I don't own the Walking Dead


Part IV: the case of the ex


Marrying Michonne turned Rick into the family man he was before his daughter's death. In many ways, their present arrangement makes him wary of the future. Each time, he grows more afraid that everything will end. Losing a family is a painful experience. For Rick, the added weight of a traumatic incident, which led to such a loss, worsens the anguish.

He moves his hair away from his face. Rick attempts to clear his mind after a deep breath. He benefits nothing from awakening his memories. Strangely, Rick's new life keeps him content, and he no longer needs to mourn his loss constantly. Assumably, Rick dreads the thought of a divorce for that reason. He will lose his family. Rick will relinquish what he no longer expected to have. However, is it truly Rick's family? Michonne often clarified that he was not a fixture in her children's lives. During their last conversation, she cruelly reminded him how little it meant that he cherished them. Rick unironically loves to call himself a glorified babysitter, and each day, it sounds truer than the previous day.

"Dad," Aitana calls him.

Rick erases his depressing thoughts. He subconsciously waves because Aitana tries to show him her dance progress. Rick fixes a smile on his lips and chooses to pretend a bit longer that his happy family life will not abruptly end. Factually, he is a father to Michonne's children, and she cannot argue with reality.

"Dad," Aitana calls again when Rick remains silent.

Rick raises his head to ensure that nothing is happening to Aitana when he hears some noises. He instantly relaxes when he sees her happily struggling with her Jetée. Rick lifts his two thumbs to encourage her. Later, he returns to his gloomy thoughts. Seemingly, he feels the distance even more than before, and he cannot be her father.

"Rick," He hears his name.

To his great displeasure, the plague is advancing toward him. He hesitates between pretending to hear nothing or rudely walking away. Yet, he settles on doing nothing but existing.

"You didn't come to the previous class, and your nanny said you had something to do." The voice always sounds like nails on a board.

Rick draws a deep breath and quietly laments the end of the pleasant quietness. The thing with parenting is the annoying existence of other parents. He looks up to see her close the distance between them. Her strong perfume feels the air, and the personification of tackiness stands before Rick Grimes.

Rick refrains from being rude, and she hardly deserves his anger. What transpires between his so-called wife and himself should not influence his mood as much as it does. However, it is hard to deal with hypocrisy and lies. Rick decides to forget any thought of Michonne.

"Jessie," He says without enthusiasm. "I had work to handle," Rick vaguely replies to close the conversation.

Jessie sits next to him, and Rick purposely stares at his phone. For many reasons, he calls that poor soccer mom the plague. Rick draws a deep breath and searches his heart for any patience left in him. Dealing with Jessie always becomes harder after several fights with Michonne, seemingly because he wishes Michonne to share this woman's greed and desire for him. Yet, Rick's wife often offers indifference.

"Work?" Jessie curiously asked. "I thought…" she searches for words.

Rick raises an eyebrow. He knows it is common belief to think he is unemployed, but it is far from the truth. His marriage is a contract employment. However, he consults and advises legally many companies and particulars. Being Michonne Barnes' husband does help with furthering a career.

"You thought?" Rick inquires.

Jessie stutters for a few seconds as she searches for the appropriate words.

"A bit less busy," She softly says. "With time to enjoy life and its pleasure."

Rick cocks an eyebrow and chuckles. He understands that a bored housewife may fantasize about an equally bored househusband, but Rick would prefer Jessie to pick another man to enjoy life's pleasures.

Enough toy boys are being glorified babysitters in the parents' corner, and she does not need the one with an iron prenuptial contract, which has several lines about adultery. Ironically, Rick does not care for other women than the one whom he married. Jessie's interest in his person is amusing.

"That sounds lovely, but I dislike being idle." He adds.

Rick only stands out to Jessies because, with his looks, he resembles less of a gigolo. He is more like a suitable husband, and she might want a substitute for her husband. Amusingly, he happens to be the former and does his best never to be the latter.

"Without bills to pay why work?" Jessie chuckles.

"Mrs Grimes does pay most of the bills, but I work so I'm not bored all day while I wait to fuck my wife." Rick's exasperation slips through his choice of vulgarity. "Also, if I ever have to divorce my lovely wife, I wouldn't have to beg for spousal support." Rick bluntly states. He expects to create an uncomfortable atmosphere. "How is Pete?" He mentions the lady's husband. "He has been pestering my wife recently. I don't think she needs more grudges against your family."

Jessie frowns, and Rick is aware of how much she despises her husband. An odd point to have in common as Rick cannot stand his wife but for reasons that oppose Jessie's. Michonne is far from being as unlikable as Pete. Rick's reasons for maintaining and nourishing his hatred for Michonne are ambiguous and less shallow than being tired of an old partner. Rick's wife is attractive. Michonne is an enigma, which captivates Rick. She infuriates Rick, but he never lacks interest in Michonne. Having a lesser woman make passes at him infuriates him.

"Breathing," Jessie laughs as if Rick and her share an inside joke. "And Mi…" She stops before Rick's warning glance. He does not allow Jessie as much familiarity with his wife. "How is prime minister Grimes doing?" Jessie corrects herself.

"Doing more than breathing as you can see daily on the news," Rick coolly retorts. "She is being awesome as well. Michonne being Michonne," He adds with quiet pride. "My amazing wife!"

Rick returns his attention to the dancefloor. With a glance, he becomes aware that Aitana has no future in ballet. The kid is as awkward as they come as opposed to her mother, who is poised and represents grace incarnated in a person. Rick could spend the day looking at Michonne while she does nothing but exist. His wife's allure and grace captivate him, and for such a thing, Michonne happens to live in his mind.

Rick shakes his head and grows frustrated at his failure to escape those random thoughts about Michonne. Last night added problems to the situation. Again, it adds to his fury how close he was to giving into his need. He was almost forgiving, but Rick could not bring himself to forget. Rick cannot bring himself to look past what she did. However, he pretends to ignore the truth.

"That's true," Jessie muses. "She is trying to pass a new labour reform, and there is much to say about it."

Rick inhales, and Jessie is the last person with whom he cares to discuss Michonne. Now, he is certain Jessie's opinion of his wife is nothing positive. Rick sucks his teeth. He does not need more reason to dislike Jessie.

