A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing this story. Please enjoy.

Chapter 5 – Behind the Scenes, Part 1

Monday

Filming an entire forty-one to forty-four minute episode generally took around one week. The cast and crew of this very popular television drama based in a post-apocalyptic world besieged by zombies were so adept at their jobs, and skilled in their professions, that sometimes episodes could take even less time. This particular episode was jammed packed with everything; there was little chance that it would be completed in less than one week.

The heat generated from the two leads of the show during the hand holding scene in the RV filmed the week before, was not the type of heat the director was looking for. It was a pain staking experience for all involved; much like the couch scene. The editing team had to work their magic removing Rick's smirky-grimace and Michonne's eye-rolling. But, this was a new week, which held new hope and possibilities.

Monday's shoot was what all the guys called the bedroom shoots. The set was bustling as everyone prepared for the upcoming scenes. Carol's introspective bedroom scene was filmed without a hitch. Rosita and Ken did their closed set boudoir scene. Their scene was more involved, as romantic interactions generally were, but it too went off without a hitch. Interior recordings were much more controlled than those shot on exterior set; chances of environmental mishaps lessened to a nearly infinitesimal level. He thanked the diligent production designer and her staff for their hard work; the attention to detail was extraordinary. Color contrast and variances within the different rooms was exactly what he'd asked for. After hours of work, he was happy to call the final "cut" for the day.

The exhausted director traversed the expansive primary location of the show. He stopped to speak with one of the associate producers about the preparations for the upcoming shoot. Filming was taking place between four different locations. Tuesday would be a much more expansive shoot; more crew, cast members, and props. The line producer joined in the conversation which became much more involved than the director had intended. After speaking for more than twenty-five minutes, he was able to come to a stopping point and say good-bye to the long winded men.

Unlike most scripted television shows, the powers that be invested a lot of time and money into make-up, set design and wardrobe. The teams were sizable. He glanced towards the open trailer where people were still milling around, even though the days shoot was a wrap. Most were done and wandering around the large set awaiting further instruction. Actors were in various stages of makeup for the episodes promotional stills. He watched as the photographer began rounding up the newly 'zombified' extras. Among the fray, he spotted the shows lead protagonist. He stopped, surprised by the man's presence. Rick Grimes was not due on set until the following day.

The very visible rift between the two leads caused ongoing worry behind the scenes. Skeptical that the couples counseling would actually work, the network insisted that producers remain on set during any filming where the two on screen allies, but real life adversaries, shared a scene. The counseling sessions were completed the day before. Only time would tell if the unconventional plan had worked.

He made a beeline to the actor, "Hey, Rick," he was nearly out of breath, "wasn't expecting to see you today," the greeting bordered on accusatory.

"I know. Just came by to introduce myself to some of the new cast members," Rick said. It wasn't the first time the show's lead actor went to the set when he had no scenes. However, his explanation was only partially true. He hadn't seen Michonne since she drove off from the Fimbres house and he was hoping that maybe she would be on set. They'd spent the night talking and getting to know each other again, but he never thought to ask for her number. She no longer had the same one from two years ago.

"I'm sure they appreciate that," the episodes lead executive proffered, extending his hand. It was more of an olive branch than a handshake. Although the men always had a good working relationship, recent events had presented a layer of awkwardness into their interactions.

Rick regarded the man who's once medium length blonde hair had gradually grown long with almost more gray than blonde, and then quickly accepted the unspoken amends. They shook hands.

"I've met most of 'em," he informed the somewhat disheveled exec, observing the few cast members gathered nearby, "nice group 'a folks."

"Yeah," the director agreed. They chatted a few minutes longer about how large the cast had grown, how well the days shoot went, how happy they both were that the humidity had subsided, and a few other safe topics; allowing the elephant to sit comfortably between them.

"Thanks again for coming by today, Rick," his smile caused the crinkles in the corner of eyes to peek from the sides of his glasses, "I'll see you tomorrow," he slapped the hospitable actor on the shoulder before walking away to give guidance to a few roaming crew members.

