of emotions, which live in Rick's eyes, Michonne has become accustomed to facing the cruel work of his addiction.
Now, nothing is different. When she meets his eyes, Michonne cannot bear it. A tear forms in the corner of her eyes and breaks on Rick's cupid bow. When the tear wets his skin, Rick knows something is wrong. Michonne cannot bear it. She cannot stay. She must leave to survive.
The pair shares an uncomfortable silence. The words that remain unsaid floats like a threat in the atmosphere. Quickly, Rick has understood that their interlude was not a reunion. Michonne is quietly preparing for a brutal adieu.
"I knew you'd be late…" Michonne speaks when Rick attempts to drag her on her feet to leave the airport
With trembling hands, she wipes the new tears. She will not be going home with her husband. Michonne religiously cleans any trace of tears. She needs to be brave and calm her dithering nerves. Such things must happen with distance from emotions, and yet Michonne is drowning in sorrow.
"I didn't want to be a coward and leave like a thief," Michonne explains. "Or I just didn't want to leave. Well, I couldn't." Michonne admits. "Not again and I know how it hurt you that time. I didn't want to be hurt." She adds knowing what hurt her following words will cause.
Michonne squeezes Rick's hand, and she drags him back to the chair next to her. The pair will not leave together. Rick sighs and looks at Michonne with pleading eyes.
"We can just go home, sweetheart," Rick softly declares.
"I knew you'd be too late," Michonne insists. "You're too late." She sobs at the realization.
Michonne returns her head on Rick's shoulder. She inhales until her lungs are flooded. She breathes until air burns her throat.
She allows Rick's warmth to help her during this hardship. He needs to know, and she needs to understand their relationship.
"You're always late." She bitterly giggles. "You're late to love. You are too late to change. You're late for everything, and today, you're too late to take me home." Michonne retorts.
"I'm sorry," Rick replies. "I'm sorry." He insists.
"Don't be. It never bothered me. You were never too late for me," Michonne confesses. "Remember, I have the patience of the world for you." Her smile is a beautiful grimace, which ends with teary eyes. "It's not too late if I can match your pace. I know everything about you. I waited so long." Three years, she does not mention it, but she waited three long years. "Now…" Michonne does not need to finish her statement.
What remains unsaid is heavy on Rick's mind. Nothing has changed despite Michonne's patience, and the situation has deteriorated. They spent many nights arguing and some mornings too. Rick found many ways to destroy his physical health and her sanity during three years. A slow eternity spent in hell is incomparable to those three years.
"You're tired?" Rick asks with a lot of concern.
The sentence means more than what his words translate. She knows what he attempts to ask.
Is it exhausting to wait for a better version of me? Is it exhausting to hope that I would outgrow the only lifestyle I know? Is it exhausting to wait for this love? Is it a one-way ticket to some hell, which brings out the worst in us? Is it exhausting to love me?
"No, I'm defeated." Michonne confesses. "I love you so much," Michonne declares. "I don't mind waiting around for you," She admits. "But I have lost you through the wait. I lost you, and I'm waiting around for no one."
Despite lacking the right words, Rick understands what Michonne confesses. Michonne's lips wear a bittersweet smile, and her hand continues to squeeze his hand. She moves her head and presses her lips to his neck. Rick sighs, and yet he is grateful for a touch of comfort.
"I have tried …" Michonne hesitates, and the loudness of her voice fluctuates. The words are soft whispers, which Rick cannot hear. She is embarrassed to admit her perceived failures. "So hard...harder and harder each day, I tried." She confesses. "I would try harder if I didn't know how much of an accomplice of this I'm."
"Please," Rick laments. "You…" Rick kisses the crown of Michonne's head.
The silence stretches. Michonne sobs and her tears drench Rick's shoulder. Her pain defeats Rick's stubbornness. To hurt Michonne is to lose all essence of himself. He cannot tell for how long he has not been the man, which she happily loved.
