Happy New Year everyone! I know we're already 14 days in but I still had to say it. :)

As always, thank you all for reading and responding!

Chapter Nineteen

Michonne had spent the last two hours going over the changes she'd made to the marketing strategy related to the project she was managing for the firm in which Mike worked. She had met with him, Mr. Sterling and other individuals at the company regarding those changes and the next phase of the campaign. The meeting had gone well, but she was glad that it was over, that she'd gotten through it without falling ill. She thought with relief as she barely listened to Mike who was walking at her side, talking at first about work, then suggesting they go to dinner, which she planned to reject, for many reasons. The main one being, she felt like hell. She didn't know if she was trying to come down with the flu or if she was suffering because it was that time of the month. She was cramping significantly more than usual, felt a little feverish, extremely nauseous, exhausted and at times faint. It was probably a combination of her period and stress, giving her body shit, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more serious going on.

Maybe she should make an appointment with the doctor to get checked out, make sure she was okay. She mused, then briefly wondered if her sinus infection from weeks ago had returned, then logically concluded that her symptoms were not that at all. She was going to have to visit the doctor to get to the bottom her peaked feelings, but when would she have time? She realized. She was supposed to fly to New York later in the week and Seattle on Monday. The New York trip was to meet with some of the lead executives at the firm in which Mike worked. His business proposition had been intriguing to say the least. He'd stated that his company was looking to hire an Art Director to head their Special Campaigns Division. Though they already had a small internal marketing department that handled general promotions for the company, they out sourced the big, more creative campaigns to firms like the one in which she worked. However, they'd decided to staff a more robust creative team, internally to save money. The individual in the Art Director role would head creative campaigns and direction for North America East and Europe. It would be a huge step up in her career, with excellent benefits and pay and Mike had the power to make it happen.

She'd asked him why he'd help her this way after everything that had happened between them, and he'd earnestly replied that he thought she'd be the best person for the job. He knew that the opportunity was her dream. He'd said, and he was right. It was the chance of a lifetime. However, there were drawbacks – Mike, Rick and the location. Being as Mike was the Senior Director of the Special Projects division, they'd have to work very closely together on a daily basis. She didn't know if she was comfortable with that, due to the past she and Mike shared.

Furthermore, the job would only be based in Atlanta for a few months before she'd eventually have to make the move to New York. She loved New York, but she loved Atlanta more and always wanted to build her future there. Additionally, the position would be 75% travel which was more than what she was currently doing. She didn't mind being on the road sometimes or occasionally at 75% when required, but she didn't know if she'd wanted to be living out of a suitcase, which would in reality be the gist of the job. Lastly, there was Rick. Her heart ached, wanting and missing him so much. It had been weeks and still there had been no change with his situation and no indication as to when his divorce might commence and be finished.

She wanted to keep waiting, to give him time to sort out the mess with his life, after all, it had only been 5-6 weeks, but how long would that take? How long until he was finally free of his ex? And how long was she supposed to wait when her life was moving forward and with an amazing opportunity such as the one presented by Mike? Her heart wanted to wait forever, for it was still deeply connected to Rick, to the memory of the ease in which they'd lived those three days he'd stayed with her when he was in Atlanta, how he'd touched and awaken something powerful and indescribable within her. How he could intrigue her, make her laugh and stir her with fire all in the same moment. She wanted to wait for him, as long as it took, but her head said 'no.' 'Move on. Live your life. Take this opportunity.'

So that's what she'd done. She'd thought about it for a few days, then made her decision. Telling Mike to make it happen and if his firm was interested, she'd be more than happy to meet with them. It pained her to make that choice, gutted her more than she was prepared for, made her feel as if she was defying the intuition at the core of her soul, because of what it meant. That in essence she was giving up on a critical piece of her future, an infinite connection and imitable emotion. She was giving up on Rick Grimes, which a large part of her still vehemently denied. Even if the job worked out with the firm in New York, she and Rick still had a chance. She'd told herself. People did long distance relationships all the time and made them work. Hell, the first three months of her and Rick's courtship was long distance. Thus they could do this. She'd forced herself to concluded, overriding her disagreeing heart. If it came to that, they could still have a viable relationship with him in Georgia and her in New York.

Mike had made his recommendation, per her request, and the firm had quickly followed up asking for her portfolio, references from former firms at which she'd worked and clients whose projects she'd headed. After confirming her talent and work ethic, they'd become very interested and wanted to meet with her immediately. Hence her planned trip to New York. Though she didn't feel up to making that trip at all, not with the way she currently felt, perhaps she would feel better later in the week, by then her cycle would be over. Therefore, the unusual cramps and nausea she was experiencing would hopefully be done. And if it wasn't, she was strong enough to get through it. After all she'd been getting through this week and had just gotten through a two-hour meeting without giving any indication of how she was feeling.