"What is there to say about increasing minimum wage?" Rick replies. "Mostly when the subject does not concern you and I," He adds to close the conversation. "We're kept trophy partner."

"I have employees," Jessie states. "They cost enough money as for now."

"As long as Pete breathes, you will be able to afford them," Rick deadpans. "And…" He does not have the opportunity to finish on a high note as Aitana hurls herself at him.

"Done," She yells between laughs. "Let's go, daddy." Aitana immediately begins to pull Rick by the arm.

Jessie stares at the pair while she waits for her son. Rick is relieved of Aitana's intervention. He is not in a suitable mood for small talk with a poor soul praying to have an opportunity to bang him. Now, he hates the woman because she does not worship his wife.

"That's great, sweet pear, " He retorts. "I was getting bored." He says loud enough for Jessie to hear him. "Have a great day, Jessie." He adds as parting words.


"We might have to slightly increase the number of guests," Sasha announces as she walks into Michonne's office. "You look sick, Chonne," She comments after glancing at Michonne lying on the couch in her office. "I mean pale, exhausted, and out of it. Everything is alright, or I need to push your next meeting off ten minutes," Sasha offers as much courtesy as possible. "Even corpses look better than you do now."

Michonne groans and abandons the thought of commenting on Sasha's jab. She does not only feel sick, she is permanently exhausted. Michonne wipes her mouth and closes her eyes to stop the room from spinning. A fainting spell threatens to claim her mind. She draws a deep breath, and her physical state worsens. She only recovers because a strong smell irritates her stomach. Michonne fights to claim a useless breath, and she continues feeling sick.

"What is it about guests?" Michonne inquires as she digs her hands on the couch to help herself up. "I thought I had my last meeting of the day, but there is more. There is always more and I might die during one of those meetings," She sighs and stands. "Sasha, I am feeling inconvenienced."

The abrupt motion worsens her vertigo. Michonne holds onto the couch as she tumbles to the side. Sasha looks at her carefully, and she stares long enough to lose interest in her suspicions. "Have you skipped a meal again?" Sasha inquires.

Michonne laughs at the ridiculous nature of her question.

"A meal?" Michonne sighs. "When did I have the luxury to afford the time for a meal?" She laments

"Did I forget to squeeze a meeting in a restaurant?" Sasha asks. It is an easy way to ensure that Michonne has a minute to eat while never cutting through her work schedule. "You can barely stand. I will take off this meeting, and we can reschedule later." Sasha rushes to say. "I do not need the lecture that your overbearing husband provides."

"I do not have all my appetite, and having meeting and dinner together might lead to me vomiting my meal." Michonne replies. "Have you tried dining with people who will stab you with the butter knife if it could cause the expected damage?" She smiles, and so does Sasha. "It is horrible. No one is budging. Additionally, there is no need to worry about Richard Grimes. Working these days suffice to infuriate me. "

"It is going as bad as we thought it would," Sasha concludes.

Michonne slips back in her shoes and stands near Sasha.

"Worse than we expected," Michonne replies. "Nothing is ever good enough for the extreme left unless it sounds magical and fixes the world's poverty." She complains. "You would think they would be glad that I'm championing a reform plan for the labour world. No, they want me to increase the percentage before they agree to stand by it. I will cut a deal with the right at this point. This reform will not see the day." Michonne frustrated adds. " I cannot even comprehend where it is going." She feels the tears pooling in her eyes. Michonne sighs and feels her frustration growing as she struggles with her newfound emotiveness.

Sasha nods and changes Michonne's days to fit the new schedule.

"We should have started there. It is a bigger block than twenty isolated congressmen and two retiring senators." Sasha points out.

Michonne can only agree. She moves around because Sasha's perfume becomes unbearable to her sensitive nose. Michonne grows nauseous.

"What were you saying about guests?" Michonne inquires when she is far enough to breathe.

Sasha swipes through her screen, and she returns to her previous topic. She moves through the different lines and tasks.

"Fifty guests excluded too many important people," Sasha declares. "After this reform, you will be particularly unpopular with the CEOs, and you will happen to need a lot of donations too. We have to lick some boots. We have to charm some old heiresses who will be glad to have Rick and you at their next charity gala. Old heiresses love Rick." Sasha explains in a breath.

Michonne closes her eyes, and she grows exasperated. She does not want to think of her wedding anniversary when her marital life is in chaos.

"I agreed to fifty guests because you did not leave me a choice. Why are we celebrating a fraud?" Michonne inquires. "There is nothing to celebrate beside the absence of murder despite the mutual hatred." She announces without an ounce of humour.

"Hatred?" Sasha sucks her teeth. "I wouldn't be able to tell."

"Look harder," Michonne retorts. "There is nothing to celebrate. "

Sasha rolls her eyes because the answer is obvious. She adds a reminder to ask Rick about the number of guests. She needs his accord more than she needs Michonne's because he does wonders while convincing Michonne to go through those schemes.

"That sham of a marriage is the socle of your public image." Sasha reminds Michonne. "A successfully crafted appearance of happiness and family life, which is the envy of many, keeps you high in public sondage. The press likes your discreet husband who happens to whisper legal advice to many powerful people. Sometimes, he takes off the pressure on you, and the housewives drool at his pictures. Remember the healthcare debacle and that failed reform. Rick and his charms made you likeable. The little article about how he had to care for the children because you were working so hard to bring health to everyone. The public opinion ate it. He generates sympathy." She summarises why Rick is worth the salary. "And he made powerful friends. Rick is a great asset to you."

"He is everything but a happy husband," Michonne laments, and she faces her failures.

Sasha immediately swipes on her tablet, and she stops when she finds the next topic of discussion. She does not bother questioning Michonne on that second of sincerity and vulnerability.

"And the time is perfect for some PR operation," Sasha resumes enthusiastically. "I have been thinking…"

Michonne groans, and she hates when Sasha has been thinking. It means Michonne has to compromise herself in one way or another. Hence, the farce becomes so big that reality ceases to matter.

