Back on Track

Tuesday morning

Daryl opens one eye humming in satisfaction. He is sprawled across the bed flat on his stomach. Sasha continues to run her fingers through his hair pushing the strands off his forehead, "Good morning Baby." She lies on her side.

"Hey Sweetheart," he grumbles, "How was your week?"

She avoids the question, "What time did you get in last night?"

"Butt crack of dawn…you were dead to the world." He notices her flat demeanor. "What's wrong?"

Sasha swallows, "Blake tried to attack Michonne-again. Rick got there in time but the babies were in distress and she is in the hospital," she stammers with tears stinging her eyes.

He pushes off the mattress moving back against the headboard, "Come here," he opens his arms. She snuggles in to his tight embrace. "They will be fine…between Ms. Jolene's crew and Mom praying Jesus won't dare let harm come to them little ankle biters," he kisses her forehead.

She chuckles a little, "I guess…I am so grateful you are home safe and sound. The whole thing reminded me how quickly life can change for the worst."

"Or the better…we just can't take nothing for granted. I sure as hell wasn't expecting you in them back woods or real 'I will get in that ass' because I love you that much parents. I am getting married…in a church…not just any church either-a Black church. All I am sayin' is things can go really right," he offers.

Sasha looks up at him her eyes fill with love and devotion, "How did you get so wise?"

"I started loving you," he smiles down at her.

Afternoon

Gideon's doorbell rings and he groans before plodding down the hall to answer. His eyes widen, "Wow, this is a surprise," he checks his watch for the time.

Rae-Ann pushes past him carrying a plastic bag filled with Styrofoam take-out containers. "I know you spent the entire night thinking, writing and following leads. You need to eat something besides your famous grilled cheese," she explains making her way to the kitchen.

He watches in awe as she removes the containers and plates his meal of fresh steak fajitas. He decides to take a chance. "Can I just say you are the best girlfriend- ever," he holds his breath.

Her face holds a coy expression. Make him sweat a little. She continues to stare before responding, "Yes you may…and yes I am."

Evening

Rick tucks the throw blanket from the sectional around Michonne's legs, "You comfortable enough or do you need more pillows?"

She sighs, "I'm good. Thank you Handsome," she lifts her chin up and puckers her lips for a quick kiss. He smiles leaning down pressing his mouth to hers with a loud smack that makes her laugh.

The doorbell rings repeatedly, "You ready," he warns.

"Ready," she replies. He turns and moves toward the front door. She listens to the greetings and presses her hand on the top of her belly. Grandma, Pa-Pa and Uncle Andre are worried so we have to make them feel better.

"Sweet Girl…Lord have mercy…Little M," they rush into the downstairs den.

"Here…sit," Michonne gestures toward the over-sized square, leather ottoman and the open space next to her blanket covered feet on the couch. Rick perches on the arm of the sectional behind her head.

"What did the doctor say? How long is this bed rest? When is the next appointment?" they question after each other. Jeffrey's expression is pained; Jolene cannot stop ringing her hands; and Andre's jaw is rigid.

Rick grips her shoulder before she responds, "First, the fact that I am home today is a good sign. "I am on bed rest for the rest of this week. I can do simple things but the longer I am off my feet the better. The main thing is keeping my blood pressure under control," she explains.

"The doctor prescribed a steroid to accelerate their development; specifically their lungs. We have an appointment at the end of the week," he picks up the conversation. He lifts his butt up to pull a folded ultrasound picture from his back pocket. "The growth rate is normal but we still don't know their gender." The picture should calm their nerves.

Jolene stares at the photo studying all the changes. She memorizes each photo until she receives the next. "My goodness…they are getting so big," she hands the photo to Jeffrey. He nods and taps his finger three times against the glossy paper counting each baby before handing it to Andre who finally takes a deep breath.

"Well, alright. Gentlemen why don't we go tackle these cribs," he suggests.

Rick kisses the back of her head, "I am sure you and Ma can find something to do while we break a sweat."

"Of course…make sure you have your phone. I want pictures of every possible crib placement," she directs.

Jolene retrieves skeins of yarn from her tote, "I found the perfect color for the discharge blankets…soft denim," she smiles.

Michonne holds the yarn and breaks into laughter. Rick's impromptu dirty tale plays in her head. "This is perfect."

Wednesday

Negan saunters onto the public athletic field on a mission. His life was leaning to the left and he was determined to turn things back in the right direction. The mailbox no longer overflowed with recruitment letters. His voicemail box was empty. He needed to fix this fast before he missed out on recruitment visits. He heard the stories and saw the videos. The perfect blowjob was waiting for him and he more than deserved one. He needed to speak to someone who understood. He spotted the retired NFL player a few yards away with a whistle to his lips. Sure he was washed up but he was simply a means to an end.

"Good work, take fifteen and then sustained silent reading," he shouts. The students groan.

"Excuse me…who am I training?"

"Scholar-athletes," they mumble.

Tyreese raises his voice, "Who am I training?"

"Scholar-athletes…we dominate the classroom and the field!" the group shouts in response.

"Much better," he blows the whistle.

"That is a load of BS but I am sure the parents love it," Negan interjects pulling up alongside the adult.

"Who the hell are you?" Tyreese snaps turning toward his right.

"Negan…the next big NFL winner from our town," he extends his hand for a shake.

Unfortunately the gesture is not returned. "What are you doing on my field?"

"I need a favor and you are the only person in town who will get what I am dealing with and know who to call," he explains.

"Really…I do not know you and based on the past five minutes I am confident I am not going to want to know you; but I will listen," he gestures with his hand for the young man to continue. Tyreese nods while the young man recites his plight.

"So as you can see this is all a misunderstanding. Look at me," he gestures down his body his upper half tilting. "I can get the job done and that is all that matters for any team."

Let me help this child. "Negan, are you ready for the truth? I am asking because real talk can be hard to swallow if you are not ready. Trust me…I been there."

The young man nods, "I don't have time for smoke up my ass or anything else for that matter."

"Good…the key word in that sentence is ass. You are one. To be extremely clear you are the worst kind of ass-clueless. No one wants that in their locker room. Only 1% of college athletes make the league. If you want a chance to reach for the 1% you need to fix who you are because you suck-plain and simple."

"What are you talking about? My stats kill. I was on the cover of GQ in high school. I have swag…well earned swag," he replies in disdain.

Tyreese shakes his head, "I know you believe that and I am sure you have an entourage of willing fools telling you what you want to hear. I am giving you the advice I should have listened to and saved myself some grief. Fix you; learn some humility. You are not owed anything…you are not entitled to what you want," he counsels.

Negan's narrow, "You're a hater…this is hater nation. You want to be the only pro athlete from our little town. I get it…you are protecting your turf. I can respect that," he is cut off by Tyreese laughter.

"Boy bye, take your narrow ass off my field and do not come back. You may want to go see somebody because I do believe you may have had one too many concussions."

One of the kids runs up, "Coach, I finished my book can you sign my form?"

"Absolutely," he signs the form, "Good work," he pats the young girl on the shoulder.

"Thanks," she glances over and smiles mischievously, "Hey Nut-Sack," she greets before running away.

Negan shouts after her, "Stop calling me that." Tyreese bends over placing his hands on his knees laughing harder. Carl keeps fucking up my life.