Connections…
Exiting the parking lot to the sounds of Christina Aguilera I'm on a high.
Ain't no other man…You got soul…You go class…
As if my day can't get any better I spy on the right side of the street 'Carol's Comix'. Maybe they have a coffee bar.
After ten minutes of browsing I decide to leave when I'm insulted by the cock sure cashier. He greeted me with the typical teenage head nod and ignored me ever since. He finally approaches, "Either you're shopping for a niece or nephew or you're trying to be hip?"
"There is a third option," I respond facing him.
"Really, what might that be?"
"Your weak ass collection-Can a girl get Coates edition of Black Panther or something remotely worth my time," placing my hand on my hip.
He laughs, blue eyes dancing and long brown hair swaying as he shakes his head. He extends his hand, "Carl."
"Michonne," returning his solid hand shake.
"Come with me." We walk over to the counter and he starts typing, screen tapping and talking simultaneously. I watch him fascinated by his quick mind.
"Kings' County ain't big but I belong to some online groups and I have my ways, all legal of course. Give me 24-48 hours and I can get whatever you are looking to read. Plus, under the right circumstances I might give you access to my personal collection," he smiles and winks.
I slap the counter and laugh until tears form. No he did not. Who is this kid?
"Hold up. I did not come in here to commit a felony."
"You sure, between the R8 in the parking lot and your potty mouth with a minor-I think you're trouble."
"How old are you?" tilting my head to the right, and changing my tone.
He sobers, "16 ma'am."
"Shouldn't you still be at school or doing homework?" I notice he is managing the establishment unsupervised-responsible.
"I only go half day to Kings' High and my concurrent college enrollment courses are online," he shrugs.
"Interested in an internship?" He is smart but sullen, and disengaged.
"Maybe?" more shoulder shrugging. No eye contact-hiding behind all that hair.
Sliding my card to him, "You are. Meet in my office tomorrow after school, as professionally dressed as possible. Make sure you have a letter of permission from a parent or guardian." I turn to leave.
"You still want the book?" he yells staring at the card on the cashier counter.
"Of course I want the book and a Big Kat," I shout with my back to him as I exit the front door.
Rick is nursing a beer, watching the game and waiting on his pizza. He exhales a contented sigh. His eyes take in his living room. Books, I can ask her what she likes to read. Incessant banging rattles the door frame. There is but one suspect. "Carl, how many times have we have discussed this?" as I swing the door open with force.
"This is a real emergency," he puts one hand up to stop the lecture before it starts. Carl side steps me into the house straight for the kitchen with the pizza in the other hand. I lean out the door watching the delivery guy turn the corner. He paid…he never pays. This is an emergency.
"Okay," I follow him to counter.
Carl is grabbing plates, napkins, soda from the refrigerator and talking at a speed so fast paced I can only make out every other word. "Hot…Stark car…Chance of a lifetime…Borrow…So are you willing to help?"
"Sit, breath, and start at the beginning. I only caught about one third of what you said. He plops down on the stool, takes a deep breath and recounts the details of his remarkable afternoon.
I'm speechless.
"Uncle Rick, you don't understand. She is Wonder Woman and Storm all rolled into one. I have to make this happen."
"I know," my tone filled with reverence. Michonne is magic without trying. He is watching me, searching for something. "You get the note from your Aunt Carol?"
"Yeah, in my backpack and I pulled the comic she wanted from my collection."
"All right, let's clean up. Call you other uncles tell them to bring a shirt or tie. I'll teach you how before they get here. Life lesson #1: It is all about the knot and the dimple.
Then it happens. His fist is pumping in the air and his smile is the size of Georgia. I am so grateful I can barely stand it.
Carl's mother Nancy died giving birth. There were complication and she made her husband promise to save the baby no matter what. Frank was my training officer and I don't think he lived a day after without wrestling with that decision. Every fiber of his being was devoted to his son. We all stepped up and Carl became the most adored child in the county. Unfortunately, life can be cruel. Three years ago Frank and his partner Morgan were on a routine domestic violence call when he was killed in the line of duty trying to protect the wife. No one knows exactly what happened in that house but the husband came out in a body bag and Morgan never fired his weapon again.
Neither Morgan nor Carl was ever the same. Morgan channeled his grief into his work and as our Captain there are two things you can be sure of: his loyalty and his protection. Carl disappeared. He was the walking dead, a perpetual dark cloud hung over him and no matter what we did we couldn't bring him back-until today.
