A/N: We've reached the end of this journey and I must say it's very bittersweet for me to bring this story to a close. I just wanna thank each and every one of you for your tremendous support with this one. All the likes, follows, PM's and reviews are greatly appreciated and will always be cherished.
To my twin Tigerwalk, thank you for your support on this story and for always being such a good sounding board. Maddy aka Winterscorpion, you know I think you have a heart of gold so thanks for always stepping in when I needed you. To the rest of my writing sisters who enrich my life on a daily I love y'all.
Hope you guys enjoy the conclusion. The epilogue is already posted.
Until next time...
Sophia
Gratitude is when memory is stored in the heart and not in the mind.
Lionel Hampton
...
Rick let out a sigh of relief as he descended to the bottom of the few short steps that gave way to the small but neat waiting room. He'd used the free space to go over his speech a few minutes ago. The Drug and Alcohol Abuse Prevention dinner, shortened to DAAP had commenced with his opening address welcoming all key stakeholders of King County to the event. They had secured a conference room at The King County Grand Hotel months before the programme had been finalized or a budget clearly defined because of it's simple grandeur. He straightened his black tie; the navy blue Alfani suit he wore had been picked out by his wife and his tie selected by his boys. There was a deeper sense of pride gliding over him as he meeted and greeted the invited guests.
"That was an amazing speech."
He heard Jessie's voice behind him. He remembered leaving her in the room when his name was called for the opening address but he assumed she returned to her seat once she ensured everything was running in smooth fashion.
"Hey. Thanks. I thought you'd be sitting down by now." He passed a hand through his neat curls. "You should you know...enjoy the fruits of your labor." To say Jessie had worked hard on the whole campaign would really be an understatement, she deserved to enjoy their success.
"Trust me I plan to. Lizze's a bit nervous, asked me to stay with her while she gives her testimony." Jessie shrugged, smiling sheepishly, "You know...moral support. Don't nobody know what that means better than me." She gave a light chuckle but he heard the weight behind her words, nodding in understanding.
Not wanting to take herself down memory lane she returned to her original thread. "Seriously though. A plus speech."
"Michonne helped. Actually she did most of it." He shook his head when he thought about his proficient wife. "Somehow she always knows what I wanna say and she found the best words to convey that." He shook his head in marvel, in appreciation for the woman he'd promised the rest of his life to. It was a wonder to him that despite the storm they'd weathered when her amnesia blew in, it appeared as though their connection was even more powerful, more potent than before. "She's good at that kinda thing." He couldn't downplay the grin that donned his face.
In a quiet gesture Jessie looked away when Rick said Michonne's name, almost blinded by the light that was shining through him.
If love had a face it would look like Rick's.
He was a man totally in love and his glow caused a white light to shine on her wrongly influenced conjecture about their friendship.
Shame crept over her skin. She cringed inside for assuming the fondness she felt for Rick was a two way street. In hindsight it was easy for her to imagine given how close they had worked over the past several months.
"She is. Congratulations on everything. We did it," she said.
"Yeah we did." He gave her arm a pat, like he was congratulating a child for winning a spelling Bee. It snatched her from the sea of dreams and planted her firmly next to the river of reality. She didn't need a neon sign to see whatever Rick felt for her was strictly platonic. She wasn't sure why she thought differently for so long. "I thought…," her words dropped off, not sure she was making or going to make any sense.
"What is it?" he egged on.
"I guess I'm gonna miss working with you."
"We had some good times. You did some amazing stuff on this trail."
She tucked her hair behind her ear as she blushed, "Thank you…Rick?"
"Yeah…"
"You know when Michonne got into the accident and she lost her memory I saw what that did to you. How badly it affected you..." She remembered at one point all he wanted to do was work. They spent a few late evenings working tirelessly to bring everything to fruition. They weren't alone most times but they were always in sync with their ideas and strategies which certainly aided in streamlining the whole project so efficiently. She assumed it was a special connection. On one side while he was buried in guilt and pain she saw their friendship rise a bit or so she thought.
"It was rough. Throwing myself into this helped sometimes."
