Sometimes the road to a happy ending can get pretty bumpy...

Chapter 8 – Into the Light, Part 2

"Hey guys. I'm so glad to see you," Gina greeted them at the front door with big hugs, "You both look so beautiful, as always," she said as she took hold of Michonne's hand and then Rick's. They walked into the house with their hostess sandwiched between them.

The Fimbres' had invited them to a small dinner party scheduled around Michonne's return home. The actress landed in town yesterday.

They walked to the dining room where Carl and Peter were already seated at the table.

"Michonne," Carl shouted as he jumped up and hugged her, "it's good to see you."

"I just saw you a week ago," she laughed while playfully shoving him away.

"Well, I'm still glad to see you," was his retort with a huge grin.

"I guess I'm chopped liver standing over here," Rick said cocking his head towards Carl.

"Oh sorry, hey Rick," he shrugged his shoulders and sat back down.

"Can I help with anything Gina?" Michonne offered.

"Absolutely not," the hostess pursed her lips and furrowed her brow in the actresses direction, "You're gonna sit right down and relax."

Rick chuckled, looking around the room, "When you said small dinner party you really meant it."

They all laughed as Rick pulled out Michonne's chair and she sat down.

"We like having you two all to ourselves," Gina said.

"Plus, we know y'all prefer to be private and keep to yourselves," Peter said irreverently.

"That's Michonne—not me," Rick responded taking his seat. The very subtle bitterness in his words caused a sudden shift in the room. The awkwardness was apparent to all but Carl.

"Hey, you gotta tell us all about Harry Karr, I hear he does the weirdest interviews ever," the young actor laughed jovially.

"Um," Peter said, standing and walking towards the hallway, "I'll go and get Jilly. She's been texting with her little friends for the past hour."

Dinner conversation was primarily focused with Michonne's stories of weird interviewers and odd questions from said weird interviewers.

"I made your favorite cake so why don't we have some while we sit down in the family room," Gina suggested as she stood get everyone's favorite cake.

Dinner was lively as usual but an unacknowledged unease hung in the air. It was subtle at first but became more noticeable as the night went on. Something was off with Rick.

Michonne went into the kitchen while Gina was slicing healthy pieces of the cake for everyone.

"I came in to help," Michonne said upon entering the very modern and well equipped kitchen.

"You didn't have to, but I appreciate the company," Gina said turning to see the regal actress standing behind her.

"Have I told you that you look beautiful? Not that that's anything new," Gina laughed.

"I appreciate it. And yes, you did tell me," Michonne said, smiling back at her sweet friend.

They began plating the dessert.

"Uh, what's going on with Rick?" Gina asked, attempting to look at her friends face, "he seems kind of distant tonight. Maybe even a little angry. Did you guys have a fight?"

"No," Michonne responded as her eyes drifted up, replaying the events of the night. She had noticed something, but she thought it was just her imagination. Lately, Rick tended to be somewhat distant when she was gone. He remained that way for a short time right after she returned before easing back into his normal demeanor. It generally only lasted for a day or two. They would make love and after a while the off-putting mood would eventually dissipate.

They'd made love right before heading out the door barely two hours ago. He was detached, which wasn't really that unusual, but something was different.

Gina noticed the introspective look on Michonne's face. She walked closer to her and touched her hand. "Are you sure everything's okay? You don't seem quite positive."

"Uh, he always hates when I leave. He understands but he doesn't like it, so things are always a little off when I come back," she said, This does feel different than the other times though.

Gina smiled, "Well I'm glad to hear it. Y'all are our favorite couple. I've never seen two people more in love—so that makes me happy."

Michonne looked in her face and saw the truth in her words. She, Peter, Carl and Jilly truly loved her and they and they truly loved Rick.

The hostess picked up three of the saucers and then looked at Michonne with a more serious look on her face, "The one thing that can end a good relationship is neglect. People say its everything from infidelity to money, or whatever. But the real thing that ends a marriage or a relationship is forgetting to pay attention to the little things," she said whistfullly, recalling marital challenges from years gone by...