Rick scanned the area, "Damn," he mumbled. The person he was actually there to see was nowhere in sight. He took a deep breath and skulked towards the edge of the busy lot; greeting several colleagues on the way to his vehicle. The day was a wrap.

x-x-x-x

Sasha called bright and early Monday morning. The two women hadn't spoke since early the prior week. Michonne had left her agent with the impression that she had no intention of fully participating in the network ordered therapy. Now that the counseling was done, she figured the call would come.

Their relationship was a unique one. Beyond being agent and client, they were also good friends. Though Sasha had only been her agent for the past ten years, they'd been friends since college. The cornerstone of their relationship had always been brutal honesty when needed; sprinkled with a huge dose of compassion to offset any bad feelings that arose from the aforementioned honesty. Sasha was the spirited attorney turned agent. Michonne was the stubborn artist turned actress and playwright. The duo was a force to be reckoned with.

The strong-willed artistic actress had no intention of telling her friend about ending things with Mike. She was still working through the complexities of it all. Two days were spent in deep self-reflection; a silent and personal analysis of what it all meant. 'How could this all be happening so fast?'

After all the tossing and turning in both her head and her bed, the answer became as clear as a full moon at midnight, 'The feelings must've been there for years. Denise would probably say that they were buried feelings and have now been unearthed.'

Understanding herself better was wonderful, but she wasn't yet ready to disclose anything to her friend about Rick. She still wasn't exactly sure what it was, and being given the third degree by the attorney-agent was the last thing that she wanted. During the conversation she did disclose her intentions to end things with Mike.

"I'm glad you're doing what you need to do. Mike's a good guy—but you gotta do you," was the gist of Sasha's response to the actress' decision to give the handsome man his walking papers; putting a period where a comma once lingered.

The talk with her friend left her energized and prepared to do what she needed to do with her boyfriend. She had to speak with Mike. It was a conversation that should happen in person, but when? She'd left him one voice message and sent two text messages; he'd yet to respond. She stumbled into the kitchen and called him once more…he answered…

"Hello," he answered with an over exaggerated exuberance.

"Hey, Mike," she said with much less energy.

"Michonne, baby, how are you?" He asked with his normal jubilance.

"I'm doing good," she took a deep breath, "I left you a few messages," she was doing her best to keep her tone even.

"Sorry 'bout that. Things have been kinda crazy lately," he informed her.

The two met through a mutual friend. They went out on a few dates and a relationship quickly grew. Mike was the epitome of suave sophistication; being tall, chocolate and gorgeous certainly didn't hurt either. He was a well known sports agent with a burgeoning firm. They were the perfect couple – on paper.

"It's fine," she frowned, "so when are you gonna be back in Atlanta?"

"Should be early next week, you missin' me?" he chuckled.

"Uh…yeah," she was standing in her large kitchen pouring hot water into her mug, "I'd like to talk," she said, uncomfortable with beginning this conversation over the phone.

"Hmm—those words don't usually work out well for the person who needs to be talked to," his casual laugh did little to disguise his growing alarm.

This was a discussion that she wanted to have face-to-face. It felt wrong to do this over the phone. Mike was a good guy. He was there when she needed the warmth of another person; partially filling an emptiness that even an incredible career couldn't. The sex had been good but the infrequency over the past few months taught her that she was okay without it. Rick had, however, awakened a sexual longing that she wasn't even sure existed.

"It's been a while since we've even been in the same city at the same time," she said, dipping her tea bag while quickly making the decision that the conversation needed to happen now; in person seemed undoable, "doesn't really seem like we're—uh—going in the same direction."

Distractedly dipping the now soaked bag, she let out a few audible sighs. The silence on the phone lasted for what seemed like minutes upon minutes.

"You're an incredible woman Michonne," he finally spoke, "but you're right, we've kinda been on different pages for a while."