Though she'd rather be 100% for her interview in New York, she could get through it and still manage to wow them with her professionalism, personality and talent. She attempted to convince herself within, when she felt a strong wave of nausea, telling her otherwise and a stifling warmth making her feel unsteady on her feet. She could still hear Mike's voice, but it was no longer clear. It seemed to be floating to her in a haze that she fearfully grasped had become her mind. He was asking her if she was alright, and she tried to answer that she was, that everything was fine. However, before she could fix her mouth to speak, she felt herself slipping, further away, unable to control it, until she felt what seemed like the floor quickly coming up to meet her.

For the first time in weeks Rick finally felt like he was getting his life back in control. The information Carl had provided on his mother and the morning of the fire had changed things for him, gave him some kind of recourse in dealing with Lori and her insistence that they remain together. Over the past week and a half, he'd been able to specifically research Carl's recollection of what had happened and learned that the brand of cigarettes found at the scene was the same brand smoked by Shane, but it was a common brand. Thus it could be argued that anyone could've dropped the cigarette buds there. He'd also learned from a neighbor that Shane's truck was at the house the night before the fire, but hadn't appeared again until the next morning, after the fire had started. "And thank God too." The neighbor Rick questioned had said. "He came just in time to rescue Lori and Carl." Just in time and maybe too convenient, Rick had thought.

Nonetheless, he still couldn't wrap his mind around Shane setting the fire. He might be obsessed with Lori and Carl but would he really chance their lives to try and endear himself to them? Anything could've gone wrong, making it impossible for him to save Lori and Carl. Would he take that risk? It didn't make sense. Even with what seemed like circumstances pointing to him. Whatever happened, Rick didn't think he'd ever have enough evidence to prove Shane did or didn't do it. Just like there was evidence that pointed to his former friend, it could also be strongly disputed.

Still, Rick didn't let that discourage him. He might not be able to conclusively tie the fire to Shane, but he could get him and Lori out of his life. In addition to investigating the fire, he'd also looked into his ex's affair with his former friend and found the evidence he needed to prove that she'd been involved with him for months. However, he was not yet ready to move on what he'd found. There were a few things he need to get in place, to confirm first, but he'd be ready soon, within the next few days. In the meantime, he'd stepped up his protection of Carl. He'd informed Lori about Shane's obsession with her and their son and warned her to stay away from him, but she'd found his caution absurd. Even when he'd told her of Carl's expressed fear of Shane, she'd argued that it was his attempt at reconciling their family by vilifying the man whom all his life he'd known as "uncle." Furthermore, she'd found his warning sweet, and accused him of being jealous of her "friendship" with Shane.

At that point, Rick had abandoned the conversation and determined that only he could protect his son. So, moving forward he'd made sure Carl had limited time alone with Lori, fearing that she wouldn't heed his warning. He was there for every outing and nearly every drop off and pick up from school, and just as he suspected, Shane continued to show up to Carl's sporting events, even sometimes "happening" by the school when he was waiting to be picked up, offering to give him a ride home. The latter of which had been the last straw. Rick was done with threatening and arguing with Shane.

It was time he took action. Thus he'd filed an official complaint with Sheriff Bratton, figuring if something went down, if Shane further crossed the line, he wanted on record what the man had been up to. Additionally, he hoped the threat of what such a charge could potentially do to Shane's position with the Sheriff's department would get him to wake up, to back off his irrational behavior. Surprisingly, the Sheriff had informed him that lately he'd received other grievances against Shane, most notably his overly aggressive behavior in the field. The man had assured him that all these issues would be addressed including his complaint about Shane stalking his son, and as a result, Rick had been tensely waiting for the consequences – Shane's fury.

However, right now, his mind was heavily on Michonne. She was always with him, stirring his heart, his thoughts, making him yearn to see her, to just talk, but today was different. The yearning went deeper, igniting him with an intense urging to speak with her, to hear her voice. They hadn't spoken in nearly two weeks, since she'd called him unexpectedly. After which, they'd text here and there, having limited correspondence. Their communications merely consisting of asking how the other had been, with an occasional, painful admission of missing one another. But nothing more, not even phone calls, which had been more brutal than the time they'd not communicated right after the break up.