"No more planned vacation. I cannot stand him, and I refuse to go through hell once again." Michonne whines. "You know what I have been thinking. I could divorce before I commit murder. He is going to drive me crazy one of these days." She says with questionable humour. "Before he rightfully asks for a divorce, I should do it," Michonne quickly corrects herself. "Fucking prenup, he is going to bury me. I should go ahead because I agreed to sign what my competent lawyer of a husband wrote." Michonne rants.

Sasha does not react besides humming. She rewrites a few lines. However, she looks at Michonne, slightly confused, when she complains of her prenuptial contract. Michonne and Rick's prenuptial contract is a thin shield safeguarding Michonne's public image. The potential affair of the prime minister's husband could easily ruin years of effort and loyal political service.

"You don't appreciate your luck," Sasha sincerely says. "Rick is good-looking. He can form cohesive sentences. He is charming, and he can provide sexual relief. You don't need more from a man Michonne," Sasha firmly believes each word. "From what I heard accidentally; he is performing his role perfectly. Also, he signed that prenup without an argument."

"Of course, he suggested those closes. That prenuptial engagement was never my idea." She clarifies. "Additionally, good looks are not everything, Sasha."

Michonne rolls her eyes at the simplistic way to see an intricate situation. Rick certainly ticks all those boxes. Yet, he goes the extra mile to annoy her. Previously, she could stand living around him. Now, Michonne is in a constant state of unrest. She has no one to blame but herself. His presence is a permanent reminder that she has doomed any future between Rick and herself.

"I think not hating him should be a requirement," Michonne argues. "Or deserving his love matters as well." She confesses. "I am not an exemplary wife to him."

"That is good because you don't hate Rick," Sasha says matter of fact. "He does drive you insane, but I do think you enjoy it. It is revitalizing for you after life with Philip." She continues to speak to Michonne's displeasure. "Anyways, I have been thinking Rick and you should have a child. It will make your battle for this reform legitimate. It will give you that sympathy card, and you will be one of the many working pregnant women. You can add an article to expand their work coverage, and the liberals will eat it up. You could make it seem as if a pregnancy leave would be taken two months before delivery and extended to a year postpartum."

Michonne looks at Sasha, and she does not know where to begin. The ugliness of her suggestion comes from how it will accomplish more than any meeting could. Michonne draws a deep breath. She refuses to think beyond the moment. Michonne refuses to rationalize Sasha's proposal.

"Have you already asked him how much he would charge for fathering a child?" Michonne genuinely cares to know. "Or did you have enough respect for my womb to run the idea through me before enrolling Rick?"

Sasha softly smiles, and she puts her notepad on the desk. She rubs Michonne's arm to soothe her.

"We're working through potential ways to ease the process. Not every solution is ethical. Not every action will stick to the wall. This is an idea like another. At a minimum, it will take a year to push that reform, and then the legislative elections are coming. Your prime minister's seat is on the lines even if we maintain the majority. Popularity matters and reforms are never vehicles for sympathy." Sasha bluntly strips politics of his intricate nature. "Mundane things always matter too much in politics. It remains a game of popularity where superficial opinions are vehicles of brilliant ideas."

"Maybe we stop a minute," Michonne suggests. "We are talking about a child. I am not doing the best job with the ones that I presently have. Now, I should go and procreate with a man who I will eventually divorce." She repeats to show Sasha how ludicrous it sounds. "And we both know Rick's past. A child, how can I do such a thing to him?" She asks while unable to accept Sasha's suggestion.

"You and I know that to get rid of your husband is impossible. You do not want to let him go. You have shown it several times. You don't like Rick, but do you dislike him or even hate him. It is mutual if I'm not mistaken. That is excellent, and we're safe from ridiculous scandals. You have no reason to divorce. He is ambitious enough to play his role perfectly. A year has passed since your wedding, and I have yet to pay one of his mistresses. I have yet to uncover his mistress. He is loyal to you." Sasha points out.

Michonne laughs without humour. After her ex-husband, she trades cautiously in such things. Loyalty is a fluctuating allegiance. However, Rick clarified where he stood about any extra conjugal affair. He would ruin her life if she dared. The threat is rather vague.

"Anyone can fill a check," Michonne points out.

"And Rick doesn't pretend otherwise," Sasha retorts. "I don't think anything could come between Rick and you. His loyalty has a price that you can easily meet. What could ruin it?" She questions with the conviction that there is no suitable answer. "And it is not always the money for neither of you. I repeat my question. Who could ruin it?"

Michonne feels exhausted. She rubs her eyes to erase her sleepiness and prevent the escape of a few tears.

"A child? He is very paternal," Michonne softly says. "A betrayal? He is very vengeful too," She inhales as much air as she can. " A wounded ego? Rick is terribly arrogant." Michonne has an endless list, and so she continues. "Jealousy because he is possessive to some extent," Michonne admits. "His loyalty has a price, and a few grands don't always suffice. Do you know what it would mean to him or me to have a child between us? Nothing could be more chaotic than living proof of our dysfunctional union."

Sasha looks at Michonne. She feels the desire to probe. From her position as a friend, she knows Michonne leaves a lot of the conversation out. Sasha can taste the anguish. There is guilt simmering in Michonne's eyes.

"Do you need my help?" Sasha offers. "And I mean to cover something or to fix a mess like a friend will."

Michonne finds herself speechless. She chooses to remain tight-lipped. Her lips stretch into a shallow smile.

"Why?" Michonne replies with a soft smile. "Everything is pitch perfect. I have the perfect husband. I have a beautiful family. It is perfect. What could I do to ruin that? Goodnight, Sasha. I have to go home and be a better wife," She takes Sasha in her arms. "I have to go home, and you discuss the party with Rick. I will think about your brilliant new idea." Michonne walks out of her office. " I will still say no after that."

"We're screwed," Sasha utters when Michonne closes the door, and she stares while she makes sense of Michonne's statement. "She ruined it."


"What else do you need?" Rick asks while he worries about the answer.

Julian looks at his stepfather as he continues to drag the box filled with pieces essential to his project. He stops when he walks through the garage door.