When they started seeing each other he had every intention of building something real and long-term with the dark beauty. However, their careers made constructing a relationship nearly impossible. They were more than just the much clichéd ships that pass in the night; it was more than that. The sex was toe curling, but the emotion and passion was severely lacking. There had always been something missing.

"Yeah," she walked into her living room and sat in her favorite wingback chair; gently sitting her tea on the ready coaster.

It was the sweetest and least contentious break up that Mike had ever had. He finally took the time to congratulate her on the career success she was enjoying. It dawned on him as they spoke that he unintentionally ignored her success. He'd never admit it to anyone, but there may have been a smidge of jealousy on his part, No, not jealousy, I mean, my career is in an upswing too. I don't begrudge her successes. Jealousy is not the correct word—Distant— is a better description. His thoughts caused him to go overboard on his congratulatory accolades.

They agreed to get together when he was back in Atlanta; falling into casual banter and laughter before coming to the end of their very amicable break-up.

"Michonne, just promise me that you won't close yourself off from having someone in your life." He knew this woman and genuinely wished the best for her.

"I won't…" she smiled as the most beautiful pair of blue eyes popped into her head, "the same goes for you, Mike."

She took a breath of relief that the Mike part of her day was over. The past few days had been nerve racking. The guilt could finally be expelled. She sunk deep into her favorite chair and giggled. Her peace was short lived when her phone rang…

"Hey Michie," her fifth favorite cousin Jenny cheerily greeted, "How are you? So look, a few of us just got into town. Only for a few days—can we crash at your place?"

"Uh—sure Jen," Michonne told her in her kindest and most accepting voice, 'So much for peace.' She sunk further into her chair.

x-x-x-x

Tuesday

All the prep work had been going on for hours. The set was ready. Carol and Morgan did their scene in the open grassy area. Maggie and Glenn also had their scene at the primary location of the show as well. Most of the cast was in the scene at the make-shift church. Rick became the living embodiment of his weary character and delivered his scripted speech, on the newly constructed pulpit, with true eloquence. There were hoots and hollers after "cut" was shouted. The remainder of the contentious scene was effortless. Everyone was on their 'A' game. Rick watched her peripherally while he spoke with the executive producer. They had not yet spoken in private. From the moment she arrived on set, either she was flanked with crew members, or he was. He watched her leave….

She slipped away from the set—it was difficult to think clearly in his presence. After the conversation with Mike, she knew that this was a chance to open up to something new. Her inability to speak with Rick for the past few days was frustrating. Why didn't I think to get his number or give him mine?

Michonne made her way through her various co-workers who wanted to chat; she eventually made it to her trailer. She entered the metal enclosed room with the intent of refocusing. Thoughts of Rick Grimes swirled in her brain, manifesting in the pit of her stomach. She sat down in front of her vanity mirror and picked up a bottle of water. No sooner than taking a sip from the water bottle did she hear a hearty knock on her door.

"Come in," she shouted.

The door opened and there stood the man who'd consumed her waking and sleeping thoughts for the past three days.

"Hey there," he said upon entry; taking no time to close the door and walk up to her.

"Hey," she responded, her heart picking up speed as he approached. Her stomach was in knots; the butterflies were back.

"How was your weekend?" He asked, fixing his gaze between her eyes and her lips.

"It was good. How was yours?" she watched his face – his expression – he was about two steps ahead in their conversation. He was not interested in a casual conversation about their respective weekends.

"Have you talked to Mike?" He was visibly determined and had no interest in small talk.

"Yes—I've talked to Mike," she smiled, answering his question as casually as possible; her body was in flux as it attempted to figure out what stage of frustration it was in.

"What exactly did you talk about? If you don't mind me asking…" there it was—cocky Rick Grimes.

"I do mind you asking, Rick…" she challenged him with a raised brow and suppressed smile.

"Then just tell me, are you free to date?" He was coming closer and she was jumping out of her skin, "…you did agree to go out with me."

"Mike and I had a very, um, amicable break up," she admitted with her best poker face; no hint of happiness or sadness was evident. His smile grew wider as he made no attempt to hide his approval.