She let loose a dry laugh, understanding exactly what he meant. "Yeah I get it," she laughed again, nervous about where the conversation was taking her mind. She was wondering if she should share what she was thinking now that everything was pretty much coming to a close. "I guess I thought…"
"Thought what?" he asked, unsure as to where the vague shift in their conversation was headed to or what Jessie was trying to say or imply. He was trying to remain objective but he wondered if Shane's needling had been accurate all along. He began seeing things in a different light; the rose blush in her cheeks, her tendency for laying her hand on his arm, her agreeableness to most things he said. The fact she was a blushing school girl in front of him right now. Did Jessie really have a crush on him? Did he blind himself to it all?
She barely kept eye contact with him now as she paused in her flow.
Jessie didn't know what she was going to say. What was she supposed to say? That she thought he'd confided in her? She chided herself for thinking he'd fall into her arms or at least seek refuge in them while his amnesiac wife moved out on him. Was that the kind of woman she wanted to be? She didn't want that to be the total sum of who she was, not after all she had been through with Pete.
She wasn't the kind of woman that wanted things that didn't belong to her. Rick didn't belong to her and he never would. Yes, they had a good friendship but invisible boundaries were always in place. No lines had ever been crossed because that was just the kind of man Rick Grimes was. He respected her and coming from a table where respect wasn't even on the menu it was refreshing as it was attractive. She had been hurt for so long when help finally came it looked like a prospect.
She could see why a big part of her was taken up by the camouflage of it all; she saw things, simple things in Rick that she'd never seen in the one man who vowed to love her forever in the ten years they were married.
She gave into it, which made her project her misguided affection onto a brick wall.
It was what Rick represented; his devotion to being a good husband and a good father, something her ex lacked greatly.
Rick helped her escape Pete, rather he gave her a rope to climb out of the mess and it made her feel special. She thought he did it for her but he didn't. He would've done that for anyone because helping people was innate to his character.
"If you didn't help me that night I wouldn't be here right now."
"Yeah you would," he nodded his head, hoping his conviction would grab hold of her too. When he and Daryl responded to the domestic disturbance call from Jessie's neighbor that night she had been in a bad state. Yet despite of it he saw a determination in her eyes that rose to the surface among the debilitating circumstances she found herself in. It only took a few calls to help set her on her feet. He would have done the same for anybody.
"I guess this is my roundabout way of saying thanks."
"You don't have to thank me. Jessie, you're not the fragile helpless woman you were almost a year ago. You've taken back control of your life." He gestured to their surroundings and all that they had accomplished with the implementation of the Drug abuse Programme in King County. "This is just the start."
"I think I needed to hear that. Thank you."
"Listen, Andrea is starting on a project that I think you'd be a great asset to. Think about it and maybe give her a call?" He was giving her options for more fulfillment but he knew she too had the potential to help people.
"I'll think about it. Thanks."
"I'm goin back out there. Michonne is probably wondering where I am."
"Enjoy the rest of the evening."
"You too."
"Rick…." She called back,
He turned to her again.
"Michonne...Michonne is a lucky woman."
He swiped a thumb over his brow, he shrugged his shoulders. "I'm the lucky one."
…...
Michonne lingered by the red door waiting to surprise Rick after his perfect execution of the speech they'd work on for half the night. She had no intention on eavesdropping on the conversation between him and Jessie, but when the blonde woman began to speak curiosity got the best of her. The night she decided to go to her mother's for a few days for convalescence and clarification and the heart breaking disagreement that followed flitted through her mind. Jessie had shown up unannounced at her door that night. Giving the impression that she and Rick had a cozy relationship that left Michonne questioning while Rick hadn't even flinched by her sudden appearance.
So as she strained her ears towards the door to listen to what Jessie had to say, more than Rick, she was prepared to neutralize the threat. Only there was no threat to neutralize. In some roundabout kind of way she knew that all along.
She'd processed for herself that Jessie had some type of feelings for her husband. She was at rest knowing that there was never a need to doubt anything. Rick had shared Jessie's story with her, again. Reminding her how he'd helped connect her with the right people like Carol, to help see the light at the end of a dark tunnel. They were simple tools that equipped her with courage to start the process of making a life for herself and her two boys. She left her bad marriage behind for a better taste of life, which she could imagine was scary as it was rejuvenating.
Her husband was someone who went the extra mile for others and he saw what Jessie needed and stepped in to help her when nobody else did. Rick was a real one. In a way she understood why Jessie would've latched onto that. Michonne didn't have any fear now, she trusted Rick. She discovered that her heart had been in defiance of her amnesia from the get go. Overriding any uncertainty, showing her in several ways she was too confused and too angry to decipher that she could trust him.