My uncles are leaving. There are shirts, ties, belts, shoes, shoe shine kits, pants, jackets, vests, sweaters, messenger bags and hats all over the living room. I am overwhelmed. They have tried so hard for years. I usually keep my distance but not anymore. I stand by the door, look them straight in the eye like they taught me and thank each one with a hand shake. These men are hard, they put their life on the line every day, but when I offer all that have in that moment-they cry. No shame or embarrassment.
Three garment bags and two shoe boxes later my Uncle Rick is driving me home. "Shit!"
"Language," delivered with a side eye.
"Sorry, but we have to stop at the store," searching the shops we pass with frantic eyes.
"For what, you got 'Men's Warehouse' in the backseat," he chuckles while turning a corner.
"No, I forgot the most important part."
"Calm down, what do you need?" Rick's tone is crisp and focused.
"A Big Kat bar," he states sincerely.
"A candy bar is the most important part?" as laughter rumbles through his chest.
"She specifically said the comic and the Big Kat." Rick is quiet, too quiet. I can see the gears in his brain turning.
"I got you. Don't worry."
"So we're going to stop."
"Do you trust me?" he never takes his eyes off the road.
"Of course, you know…I mean…it's different me and you."
"I got you."
"You got me," spoken hesitantly.
"Yep, you need a full night's sleep. I got this."
"O-kay, with trepidation, you're sure."
"Absolutely," delivered with a confirming head nod.
We greet Carol at the door. She is in shock as Carl bounces across the threshold speaking at his newly discovered rapid fire pace. "I got to hang these up now…everything has been ironed…can we start buying starch…Uncle Shane is dropping off an ironing board for my room tomorrow…"
"Does he know he is not getting paid?" she looks back at me to make sure we both are witnessing the transformation.
"I am pretty sure it doesn't matter," I reply while scratching my brow.
"Well, I am baking her some cookies," Carol shouts.
"No!" Carl and I reply in unison.
"When did my cookies become a problem for anyone?" Carol questions.
Carl rushes into the room in full panic mode, "Uncle Rick-fix it."
Scrambling for words, "Carol, I think Carl wants to make a good impression as an independent young man. You bring the cookies to the station to thank the guys. They really came through for him tonight."
"Fine," Carol shifts her eyes back and forth between the two people standing in her entry way. We both breathe a sigh of relief.
Rick reaches into the glove box and pulls out his badge. He checks the parking lot to make sure only security is on site. "Hey Dale, he greets as he approaches the desk in the lobby.
"Rick, nice to see you. Is there something I can help you with this evening?"
"We're having those meetings this week with the new ADA and after the incident…" I trail off hoping he will take the bait.
"Yeah, people in the know said the verbal take down of Walsh was deadly. He barely survived."
That's my Girl. "If I could drop some documents off early I think it would help."
"Sure, I'll let you in the office. Do you need me to wait for you?"
"No, I'll be quick. I promise." We ride to the second floor and her office is at the end of the hall.
"See me on the way out," he shouts from the elevator.
"Sure thang."
After I hear the doors close I enter her office and turn on the desk lamp. I take out the brown bag and fill every empty space in the open draw on the left with Big Kats. I have every size: mini, regular, and King Size. I sit in her chair and spin. That is when I notice the purple orchid on her conference table. Good to know. I take out my phone and send a text of the orchid with a caption that reads: Never, ask a boy to do your man's job.
Michonne Anthony is behind schedule. Reviewing the documents for my morning motion hearings and preparation for my afternoon expert witness session with Officer Dixon and Sasha I fell asleep on the couch. I am less worried about the latter. I check the time. If I grab tea on the road, wear a pant suit and report to the court house first I'll be back on track. Crisis averted.
I make my way through security and Maggie is waiting by the door of our assigned courtroom. The sound of my black patent leather Mary Jane pumps cause her to look up. She smiles and offers a travel mug.
"Thank the Goddess and Daddy Herschel for you," as I inhale the tranquil aroma of chamomile.
"Will do, next time we speak," laughing.
"411 please," as I take a deep calming sip of tea.
"Judge Philip Blake, misogynistic ass on a good day. Public defender, Ethan Mitchell, decent but overwhelmed by the current caseload he is required to manage. Rumor has it they are bringing in someone new and he is not happy about it. Relevant precedent case law color-coded in folders on your assigned desk."