"Adult supervision," Julian replies. "You're an adult, Rick." He points out. "And you have free time on your hands. You often work online. If anyone can call it work, Camille thinks otherwise. You might actually be a parasite." Julian is nothing but blunt and unaware of social courtesy. "I think you're perfect to supervise my work."

Rick searches for ways to overcome his shock. He looks at the lanky boy. He sighs before Julian's weird antics. Rick has become immune to the rudeness of his stepson.

"First, I do work as a legal advisor for many reputable firms." Rick refrains to mention that Michonne has a heavy hand in securing those placements. "Two, you need to be more on the respectful and lying side when asking for help." He adds.

Julian looks at Rick with wide eyes. He patiently waits for Rick to agree to help. Rick sighs with exasperation. He does not know how these kids have conquered his heart with ease. Sometimes, Rick almost wants to believe he can afford to love Michonne's children. He refuses to think of another loss.

"What do I need to do?" He asks. "Beside supervising your work."

"Be a supervising adult," Julian replies.

Rick exhales and leaves to stand in a corner.

"Can I do it from here?" He questions. "Or do you have exigencies?"

Julian shakes his head and begins to unpack his stuff. Rick stares with a curious look. Now, he must watch over the boy.

"What are those?" Rick asks when Julian pulls out two flamethrowers.

"It is to heat up my combustible chemical," Julian plainly replies. "They are so cool."

Rick hopes he has misheard, but he notifies himself that he is talking to Julian. His stepson is a unique creature prompt to the most unbelievable acts.

"Chemical and flame," Rick repeats. "In a garage?" He points out. "Do you want to burn the house?"

Julian stares at Rick. He frowns and again stares at Rick.

"You're a supervising adult," Julian says as if the word holds magical meaning. "How can the house burn?"

Rick scratches his head. He should have never agreed to marry Michonne. Now, Rick lives in an alternate universe where he holds the answer for the most random question. Rick has a peculiar stepson who makes him feel like a father. Rick knows he might be projecting, but his affection for Julian is pure.

"How does not matter," Rick replies. "It will certainly burn, and us with it," He precises. "Maybe you should wait for your mother to supervise and then feel free to try something as crazy as whatever you want to do." Rick takes the flamethrower out of Julian's hands.

"Mother has to work," Julian says with defeatism. "She has no time for my project. I do understand," He sincerely adds. "Mother is like batman." With a statement, Rick remembers that his son is a precocious, brilliant child.

"Well I'm busy too," Rick counters. "Too busy to finish burnt in a garage."

Scepticism fills Julian's eyes. He stares at Rick while he elects the kindest words to reply to his stepfather's claims.

"You're unemployed, Rick. How can you be busy?" Julian appears genuinely confused.

Rick draws a deep breath, and he ends up laughing.

"I do work as a part time legal consultant," Rick retorts. "When all of this is over, I can have more time to do more." Rick mindlessly comments.

Julian appears confused, and he attempts to interpret Rick's statement. What could come to an end?

"You can't leave mom because she has a lot of work and yells at you," Julian comments as if he concluded that Rick's words foreshadowed a divorce. His use of the word mom surprises Rick. "She is like batman, and her work is very important. Mother has no time for anyone. Don't be mean to her because you like her." He finishes with a lecturing tone.

Rick scratches his head, and he grows uncomfortable. He cannot argue that he has little choice in how it ends with Michonne. With everything hidden, he sees no way forward. Rick and Michonne have crossed several lines.

"What did I say about spying on your mother and I?" Rick asks to deflect.

"Nothing," Julian replies. "You didn't catch me. Mother did, and she didn't like it." He clarifies for Rick. "And she said I should not poke my nose in adult business."

"Well, Michonne is right. You shouldn't poke your nose in adult business." Rick agrees with Michonne. It is snowing in hell, as it rarely happens.

Julian pouts, and he is peeved that Rick chastises him. From the corner of his eyes, he observes Rick. Julian toys with the thought to speak, and he unfolds his mind.

"But you were yelling," Julian retorts. "I didn't choose to listen. Mother and you are always fighting. Aitana doesn't like it. I don't like it. Camille says you're going to divorce." He almost forms the question.

"You're mean to mother, and she is angry with you. Mother yells a lot, and then you go to the garden. Mother goes to the room because you made her cry. You can't be mean. It makes her cry." He concludes with a pained expression.

Rick inhales and refrains from pointing out that he does not have the best time when he disappears into the garden.

"What if she is the one being mean to me?" Rick inquires.

Julian pauses and thinks of an answer for Rick.

"Mother can't be mean to you. She is a girl, Rick." He says as matter of fact. "And she likes you. She doesn't make you cry," Julian argues. "All she says is Richard, you're wrong." He says in a high-pitched tone, trying to imitate Michonne. "But mother does that with everyone. Mother is always right. I get angry too when she tells me I'm wrong, but then she teaches me how to be right. If you didn't go to the garden, she would teach you too." He finishes with an encouraging tone. "You might be wrong, Richard."

Rick smiles, and a soft melancholy lies beneath his amused grin.

"Your mother and I are both wrong sometimes. I don't want to make her cry, but it happens." Rick sighs. "It happens when adults can't communicate. It also happens when someone did something very bad and tried to hide it." He finishes with the discontent, which always follows the reminder of the existing secrets between Michonne and himself.

"But you both speak very well. Mother is always speaking to you." Julian replies with utter confusion. "You're ineffectively communicating."

Rick laughs. He cannot think of a more fitting reaction to the simplicity of the truth. He scratches his five o'clock shadow and looks at Julian in the eyes.

"I don't like being mean to her, but…" Rick stops because a ten-year-old boy can barely grasp the dynamics of a relationship, which he cannot understand himself. "It's complicated to be married." Rick summarises. "It's even harder to love, forget, or forgive. Being mean is easy." Rick quietly admits.

….

Michonne removes her heels. She does not want to wake Rick up with the clicking sound of her shoes. In addition, Michonne is attempting the futile task of avoiding a man with whom she shares a bed. Michonne does not believe she has the strength to face him.

The aftermath of any carnal act with Rick is avoidance. Despite how ridiculous it sounds because their lives are deeply entangled, Michonne always bends and twists time until she successfully avoids Rick. However, she always finds her way back to their bed, which leads to his arms.

