Chapter 2

Part 1

After Rick had cleaned up and dressed, he headed downstairs. He found Morgan lounging on the couch, working on a book of crossword puzzles. His friend glanced up as Rick came down the stairs.

"Car maker named for a physicist?" Morgan questioned him. "Five letters long?"

"Tesla," Rick replied as he sat down on the couch.

"Ah," Morgan nodded, scratching in the answer with his pencil.

Rick wasn't sure where to begin, so they sat in silence while Morgan continued to fill in answers. Eventually, Rick quietly ventured, "You and Michonne, huh?"

Morgan observed him over the top of his crossword puzzle for a moment, then sat the book and pencil down on the living room table. "It's not precisely 'her and me.' I think it's a bit premature to put that label to it. I requested her company for the evening and she accepted." Morgan paused, taking in Rick's troubled expression. "I was under the impression that the two of you are not together. Not romantically, I mean."

Rick sighed, "We're not."

"Perhaps the situation is a bit more complicated than that, though?"

"If it is, I'm fairly sure it's one-sided."

Thoughtfully peering at his friend, Morgan said, "I didn't intend any offense, Rick, and I hope you know that. I believed that you had taken an interest towards the widow of that man you killed. I'll call off the date if you want me to. Our friendship is more important to me than the possibility of a romance."

Rick remained still for a long moment, not speaking. Eventually, he noted in a low voice, "I see you still wear your wedding ring."

"I see you still wear yours," Morgan returned immediately.

"Why do you keep yours on?"

"I haven't met the right person to take it off for yet. One day, I hope to have a good reason to lay it aside. Why do you wear yours?"

Rick sighed and twisted the gold band on his finger. "I was so broke when I asked Lori to marry me, I had to borrow the money from my dad to buy our rings. We were young, hardly more than kids. I spent the first two years of our marriage paying him back. Paid back every cent, though." Rick felt a lump rising in his throat. "I never got hers back... cut that walker open and dug all through its stomach, but I never found her ring..." His voice trailed off.

Morgan didn't offer a response. He sat in sober silence and listened as his friend continued.

"I know it doesn't mean anything anymore, or at least not what it used to mean. But it just doesn't feel right to take it off." Rick scratched his ear thoughtfully. "Maybe it's just a habit, but it feels like I should have it on."

Both men were quiet for a long moment before Rick stood up. "Don't call off your date. Michonne wouldn't have accepted if she didn't want it. It's her decision, not mine."

Morgan raised his eyebrows. "If you're sure."

"Yeah. Listen, just... uhm... don't try to get her in bed, okay?"

For a moment, Morgan was sure he had to be joking. However, his expression seemed to say he was dead serious. Rick's head was cocked to the side, and his eyes were narrowed.

"I don't even have a bed," Morgan pointed out.

Rick immediately responded, "She has one."

"Yes, and there are four other occupied bedrooms up there, too. That's hardly private. Besides, I have every intention of being a gentleman," he assured him.

Rick nodded. "Good. Because I'm not sure I could wrap my head around it." With that, Rick sauntered across the room and reached for his boots which stood by the front door.

"It's rather late to go out for a walk, isn't it?" Morgan questioned, picking up his crossword puzzle book again.

"I have something to take care of," Rick replied as he stepped onto the front porch.

The night air was cool without being chilly. Rick's long-sleeved twill shirt was enough to keep him warm. As he ambled down the sidewalk, he noticed Daryl making his way towards the house. His motorcycle was turned off so as not to disturb the neighbors at such a late hour, and he was walking it home. Both men slowed down as they neared one another.

"Hell of a time to be getting back in," Rick noted.

"Aaron and I get done when we get done. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. What makes you ask that?"

"Not like you to be out so late. Sure nothin's goin' on?"

"Just out to visit a friend."

"Well, you look like hell. It's all over your face that you're pissed about something."

Rick was surprised. His conversations with his two friends had disturbed him, but he didn't realize he was being so transparent. "Well, I found out that Michonne is going out on a date with Morgan tomorrow night. Just a little surprised by it, is all."

Daryl peered at him through his shaggy hair and thought for a long moment, then replied, "Pretty girl like that, I wouldn't think she'd stay single for long now that we've settled down."

Damn it if I'm not the last person to expect this, Rick thought. All he said was, "Yeah, I guess so."