"Where are you going in such a hurry?" giving her the once over.
"Hmm…I got some research that needs my attention.
"Nude lip-no smearing, body con dress-no wrinkles, smirking, handle your business."
Michonne pulls open the heavy doors and takes in the courtroom on her way to the assigned desk. The first word that pops into my head is charming. The wood is sparkling and the sunlight through the windows bathes the entire room with a golden hue. There is even a vintage second floor gallery. I check the time. Fifteen minutes to spare. Make it count.
I e-mail Aaron about the new intern including instructions for his training and equipment. I check my calendar-no cancellation for the afternoon. I want to check my personal messages when a hand enters my line of sight.
"Public defender Mitchell," he states awkwardly extending his hand.
I stand creating a little space and responds with a firm, crisp shake, "ADA Anthony. Please call me Michonne when we are not on the record or in chambers."
"Impressive, confident, welcoming. You are definitely an upgrade."
"You are too kind. Unless the docket has changed we have two motions to argue back to back," I smile politely. We are interrupted by the sounds of the courtroom coming to life. The gallery starts to fill, the court recorder sets up her equipment, and the bailiff enters. "Nice to meet you Michonne," as he retreats to his desk.
The bailiff calls the session to order, "The Honorable Judge Philip Blake will preside."
"Please be seated, he grumbles without looking up, motion to suppress evidence Mitchell-too lazy to plead this out."
I am shocked. Damn, that was harsh. Ethan's embarrassment is obvious. I keep my head down focused on my documents. "Your Honor, the warrant did not identify the specific structures, he begins to stammer.
Judge Blake shifts, checks the docket. Fresh meat in my courtroom to torture this morning. "What you got to say about that ADA Anthony?"
Michonne stills herself, "Let the record reflect that the warrant issued was based on the property lines as verified by the County Clerk's Office because the multiple eye witness accounts did not provide a consistent number of structures. The precedent for this type of warrant is from 2010 and previous case law dating back to 1996. If I may, the DA's office would like to enter into evidence the precedent and previous rulings as Exhibit A."
Judge Blake's eyes slowly lift and he marvels at her crisp black pant suit matched with a delicately feminine lavender blouse, and simple diamond studs. Beautiful and brilliant. He licks his lips never taking his eyes off her, "What do you have to say to that Mitchell?" Ethan begins to shuffle papers at a frantic pace. "Bailiff Monroe accept ADA Anthony's Exhibit A into evidence," Judge Blake commands from the bench.
"Your Honor, if I could have a short re-," he barely gets the words out.
"Not happening. I'm ready to rule."
"Yes, your Honor," his shoulders slump in defeat.
"Motion denied," banging his gavel.
The second motion is even more brutal for Public Defender Mitchell. Michonne is able to provide evidence that the suspect was not a minor as assumed; therefore, the Miranda Rights were binding and the interrogation interview was valid. She offered to consider a reasonable plea deal to help Mitchell save face; plus she might need a favor down the road.
Judge Blake hadn't enjoyed court this much in years. He recognized her play-savvy. How did Deanna find her?
Court adjourned and Michonne returned to the office where she was promptly greeted by Aaron. "Phone messages for your right hand. To the left of my desk is the intern space as requested with the exception of the touch screen which is on back order. I took liberty with lunch, Thai chicken salad, since you only have about 45 minutes before the intern arrives.
She smiled, "You're a keeper." Michonne entered her office and closed the door relishing the solitude. Once she made it to her desk she kicked off her shoes and dug into her salad. After a few bites she logged on to her computer and waited for the multitude of e-mails and intra-office messages to load. A few more bites and she pulls off her jacket and remembered she hadn't checked in on her life. Pulling her phone from her purse she confirmed a hair appointment and noticed a late night text from Rick. The butterflies returned around her heart as soon as she opened the picture. She spins quickly in her chair scanning the room. Nothing is out of place. She reads the caption a second time placing her feet back in her shoes and sliding into her jacket. Michonne opens her left hand drawer to re-apply her lip gloss and instead her head falls back and she laughs until her belly aches. I can't wait to get the back story.
Carl waits in the lobby as instructed. Uncle Daryl told him to arrive 10 minutes early just in case. Aunt Carol suggested the blue tie against the white shirt. He shrugged but put it on anyway. It wasn't until his Uncle Morgan arrived to drop him off that he understood why.