It was beautiful because in the midst of the chaos in her mind came clarity in her heart. It was what helped her to fall in love with him again. Now there was no climbing out for her.
"Michonne? Michonne Grimes?" A well dressed middle aged couple walked over to her. They were strangers to her having never seen them before but she didn't know if she should attribute the unknown to her memory loss.
"Yes I am. You are...?" she asked standing straighter, looking around to see if anyone else had followed them. The bathroom was close to the area they were now in. Maybe they had missed a turn.
"Edna and Hugh Hilton. We're Jim Hilton's parents," the lady with honey colored eyes said, her voice softening when she mentioned her deceased son's name.
Jim Hilton, the one who started it all. Her heart dipped, still not recalling anything from that night but still certain that the memory remained hidden in the caverns of her mind somewhere. She knew one thing, Jim died that night and two people were still suffering through his loss. She never met his parents despite the few visits to his grave. She and Andrea had gone a few times to visit and leave fresh flowers for Jim as a way of honoring his death despite the senseless actions for it. They were alive and they were grateful for the small mercies they were allotted considering the state of Michonne's car that night. No one should've survived. Even her baby had lived through the wreckage; if that wasn't a miracle God wasn't real.
"I'm sorry for your loss," she managed to say politely, despite meeting the parents of the man who's drunk driving could've killed her. Some things had died that night for her and Andrea; her memory and Andrea's self worth. No one was left unscathed.
The lady whose name was Edna, eyes filled up with tears as she recalled her son.
"It's been six months already. We miss him so much. Every day has been hard you know but your husband has helped us so much." Hank spoke up when he saw his wife was too choked up to continue. He clutched her by her shoulders as he gave his attention to Michonne.
The mention of Rick's name was unexpected as it was puzzling. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at them both, "Rick? I'm afraid I'm not following. How did my husband help you?" She assumed that when Rick got the call that night he had rushed to her bedside in concern and care for her life. He said so on their few reconciliations of the night in question. There was no point in him investigating the accident, especially when the perpetrator was dead. The accident was a close and shut case because Jim was driving under the influence, too drunk to be in control of himself or a vehicle that night.
Edna's face softened again, "Your husband provided us with grief counseling. Jim was helping us out at home. Hugh had been laid off from the factory a few months prior and Jim's paycheck was helping us get by while my Hugh looked for a new job. But when Jim died we were crumbling. Rick provided us with groceries now and then."
"He helped me find a new job! I'm working now. Got me a job as a driver for a fancy bakery downtown. Your husband...he's a good man." Hugh's round face was full of gratitude.
Her heart dipped and soared. Again. Hearing what she already knew caused a smile on her face. Rick was selfless to a fault and she could see why he was elected sheriff of this place uncontested. He lead with his heart, even when it was hurting.
"Yes. Yes he is." She didn't want to cry but when she thought she couldn't love her man anymore something else happened that made her heart make more room for him.
"So he invited us to this dinner. This is a good thing he and his people are doing. I wish it was available when Jim was alive. He was going through a rough patch you know..." Hugh shook his head in remorse. "He was only twenty nine when he died."
Michonne heard when his voice broke she could imagine on a night like this that their son's death would be a fresh grief for them.
"I'm sorry," was all she could've said. She too was moved by their praises of Rick and the palpable sadness that was still being felt because of the many things that crumbled that fateful night.
"It would've been remiss of us to not come here to tell him thanks."
"Mr and Mrs. Hilton? You made it." The man of the hour joined them and he was so striking in his appearance she forgot she was waiting outside the room in the lighted hallway to surprise him.
Edna hugged him, a big hug that was filled with thanks and appreciation. The genuinity of it all touched her.
"The Hiltons came to say thanks for all that you did for them." Michonne touched his broad shoulder and smiled up at him.
"It's nothin'." Rick dropped his gaze to the floor, not wanting praise for something anyone would've done.
"It was something son. We appreciate it. Not a lot if people would've done what you did. Not after what our son did to your family. So thank you Rick. For helping me find a job and for being one of the good guys." Hugh took his hand in a grip.
"You're welcome." Rick shook Hugh's hand vigorously.
"We're going back to our seats. You two enjoy the evening. All the best to you both. Congratulations on that baby. How far along are you?"
Rick pulled Michonne to his chest as he said proudly, "Six months."