"...Being mindful of each other's wants and needs is an ongoing, everyday responsibility. I'm not saying that you neglect him or that he neglects you, but take it from an old married woman; it's a real relationship killer." She leaned over and kissed Michonne's cheek...

"Dont stop paying attention to him, and don't allow him stop paying attention to you. The two of you have something really special...remember that, " she tilted her head forward and offered a soft smile…

"Well, now that I'm done being Doctor Phil—let's go eat cake," she laughed, exiting the kitchen with the three saucers in hand.

Michonne followed with the other three plates. Rick certainly doesn't neglect me. He's probably the sweetest man I've ever known. He's so beautiful. It's pretty clear Gina means I'm the one neglecting him. Shit—am I?

She sat the plates on the table and looked at her handsome man. He was playing a game on his phone. She touched his arm and placed the dessert in front of him.

"Here you go baby," she said, leaning over to kiss his lips. His eyes opened wide with mild surprise. Michonne was not one for any overt public displays of intimacy. She gazed into his eyes, I love you so much. Almost as if he could read her thoughts, he reached up, cupping her face and pulled her back down for another kiss. He stroked her face with his fingers before opening his mouth to deepen the kiss.

"Yuck—get a room," Carl shouted from the other side of the table.

"Hush boy," Gina told her overly vocal son.

x – x – x - x

The drive home was quiet. Rick punched the code into the keypad once they pulled into the driveway outside of Michonne's condominium. He parked in the underground garage. The space next to her parked car was her second assigned spot. The walk into the lobby and subsequent elevator ride to the condo was done in silence. Rick dropped the keys in the glass tray sitting next to the door and walked directly to the kitchen. She watched him retrieve a beer from the refrigerator, twist of the cap, and then the bounce of his Adam's Apple as he gulped the cold liquid.

"It was nice to spend time with them. They're certainly my favorite wacky family," she said with a light giggle to her voice. It was her attempt to break the tension. The ever growing chasm between them seemed larger than it was before leaving the Fimbres house.

"Uh huh," he mumbled before taking another gulp of beer. His eyes remained focused on the wall behind her.

She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist; squeezing him gently. She dropped her hands to the front of his pants and began to move them towards his crotch. It only took a moment before his aroused state was obvious. She rubbed the stiffness in his pants. He backed away, tilting the bottle up and finishing off the remaining beer.

"I'm gonna head to bed," he said, tossing the bottle into the trash can.

She froze, dumbfounded, Did he just turn down sex? Their sexual relationship connected them on a level far beyond anything carnal. It filled any gaps that distance had caused. She craved the closeness as she was sure he did as well. The feeling of rejection permeated her spirit.

The smile fell from her lips and was replaced with a small pout. She rubbed her face and sighed deeply, troubled by this uncharacteristic rebuff of her offered affection.

"Rick," she said, approaching him, "What's wrong?"

"I'm tired," he replied, sitting on the couch; beginning to remove his boots.

"Obviously something is going on. Can we talk about it?"

He sat up and leaned back into the cushion of the couch. His sigh was deep as he ran his hands through his hair.

She watched his body language. Something was really bothering him, What things have I missed? I'm sure I've been paying attention to you.

"I wanna be with you," he confessed quietly, keeping his eyes on the large framed picture of their cast; it sat on the mantle above the fireplace.

"'I wanna be with you, too," she said, sitting down in the wingback chair facing him, "but I'm back for a whole week..."

His laugh was a dry, "You don't get it. I miss you all the time. I want you—not just a part of you. I want us to be together."

"I do get it," she leaned forward, "I do, and I want that too."

"You don't," he snapped, "You've made a choice to be away from me. You've chosen to keep us separated."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she sat up straight and squinted her eyes at him.

"We've barely been together in the past month. And when we are, you purposely keep me separated from every other part of your life."

"That's not true."

"It is—the fact that you don't see it is the bigger problem."

"What bigger problem?" She huffed and curled her lips.

"You know," his clenched jaw belied the tight-lipped smile spread across his face, "last night when I got home from the party, I looked at some photos of you online. There were photos of you with Mike, photos with you and some friends, and photos of you with all your new co-stars from the movie…"

He lowered his eyebrows, "But you know what I didn't see?"