"Son, this tie pin belonged to your father. He would be extremely proud.
"Dad wore blue ties," he whispers while recovering the memory.
"Your dad wore blue ties," while placing his hand on the young man's shoulder.
Michonne approached him in the lobby, "I'm impressed, please follow me to our office." They discuss his school day on the short elevator ride. "Aaron, this is Carl and he will be a crucial member of our team. He has already exceeded my expectation for today."
Aaron stands and extends his hand in greeting, "You must be special. She has high standards."
"Thank you. I am prepared to work hard and learn as much as I can."
"Humility, we are so keeping him. After you meet with ADA Anthony I will train you on the intra-office software, equipment, and answer any questions about your work space," gesturing to the left.
Carl turns, his eyes scanning the area. He can't speak because he knows he will squeal like a little kid so he nods rapidly. Michonne and Aaron share a knowing smirk. Once inside her office Michonne gestures for him to take a seat at the conference table. He reaches into the leather bag strapped across his chest and hands her a black folder. She opens it to a fully protected First Edition of Black Panther and a freshly printed and signed letter of permission.
She leans back in her chair and folds her arms across her chest and waits. As the silence builds Carl's eyes bounce around the office. No Big Kat. Uncle Rick promised. He has never let him down before. He starts to stammer, "I apologize…please let me explain…" she interrupts.
"Open my left drawer," she commands gently.
He stands with his shoulders slumped and takes slow strides to her desk. With his head hung he opens the drawer and his mouth falls open. He sees it but he doesn't believe it. Freakin' Uncle Rick!
"How did you make that happen?" the voice behind him asks.
He turns back to her eyes filled with mirth, "This is my town. I'm connected."
"Well played." She is about to speak when her office line rings which is unusual because Aaron always screens when she is with someone. "Excuse me."
"Anthony."
"Good afternoon Gorgeous. First, congratulations on winning both motions. Second, are there any other wants or desires I can fulfill for you today; particularly if they are naughty? I already had your panties in my mouth." She is shaking her head and crossing her legs because his Southern drawl is driving her right over the edge and now he has added a visual.
"Speak up Beautiful I can't hear you."
"Not at this time," she manages to rasp out.
"I hope the remainder of your day is productive. I have to go on patrol so you behave."
"Yes…I…can do that," she stammers.
"Good girl," the line goes dead. She has a death grip on the phone and her cheeks are hot.
"Is everything okay? Is it a case?" she has forgotten Carl is there.
"I'm good. Go see Aaron so you can start your training." She returns the phone to the cradle.
"Okay, he turns before opening the door, thanks for the chance."
"Something tells me I am getting the better end of this deal." He stands a little taller as he exits.
She falls back in her chair. Oh, it is on Officer Grimes. I am not going down without a fight.
Hours later Sasha and Michonne have their shoes propped up on the table making small talk while they wait for Officer Dixon to arrive. Sasha purposely sat with her back to the door and wore a pantsuit to work. Daryl's restraint was minimal on a good day and the chance to touch or caress the back of her knees or the inside of her ankles would be too tempting. He always found a way to indulge that she never anticipated. A brief knock at the door and both ladies shift back to professional mode, "Please come in," Michonne responded while removing her feet and standing to offer a handshake.
"Officer Dixon, ma'am," Daryl responded returning her handshake.
"Thank you for coming. I would like you to meet my colleague, Sasha Williams, Lead Investigator."
Sasha stands, turns and extends her hand for greeting in one fluid graceful motion, "Nice to meet you." Do not look at his eyes.
"Pleasure," he responds with a hint of familiarity.
As she returns to her seat, he passes behind her dropping a folder, bending to pick it up and grazing his thumb gently across the small amount of exposed ankle. She steadies herself by pressing her thighs together. I gave that man a warning-no spots.
The meeting proceeds smoothly. Sasha watches Michonne and knows she's impressed. She's relieved because the private nature of their relationship isn't working for her any longer.
"Officer Dixon," Michonne begins before he interrupts.
"Please call me Daryl," he interjects.
"Daryl, your addendum are extensive and will definitely enhance our prosecution. I do have a question about the items highlighted in red," Michonne points to her copy of the documents.
"Yeah, about that...I only received authorization today."
Sasha's stomach knots he doesn't have to explain. She already knows the outcome.