Edna did a quick calculation in her head, her mouth formed in a round O. "Does that mean you were pregnant the night of the accident!" There was amazement in her tone.
"Yeah I was," Michonne said with a smile.
"Amazing! I guess some things are meant to be." Edna squeezed Michonne's hand in departure. The couple walked off in an embrace of their own. Michonne was kinda glad they had each other. Love in itself was a healing balm uncontested by any medicine ever invented. Rick proved that.
"Grief counseling? Groceries? Were you ever going to tell me?" He probably would've kept it to himself because he wasn't propelled by praise. The knowledge made her smile. He shook his head, slid his hand around her expanding waistline and began to walk down the corridor. "It was nothin' really."
"What made you do it?"
"It was easy. They lost their son but I still had you." She leaned into him needing to be close. He still considered her his even when she thought they had nothing if she couldn't remember who he was to her. He truly loved her more than her memories.
She would bore a hole in the tiled floor soon if she didn't pull herself together and stop fussing over something that wasn't supposed to be so complicated in the first place. She inhaled a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting it go on a slow exhale hoping that a unique idea would full the space in her head that seemed too vacant for her right now.
"C'mon Michonne...think!" she said into the cool air.
Her lack of any ingenuity felt deserved as she procrastinated until the very last minute to decide on a final showcase piece for her class pottery exhibition tomorrow. She wanted to create something unique to Rick, something that stood out but still echoed a strong sentiment of how much her creative journey started because he signed her up for the class in the first place. He knew what she needed before she even needed it. She promised that she would dedicate a piece to him, the one she chose to showcase to mark the end of a journey and the beginning of another. Morgan mentioned that a short snippet about why the piece was chosen would be a fitting way to end the course that had not only helped her memory but helped her navigate through an extremely uncertain time in her life.
She just didn't think it would've been this hard. She had all her fresh pieces ready to start the centering process if only her mind would center and give her an idea.
She surveyed her old work on the tall shelf: ceramic buttons, a leaf, soap dishes a spoon rest, a lopsided mug, a too short vase, nothing stood out to her.
Your piece doesn't have to be perfect, but it should be your perfect choice.
She recalled Morgan's words to her a few weeks ago when she expressed her tired crusade to find the ideal model of her work. A direct expression of how far she'd come and why she selected to dedicate it to her husband.
An almost complete coil pot caught her eye on the bottom shelf, she remembered putting it there after spending hours on constructing it but failed at the precision required to make it a finished pot. She had dried it then fired it as is because she didn't have the heart to discard it. She started on the piece at Wildfire two weeks after she and Rick shared their special dance in the kitchen when she left him in middle of the kitchen looking tortured. At the time she was feeling like a fraction in front of him but still his hypnotic blue eyes held no judgement, just pain.
She wanted to at least produce something wholesome at the time to somehow makeup for her deficiencies but she'd failed. Now it rested on the last shelf like a rejected toy that didn't make the cut for Santa's deliveries. She wondered if there was anyway to revamp the old thing or if she should just attempt a new one. She knew within herself there wasn't sufficient time.
Sometimes discarded craft could become a masterpiece one day. She wondered at the thing sitting there looking back at her with its intricate pattern and thought if completed it would've been a great selection.
She shook her head in consideration, in a way the pot was like her, unfinished but Rick loved her just the way she was, memory loss and all.
Maybe it didn't need to be finished to be great.
She grabbed it off the shelf. Her fingers touched the deep gray coils layered on on top the other which made her think of the confusion in her mind when she came out of the hospital. How her mangled thoughts piled one on top the other until she felt like her mind was an avalanche.
Rick was there every step of the way for the reintroduction into their home, he clarified any questions she had, he showed her things over and over again. He never once grew tired of her. Not even when she felt like throwing in the towel was easier than struggling through the maze of her memory or the matrix of their marriage.
He'd proven time and time again he loved her the way she was. It reminded her that like her still fragmented memory, finished pieces didn't always happen.
She was striving for perfection, in search of the masterpiece that never quite came. Perhaps the masterpiece was in the moments she connected and re-connected with Rick. The masterpiece was when Carl and Andre embraced her tightly in Hershel's kitchen the morning after she was discharged from the hospital. The masterpiece was her and Andrea reconciling at Jim Hilton's gravesite. Her masterpiece was realizing Rick loved her in spite of her memory loss, maybe even because of it. Her masterpiece was Rick's unfailing, unwavering love that eventually brought her back to him.