"Michonne," he stepped closer and ran his fingers up her arm, "I realize that I probably went too far with that kiss—I'm sorry…"

"You don't have to be," she interrupted. Her eyes roamed his face before landing on his intense blue eyes, "I was a willing participant in that kiss."

He stroked her face and without further hesitation leaned down and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. Her lips were wet from the water. He gently wiped his tongue over her moistened lips before pulling back and standing straight.

"I've thought about your lips—nothing but those lips of yours—for the last few days," he touched her face and gave her a small smile. She was processing his words while trying to process her own.

"…The truth is," he continued, "I've thought about your lips and other things for the last few years," his slightly upturned lips was the most mischievous smile she'd ever seen.

"Rick…" she attempted to hush his candid admission, "has anybody ever told you that you kinda have a one track mind?" She admonished coquettishly.

He brushed his hands over her cheek, "No—no one has said that about me, 'cuz you're the only one who has ever had my mind on one track." She turned away from his honest words and piercing stare. She reached for the water bottle; her hands stumbling over the desk and then taking a swallow. He watched her every movement.

Her lips had him hypnotized. The moment she lowered the bottle, his lips were back on hers. It wasn't enough. He parted his lips just enough to pull her lips into his mouth. He sucked the softest and fluffiest lips he'd ever known.

"Mmm," she sighed into his mouth, becoming a more active participant in the kiss by opening her mouth wider; their tongues played a non-competitive match. He ran his hands up and down her curvaceous body as she pulled at the back of his shirt.

A knock at the door broke their seductive entanglement.

"Shit," he mumbled, swiftly backing away from her and peering down at his physical state. He picked up her water bottle and took a seat in one of the cushioned seats near the door.

She wiped her mouth, grateful that her character didn't wear lipstick, "Come in," her voice was low as she tried to pull herself together.

Daryl entered the small trailer, followed by Maggie and Glenn. It was not uncommon for the cast members and friends to spend time together in each other's trailers – their home away from home. However, the two leads did not hang out with the other. Curiosity got the better of them when they saw Rick enter Michonne's portable abode.

Among the polite chatter, the three newcomers closely observed the strong-willed performers. They looked back and forth between the two, not putting words to what they were witnessing. None were actually sure what was happening; though absolutely sure that something was.

"Everyone is needed on set…" came to loud holler from just beyond the crowded trailer.

The newly re-connected friends, and soon to be lovers, were never able to have any more one-on-one time again that day. They did however manage to exchange telephone numbers. Tuesday night did not afford an opportunity to speak, but they were able to exchange a few text messages. Rick did not hold back with his flirtatiousness; leaving little room for doubt that wanted not just sex but a relationship.

Michonne wanted the same, however, where he had no consternation in the least, she had an enormous amount.

x-x-x-x

Wednesday

The stunt coordinator was on set working with a handful of cast members. The stunt men and women stayed close while instructions and demonstrations were given. Weapons experts spoke with their team as the stage was set for the upcoming shoot.

The ex-deputy and his group of survivors infiltrated the satellite location. They invaded the industrial home of their adversaries. He used suppressive fire from an assault rifle to kill three people descending a stairway. It was heart pounding. She wielded her katana while the others moved from room to room murdering their sleeping enemies. There were photographs of victims with brutal headshot wounds- reminiscent of a serial killer; the photos validating the actions of the group. It was intense and a true team effort. A fire alarm blared…"Cut!" The boss shouted.

The set erupted in applause upon hearing the three letter word, for the tenth time since they began the days taping.

The interior scenes were nearly complete for the episode. Everyone was bustling around focused on their required task. The producers were presently distracted and paying no attention to the two individuals who caused their presence on set to be necessary….

He pulled her into him, "Thought we came out here to talk." She giggled at his amorous advances.

He didn't answer with words; his wide eyes and salacious stare filled in all the blanks, "Weren't we gonna take this slow?" She whispered.