Rick wanted so much to call her to tell her he was so close, they were so close to having what they wanted, a chance at building something together, but he wanted to be sure. He wanted all to be clear, for nothing and no one to be standing in their way before telling her he could give her what they both wanted and she deserved. Yet and still the pull was so strong, to reach out to her, to talk to her about everything and nothing - work, her personal activities, what she thought about the shocking election, what her plans were for Thanksgiving. Was she going to D.C. to endure her parents? Or did she plan to remain in Atlanta? He also wanted to share the happenings in his life. Not only did he want her to know of the progress he was making towards the divorce, but how much closer he and Carl had become. How he was making great strides in healing from the trauma that was the fire. He wanted to discuss the latest Marvel movie, Dr. Strange and tell her he was tapering off his consumption of red meat – somewhat, but most importantly he wanted to know if she was happy and well.

He missed her, desperately. For he felt bound to her in such a fathomless and profound way, that to not have her apart of his life on a daily basis, left a hollow ache within him. He loved her, more than he probably should for just the short time he'd known her. But that's what it was, love, that he couldn't fight and didn't want to. She was an essential part of him as he knew in the deepest depths of his being that he was the same to her. Yet, he'd respected her wishes, and not initiated a call, not succumb to the desire in his heart to reach out to her. However, today was the exception. There was a strangeness permeating the day, driving him with a need to reach out to her, to make sure she was okay, to hear her say it. Hesitating no longer, Rick pulled out his phone and speed dialed Michonne. His heart raced in nervous anticipation as the phone began to ring, his anxiety growing with each jangle when finally, she picked up the call, but the voice that answered wasn't her…

"I'm sorry. I must have the wrong number." He stated with uncertainty, a little surprised at the male voice on the line, wondering if she'd changed her number and not told him.

"Actually you don't." The man said, stopping Rick before he could hang up. "I presume you're looking for Michonne?"

"I am." Rick slowly confirmed. "Who is this?"

"Mike Thompson." The man answered. "And who are you?"

"You know who I am if you're answering Michonne's phone." Rick retorted. "Where is she?"

"Where she belongs, with me." Mike stiffly replied.

"You still didn't answer my question." Rick persisted, completely baffled and put off. What was the man doing with Michonne? Why did he have her phone? He questioned within. Was she unable to get the phone and instead asked Mike to pick it up? But that wasn't her. He knew. She would never ask someone else to answer her phone. If she couldn't pick it up herself, she was fine with it going to voicemail. Thus something was off. Was she in trouble? Had something happened? Had the man done something to her? He pondered with alarm. Then calmed himself by logically deducing that if Mike had in anyway hurt Michonne he wouldn't have answered her phone, but something was going on...

"I don't have to answer anything." Mike tartly replied. But since you insist, I'll tell you. She's …getting more comfortable and waiting for me to join her."

"That's a lie." Rick scoffed, his fury growing, with a hint of jealousy at the possibility, even though he knew the man was attempting deceit.

"Is it?" Mike countered. "Michonne and I were together for four years. Did you really think it'd be so easy for her to walk away from me?" He boasted with a harshness that betrayed what should've been no more than a confident response that was edged with irritation. "You saw how she left your, romantic dinner to run after me." He pointed out. "It's over man. You were just a means to an end, an end to get over me, but she's realized that was imposs…"

"You're full of shit." Rick rebuked, cutting off Mike's rant. "See I know how you've pulled this shit before." He revealed. "Lying to yourself, lying to everyone around you, pretending that you and Michonne were still together, but you don't fool me. I know the game you're playing, and you'll lose."

"I don't need to play a game because Michonne is with me!" Mike claimed with anger. "She's always with me."

"If that's true then why did you pick up the phone?" Rick question with his own chagrin. "Why the need to brag about what you're supposedly doing?"

"Because you need to know that she's done with you. That you never had chance." He contended. "And that she's back where she belongs, with me and ain't shit you can do about it." He acridly declared, then disconnected the call.

"Shit!" Rick seethed, as he held tightly to his phone, doing everything in his power not to chuck it in furor to the ground. He was not only angry, but worried, knowing that something was wrong, unable to stop himself from the futility of calling her phone again, but just like he knew would happen, there was no answer. Not knowing what to do next, he left a brief voicemail, asking her to call him, wondering if she'd get it or if it'd be deleted with Mike being in possession of her cell. Rick stood staring at his phone, agonizing at what to do next, cursing Mike, cursing the situation, frustrated by the bullshit that had pushed him out of Michonne's life and opened the door for Mike to be close to her again. He knew she was done with Mike, that she hadn't rekindled her relationship with him. Nonetheless, he still didn't like the idea of the man hanging around with his lies and no doubt romantic gestures. Rick thought with exasperation, when he was ripped from his rumination by the sound of his name being called with rage.

"You report me to the Sheriff?!" Rick heard Shane yell as he looked the man's way and found him stalking in his direction. Rick turned his full attention on to Shane, hardening his stance and answered in stern ire...

"Yeah I did."

"You've gone too far!" Shane angrily accused as he came upon him.

"And you went too far when you kept stalking my son." Rick alleged with scorn.

"I have a right to be in his life!"

"Says who? Who gives you the right to my son?" Rick severely challenged. "Lori?!"

"You!" Shane bit back. "Do you remember that Rick? Do you remember how many times you've thanked me for being there for Lori, and for Carl, how many times you told me that they needed me?"

"I remember Shane." Rick admitted. "But that was before you decided that my family, my son was yours." He sharply proclaimed. "When did that change Shane? When you kissed Lori? When you started fucking her?" He charged, for the first time blatantly seeing the wrath and envy in his former friend's eyes. "What has she been telling you Shane? That I'm a shitty father, whose holding her hostage in this marriage?" He asked. "That only you can save her from me, save my son?"

"You don't know what I have with Lori!" Shane bitterly retorted as he stepped closer to Rick, his glare tumultuous with rage, his fists now clenched at his sides, doing nothing to deter Rick who was just as enraged and was more than ready for anything the man thought he was going to do to him and thus continued to indignantly challenge his absurdity...

"No. I do know." He contended, holding the man's livid stare. "I think you've been coveting her since I introduced you in college. You coveted her and now because you're fucking her you think you can be me. You think you can step in as husband and father and take my life, well you're delusional, because Lori is playing you. You will never be what she really wants and you will never be a father to my son!" Rick fiercely schooled which provoked Shane's temper to explode, driving him to lunge at him with an uncontrollable wrath, that ignited into a violent clash.

Michonne slowly came to, and was instantly overwhelmed with heavy limbs and a foggy mind, wondering what the hell happened. When gradually she recalled the last time she was coherent and awake. Mike was walking her to the elevator at his office after her project meeting with him and his colleagues. Panic and nausea hit her all at once as her eyes snapped open, taking in her surroundings as she attempted to sit up, but the pain in her abdomen, drove her to moderate her quick movement.

"You're okay." She heard Mike state, his voice surprising her for she'd not noticed he was in the room. "You're in the hospital." He said.

"What happened?" Michonne questioned with alarm, after successfully conquering, for the moment, the nausea that was threatening to overtake her.

"You fainted." Mike said. "We had to call an ambulance."

"We?"

"You were at my office." He explained. "I was walking you to the elevator. Do you not remember this?" He asked with concern.

"It's coming back to me." She softly declared, sighing as she brought her hand to her head, remembering more of what happened. How she'd been semi-conscious after hitting the floor and how the voices and movement around her seemed to be filtered through a tunnel. Suddenly she felt shame at collapsing that way at a client site, worried about the negative impact it could have. Had it gotten back to her job? Did her boss know? She silently asked herself as dread grew within her. The last thing she needed, on top of everything else, was an overreaction to what was clearly just stress and maybe a touch of the flu, getting the better of her. "This is too much." She nearly huffed with irritation as she moved to get out of bed. "I don't need to be in a hospital."

"Chonne no!" Mike asserted, standing and stopping her by blocking her from getting up. "We couldn't wake you up, at least for a minute. Something is wrong." He stated with distress.

"It's nothing." She strongly rejected. "Just stress and me not eating and sleeping enough."

"I think it's mo…" Mike began to disagree when the doctor entered the room, interrupting his reply.

"Good. You're awake." The man cheerfully exclaimed as he walked up to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." She lied, not knowing why, since he was the doctor and obviously knew that something was wrong. However, his cheery demeanor had to mean that whatever was going on wasn't serious and likely could've been easily handled by her General Practitioner instead of by an expensive ambulance ride and trip to the ER. "I just feel a little nauseous and tired." She continued, admitting what she thought were relevant symptoms to what she'd deduced was likely stress and a stomach flu. "I've been under a lot of stress lately which I'm certain is why I'm feeling this way, why I fainted..."

"Well, that's likely part of it." The doctor interjected, looking at his chart.

"What's the other part? The flu?" Michonne asked with a hint of trepidity, thinking she really didn't want to be sick, hoping this was something she could vanquish in a few days.

"Hardly Ms. Mitchell." The man responded his lively tone turning serious. "You're pregnant."