"Holding your hand… I tried. Praying that you do not die on your next overdose...I tried." Michonne gently declares. "Please, tell me you know I did." After a few encouraging caresses, she regains the courage to express herself. "I tried harder and harder, and there is now…"
Michonne knows that somehow he has reached the same conclusion. She wants to say so much more, but Rick understands.
"You did more than try, sweetheart. You gave it everything, Chonne. You gave me everything." Rick, with unadulterated fragility to his voice, responds. "I know…"
Ultimately, he receives the answers to his silent questions. Rick's hands frame Michonne's face. With his thumbs, he tenderly tries to wipe away every single tear pouring out of her loving brown eyes. She kisses the centre of his palm. Michonne places her hand above one of his hands, and her fingers intertwine with his. Michonne drags their joint hands away from her cheeks. She wants to memorize the sensation of his touch.
Michonne's head rests on his shoulder, and she has an iron grip on his arm. She is silent longer than needed, and the young woman thinks about a safe topic. At one point in time, the man by her side was her best friend, and every topic was safe.
The pace of their destruction was slow. The drug uses and the overdose gave the tempo to their life. When Michonne met Rick, he masterfully hid his problems. She was the one with the consuming demons. Pink bubble gum fur on her back, Michonne never believed she would find love in the arms of the man who was dying in her arm.
When they started to live together, she began to notice Rick's vice, but they pale in comparison to what she was battling. Her love for him glamorized the reality of his addiction.
When confronted with the truth, she tried to fix everything. Rick had fixed her, and she made it her mission to return the favour. Superficially, it barely sounds like love. Perhaps, a matter of gratitude pulled them together.
Their love is ugly in nature. Nothing written as the romance to live characterises their marriage. Yet, only a few have loved the way Rick and Michonne do. She is in every crevice of Rick's mind. His heart embraces the rhythm of Michonne's heart. Michonne's joy is a little miracle, which Rick engineered. Desperately, Michonne tried to fix him because she loves him with devotion. However, if they do not desire to improve, people are unfixable.
"Make me a promise, and I will do one of my own." Michonne compromises.
Michonne tries to protect herself from heartbreak, and she struggles while she is shattering Rick's heart. Perhaps, she is unable to go through with it.
"I wouldn't lie to you," Rick retorts. "How would you believe me?"
Michonne agrees. She knows when he lies, and so it is foolish to ask.
"Is it… Is it really ending? How do we end us? Rick, where do we start? I was so set to leave, but you were late." She cries on his shoulder, and she is unable to end their love. "And I didn't want to leave. I never wanted to leave. How am I going to live without you, pretty boy?"
Michonne cannot imagine a minute without him. Rick is the only man, who she has known and loved as she does. He is everything to her. He will always be everything to her. Therefore, how can she imagine the end of such consuming love?
"I am so sorry … I am sorry for coming here, and I am sorry for failing at loving you." Rick does what he was supposed to do long ago. "But you're going to be brave, sweetheart. "
He cannot breathe while his words encourage her to end their relationship. It is a fight of character, but he has to do it. Michonne will never break the circle. She is admirably loyal, and he has overexploited her beautiful soul.
"You need to go. If you stay, nothing will change. I will be the same, but I don't know who you're going to be, Chonne." Rick can no longer ignore the truth. "You're not going to lose yourself again. Be brave, sweetheart."
He witnessed how much Michonne changed over the years. Her smile no longer illuminates a room, and worries have eaten from inside. Rick remembers when he had to save her from her demons, and he may have broken her again. Michonne does not like nor believes in saviours, but Rick will always try to be her hero.
"You're always late…" She repeats to herself. "I can wait a little long for you. You only have to promise, Rick." Michonne begs. "Please...please...Rick."
Perhaps, he is also late in the personal growth process. A few more days to wait or a year, does it matter? Now, their break-up is tangible, and she cannot survive the shattering pain. Michonne cannot leave the love of her life. Although, it means endangering herself. Rick's constant anger and lack of control could lead to more than self-harm. What happens if the next time, Michonne is a victim of his temper flaring? How will she survive the day when Rick does not make it out of the intensive care unit? She loves him so much. Perhaps, she enables some of his behaviours for this reason.
"I booked the last flight of the day, and so I could see you and talk to you. It never mattered. Nothing mattered more than loving you…" Her throat constricts, and she cannot speak. "I will try harder, pretty boy." Michonne firmly declares.
The sobs modify her speech ability. Awkward sounds swallow her words. She takes his face in her palms, and she stares into the blue of his eyes. She wants him to understand why she needs to leave. Yet, she loses herself in hopes. Michonne attempts to convince herself to fight harder.
"You need to be brave, sweetheart," Rick argues. "I'm a lost case, and you know it." He declares with conviction. "You're not a saviour. I like to do this shit, saving people. I need you to stick by the plan. You got your goodbye." He adds with conviction. "Why would you stay?"
"I won't survive on more unfulfilled promises. I will not survive the lies about your sobriety. Another call will disrupt my world. How many times can I sit on your dying side? I tried Rick…" Michonne admits. "Just try with me." Michonne pleads. "One more time," She stares at the truth in his eyes. "Make me a real promise, and I will stay. I will love you with all my heart. I need you to swear that you will be clean."
Rick smirks and the response to her demand stares at her. Rick is as high as he can be without risking his life. The medicine container in his pocket is empty.
"Tell me to stay. Lie to me and promise me that you will change. I will wait." Tears and a different fire brighten the brown of Michonne's eyes. "I will try harder. Just try it with me. Rick swears you will quit, and I will stay."
Michonne's words from a heart-breaking plea reach Rick's soul. Michonne cannot leave, and she cannot let go of Rick. Once again, the danger stops mattering, and her unselfish love controls her reason.
"I would love to lie, sweetheart. What do you want to hear? We've so many hours before you leave. Do you remember the children we wanted? Curly black hair and mischievous blue eyes. As pretty as their mother. Chonne, I can lie if you want me too, but you won't have the life you want with me." Rick says sincerely, and he admits his failure. "You will wake up and find out the lies. Your life will be gone, and I will know what I did." He drags the container out of his pocket and places it in Michonne's hand. "I'm the coward here. I did this to us." Rick squeezes Michonne's hand. "I love you so much, sweetheart." He draws a deep breath. "I know I haven't shown you how much I love you in years, but I love you so much." He claims. "I guess this is the right time to do that." Rick cradles Michonne's face. "Stop trying," He firmly orders. "Stop trying, Chonne."
Michonne shakes her head. All she wants to hear is that he is not allowing her to leave. She does not need proof for a love, which she lives and shares every day. Rick does not need to sacrifice their love for her happiness.
"We can talk about the crazy sex that we're going to have inside the airport bathrooms?" He winks, and she tries to smile. "And when you get pregnant out that mind-blowing sex, you can curse me." He feigns a laugh. "What do you want? I can tell a bunch of lies for you."
"All I want is you, and it does not matter how. I can't do it, babe. That was not why I waited, and you can't just decide to switch roles. Tell me to stay because you need me to stay." She orders him to ask her to stay. "Be a fucking selfish idiot. You have been that for a year. Tell me you can't live without me, and I'll stay."
She has her forehead pressed to his forehead, and she is stealing his air. With Her eyes tightly shut, Michonne refuses to look at Rick while he casts her away.
"You want me, but you don't need me, Chonne." Rick kisses her, and so he can silence her protest. "I need you, but I love you."
Rick will love Michonne until his life ends, and he hoped it would end with her by his side. Sharing his twisted life with her would have been a happy life, but Michonne needs to leave while she can. He understands it now. It is unavoidable.
Rick removes the necklace that he always wears and places Michonne's wedding band next to his ring. He looks at Michonne with a smile on his lips. Rick stands and pulls her away from her seat, and so he can make right by the last promise, which he made to her. Michonne does not resist.
Michonne's fingers carry a different meaning. In the narrow cabin, there is no space between their naked skins, yet there is a sense of distance. The weight of an ending is never too far from their mind. In the desperate sadness of adieu, Rick and Michonne chose to abandon themselves in unrestrained passion.
They caress and grope with eagerness. Each kiss is more demanding than the previous one. Tenderness somehow does not fit the humour. Rick's lips are voraciously devouring the curve of her neck. He presses hot open-mouth kisses on her pulse.
His teeth graze Michonne's shivering skin and travel until her plump lower lip. There is no patience in undressing Michonne. The frenzy and frantic touches serve to hide anxiety and pain.
Rick's lips aggressively recover hers, and the strokes of his tongue demand more of Michonne. They are both famished. Michonne gives her soul through every caress and embrace. On her skin, she wears Rick's fragrance. Their bodies are never sufficiently close.
Michonne matches Rick's passion, and her languishment pours out into her caresses. Eager to free his skin, she pulls on his shirt, and he accidentally presses her against the hard wall. Her back roughly hits the wall, but she cannot feel the sharp pain travelling her spine. Other sorrows torment her.
Rick's hand travels from her breast to the opening of her skirt. It snakes its way around the hot flesh of her tights. His fingers linger on her soft skin, and they reverently caress every inch of her skin. Michonne moans in his mouth while her hand claws on his bareback. She has an iron grip on his curls. Rick presses his salient muscles to her body, and she melts into his embrace. Her body begs for air, but she refuses to relinquish the pleasurable taste of his mouth. Her lips devour him eagerly due to the tormenting thought of future losses.
Michonne only breathes when Rick breaks their kiss. He stares at her and feeds his mind with her beauty. Rick wants to remember her through their years as she is now. Rick wants the memory of her skin shivering under his touch, and her eyes darkening due to a powerful need to have him.
When her mouth collides with the softness of his neck, Michonne stops Rick's contemplation. Her tongue darts out to lick his skin. He groans and lifts her, and so she can wrap her leg around his hips.
Rick's fingers quickly encounter the heat between her legs. He slowly opens her slit and slides a finger inside her. Her core welcomes the invasion, and Michonne's wetness drenches his finger. She moans against his skin. His lips move from her erected nipple to her mouth, and so he silences her moans.
Michonne is too loud for a public place. She kisses him with sensuality and suaveness. Her tongue lazily plays with his. She nips his bottom lip, and he slides another finger into her vagina. She loses herself to his tender touch.
She feverishly unbuckles Rick's pants, and she starts to grind her pelvis against his manhood. Rick removes his fingers and places his cock at the entrance of her cunt. With a lazy stroke, he enters her. Michonne bites his shoulder, and her core grips on his engorged flesh.
Rick thrusts harder with complete abandon, and her cries grow louder and hoarse. The idea that anyone may catch them fuels their passion. Her nails are drawing patterns on her back, and her hot breath warms his skin. He thrusts multiple times, and she almost reaches her climax with each of the perfectly timed strokes. Her grip on him is tighter than it has ever been. He drives her to unknown edges, and the knowledge of future separation inflames their coupling.
In the folly of the moment, thoughts of their honeymoon resurface. Rick draws a breath, and for a second, he falters on reality. After today, Michonne will no longer lay in arms. Michonne takes his face in her hands, and she seems to know his thoughts.
"I love you," She whispers.
Michonne's words are sufficient comfort. Rick rests his forehead against Michonne's one. He kisses with candour.
"Insanely," Rick replies.
Michonne's mouth is everywhere on Rick's skin. His lips and tongue pleasure the burning skin around her hard nipple. She breathes in his scent, and she can let go of his skin. Soon tears form in the corner of her eyes. The cold tears fell on his shoulder and wet his heated skin. if it means breaking apart, she refuses to climax.
"A forever thing," Michonne breathes out the words.
His dick strokes are more aggressive, and Michonne can no longer withhold her orgasm. She loses to his dedication to her pleasure. Michonne gives in her arising orgasm. Her moans fill Rick's ear.
"Always, Mrs Grimes." He kisses her forehead.
Rick's words undo Michonne. After today, she will no longer bear his name. She starts to shed tears. Rick remains buried in Michonne. He kisses her until the first wave of tears ends.
"I love you." She succeeds to say this after the last hiccup.
They take a long time to dress up. Rick holds Michonne for what feels like an eternity. She repeatedly waits for Rick to change his mind, but he never does. Michonne's tears do not weaken his resolve. Her love does not sway him toward his selfish desire to keep her as a companion to his misery.
Michonne cries her heart out, and Rick bears her sorrow. He picks her skirt and begins to dress her. The couple leaves the bathroom and retakes their seat. An entire hour passes before Michonne finds her words. She asks to hear about their imaginary children. She wants him to distract her. Rick is more collected than she is.
"I will be their favourite parent, and they will pay you dust. Two boys and a girl, my princess." He says to her, and Michonne has a dreamy look trying to portray such a family.
"We should get married," Michonne says with humour and some hope.
She first asked on their second encounter, and Rick had recklessly agreed. Rick laughs, and he takes her hand.
"We are heading toward a divorce, sweetheart." Rick kisses Michonne's hand. "I wished I saw you swollen with my child. Your stomach stretches to fit a new life. Perhaps, I got you pregnant." Rick jokes.
Michonne caresses her belly absentmindedly, and He laughs at the seriousness on her face. Rick's laugh becomes contagious. It is a fluttering moment of happiness, and so abnormal when they are both aware of the epilogue of their days.
"I fucked it up," Rick confesses. "Please forgive me a little when you understand that I did it all wrong. For what it is worth, you're the love of my life, Mrs Grimes. Now, I'm doing it right."
They call for boarding her flight, and this time Michonne has no choice. Rick helps her out of her seat. It is the hardest thing that he has ever done in his life. Worried that he may lose his resolve, He refuses to look at her brown eyes, but she takes his face between her palms. They stare at each other with a silent agreement. It is the best for Michonne.
"I love you," Rick says for the last time and kisses her.
Michonne grabs his shirt so tightly. Consequently, he has to apply light pressure to remove her fingers. Rick steps back so she can enter the boarding area. Michonne cannot remove her feet from the ground. Twenty minutes later, the plane takes off with Michonne inside, and Rick stays two more hours in a now full airport.
Rome 4 months after the breakup.
Paris was overrated and not a good city for new beginnings, and Michonne learned it four months ago. The first things, which greeted her in the city of lights, were a gloomy sky, very unhelpful locals, and her divorce papers. The divorce paper ruined her mood, and she hated more from that day.
Michonne tried to live there for a week, but Paris was not a city for her. Her divorce still fresh in her mind, Michonne needed a lively city to drown her sadness. Left to her device, she would have gone home and begged Rick to pursue where they left off their marriage.
Therefore, she bought a ticket for a sunnier destination, Barcelona. Michonne ended up disliking the city too because there were too many tourists, and she signed her divorce paper there. Now, hating Paris and Barcelona, Michonne had little choice left.
That was how she ended up in Rome. The tourists were present, but they did not disturb the life around the city. Michonne quickly found a semblance of normalcy in Rome. Faking happiness quickly led her to start to find some joy in everyday life.
For four months in Rome, everything was perfect until this very awkward moment. Michonne wishes the floor would swallow her. She is so embarrassed. She draws a deep breath, but it is the wrong thing to do. Michonne's stomach churns.
The street is crowded, and all the scents in the air assault her sensible nose. The brewed dark coffee, the dry smell of tobacco on her date's skin, and the dusty scents associated with the inconvenience of living in a busy area fill her nose. Michonne's stomach churns, and bitterness recovers her salivating tongue as a warning.
Michonne cannot prevent what follows, and her inside twists dramatically at every scent. For a second time in the night, Michonne senses the build-up of vomit. Although her hand covers her mouth, it does not suffice to withhold her vomit. Green contents spill out of her mouth and splash her date.
Once is not sufficiently embarrassing, she has to vomit on the poor man a second time. Fortunately, this time, she aimed for his shoes. Once she looks at his shirt, it is a different story.
"I'm so sorry, Mike…" Michonne put an embarrassed hand on her mouth. "I didn't mean to puke on you..."
The taste on her tongue announces that another round is coming. Therefore, she does not finish her sentence and starts running to her apartment's door. Mike, her date for the night, looks at her with a mixture of worry and relief. To see if everything is right, He follows her into her apartment
"Now, it's nothing, Chonne, "
"Michonne," She immediately corrects him.
His use of her nickname feels insulting. Michonne understands how irrational she is on the topic. However, no one calls her Chonne besides Rick.
"I guess I haven't earned the right to use a nickname." Mike chuckles.
Michonne does not reply, and her silence is cutting.
"You're visibly sick. The best thing I can do is to help." Mike attempts to return to the initial mood of the day. "Perhaps, something to clean this." He asks politely.
Vomiting was not enough, and Michonne has to humiliate herself more. She feels the saline in her mouth and nose beforehand. Mike's sweetness makes her sensitive, and the thoughts of Rick are resurfacing.
Tears start pouring, and she profusely for her exuberance. Michonne is turning into a sort of hormonal and systemic mess. The observation opens the box of Pandora.
Michonne draws a deep breath, and this time, she has a better reaction to the aroma-saturated air. She does not like the speed of her sudden recovery.
"Please wait here. Can I have your shirt and shoes, please? If you want to shower there is a guest bathroom." She struggles to smile because her mind speeds to a conclusion about her health. Her smile comes out as a grimace.
"I will just take a wet towel, and be on my way." Mike takes the hint of Michonne's tone.
When she hears the statement, Michonne breathes out such a happy sigh, and now she needs to ask forgiveness for her rudeness. She walks into her bathroom and comes back with a small wet hot towel.
"I… I'm really sorry." She presses the towel in his hands, and her date only smiles as an answer. "It wasn't a bad date. I just needed to vomit, but not on you." Michonne attempts to be kind.
"I will take those explanations and hope for another date."
His calm makes Michonne feel worse. He is being too kind to her, and she threw up on his shirt and shoes. She almost attacked him to defend Rick's ownership of a nickname. Michonne starts to feel guilty, and the tears threaten to fall again.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be! This is a great story to tell to future children." Mike kisses her cheek once he finishes cleaning his face, and he walks out of her apartment.
"Future children?" Michonne repeats with dread. "I have one better for them."
As soon as Mike leaves, Michonne needs to appease her agitated mind. She picks her phone and runs through her applications. Why did it take her three months to start worrying about her lack of menstruation? First, she blamed it on environmental change. Now in the pit of her stomach, no pun intended, and she knows better. Rick Grimes' future child is growing in her stomach.
Fucking pregnant, FUCKING PREGNANT.
Michonne reads on the stick two minutes after she freshly peed on it. She remembers the stupid joke, which Rick made at the airport, and she starts crying. She cannot blame it on the hormones. She left a complicated situation to enter into another one.
Michonne has no choice in keeping the baby. After her first clinical visit, she discovers that she has been carrying a child for four months. Michonne's pregnancy remained far too advanced for an abortion. Her emotions are on the fences. She is freshly divorced and pregnant with a child. To make it more tragic, Rick is an addict with no desire to stop.
Michonne finds herself laughing at the irony of her life. Ultrasound in her hands, she has no choice but to speed her healing from heartbreak. In five months, she would have to be ready. She hugs the ultrasound and presses it close to her heart.
"Thirty years old, and pregnant with my ex-husband's baby."
Can it get worse? The question remains unsaid.