The two leads of the show discretely wandered away from the fifty or so people gathered in the vast cordoned off woods of Georgia. The day had been non-stop. Each time he thought he could get a moment alone with her, there was yet another interruption. They found a tree hidden amongst the high blades of grass, hanging leaves and scattered shrubbery of varying heights. He was half-sitting on a low-hanging branch; she was standing between his legs.

"I said we could take it slow if you wanted," he corrected, brushing his lips along her bare neck.

"Mmm, Rick," she put her hand on his chest as he moved his mouth to her cheek; his beard gingerly scratching her face. He opened his legs wider so she could move closer. She turned her head to catch his lips as they moved up. Their lips touched for only a moment before they opened their mouths. He gently rubbed her back, his hands dropping to the rear that he'd been watching and thinking about for years. He squeezed as they inhaled each other. She moved her face back and swatted his arm.

"Rick…" she flirtatiously swatted his arm again.

"What?" he tilted his head forward and bit his bottom lip, "you have an incredible body," his voice was low.

She smiled and shook her head.

"Just listen…" he implored, tracing his finger over her lips, "We can talk—but I don't have anything to figure out. I've wanted this," he motioned between the two of them, "for a very long time. I had to ignore the way I felt, but now I don't. I want you," he placed his lips gently on hers, "not just sex—you…"

She could feel her skin heating up. Her eyes drifted to the trees over his shoulder.

"Michonne…" he said, noticing her attempt at avoiding his eyes. She slowly focused back on his unrelenting stare.

"…Just let yourself go—I promise to catch you," his eyes didn't leave hers as he watched all the wheels in her head turn.

The weirdest feeling of both emotion and unbridled lust came over her – a new kind of freedom. She moved closer, his restricted erection firmly pressed against her crotch. The kisses deepened, along with the frenzied movements of their hands. They were both at a sexual peak where the only way to come down would be through orgasmic release…or…interruption…

"Rick…" a far off call floated through the Georgia woods.

"Michonne…" another call, "Michonne…" the call was a little closer.

"Dammit…" she mumbled backing out of his hold.

"Fuuuck…" he grumbled, standing and running his hands through his hair.

He watched her attempt to regain her composure. It was only the third time that they'd kissed. She seemed to give a little more of herself to him each time. He knew that she wasn't aware of it. Her openness to him was becoming like a drug and he was seriously feening.

He kissed her swollen lips, "You go first, baby," She adjusted her clothes and nodded….

The remainder of their work day in the middle of the sticky woods was long and tiring. They worked well into the evening. Rick had to stay for a few retakes. Michonne stalled for time by busying herself with extra training from martial arts expert. The stalling lasted for over an hour before she eventually left; disappointed that she couldn't have physical contact with Rick before leaving.

She awoke to a text message from Rick that simply said – You're amazing, followed by numerous hearts and kissing emoji's.

x-x-x-x

Thursday

The episode they were filming this week called for four location shoots. There were a couple of scenes being shot on the road. The longer and more involved one was being completed today. The entire morning was devoted to the scene. Extras dressed as sentries, town's people, zombies and community members. The set was replete with abandoned cars, telephone poles and fenced houses.

"That was great everyone," he called with an authoritative declaration, "Okay, let's get set up for the next shot," his praise, validating their hard work, caused everyone to clap both their hands and each other on the back.

The newly constructed facility, with enormous faux radio dishes, sat practically in the middle of nowhere. It was getting more and more difficult to keep eager fans away from the areas where filming took place – causing the network and showrunner to get more creative with shooting locations…

The director ran his hands over his scruffy graying beard as he watched them separately slip away from the gathered cast and crew for the second day in a row. His assumption that the two just wanted to keep their distance from each other made sense; it was their normal modus operandi. They steered clear of each other unless the script required them to share one space.

After days, weeks, and even months of dissent behind the scenes, their friendly impasse was somewhat refreshing. The counseling definitely worked, which was good, but something else was going on. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off. The showrunner and one of the executive producers walked up to the distracted director to congratulate him on a job well done. They followed his line of sight.