"I'm still undercover. The information, dates and evidence highlighted in red are part of the operation. By the time you go to trial I should be out but I wanted to give your office a head start."
Michonne leans back, "You are currently undercover in Kings' County?"
"No, but in the state of Georgia and occasionally Tennessee," He doesn't dare move. He knows her reaction will be epic but at the time her safety was all that mattered. If she didn't have any information she could not be considered a threat. Plus, Sasha recommended privacy while they figured out how far they wanted to take things.
"How tight is the information loop on this operation?'
"FBI contact, my Captain and the next of kin Rick Grimes," he responds quickly.
"What are the chances of authorization for our office, specifically Ms. Williams?"
"I will make that happen. Give me 48 hours," as he glances over at Sasha who has not moved and doesn't appear to be breathing.
Michonne stands and gestures toward the door, "Thank you. This has been our most productive meeting thus far. I'm going to pass along a commendation on your behalf to your Captain."
"That ain't necessary. I just want to do my part to make the relationship work," he states as he crosses the threshold of her office. He takes one last look at Sasha.
"Aaron, please hold my calls."
Michonne closes the door and without facing her friend quietly commands, "Let it out."
Sasha cover her mouth with a trembling hand clutches the edge of the table with the other while a sob from the depths of her soul rips through her.
Michonne retrieves a box of tissue, a mini bottle of tequila from her desk cabinet and her make-up case from her purse. She places it on the table, sits next to her best friend and rubs up and down her back. "The operation is almost complete; you will be our point of contact and the most important thing: he managed to stay safe for better part of a year.
Sasha reaches for the tissue and starts to pull herself together. She's still crying but she can actually breathe. When she finally grabs the bottle of tequila Michonne knows it's time for some levity.
"Yeah, punishment options," clapping her hands.
Sasha laughs, "I don't know how he even became the one but he is. 'Chonne if…I'll never be able to put my heart back together."
"Hey, come on no talking like that. He is going to be okay just so he can beg for your forgiveness."
"You're right," she chuckled and took a calming breath. "There will definitely be radio silence after I tear him a fresh new asshole."
"Don't forget we have Deanna's mandatory mixer on Friday after work," Michonne chirped.
Sasha finished the tequila, the women looked at each other and shouted in unison, "Freak 'um Dress," before devolving into laughter. Michonne pushes the make -up case over so Sasha can pull herself together.
As she turns to leave Michonne calls out, "You know I got your back and right now your hour of need, but come Sunday brunch 'The Tribunal' will show no mercy." Sasha bangs her head against the door.
Daryl sits in his squad car in a trance. He has to fix this immediately. He can't go back to life before Sasha. He doesn't know how. For the first time in his life someone decided he was important, that his being had value, she wanted and enjoyed taking care of him. More importantly, he loved her. Loving her, provided for and protecting Sasha were his first and last thought every day. He dialed his life line and waited, "I got trouble."
"How bad is it?'
"Southern Comfort and ribs bad."
Damn…usual time and place?"
"Yeah, thanks Bruh ."
"I don't know what will work but we'll figure it out."
Daryl walked into Leigh Anne's Flower Basket and approached the counter. To say she was shocked was the understatement of the year. "How can I help you?" she stammered.
He pulled his wallet from his uniform pants pocket and slapped his credit card and Sasha's business card down. He snatched a stack of message cards from the wire rack to his left. "I need this to start today. One dozen Calla Lilly each day starting with purple and ending with red. The week day address on front and weekend on back of card.
Daryl pulled a pen from the top pocket of his uniform shirt and started writing.
Day 1: My heart won't beat right if you won't love me. I'm sorry. Forgive me. I love you.
Day 2: I'm an Ass. I'm begging. I love you.
Day 3: You can kick my ass. Please forgive me. I love you.
Day 4: Don't make me live without you. I'm sorry. I love you.
Day 5: I can't live without you. Give me another chance. I love you.
Day 6: Can we start over? I'm dumb. I love you.
Day 7: I fucked up. Forgive me. I love you.
"Um, I'm not sure…the cost…are substitutions ok? She manages to mumble through.
"There will be no substitutions because she is all that matters."
Leigh Anne swallows. She has never seen a man more in love. Her back straightens. "I will handle this order personally. It will be perfection," placing a comforting hand on his.
The Captain is standing at his desk when he returns. "Sir," Daryl questions.
"Well done job at the ADA's Office. I understand you need additional authorization."
"Yeah, I already made a call but the FBI is slow."
"Use the number assigned to our office until it comes through," he hands Daryl a laminated card.
"Thank you sir," he responds in relief.
"I need a favor. Grab Grimes and meet me in my office."
"Yes Sir, um can I make this call first?"
"Sure thing," he shrugs.
Daryl returns to his favorite secluded spot and holds his breath praying she will answer her office line.
"Williams"
"I know how wrong I am, but I have a temporary authorization until the FBI issues a code. I know you won't see me. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it," he implores with his heart in his throat.
"Secure the card and leave it with Rosita. Thank you Officer Dixon." the line goes dead. He hangs his head and returns to his desk. Daryl is machine. He completes reports, labels evidence and takes statements. Work is numbing the pain. He hears Rick and Rosita return from patrol. "Hey, Captain wants to see us.
"Rosita, start processing the patrol logs from our shift."
"Trainee, Sasha Williams will contact you regarding this information," he hands her the sealed envelope, don't let me down."
"Done and done."
Rick and Daryl make their way to Morgan's office, stopping to knock before entering. The Captain gestures for them to sit.
"You Boys have really stepped up this week. Grimes liaison idea was brilliant."
"Actually Sir, Rosita took the initiative. I only facilitated and participated in the implementation."
"Interesting…Dixon, you hit a home run today."
"Thanks Sir," Rick cocked his head. Old Daryl was back. Functioning, but to his trained eyes-dead on the inside.
"I need you to prep Shane. He has the knowledge but his attitude is off. Try to adjust it before he ruins his career and damages the department's reputation."
The lobby line rings. "This is Beth. Delivery-I will be right down," Sasha's young, new assistant responds to the lobby phone line.
She makes her way back up stairs. "Excuse me, out of way," she commands walking down the hallway and into the elevator back to the office. She finally reaches her desk and takes a long pull from her water bottle. She marvels at the floral arrangement. Wow! I so want her life.
Sasha spent the remainder of her day behind closed doors. She is reeling trying to sort through the tidal wave of emotions: fear, anger, betrayal, frustration and love. Time and space is what she needs to get back to love. She gathers her things to leave when her assistant line rings. "Yes Beth?"
"Can you open your door ma'am?"
She swings her door open and Beth stumbles in with a majestic purple bouquet sprinkled with white roses and places in on the round, mid-size conference table. Beth turns to Sasha with wide eyes, "Isn't it gorgeous!" Sasha approaches and touches the Calla Lilly closest to her gingerly, removes the envelope and finally pulls the card our to read the message scrawled across the paper in his horrible masculine script: My heart won't beat right if you won't love me. I'm sorry. Forgive me. I love you.
Tears sting her eyes and rage boils her blood. She wants to hold him and knee him in the balls or vice versa. "Thank you Beth. I am leaving for the day after I stop by the Sheriff's Department. Please make sure to secure our office before you go."
"Not a problem. Enjoy your evening." Sasha offers a small smile as she grabs her things headed for the parking lot. She drove in silence and still has no idea what she will say. She parks, enters the building, clears security and finds Rosita's desk with ease.
"Hey," she interrupts her friend hard at work on a report.
"Oh, this is for you," Rosita responds barely looking up from the task in front of her.
"Thanks. Is there a private space I can use?"
Rosita turns slowly, "Use interrogation Room C."
"Thanks."
Daryl is in the back logging in evidence from his last call on patrol when his cell rings and her special heart icon flashes on the screen. "Hey," rasps out.
"Can you meet me in Interrogation Room C, discreetly?"
"Yeah…yes…absolutely."He wants to run and leap over desks to get to her but his instincts tell him to go slow, be patient. She is scared. So when he reaches the door he gives a gentle knock and asks permission to enter. What he sees breaks his heart and makes him want to kick his own ass all over again. Sasha standing in a corner with her back to the door looking so small and lost. "Sasha, I-
"No! You don't get to speak. I'm so…pissed and scared and confused and a million other things…the thought, the real possibility that you could be taken from me and I would not have known...but, I love you down to my core. I need time and space to sort it out. Would you do that? Allow me to work it out on my own?"
"Of course Sweetheart, take all the time you need. "
She turns to exit the room. As she approaches the door he leans over to open it for her and she hits him with a gut punch that knocks him to his knees then she leans down and kisses his forehead before walking out the door.
Rick and Daryl are sitting on pub stools at their favorite sports bar a platter of ribs, a pile of wet naps, a bottle of Southern Comfort and glasses between them. "Let me see it one more time."
Daryl winces and lifts his shirt so Rick can see the bruise. Rick starts laughing again. Daryl shakes his head, "I'm so pathetic, the bruise makes me love her more."
Now Rick is doubled over. "How did you meet?"
I was following my normal routine after a week undercover. I always hunted in those woods where I grew up to remind myself that I was Daryl-not Merle. And then I saw her. She was a vision.
Flash Back:
"How long you been out here?
"Excuse me. Is this private property?" she responds defiantly.
"Nah-public as it gets but not for someone like you."
"I beg your pardon?" she spat while glaring with fire in her eyes.
"Sorry, I didn't mean that they way it sounded, I swear. You just too pretty to be out here with no protection is all," I managed to mumble out without looking up.
"I'm lost with a flat tire and no spare."
"I could maybe take you back to town over to Olivia and Tara's Auto Shop. They would take care of everything."
"Thanks, returning to town and getting the tire fixed will help so much. My name is Sasha."
"Sasha, do you mind, um, riding on the back of my bike. I have an extra helmet. It would be quicker. The name is Daryl.
"Sure, that sounds really nice."
"Wait here and if anyone shows up you tell 'em Dixon will be back." How in the hell am I suppose to deal with all that lusciousness wrapped around me for the next half of an hour? She is the chance I been looking for and I'm gonna make the most of it.
End Flash Back
"Rick I had to use the walk to my bike to pull myself together. God never did a more perfect thing then when he crafted her. Her eyes alone will make you give up everything you have and change everything you think you are."
"Ok, let's get back to problem solving. A full week of her favorite flowers with hand written cards, the authorizations code…you need something to let her know you listen and follow through." Rick offers.
"Farmer's House or is it Food to Fork or some shit. She is always fussing at me about my diet, but if she sees me buying green food-I'm listening, right?"
"Might work-when does she go?" Rick asks.
"The Council it's like our group meets every Sunday. They discuss everything. Might as well face 'em and take my punishment," he responds while adding a rib bone to the pile and taking another shot.
"Good luck."
"You're going with me. I need a wingman."
"No, you need someone to block. Show me the bruise again."
"Shut up Rick."
Michonne is sitting against the headboard securing her locs and moisturizing her skin. She dials Sasha and places the call on the speaker setting. She hears iconic Aretha Franklin crooning in the background.
Ain't, no way for me to love you…if you won't let me…I'm telling you…
"What are you drinking?"
"Vodka and cranberry-second and final glass," Sasha broken voice responds.
"Wearing: Shirt, sweater, sweat shirt or socks?"
"Socks and no I have not pulled out Billie, but Mary J. is loaded in the car. I did punch him in the gut."
Michonne stares at the phone and rolls all over the bed laughing, "When and where?"
Sasha starts to giggle, "At the station. In my defense I did kiss it better."
She wipes her eyes, "His gut?"
"No Girl, his forehead."
"You are so many things. What triggered the visit?"
"Truth, what made me want to see him was his note. It was so…raw. We're going to be okay."
"Good, I'm happy for you."
"Thanks night."
Michonne and Rick are snuggled in their own beds thinking about the challenge their friends are facing. Rick's phone rings, "Hey Gorgeous."
"Hello Handsome. Do you always wear your vest?"
He smiles because she's scared for him, "Yes, every shift. What about you?" he props up his pillow, folds his arm behind him and rest his head on his fisted hand.
"What about me?" she asks in confusion.
"Do you know the safety procedures for you office or the courtroom? Have you or your team completed a security drill?"
"Point made."
"Listen, the flirting, texting and stuff is great but I need to take you on a date. All this Southern charm is starting to get backed up."
"Is that so Officer Friendly," she rolls over on to her elbow. "You could take me to Monroe's Friday Mixer."
"Nope, I would have to share and I'm not built that way-not with a woman like you," his tone is firm.
Damn his sexy ass. There go the butterflies again. "I guess you will have to surprise me. Hmm, she purrs, a Rick Grimes surprise will make for sweet dreams. Good night."
"Good night Angel." I am going to give her the perfect last first date.