Rick is less diplomatic than Michonne. Where Michonne goes for avoidance, Rick prefers to ignore Michonne while making her aware of her undesirable presence. At the thought of his potential cold shoulder, Michonne grows irritated and exhausted.

Michonne quietly tiptoes around the room. She prays that the carpet does not betray her. She fears to stumble on something as she does not dare to switch on the light. Michonne approaches the bed without a word. She attempts to climb on it without waking Rick up.

"Look who has learned to move quietly," Rick whispers. He renders each of Michonne's efforts fruitless. "Be careful, you're going to hit Aitana," He adds when Michonne fails to notice the frame of her sleeping daughter. "She is sleeping on your side of the bed."

Michonne takes a step back and distances herself from the bed. Rick does not need his sight to predict Michonne's behaviour. Her frame moves in a dance of shadows. Immediately, Michonne heads toward the door.

"I had the guest room cleaned and prepared," Rick announces. "So you don't have to wake anyone," he adds. "You might have as well gone there first if you didn't intend to spend the night next to me." The echoes of anger and frustration are rather loud. Michonne chooses to ignore them.

Michonne begins to digest the fact that he is speaking to her. She stops in the middle of the room. Rick can perceive her silhouette. Michonne holds her shoes and stands as straight as a pillar.

"You're talking to me." Michonne cannot hide her surprise. "No silence, no disgusted look, and you have used your words."

Rick sits and lights one of the bedside lamps. He looks at Michonne with a neutral expression. Michonne becomes aware of what she said. She straightens her posture, and Rick's softer look confuses Michonne.

"Do I have a reason not to talk to you?" Rick inquires. "You came to me," He adds. "I assumed you wanted to talk."

Michonne blinks. She should have gone to the guest room as she did every other night, which followed their interludes.

"Why is Aitana here?" Michonne elects to derail the conversation.

Rick looks at the little girl, forming a small ball by him. He places his hand on her forehead to check the temperature.

"She has some temperature," Rick replies. "So, I'm watching her until it comes down."

Michonne puts her shoes down and approaches the bed. She passes her hand over her daughter's forehead, and Aitana is burning.

"You forgot the wet cloth," Michonne tells Rick. "It won't go down without some help, and I assume you already gave her some drugs." She comes off the bed, and she goes to pick a cotton shirt to wet.

Michonne delicately puts the cloth on Aitana's forehead, and she takes a spot at the edge of the bed.

"You shouldn't worry," Rick tells Michonne. "Denise came, and she thinks it's nothing serious. It's a cough at best. You shouldn't worry," He insists when Michonne's concern does not fade.

"It's a bit hypocritical to ask me not to worry when you're the picture of anguish," Michonne replies. "And don't follow up with encouraging me to sleep when you haven't closed an eye to rest," Michonne knowingly adds.

Rick raises his hand in surrender. Michonne and Rick fall in peaceful silence. The bed, despite its width, feels too small to fit the two of them and Aitana. Michonne stands and retreats on the sofa. Rick curiously eyes Michonne, and he is uncomfortable with the distance, which she established.

"It's not the most comfortable seat in this room," Rick notes. "Can't barely fit inside." He points out while he watches her dangling feet.

Michonne folds her legs, and she fits with ease in the space. Rick looks at her while remaining sceptical.

"I'm petite enough to fit," Michonne replies. " I'm not a muscular joke like you."

Rick scoffs, and she is wrong about his physical appearance.

"You have seen me naked enough to know I'm neither too muscular or a joke," Rick deadpans.

Michonne blushes, and she does have the picture of his body engraved in her mind. She drags her legs toward her, and she erects those limbs as a wall between them as if the non-negligible distance between Rick and her is insufficient to keep them apart.

"Most of a time, it's against my will if I must add. You don't expect me to remember every inch of your body because I have accidentally glanced at it," Michonne argues pridefully.

Despite the dimmed lights, Michonne knows that Rick intensely stares at her. He does not believe a word, and she must admit that her lie was a bold one.

"You have a fading scar on your left shoulder, and it wasn't there a month ago. It won't be there in a few days," He noiselessly says. "If I can remember something so trivial, I know your body well enough to tell when you can't fit in a seat." Rick declares. "Come back to the bed." There is almost a challenging tone to his demand.

Michonne again twists to fit on the sofa. Rick is right, and Michonne stubbornly twists and contorts to have a semblance of comfort. She is slowly hurting herself trying to prove that she can fit on the sofa.

"It's a sofa, and I can sit in it," Michonne reiterates.

Rick sighs and rethinks about his conversation with Julian. Anything happens to trigger an argument. Rick wonders at what point they manage to hate in silence. Perhaps, neither Michonne nor Rick can exist without fighting for a second of attention.

"Julian said you were like Batman," Rick declares. "He isn't absolutely wrong. You're almost as stubborn in your ways as he is. He also likes a pointless fight with a predicted end. Come back to the bed."

Michonne frowns, and she stretches her legs to help with the ache. Rick pointedly stares at her legs. Michonne's frown deepens, and she resists the impulse to do what Rick asks.

"And how does it end?" Michonne inquires.

"With you in tears," Rick plainly states. "How every little quarrel between us ends. " He corrects himself.

"I'm not going to cry over a sofa," Michonne retorts.

Rick chuckles, and he leaves the bed to walk toward Michonne. He leans to look into her eyes, and it lasts for a few seconds.

"You're going to cry because we won't stop at the sofa. Since we won't discuss last night, you and I will find creative ways to express more frustration. You're going to say things to hit my ego because you feel vulnerable and fragile. It disturbs your sanity to know that you want me in ways that you do not control." Rick clarifies his argument.

Michonne does not counter Rick's claims. She believes every word because it is the truth.

"Then why would I cry when I will say those harmful things," Michonne argues.

Rick's thumb grazes Michonne's cheek, and he rises to his full height. He appears too tall for Michonne, and she does not want to crane her neck to look at him.