"Wasn't it just a couple of weeks ago that she called him a fried piece of shit?" The thin blonde female executive producer asked the rhetorical question after a few moments of silence.

"It was actually a southern fried asshole—but yeah—" the brown haired showrunner added, not taking his eyes off the two leads as they traversed away from everyone.

They stood in silence several seconds longer.

"Hopefully we haven't traded one problem for another," the director presupposed while they watched the two television stars disappear into the woods….

She wasted no time pulling him on top of her. The ground was covered by short blades of grass and leaves, providing them with a temporary mattress.

He rubbed her denim covered her legs, slipping his hands between her legs. The heat generating from her aroused him beyond his regular level of control. The friction felt so good that he thought he might just explode right there.

"You're a bad influence on me, you know?" She jokingly informed him, running her hand up his chest.

"I think you've got that a little backwards…" he chuckled, adjusting his body on top of hers; past the point where he could hide his excitement. He stared down into her eyes; his dark blue gaze piercing her dark brown orbs. He strummed her cheek with his gently callused fingers before leaning down and kissing her lips. The tenderness in his kiss and in his touch was, 'amazing.' A few tears rolled down her face…

"I know," he whispered upon seeing the passion in her face and the openness of her body. He knew.

For the next ten minutes, their make-out session rivaled that of every un-chaperoned teenaged couple, since before drive-in theaters were created. The dreaded call from one of the AD's wafted through the trees, ending their clothed love-making. He pulled her up from their temporary mattress. They brushed away the leaves, dirt and grass before indulging in one more kiss.

"You head that way…" he pointed towards the area where the road was visible, "and I'll give it a minute before heading over." She hugged him for a moment, basking in his musky-spice-sweat-tinged scent.

"You feel so good—you smell so good," she looked up into his slightly-squinted smoldering blue eyes.

"You gotta stop looking at me like that," he released the embrace, "I can only control myself so much." He put his hands into his back pockets while his eyes roved over her body.

She smiled, "Okay—I'll go."

They returned to the set from two different directions. On paper there was really no logical reason to question their simultaneous disappearance, nor their subsequent simultaneous return - except that there was. The executives weren't the only ones who noticed them slip away…

The remainder of the day went by quickly. There were a lot of the normal 'hurry up and wait' that was standard on every set. Michonne had, of course, kept her distance from him. Their interactions happened only when needed.

He was exhausted as he walked to his car. The hope of getting home to relax and then call Michonne later was all he was thinking about. Her house guests had kept her from being as available as he would've liked, but hearing her voice for even a short amount of time was enough for now.

Before he could reach his car and head for the sanctuary of home, one of the AD's stopped him to discuss some of the plans for the final shoot of the week. Rick nodded, his eyes focused on the exuberant young man, doing his best to not appear as annoyed as he felt. The buzzing coming from his pocket was a much appreciated reprieve…

"Excuse me, Tom," Rick said, reaching into his pocket, and then browsing at the name illuminated on the screen, "I need to take this," he tapped the green icon while offering Tom a smile and a slap on the shoulder before continuing on to his car…

"Hey," he said with a slight hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Hey, Rick," she greeted; her annoyance was more palpable than his. It's amazing what can be gleaned from just two words.

"What's going on?" He asked his ex-wife.

"I never heard back from you," her annoyance was practically jumping through the line ready to throttle him.

He got into his car, "Not sure what you're referring to," he told her while starting the engine.

"Our conversation last week—RJ wants to be with you for his birthday next month. You were gonna…"

"Oh shit," he interrupted, "that's right. He wants to come out here. I was supposed…"

"Yeah, you were supposed to get back to me and let me know where you'd be—whether or not it's a good time," her irritation was now in stereo; coming through his car speakers.

"I'm sorry. Time got away from me…"

"Did you at least check your schedule?"