She should know this better than anyone, she was looking for perfection in her piece but her monument was a bit of a mess. In the end the outcome was pieces of layered clay, but her process was the best part of the journey. She made it through the fire unbroken like her unfinished coil pot.
The detailing on the rounded bottom of the pot reminded her how important paying attention to the small things were. Like sticky notes on a bathroom wall that really showed her how thoughtful her husband was. She had never attempted artistic designs on anything before but pottery helped her to take risks even when was afraid of failing. She remembered when she moved back home to give what she and Rick had a chance, she never regretted the decision. Patience was important too, there was always the off chance that she didn't get the shape on the first try and she'd have to try it again and again. Similar to the patience Rick had with her, it couldn't have been easy trying to love someone who had no recollection of how much you meant to them. Her discovery was that her imperfection was her refining. There was beauty in the unfinished coil pot similar to how she felt about her life now.
She wasn't perfect, neither was her memory, neither were ceramics, neither was life. Just like the clay she loved so much, life had a way of cracking in front of you, collapsing in the middle of a journey, breaking and stretching you. That's what amnesia did to her.
Similar to the delicate nature of the clay, Rick was there all along with a gentle touch, a comforting word and the kind of love she would never be able to measure. She and the coil pot were one and the same; incomplete but yet whole.
A smile dawned on her, she grabbed her box of acrylic paint to add some colour to the pot.
Excitement drummed under her skin, she had found her piece.
….
Morgan wanted the showcase of his students' work to be more than a display so he helped to construct portable shelving to the back of the class. He brought along some pedestals and table risers for the more classical pieces. The sixteen students he taught and mentored over the past few months had exceeded his expectations with their dedication to the craft that changed his life. While some had come to his class because they had a love of the art form and wanted to learn about the craft, others had come wanting to learn about themselves. Some more so than others. He thoroughly enjoyed the successes and even the failures of this particular group under his tutelage. They understood how critical it was to connect with the clay; in turn they were able to connect with themselves and the people around them. He cherished the cycle because everything gets a return. He knew that better than anyone.
Tonight was a big night for all. Not only was it officially their last day of class but it was the night when every class member got to present their showcase piece in front of their invited friends and family. The shelves and tables were lined with pretty varying shades of deep blue, dark green, grays and yellow pieces of plates, porcelain mugs, bowls, vases. Some had done beautiful abstract work that were already on display. The evening was halfway through. Some were nervous about standing in front of the class and speaking publicly on why their showcase piece was selected; a requirement for the last day of class.
Morgan thought it was important for everyone to understand that they weren't just learning about clay, they were learning about life too. The techniques required for the process was similar if not precise to the requirements of life too. Including the life in crisis.
Kevin Sombert had just finished his speech dedicating his piece - a plant pot, to his sister for sticking by him through his divorce. Michonne was next and he could tell by the timid look on her face she was probably a bit nervous too.
She grabbed her dark green coil pot off the table and in a neat stride she took her place to the front of the class.
"So I've been deliberating day and night on what I should choose for my showcase piece. It's been hard for me trying to find that perfect piece. but before I go there I just wanna say how much this class has meant to me." She adjusted her locs over her shoulder as her words gathered in formation. "It helped me with my amnesia more than I ever expected. You guys have helped too, some of you by just being here or by just giving me a smile when I was too frustrated to try again." She cast a glance over at Morgan who was at the side, leaning on the wall. "Thank you for always pushing me to try harder." Morgan nodded, always recognizing her potential in spite of her procrastination.
"But I wouldn't be standing here without the support of my husband. It hasn't been an easy road for us. But he never gave up.." She paused as her eyes began to pool despite her resolve not to cry. Rick straightened in the chair he was sitting in.
"He never gave up on me. Ahd he has inspired me to not just try but to try harder. That's why I dedicate this piece to you Rick. It's pretty much me in clay from. It's been bent and thrown but somehow came out unbroken. But it's far from perfect, because clay isn't perfect and neither are we. So we're really lucky if we get people to love our imperfect forms."
Rick walked towards her in a slow gait. The eyes of everyone in the room on them but to him nobody else existed. He was so proud of the woman standing in front of him he could burst.
She gave him the leaning, incomplete but intricately designed coil pot, "It's unfinished, kinda like me."
"I don't think I've ever seen anything more beautiful."