"Because you're a precious flower. Even at your angriest, you're never mad at me. You can hate me, and it is still on the softer side. And sometimes you pity me. Some other times, you care for me." Rick claims. "It's different in my case. I'm allowed to be cruel. I mean truly cruel. I'm mad at you, and you haven't earned an ounce of forgiveness. You don't question why I'm angry. There are so many reasons. Well, I will be discarded soon enough. I will make you cry because you care." Rick cradles Michonne's face. "But not tonight because we have had this conversation. You're going back to the bed because that is where you want to be tonight. It's where I want you. For once, we want the same thing. There is no point to fight."

Michonne pulls Rick's hands away from her face. She unceremoniously pushes them back to his side. Michonne wipes the beginning of tears, and her emotional state has little correlation to Rick pushing her button. Rick returns to the bed, and he watches Michonne collect her emotions.

"Someone told me I shouldn't be as mean as I'm with you." He looks at her, and his eyes find Michonne's one. He knows she resents him for knowing how to soften her. "And here I thought, I was being too nice. You cry, and I'm automatically the mean one."

Michonne unties her bun, and she pulls out a lock after another. She inhales while sinking in Rick's stare. She attempts not to drown in regrets, guilt, yearning, and desire.

"You can be cruel," Michonne retorts. "Sometimes, I can't blame you for it, and I'm not the kindest to you," She admits with genuineness. "It's complicated. We both know it."

Rick chuckles, and if he has ever heard a euphemism before, this is one. He places his hand on Aitana's forehead, and her fever is lower. She has ceased to burn.

"How complicated can it be? I'm a pawn in your world. Your little toy, and I can't be more to your eyes." Rick ultimately pours his disheartening truth. "I'm a very compliant employee. I'm a sparring partner refusing to take your punch without reciprocating," Rick demands. "Maybe I should invest more in the theatrics. I should cry too when you poke and probe. I should lament too because I'm tied to my executioner. I should make a show of moving in the guestroom for a week because I'm uncomfortable with the body, which I crave."

Michonne averts her eyes. She pointlessly straightens her skirt. The assault of Rick's words weakens her composure.

"Later, I can crawl back into the bed and let you know that I want you to fill a void. I want you to be the family I lost. I want you for rational reasons. I could come up with thousands of those like you instead of being true to myself and admit that I want you. Would that make me less cruel? And then I should cry," Rick spits out those words with frustration. "I should pretend more, and so I wouldn't be the villain." Rick smiles at the end.

Michonne swallows her tears. She never knows when the argument starts. Sometimes, it is loud and exuberant. Often, it is quiet and disguised as a conversation. Michonne pushes her loose strand behind her ears. She breathes to soothe the aching burn.

"What do you want me to tell you?" Michonne inquires. "I don't want you in my life," She declares without remorse. "You're poison to me. I'm something worse to you if we go by your words and my actions." Michonne carries on without flinching, and Rick hardly reacts. He has heard many variations of how much she hates him while the world always resonates with their emptiness. "I should care because you are a victim too. I should care because you can't spend a quiet night without me. I should care because I can make you happy if I try hard enough. I should be silent and not cry because you can't take tears. You can't take tears. You don't like to know when you have gone too far with your little tantrum. Your precious wife is no longer happy." Michonne struggles to withhold tears, and she will not cry before Rick because he cannot stand tears.

"Nothing makes you happy, darling," Rick declares. "Why do you believe I give up on trying? Why do you believe I stop being the clown in the circus of your life? Nothing brings a laugh to your lips. Nothing makes you happy. You adore misery. You're a miserable person. I will be foolish to think…" He draws a breath, and he looks at her with concern.

With a single look, Michonne can conclude that he does not believe what he said. Rick struggles to keep Michonne happy, and she can only blame her misery on her failures. She almost wants to confess what eats her soul. Yet, she lacks the bravery.

"You can be quite naive," Michonne gives Rick a hint. "I didn't drag you into all this. Why don't you leave? You have the luxury to do so, and you would stand to lose nothing but a monthly allowance. At any time, you can ask for the divorce. Why don't you do it?"

Rick sighs and stares at Michonne. He will not provide her with an answer when she does not care for what Rick has to say.

"Her fever is down," Rick tells Michonne. "You can go hide inside the guest room now."

Michonne stands from the sofa and takes a step forward. She hesitates and takes another step. Rick watches her, and he hopes for nothing.

"Make space for me," Michonne asks as she stands in her side. "How else will you sleep at night without me?"


Rick and Michonne often wake up in each other's arms. Only on a few odd mornings, they stick to their side of the bed. Even with a third body in the bed, the unavoidable happens. Rick and Michonne's legs intertwine. Rick's peaceful sleep depends on Michonne's proximity.

Michonne knows of his nightmare, and she has a magical way to keep them at bay. However, she knows little of the tragedy, which created them. Rick only speaks so often of his daughter and his family, which no longer lives.

Michonne wakes up when she feels lips pressed on her skin. She, disoriented, blinks, and a bright smile fills her sight. Chubby hands grab her face, and she receives another kiss.

"Aitana," Rick whispers. "Don't disturb your mother." He carefully pulls her away. "She didn't close an eye until this morning because you were sick. You need to let Michonne sleep." Rick says as he fixes some locks behind her ear.

Michonne's ears perked, and she didn't notice that Rick was awake most of the time after she returned to bed. Michonne rubs her eyes, and despite her exhaustion, she does not have the luxury to sleep. She has a lot of work to accomplish.

"That's okay," Michonne declares. "I have to head to work," She adds while she rises from the bed and immediately sways to the side.

Rick is fast enough to catch her. He keeps Michonne in his arms for a few seconds until she takes a solid breath. Michonne rushes to step out of Rick's embrace.

"I'm alright," Michonne claims and rushes to the bathroom before Rick can voice a thought.

Rick stares at the empty spot before him. He frowns for a few seconds. He cannot formulate further thoughts as the phone rings.


Michonne returns from the bathroom, and she finds Rick waiting for her. His expression is one of displeasure. She makes no case of it. Her existence is reason enough to ruin his day. She passes him to head to the closet, and Rick does not stop her.

"Sasha called," Rick announces as Michonne begins to disappear into the closet.

"And how many guests did you agree on this time?" Michonne knowingly asks. "I don't want an entire party, Richard."