"I did, and that should be fine. I'll book his flight if you want," he offered. In the seconds that it took her to reply his mind gave him no absolution. Michonne had consumed his thoughts to the extent that he'd forgotten about his own son. He watched the passing Georgia landscape through the window, No father of the year awards for me this year. He grinned sardonically to himself.

"Its fine," her tone was a little softer and mildly forgiving, "I imagine things are probably crazy for you right now. The show is so popular." Her letting him off the hook so easily was surprising; but it really wasn't. She understood how important his career was to him. Emotional distance had been the final nail in their marriage coffin, not really his chosen profession.

"Thanks," he appreciatively said to the woman that he once thought would be his partner for life.

"No problem. And thanks—I'd appreciate you getting the ticket," she told him. Their conversations tended to have a very predictable ebb and flow to them. They started low-key contentious and ended with agreed upon pleasantries. Rick figured that many ex-couples probably experienced the same thing, if they had to have regular interactions; a child being the link that doesn't allow the bond to break completely.

"No worries—just text me the dates you were thinkin' about," he told her.

At one time they'd been friends. At one time they understood each other. It was a long time ago. It was also a long time since he'd experienced the type of intimacy he was experiencing with his beautiful and headstrong co-star. Being with this new woman, a woman giving her heart to him without even realizing it, made him aware of the intimacy that he'd missed for so long.

As for sex, it had been nearly a year since he'd had it. The opportunity presented itself often. There was no shortage of women constantly throwing themselves at him. He was openly hit on by fans, interviewers, show extras, crew members, and friends of friends. The women were beautiful and more than willing to give themselves to him sexually, with no strings attached.

There were a few times when he'd considered it. He knew more actors than he could count that were just fine with sleeping with women who only wanted them because of their fame. There were times when he was in desperate need of a sexual release; baby oil and his hand took care of that particular physical need. Intimacy was something different. Random women could never fill the need for intimacy that he craved.

Performing that act with his ex-wife near the end of their marriage had become rote; more of an obligation than a desire. But at least the sex was with him, Rick Grimes; not a television star, not a character, not an idolized view of something that he wasn't, and not some caricature. He may not have particularly liked his ex-wife, and she may not have particularly liked him, but the sex was real, 'Maybe not really good,' he'd always laugh to himself when he considered revisiting the act with his ex.

"Okay." He told her, breaking through the distracting fog in his brain.

"Did you wanna talk to RJ? I think he's in his room." They were now at the unspoken, yet agreed upon pleasantries of the conversation.

"Yeah, thanks—I'll talk to you later," pleasantries completed for the week.

Rick Jr. was without a doubt the best thing that he and Lori had done together. Even when he was at the end of his rope with his wife, as she gradually became his ex-wife, he never lost sight of the fact that she was his son's mom. She was half the reason that RJ was the sweet human being that Rick was proud to call his son.

As his name sake regaled him with stories about some of the crazy California kids in the neighborhood, his mind drifted to Michonne.

Much like Carl, RJ really liked Michonne. They got along well. But liking one of your dads friends wouldn't be the same as liking that person as your dad's girlfriend. Right? He wasn't seriously concerned about RJ not getting along with Michonne. He was a sweet kid who never met anyone he couldn't say something nice about. Rick was more concerned about Michonne.

He considered himself to be a pretty simple guy; the complete opposite of the complex person that he knew Michonne to be. He hoped those complexities wouldn't become a barrier between them. There was no doubt in his mind that their real life love story could easily rival the fictitious ones that filled television and movie screens. She just needed to get out of her own way.

The all-consuming fog had cleared. He was determined. Michonne probably hadn't realized it yet, but she was his future.

A/N: This was a super long chapter, so I broke it in half...Part 1 is actually a little less than half of the full chapter, but it seemed like a good little stopping point :-) I sincerely hope you've enjoyed it thus far. Please let me know what you think. I am so very grateful for all your comments, reviews, requests, etc. Part 2 will be posted on Friday. Thank you.

Blessings...