"Does this have something to do with Sherry? Her coming onto you…"

"This has nothin' to do with her. I don't even blame her. Same way I didn't blame Heath or Josh. I don't blame anybody who's not completely sure that we're together."

"What are..."

"You know what I didn't see?" he continued on, "Not one picture of us together—outside of something related to the show," he laughed, "Our fans have cropped a buncha pictures of us together—they apparently want us together more than you do."

"I can't believe you'd…"

"So what is it?" He trudged on, ignoring her words and facial expression, "why can you go out hand-in-hand with Mike, but not with me? Not one event. Show. Premier. Hell, not even out to a simple breakfast or dinner. Nothin'," he stared her down, "All these things you go to—do your friends and co-stars go with their significant others? The one's that aren't single, do they go alone?"

"Yes—I mean, No—uh, what did—I didn't think—we didn't talk…" she stammered. Her head was in a tailspin but she was slowly catching up to his insinuation.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he rubbed his temples and kept his eyes glued to hers.

She crinkled her nose blinking back tears.

"You knew I would have to do this promo tour," she lowered her voice, "I don't understand why you're so upset."

"This has nothin' to do with the tour. This is you and me," he waved his hands between them; "You know exactly what I'm talking about." He watched her for a moment; I swear I don't want to hurt you—ever. Seeing her face and how his words were cutting through her was overwhelming, I love you so much, but I can't do this anymore.

He reached down and slipped back on the one boot he'd removed before standing.

"…And I'm not upset. Well, I guess maybe I am," he stood facing her; "You just need to be honest."

The room became silent. He ran his hands over his beard and watched her.

She stared past him, mindlessly moving her necklace pendant from side to side. She wiped away the stray tear that fell and then sighed, "It's different for you," she said.

"What do you mean it's different for me?" He asked, cocking his head to the side.

"It's different. People look at a white guy who's dating a black woman like he's special or doing some kinda favor for her. Maybe you get some racists making comments, but…"

"But what?!" He barked.

"But the black person gets it from every direction. And in most cases, worse from other black people. For every person who says live and let live, there's those who act like you're some kinda sellout."

"Wait a minute," he faced her, the ire in his expression hitting its peak, "You're gonna let other people determine the parameters of our relationship?"

"I'm not saying that," she said as calmly as she could while rising from her seated position. She could see that his face was quickly becoming crimson red.

"That's what it sounds like to me."

"I'm not—but I don't want everything I've done in my career, my life, to boil down to being the woman who hooked up with her co-star. People will probably even assume that I caused your divorce."

"But we and everybody that matters in our lives know the truth…"

"Truth or not," she interrupted, "You and I both know that it's all about how it looks; about perception. You think I'll be given the benefit of the doubt from people who think you're still married?"

"And whose fault is that," he scoffed, "I wanted to shout from the rafters that we're together from the moment we left Denise's office."

"I know…" she admitted.

"So what is it Michonne? Black people won't understand? Fans won't understand? People think I'm still married? You're a private person? Which is it? What excuse are you usin' today to keep me out of the majority of your life?" He stopped to look in her eyes before continuing…

"…I'm who I am Michonne—I can't change that. I don't wanna change that; just like I don't want you to change who you are." He said, turning to walk down the hallway towards the bedroom.

"I don't want you to change," she said, following closely behind him.

"Yes you do," he disagreed, turning on the light in the room, "Some things I can change. But, I'm a 38-year-old divorced white guy. I have a teenage son. I'm an actor on an overrated television show. And I'm deeply in love with my co-star. Those are things I can't change."

"I'm not sayin'—I mean, I know," the jumbled thoughts in her head were coming out of her mouth the same way.

"Do you, Michonne?" He chuckled sardonically.

"Rick, I don't wanna argue," she stayed on his heels.

"Well too bad, 'cuz that's what's happenin'," he turned to face her.

"You didn't want our co-stars to find out about us, but guess what, they did and the world didn't explode. You were afraid that RJ and my parents wouldn't love you, but, guess what—they do."

"Rick," her tone was becoming more panicked, "I'm a private person, you know that."

"It's more than that though, isn't it?"

"Rick…"

"We've been together for over a year and I've never even met your family, friends, no one…"

"You've met my parents," she tried to refute his claim, "and my sisters…"

"No," he snapped, "Your platonic friend and co-worker Rick Grimes met your family. Your boyfriend has never met your family or your friends. The man who loves you more than any other woman he's ever known, has never met them," he laughed, "It's my fault. I let you set the rules of our relationship from the beginning. All the hiding, sneaking around; like you're embarrassed or ashamed."

"That's not true and you know it."

"Huh," he scoffed, "Do I?" He asked before turning to walk into the attached restroom; opening the medicine cabinet and removing his toothbrush.

"Everything—I've put everything into my career—to show that women can be strong and smart and loving and successful. I never compromised who I am. I wanted young girls to know that they could be anything they ever wanted to be if they just worked hard; without compromising who they are." She challenged with her arms crossed.

"Good—Glad you got everything you set out to get," he retorted with a chuckle; narrowing his eyes on her. He scratched his face, taking a brief glance at himself in the mirror. He looked next to his reflection and saw hers, Damn you're so beautiful. Tears were welling in her eyes. He closed the cabinet, walked past her, and back into the bedroom.

"Rick…" she mumbled following him back into the bedroom, "did you even hear what I said? I can't let myself become nothing more than some punch line."

"Yes, I heard you," he stopped and shook his head, "You're an incredible woman. Anybody who can't see that or says anything different is a damn fool." He took a deep breath…

"…And I'd hoped that I was a part of the Everything that you wanted," he said, pulling a bag from the closet.

"You are," she could hear the growing plea in her voice.

"Everybody in my life knows about you. Everybody!"

She couldn't respond. She had no true explanation. What could she say? The dichotomy between her words and her actions was glaring.

He watched her before turning to the dresser; pulling various items from the drawers.

"Can we…" she couldn't formulate the words. Her train of thought was gone as she watched him. The wheels in her brain were turning; they had not yet caught up to the words he said, or the ramifications of what was happening.

He tossed the items into the bag.

"Where are you going?" She asked, scared to death at what the answer might be.

"I'm gonna stay at my house tonight."

"Why—can't we talk about this? I mean, you've obviously been thinking about this. You need to give me the chance to catch up."

He ignored the question and request; continuing his task without looking at her.

"You know why I fell so madly in love with you? It wasn't just your beauty and your sweetness," he was bent over the bed where the valise sat; "It was because you loved me. Not some idolized version of me—just me. You wanted me as much as I wanted you. You didn't have to even say it—I just knew—and it was the best feelin' I've ever known in my life."

"Rick…" the welled tears were falling down her face. His words left a stinging pain. She was processing the first blow when he hit her with the next.

"…I'd never had that before. My ex-wife loved me for what she wanted me to be, and when I didn't fit into that box, there was nothing left for us…" he paused for a moment. She watched his shoulders slump before closing the bag.

"…I never thought I'd have to be somethin' else for you." He picked up the small piece of luggage and brushed past her.

"You don't!" She shouted.

Not bothering to look back into her direction he walked out of the room towards the front door.

"Are—are you ending things—breaking up with me?" They were the most difficult words she'd ever said in her life. The hardest questions she'd ever asked. All her fears and insecurities were manifesting themselves right before her eyes.

He stopped.

"No—Never!" he said emphatically, "You're my life, even if I'm not yours," his tone was low and husky. The sorrow behind his words was unmistakable.

"Baby…" she mumbled in a whisper.

He looked into her eyes; tears were falling down her face.

"I wish to Hell you'd just break up with me and put me out of my Damn misery!"

She followed behind keeping up with his hurried pace.

"You don't mean that. I know you don't…" her hands were trembling; her chest seemed unable to contain her rapidly pounding heart. "We need to talk…"

"There's nothin' to talk about. You let me know when you're ready to add me into your life." He closed the door behind him as the final two words left his mouth.

A/N: I know that was rough - Don't hate me **offers a warm smile** The finale will be posted early next week. Thanks again for reading. All reviews are welcome and very appreciated. Have a wonderful weekend. Blessings :-)