"Fifty guests," Rick replies, "Which I had already mentioned before and won't change." He calmly states. "That is the least important topic. There was more, and that is the reason for her call." He sarcastically adds. "Something greatly unexpected. "

Michonne comes out of the closet, and she is almost dressed. She comes to stand before Rick. He looks at her expecting an explanation.

"If you may," Michonne asks as she turns to display her back.

Rick stands from the edge of the bed, and he places his hands around her waist. He does not move for a few seconds. Michonne looks over her shoulders to see why he has not begun to close her dress, and she curiously cocks an eyebrow.

"It doesn't matter," Rick answers Michonne's silent question. "Hold your breath for a second," he asks as he slightly struggles with the zipper at the level of Michonne's hips.

Rick closes Michonne's dress, and he holds her back when she takes a step forward. His hands linger on the curves of her silhouette. He will point out how generous her frame has become if he didn't offend her the previous night. It is almost invisible, and it is a detail, which would have gone unseen to many. Michonne's waist no longer fits in his spread palms. Her hips appear wider, and Rick swears that she is prettier than the week before today.

"What are you doing?" Michonne inquires when he rests his chin on her shoulder.

"Taking in details," Rick replies as his nose runs along her neck. "Of how pretty you're. You're painfully beautiful," He kisses Michonne's shoulder. "Do you know how ironic it is to have for a wife one of the most beautiful women and yet being nothing but a stranger to her desire and needs? I console myself in knowing that you can't fuck anyone but me." Again, he kisses her nape.

Michonne tenses and it never feels as if that scent has left her skin. The memory of the rich scent of galangal, which clung to Michonne's skin, makes her stomach churn. Michonne rushes to escape Rick's hold.

"Not today," Michonne stretches her skirt. "You got your fill," she pursues. "And we can't continue turning it into something trivial. It's sex, and it does not matter as far as we go."

Rick pushes his hands into his pocket. He pays no mind to Michonne's embarrassment.

"Rest assured I quenched my thirst and took matters in my own hands," He replies. "There are more pressing issues, mainly the reason behind Sasha's call." Rick insists as he diverts the conversation back to the initial topic.

Michonne shows slight signs of unrest. For a politician, it is disconcerting how her emotions are transparent. Perhaps, Rick might know her too much. Perhaps, Michonne's secrets might not remain unknown to him.

"Pressing issues," Michonne stutters. "Like?" She halts her horses, and she refuses to race toward the wrong path. "What could it be?"

"Did you forget to inform me about dinner?" Rick inquires.

Michonne blinks, and she is not one to be forgetful. Rick knows it, and her supposed omission makes him suspicious of her.

"A dinner?" Michonne genuinely cannot seem to remember. "Is it one of Sasha's PR tactics?" She searches her mind. "There is no dinner planned."

"It's something more cumbersome," Rick replies. "And it surely sounds as if you wanted to keep it a secret."

Michonne throws her shoes before Rick, and she places her hand on his shoulder to help with her balance. He carefully wraps an arm around her to keep her steady while she steps into her shoes.

"She did say something about fundraising," Michonne agrees. "She didn't say anything beyond that. Was it why she called you?"

Rick smirks and he helps with the locks escaping her ponytail. He places each behind Michonne's ear. He sighs almost content with so little. Sometimes, Rick forgets himself in the cogs of a marital routine. He would kiss Michonne if she would not make a big deal out of a need.

"She mentioned the fundraisers, and I agree to attend three for a decent price," Rick grins, and Michonne rolls her eyes. "What I didn't agree to was a dinner with your ex-husband." Rick's smile disappears.

Michonne stares at Rick with an air of shock. She silently curses because she wishes it remained a forgotten thought.

"I didn't think it was worth mentioning," Michonne retorts. "I want to discuss Camille." She pursues. "You don't have to be present," Michonne rushes to say.

Rick cackles, and he looks at Michonne as if she has lost her mind.

"If the purpose of that dinner is to discuss Camille, you're both ill-equipped to reach a compromise," Rick bluntly points out. "The clown and you shine by your absence in his life."

Michonne cringes before the truth. She resents Rick for seeing through the flaws of her reasoning.

"We will make sure to talk about it. After what happens, we can't look away. Philip and I are going to have a needed conversation about our children," Michonne emphasizes those last words.

"Only your children or," Rick drags the innuendo.

"Our children," Michonne responds forcefully, and Rick misses her sudden pallor. "What else is there to discuss?"

Rick barely takes offence to Michonne's emphasis, and so far, he only crosses the lines, which Michonne's prolonged absence in her children's lives has forced him to overstep. He is wary of clinging too much to a family, which he will lose soon.

"It's long overdue," Rick agrees. " Do send me the restaurant address, darling, " He comments as he steps away from Michonne, and she immediately chooses to follow me.

"Excuse me," Michonne replies. " What do you mean?" She confusedly asks.

Rick stops before the bathroom door, and he turns to face Michonne.

"So we're clear I have no desire to play referee, but that clown is going to do what he does best. He is going to make you feel little and worthless. God knows how much he can convince you…" Rick says bitterly. "I do not like the thought of it."

The look, which he throws at Michonne, is extremely condemning. Michonne could apply Rick's words to his actions and ways of interacting with her. However, Rick is more subtle.

"I'm not some helpless victim," Michonne argues.

"You aren't at the centre of my concern, darling" Rick plainly retorts. "Camille is, and I will make sure you stick to your gun to defend him." He draws a deep breath to calm himself. "Perhaps, I will prefer you to be helpless before the man. It would be enough excuses for everything. " Rick's tone makes a shiver run down Michonne's spine.

Michonne begins to overanalyse his words, and she wonders if he has suspicions. Michonne almost grows sick, and she clings to his shoulder afraid to lose balance and him.

"I can handle Philip," Michonne argues.

Rick raises an eyebrow. His scepticism is blatant. His hands come to frame Michonne's face, and he looks in depth into Michonne's eyes.

"Do you care to tell me how you do that?" Rick softly says, but Michonne cannot hold his look. Her stomach churns and her tongue burns from the corrosive lies and the rising bile. "I haven't forgotten how the last dinner went. You weren't handling him. I did, but I may have missed something. Did I miss something, Michonne?"