She was smiling wide and Rick couldn't take his blue eyes off her.
"Thank you." She wanted to say for everything but she knew he understood the tone of her gratitude.
"I love you Michonne."
She smiled because when he leaned into kiss her the whole class was clapping.
…..
"She looks more full of life than when she walked in here all those months ago." Morgan handed him a beer, coming to stand next to him at the back of the auditorium. Michonne was mingling with her friends, saying goodbye and making promises to keep in touch seeing that they wouldn't be seeing each other twice a week anymore. Rick was content to wait and watch his wife do her thing.
"She is." He took a swig of the beer Morgan gave him, pushing a hand in the pocket of his jeans. He wasn't sure what to make of Morgan approaching him in solo mode but he didn't have any reason to stand caution with the man who had a hand to play with helping Michonne.
"I go through this often you know...saying goodbye. It's always a bittersweet day for me."
"They've come a long way because of you."
"Nah, they did it. I just provided the know how." Pottery was a craft to be learned for those interested but the two sided mirror it had on their lives was hard to escape for some. His hope was that they would advance in the craft as much as they would advance in their own personal journeys.
"I know Michonne is glad she took your class." He was too, he wasn't sure how fast their progress would've been had it not been for the pottery lessons.
Michonne laughed with a tall woman named Diane, who Rick had learnt had lost her daughter in a car accident. Everybody had a story. Some were worse than others. Pottery had been an escape but also a good way to heal after they all had been shattered in some form.
"Michonne was my best student." Morgan sighed on the end of his sentence and his sombre facial expression made Rick curious.
"You know in the earlies I thought I would have to punch you in the face." It was when Michonne used to consider Morgan her only friend and he was jealous of a man who saw her twice a week for two hours. He was grasping at straws at the time, trying to not be irrational about the fondness in her voice when she spoke about her instructor. It was easy to see now how fond everyone was of Morgan and how highly they all spoke of his guidance in their speeches.
Both their faces grew serious as their somewhat generic conversation reached a deeper level.
"You're uh...you're not kidding are you?" Morgan didn't see a crack in Rick's stance but he was no fool, the man standing beside him maybe a lot of things but insecure wasn't one of them."
"You wanna know what she said to me the first day of class?" the zen teacher asked.
"What?"
"She said she didn't think she would've been here if it wasn't for you."
"I signed her up." It was his desperate attempt at reaching the almost stranger he found his wife to be. He always thought it was a selfish act on his part but it worked out for all parties involved.
"You did more than that Rick."
Rick shrugged with a twist of his head, "I never planned on amnesia… we didn't. I just wanted her to find something to hold onto while everything she knew was slipping away from her."
"You did. I saw something in her that reminded me of my Jenny." Morgan's eyes were soft as Rick heard him mention his wife's name. He'd been briefed on Morgan's story by Michonne before. He knew how much he had lost and a few months ago he could've been like Morgan thinking he had lost plenty too.
Now that he and Michonne were stronger than ever he was happy to give a final report that even though amnesia had stripped her of their memories and put a dent in their relationship not everything was gone.
"I'm sorry."
"It's been a long time. Michonne has tenacity like my Jenny." He heard the swift change in Morgan's voice and was eternally grateful that he didn't lose his wife in that horrible car accident. He couldn't fault Morgan for seeing Michonne's strength, it was what brought her through the tragedy of the accident.
"I'm just glad her memory is returning." He was grateful for even the snippets. Not because they were dependant on it but because he knew they amount of joy he received when he recalled her.
"I'm happy for you both. I can see why you two were made for each other."
"I did what I'd promised to do on our wedding day. Stand next to her in the darkness and love her when she was unsure." He said his vows with conviction, they'd been proven and tested. Even when she forgot who she was he remained strong enough to remind her. He never questioned so much if he had to stick by her while she reconciled her new self to her old self. The question for him was finding ways to show her he loved her in spite of their lost years. They had found a way and it was a promise they had made a long time ago.
"That couldn't have been easy," Morgan said.
"It wasn't, but she'd do the same for me."
"You two talking about me?" Michonne asked, finally approaching the odd duo.
Rick extended his arm out to her and she stepped inside his embrace like she'd done it a thousand times.
"Everything isn't about you babe." Rick teased, kissing her on her lips.
"I love your piece Michonne. Your speech was perfect," Morgan proffered.
"Thank you. For everything." She touched Morgan's hand.
"You ready?" She looked up at Rick, ready to grab their babies and head home.
"Let's go home."
"Not too much okay," she said to Carl, observing him from her peripheral as she cracked four eggs into a bowl. It was still too early to be awake in their house on a Saturday morning but the baby was moving about too much for her to find a comfortable spot to sleep. Not wanting to wake Rick she slipped out of bed deciding to get an early start on a lavish breakfast for her boys. Only one of her boys had beaten her to it, she discovered Carl in the kitchen getting all the fixings together for pancakes. Together they were a dynamic duo and had everything set up in no time for a smooth running of a pancake making session.
"Mom? Can I ask you something?" Carl asked, flipping a small cake over with the blue handled spatula.
"You can ask me anything." She opened the fridge to retrieve some strawberries.
"Is the baby gonna have his own room?"
"You're so sure this baby is a boy huh?"
"Yeah it's a boy."
"Yes the baby will have his own room." Carl and Andre were extremely excited about the prospect of a sibling. They were now heavily engaged in the big brother wars. Who was gonna be the better big brother was a serious competition taking place.
"Do you remember everything now mom?"
Carl was always intuitive so she had to be very careful with how she responded.
"Not entirely. Things are coming back in pieces."
"Like what?"
"Like before the accident you were playing video games on a school night and your dad grounded you."
"Seriously mom? That's what you remember!?" he said incredulously, making her laugh.
She helped him stack the pancakes he'd crafted on a plate. Then she poured the eggs in the pan while he plated the bacon.
"Do you ever wonder why you forgot us?" Carl's tone was nonchalant as though he was asking her the time. She wished she had the right response but she didn't. The truth was she had no clue why she forgot them but what she knew was she got to love them all again and she was sure the second time around she discovered a plethora of new things to cherish.
"I do. All the time."
"I don't think it matters what's in your head. I think it's what's in your heart that matters the most." Carl folded his arms, leaning on the counter as he spoke. His stance caught her off guard because he looked like a miniature version of Rick. The wisdom of his words indicated to her that he was very much on his way to becoming a man. She turned off the stove and hugged her son who didn't come from her body but was certainly a part of who she was.
"You're absolutely right baby."
"What's going on here? Pancakes without us?" Rick padded barefoot down the stairs in his dark blue pajama bottoms and a sleepy Andre on his back.
"We were trying to surprise you." She kissed him on his lips then did the same to Dre. Rick's bed head was inviting, making her want to forget pancakes for a more intimate kind of breakfast.
Her thirsty stare betrayed her because he said, "Down girl." A big, fat smirk on his face.
He would always be the quench to her thirst. She relished in the fact that all he had to do was look at her and he'd know what she was thinking.
As the family assembled around the table for breakfast Michonne felt a kick in her stomach. "Whoa!" she said, resting a soothing hand on her big, round belly.
"Babe?"
She took Rick's hand and placed it on the spot where she just felt their baby. When Rick felt the jab he grinned.
"I guess she likes pancakes too," he laughed.
"It's a boy Dad," Andre said shoving bacon in his mouth, now fully awake.
"They decided apparently." Michonne filled Rick in.
The three of them slipped into a silly debate on the baby's gender and she was content to listen to their reasoning. Her family felt intact, whole and she was looking forward to the new baby joining their team. She had a lot to look forward to and missing memories wasn't going to be a stumbling block for her, not when she had new memories to make with the beautiful people around this special table.
"Hey the pancakes are getting cold! Let's eat!"
The house phone rang just as they were about to dive into their meal.
"Hey Glenn what's up?" Rick answered, "you're kidding! We'll meet you there." He hung up the phone with a smile. "Maggie's in labor!"
Carl and Andre raced out of their chairs and ran upstairs to change their clothes.
"You stay here, I'll get your jacket," Rick said a bit of panic in his tone.
If he was this antsy for his sister she could only imagine what their baby's birth would be like.
She sat down at the table again, listening to the commotion upstairs as he got the boys ready. She sipped some orange juice and rubbed her belly.
"I hope you're ready for this family sweetie. I promise they're not always this crazy."
"Michonne! I can't find Dre's sneakers!" Rick was calling from the top of the stairs.
She laughed, but loved that she was needed. She hoped Maggie's baby was in no rush, because this could take a while.
"Okay so they aren't perfect but they're perfect for us." She smiled as she ascended the stairs to take care of her boys.