They stood in the street for a long moment before Rick suggested, "You should get on home. There's leftovers in the fridge. Michonne made one hell of a dinner."

Daryl rolled his bike into the driveway while Rick continued towards Jessie's house, his head full of thoughts. He was confused and unsure of what direction his life was taking. When he'd arrived in Alexandria, Jessie had immediately grabbed his attention. She was friendly and pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way, the kind of woman he would have gone for every time in his old life. And she had seemed untainted by all the ugliness outside the walls. However, he had come to find out that she had been living with an ugliness inside the walls of her own home. Rick had eliminated that threat, yet he couldn't help but wonder at what cost? His whispered, hurried conversation with Jessie earlier in the day came back to him. Her sons obviously despised him, and he could hardly blame them. He wasn't sorry in the slightest for killing Pete, but he also knew that he couldn't expect Sam and Ron to understand. Their dad was their dad, and he was the man who had taken their dad away. Rick could feel the gravity of that like a weight on his head and shoulders. He kept walking.

Jessie was no longer the pretty, carefree girl he believed her to be when he first met her. Neither was she the woman cowering in fear of her own husband, desperately needing his help. She was on her own now, and Rosita was teaching her how to shoot and fight, and always the matter of her sons was at the forefront of his mind when he thought of her. Rick wasn't sure what he and Jessie were doing with each other, what they would even say to one another when he got to her house, but he felt himself being drawn there irresistibly anyways. He had placed himself right in the center of this family's life, and he couldn't act like he had no responsibility to them, couldn't ignore Jessie.

Rick reached her block and turned the corner onto her street. Besides, he sighed inwardly, it's been a long time. How long? He had to think about it for a moment before coming up with the answer. He hadn't been touched by a woman, hadn't touched a woman, since around the time Judith was conceived, and that was over a year and a half ago. Never mind sex, he'd be content to have a warm embrace and perhaps a kiss. He was lonely, he knew it. Now that he no longer had to worry about avoiding starvation or finding shelter or facing imminent attacks by an enemy, he found himself longing for the comfort of a woman's arms. Perhaps that's what was causing his sudden confusion over Michonne. She was beautiful, of course, he'd always known that. More than beautiful, gorgeous. Flawless. Maybe his testosterone was just in overdrive. Maybe Jessie could give him what he needed.

He stepped up to her front door and was about to knock quietly when it opened. She had been waiting for him.

Part 2

Jessie's tongue was in his mouth, and her fingers were in his hair. Her weight straddling him made his body feel uncomfortably hot under his jeans and shirt. He squeezed his eyes shut and kissed her back. They had sat on her couch for a time while Jessie filled him on the difficulties she and her boys had experienced over the last couple of weeks since Pete's death. Her tears had spilled over, and Rick had reached for her to comfort her. One thing had quickly led to another, and now here she was in his lap, her hands exploring under his shirt.

Rick felt deeply disturbed even as their mouths were pressed together. It didn't feel right for matters to be progressing so quickly between them. He wanted the pleasure she was offering him, but he knew there was a price. There was always a price. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured Lori's face, and then Michonne's. He no longer knew what the hell he was doing.

He pulled his head back, away from her enthusiastic tongue, and gasped, "Jessie, please."

She sat back slightly but showed no signs of moving from her position on his lap. In fact, she moved her hips slightly against his groin as she waited for him to say something.

He removed his hands from her waist, placing them on the couch cushions at either side. "I can't do this. I can't." He was no longer at all sure that she was the one he was supposed to be with.

"Rick," she said breathily, and gazed into his eyes longingly. Her eyes held the promise of making him feel good, of enabling him for a time to shut out the pain and fear he struggled daily to keep at bay. He suddenly, desperately wanted to lose himself. He wanted warmth and moisture and release. He gave in.

Rick pushed her onto the couch on her back and covered her body with his. His lips sought hers in a rough kiss while he ground his hips between her legs, which were spread wide for him. He kissed down her neck and frantically worked to undo the buttons of her blouse. He'd unfastened the first two and was kissing at her cleavage when they both heard a door squeak loudly on its hinges upstairs.

"Rick, get off me! Quick!" Jessie whispered urgently.

He was confused by her sudden countermand, pulled unpleasantly back into reality by the interruption, but he obliged her by sitting up.

"Mom?" Ron's voiced floated down the stairway. "Are you down here?"

"Get in the closet!" Jessie ordered, gesturing to the small doorway next to the couch.

Rick demanded in a harsh whisper, "What the hell, Jessie? The fucking closet?"

"He can't see you down here. I don't know what he'll do. Please, please just do this for me. Just get in the closet!"

Jessie practically shoved him in just as Ron reached the landing of the staircase, closing the door as silently as she could. It was pitch black inside and Rick could only hear what was happening in the living room.

"I thought I heard voices," he heard Ron say.

"No, no one is here," Jessie replied. "I dozed off on the couch, but I woke up when I heard you calling me. I'll head upstairs to bed soon."

Ron nodded. "Alright, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. We've had enough shit happen to last this family a lifetime."

"Ron, please, your language."

"Yeah, sorry, Mom... g'night."

"Goodnight, sweetie."

The closet occupied the space under the stairway, and Rick could hear Ron's footsteps as he headed back upstairs. Jessie waited until Ron had closed his door before she let Rick out.

Rick stepped out of the closet and stared at her silently.

"I'm sorry to do that to you, really, I am," she whispered. "But he can't know about us. You don't understand what it would do to him."

"So your plan is to keep inviting me over in the middle of the night and hiding me in one of your closets?" Rick's reply was a low rumble. His hands were on his hips, his weight on one leg as he looked at her challengingly.

"I don't really have a plan here, Rick. Both of us are figuring this out, aren't we?"

"I won't be hid away like a terrible secret, Jessie," Rick hissed, his gaze fiery.

She sucked in a breath. "If you think that I'm going to tell them that I'm in a relationship with their father's executioner, you need to think again. There's no way I can do that. They won't understand. No one in this entire town will understand."

"What are you saying to me here, Jessie?" Rick demanded. "Just say it right out, will you?"

"I am not going public with us. That will not happen."

Rick stared into her eyes for a long moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching. This was a familiar feeling for him: nothing he said or did was good enough to avoid being rejected by the woman in front of him. Lori had done it to him so many times, and here he was, allowing himself to be put in the same situation all over again. Different person, different circumstances, but the same result and the same feeling.

"There is no 'us.' This ends now." Rick's eyes glittered coldly at her.

Jessie could only stare back, her eyes wide and mouth agape in shock. He had been the one to pursue her all this time. She had been so sure that he would agree to have her secretly if he couldn't have her any other way. She watched, dumbfounded, as he stalked out her front door.

When the door closed, Jessie sank down onto the couch and covered her face with her hands, tears falling silently down her cheeks.

Part 3

Rick's emotions were jumbled on his walk home. He was irritated with Jessie for treating him like a monstrosity that had to be hidden away, but he primarily cursed himself for allowing the whole situation with her to happen at all. First, he's lusting after Michonne, then he's on the verge of fucking an obviously vulnerable woman? Get a grip, Grimes, he inwardly lectured himself. Keep it in your freaking pants. He possessed a libido as strong as any healthy grown man, but he had always taken pride in his self-control. He'd been faithful to one woman his entire adult life. He never went to strip-clubs or looked at porn magazines like so many of the officers at the sheriff's station had done, even though his sex life with Lori had rarely been exciting after the honeymoon period. His cheeks burned with shame that he had let it go so far with Jessie. If Ron hadn't come down the stairs... He shook his head and cursed himself again.

Yet, if he was to be honest with himself, he knew his feelings for Michonne were completely different. They didn't inspire such shame and self-loathing. True, he was surprised at this unforeseen arrival of arduous desire for her. And yes, he felt conflicted about it given that she was showing some interest in his friend. But his longing for Michonne didn't feel dirty or wrong. Truth be told, it suddenly felt natural and right, the opposite of everything Jessie had just offered him. As he walked home, he realized that Michonne was at the center of everything that was good and true and sane in his life. When he was with her, he felt whole and at peace. He trusted her absolutely with everything and everyone he held dear. She was always beside him, lessening his burdens.

How could I be so blind all this time? Chasing ghosts of a past life that I didn't even like when everything I ever wanted was right in front of me the whole time.

As he strode up the front steps of his home and quietly unlocked the door, he made a promise to himself that he would talk to Michonne tomorrow. She was too important to him to let her slip through his fingers.