Michonne's hands cover Rick's, and she pries his hands from her face. Michonne holds Rick's hand, and she does so tightly. Thoughts cross her mind. The weight of actions is almost too unbearable to continue carrying it, and Michonne cannot look at Rick. In the same room, she feels as if they cannot breathe the same air.

"As long as it doesn't turn into a battle of ego," Michonne gives into Rick's request. " I will see you tonight." Michonne frees Rick's hand. "And please, we will do good not to relive the previous dinner."

Rick smiles with amusement. He raises his hands in surrender.

"You can't blame me for that clown's actions," Rick argues.

"Perhaps, don't call him a clown," Michonne retorts, and she begins to head out of the room.

Rick swiftly takes her arms, and he carefully tugs Michonne toward him. His hands come to rest on Michonne's shoulders. His fingers waltz on the fabric of her shirt.

"Again, only if he doesn't act like he leads a circus where you're a tamed animal, I will reconsider." Rick noiselessly says. " I will see you tonight, Michonne." Rick surprisingly kisses Michonne's cheek, and he leaves her standing in the middle of the room.

Michonne grows sick with anguish. The thought of her previous dinner with Philip is a horrid memory. It is the spark which lit her life ablaze. Why did she agree to meet that clown?


Ten months ago

Rick refills his wine glass. Then, he lights his cigarette. He is slowly running out of patience, and another sneaky remark will suffice to infuriate him. Rick has long forgotten about his meal, and he endlessly checks his watch to determine the appropriate time to leave.

Michonne is quiet like a church mouse, and her passiveness adds to Rick's anger. He feels he has lost his wife to the weight of an old failed marriage. Michonne barely looks at him, and when she does, Rick recognises vulnerability.

"Are you bored, Rick?" Michonne's ex-husband inquires. "Of course the topic must be boring for you. Young people don't care much for politics and the intricacies of diplomacy." He looks at Rick dead in the eyes. "Having your wife being such an important figure can be emasculating."

Rick dusts the ash from his cigarette and carefully sits his wine glass on the table. He does not shy away from Philip's look.

"What is so intricate about it?" Rick inquires while his body language openly displays his disinterest in any answer Philip may try to offer. "And emasculating? There is much to my charm than a confused thought of power. Michonne adores politics, and I have different professional interests. My manhood is intact."

"Maybe we should stick to lighter topics," Philip's wife, Andrea attempts to calm the spirits. "I'm sure Michonne does not want to talk about nominations and embassies at the dinner table."

Michonne pretends to smile politely. It is hard to remain civil with your ex-husband's mistress, now turned new wife. Michonne is nothing but grace and poise. Rick seems to be the one offended and angry at the moment.

"Michonne does not mind," Philip silences his wife. "When we were married, such conversations helped maintain the passion in our marriage." He chuckles.

Rick sighs. He cannot believe the audacity of the man. He waits for Michonne to react, but she remains distant and silent.

"It explains the adultery and the subsequent divorce," Rick throws those words with annoyance. "If you might take away something from tonight, it should be Michonne's taste in regards to conversations. Politics is lazy and a poor attempt to keep her interest. Anything you might say will sound ridiculous. She will kindly entertain the foolery, but she will be bored out of her mind," Rick looks at Michonne, and he can sense how bored she is. "I do not talk politics around her because I can't stand losing her attention, which is happening now. Your suggestions for the ambassadors' positions will not make her cut, and she is too courteous to interrupt your endless talk. What is so intricate about such things?"

"Somethings, which you wouldn't grasp even if I bother with explaining," Philip replies with a smirk. "Maybe you lack understanding of your wife because you lack her genius."

Rick can hardly understand how he became a contestant in a dick-measuring contest. However, the occurrence is ridiculous. The petty fight grows more ludicrous before the facts and the context.

Philip, who sits by his mistress-turned-wife, is actively attempting to pester his ex-wife's husband for reasons which should not exist. Rick sighs and looks at his wristwatch. Michonne has long lost her voice, and Philip has reprimanded her for hours. The newlywed pair wants nothing but to leave.

"You can hardly explain something, which you barely understand yourself. You don't have the most successful political career. Sorry, I misspoke. You have no career left. If I need lessons on a successful career, Michonne is willing to teach me a few tricks," Rick declares.

Philip's attention divests from Rick, and he looks at Michonne without hiding his displeasure.

"Is it a desperate act?" He inquires with feigned concern. He no longer cares for the subtle approach.

"Pardon," Michonne replies.

Rick internally rolls his eyes. He cannot believe how silent Michonne has been for the entirety of the dinner. She has shown how afflicted she was by Philip's little display.

"How else could you explain your entanglement with him?" His finger disdainfully points to Rick.

Rick puts out his cigarette. He sips on his liquor. Michonne frowns, and she merely reacts to Philip's accusing tone.

"Philip," She begins to speak in a pacifying tone that immediately annoys Rick.

Philip gains his confidence in Michonne's more temperate tone. His arm comes to rest on his wife. He drags Andrea closer to him as he wants to display his trophy. Michonne's body language betrays too much. Rick's eyes travel between the people in the room, and he understands the power unbalance at play.

"In a more decent manner than whatever you could say about your present marriage," Rick replies as Michonne searches his words. "There must be a point to this dinner," he inquires.

Philip stares at Michonne. Rick is a stronger opponent. Furthermore, he does not have Michonne's graciousness. Each time either of the men speaks, Michonne holds her breath.

"Richard," Michonne breathes out as a plea, and she wishes he would bite his tongue.

"Someone has to ask, sweetheart," Rick replies. "Besides a ridiculous attempt to soothe his wounded ego, I cannot think of a reason why we're dining with your ex-husband and his promoted mistress." He pursues with an eager desire to offend Philip. "Here, you have had enough time to conclude. She is not miserable nor yearning for you. Should we wait for more or ask for the addition?"

Rick is successful in his attempt to infuriate Michonne's ex-husband. Philip turns red with anger, and Andrea is speechless. However, her silence is nothing of novelty. Rick cannot remember when Philip allowed her an opinion in the last hours.

"Can I talk to you?" