A/N: Responses because I love you all…
Shipnation: LOL she is so annoying.
ssaamm23: I think you're right. Rick likes Michonne, but Michonne needs some more time to figure it out.
literaturechick: We'll get an inkling of if Morgan likes Michonne in this chappie!
Severelybabykryptonite: I didn't know how long I could keep writing them being rude with each other lol
RichonneSlag: Wow! That's a great little scenario right there *takes out my pen and paper and makes notes*
Guest: Oh yeah, Scuts wants Rick, but we know she's no competition for our girl!
Snoooteroni: aww thank you for the concern! How sweet.
simple1234: Think you might like this chapter.
zeejack: Hehehe be gone pests! Please don't pull your hair out!
KK: Hahaha I can just picture you sliding out of your chair all dramatic like!
Crypticnotions: Thanks. I like to weave a complex tale sometimes ;)
CrownRoyale: Thank you. I'm feeling much better!
Ttgranger: Hahaha now there's an idea; Morgan and Jessie – Messie? Lol No!
Sleepywitchysamurai: Ah, I'm so glad you brought up Carl and rest assured his story and relationship with his step-father will be address soon enough.
The voices around the boardroom table sounds muffled as Rick scribbled on the yellow writing pad in front of him. His shift started at seven-thirty that morning and the time was approaching three-thirty, post meridiem. Morgan was standing near a small whiteboard holding a purple marker as those around the table offered up their ideas for strengths and weaknesses of the local organizations.
"Manpower," said one person.
"Funding pools," said another.
"Those things can be remedied through the funding we've procured," said Michonne.
Rick placed his pen down, ceased his scribbling and looked in her direction. She had his undivided attention.
"What are some deep, ongoing issues in this County that have impeded the success of social work programs in the past?" she continued.
"Lack of motivation," Rick blurted out; Michonne's eyes fixed on him.
"Care to elaborate, Deputy?" she asked.
Rick nodded his head.
"Of course. I'm not tryin' to put anyone down, but around here someone gets this bright idea, things get goin' and go real good for a little while, and then all of a sudden, people just aren't motivated anymore. Like Father Gabriel, y'all had the food drive runnin' every month and then it just dried up," said Rick.
The priest agreed.
"That's right," he said turning to Michonne. "It seemed that people backed it at the beginning and then after a while, the donations got fewer and fewer before we couldn't sustain the program like we used to. But that was not the church's fault, it was the townspeople who became less generous or less interested or whatever it might have been."
"Right," said Rick, getting Michonne's attention once again. "Most people think it's a good idea and then they lose interest along the way. We as a group can only survive if we have the support of the town, otherwise it doesn't matter how much government funding they throw our way. If our community doesn't think it's worthwhile, it'll fail."
"Okay," said Michonne to Rick. "Would you say it's across the board with most programs?"
Morgan, Rick and Gabriel agreed.
"Yeah," Morgan chimed in. "We have the same battle for our young mothers group; each year it gets tougher to raise funds from community support. We're finding it difficult to keep it afloat this year."
"Do you think it's a matter of promoting it? I mean, Rick said people lose interest along the way; do you think they just need reminding?" asked Michonne as she looked around the table; her gaze went back to Rick.
"I think that's a huge factor. We should really be plantin' the seeds now so that people are aware of what we're tryin' to do," said Rick, his face serious and firm.
"That's a good idea," Michonne offered. "We could talk to media outlets and give the community a heads up with what'll be happening."
"Hold on now, what if some folks take this the wrong way?" asked William, one of the other group members.
"What d'ya mean, Willy?" Rick asked.
"What I mean is, what if they look at it as some dumpin' ground for a bunch of criminals. Come on, don't look at me like that, Rick. I'm not sayin' that's how I think, I'm sayin' it's how a lot of people might think."
"Yeah. I hadn't thought o' that," Rick replied. "A few locals caused a big ol' fuss when the prison was built not too far away. They might not take too kindly to this Program."
Michonne looked slightly perturbed at this information; in her planning she had spoken to local organizations who had backed her idea. It had not occurred to her that the people living in the town would be adverse to the idea of helping young people.
"This could be a problem," Michonne said to no one in particular as she got up from her seat.
She walked over to Morgan and asked him for the purple marker as she drew a dividing line down the middle of the white board.
"First things first, we need a plan for informing the community. Number one, we contact the media," she said as she wrote down a bullet point in neat handwriting.
She pursed her lips, looked at the wall contemplatively and tapped the marker to the palm of her hand. Rick could not help but admire her good looks as she stood at the front of the room wearing a light grey blouse and blue skirt.
"I'll have to explain the background of the Program," she said as she wrote her name near the first point. "And we'll need a trustworthy local that everyone knows."
Michonne looked contemplative once more before her eyes found Rick's.
"Deputy, you're a good ol' boy from around these parts," she offered seriously. "People know you and trust you so I think you should do the media appearances with me. What do you say?"
"Ah, wouldn't Morgan be better equipped to talk to the paper and all o' that?" Rick said a little nervously.
"Maybe," Michonne replied. "But if he and I get up there, certain people will take it the wrong way because of the color of our skin. Seriously, if locals are having issues with 'criminals' coming to their town, they're going to take a bigger issue if they think it's a group of black criminals."
"Hey, we're not all racist assholes around here," Rick said defensively.
"I know that," Michonne countered. "I know. But the fact is we're still in the south and people still have those kinds of backwards beliefs. We have a high population of African-Americans here and, truth be told, the King County Sheriff's Department doesn't have the best reputation with that demographic. So to answer your question without getting into a debate on racism with you, it would be better if you did the rounds with me. It's a win-win for both of us; for all of us."
Rick nodded his head.
"Okay, I see your point," he said. "Just tell me when you need me."
Michonne smiled a little.
"Great, we have that sorted. Next, we need a community information session. Morgan, can you organize something for next week?" asked Michonne as she continued writing things on the board and glancing at Rick every so often.
….
The debriefing finished ahead of time and Rick, Morgan and Michonne were the last three people to remain there. Rick slowly packed away his materials and waited patiently until Michonne had finished what she was doing.
"So," he finally said. "When did you want to do the rounds?"
Michonne put her bag down and then looked at Rick; she then grabbed her smart phone and began tapping and swiping.
"Sorry," she offered. "I'm not trying to be rude, I'm just bringing my calendar up."
Rick nodded knowingly.
"That's fine," he said with a small grin.
"Okay, which days are you free or rostered with the Program?" she asked as she bit the bottom of her lip.
Rick could barely focus on her question.
"Pardon me?" he asked.
"What days are you free?" she repeated, a little amused at how cute he was when he was seemingly confused.
"Right, sorry," he replied. "Monday, Wednesday and Friday."
"So the same as this week. Is it all day?" she queried.
"I think Wednesday might be," Rick replied.
"Okay, I'll add these dates and times tentatively, but could you share your calendar with me and vice versa?" Michonne asked.
"Yeah," said Rick, not really knowing how to do what she was asking. "Sure thing."
"Great," she smiled before adding almost coyly: "We should swap numbers as well."
Rick felt his face grow warm and then cleared his throat.
"Definitely," he said, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his cell. "Let me find it; I can never memorize my number."
Michonne chortled.
"I know right," she said as she took the phone from Rick; his fingers grazed hers slightly.
She looked at his face and then down at the phone.
God, he is fine, she thought as she typed in his details.
"Which number is best to reach you on?" she asked as there were two numbers displayed on his screen.
"Both, top one is my work number, but you can have my personal cell number too," said Rick trying to play it off as no big deal.
"Ah, okay. Cool," Michonne replied with a smile before checking that she had the correct details.
She handed Rick's phone back and then rifled through her purse for a business card; she picked up a pen and then turned the card over.
"I'll pop my personal number on here too just in case you can't get me on the work cell," said Michonne, pretending it was not a big deal.
Rick tried to supress a smile just as Morgan returned to the room.
"Hey Rick, still here?" he asked, causing Rick some surprise.
"Yeah, just makin' sure I know what I'm doin'," Rick replied with a laugh. "Don't want to mess up and upset Michonne or anything like that."
"I hear ya," Morgan said. "She's certainly a lady I want to please."
Michonne looked up at both men talking about her as if she was not in the room.
"Good to know," she answered as she looked back at her phone.
"You almost ready?" asked Morgan.
Michonne placed her phone in her purse and then offered him a small smile.
"Almost. Hey, Rick; did you want to join us for coffee?" she asked.
Rick did not hold back his smile now as he answered hurriedly: "Yeah, sure. That'd be great."
A/N: Sorry this was short and that I ended it there. Next instalment we'll see Rick and Michonne (and Morgan) having coffee! You should leave me reviews and stuff and thangs.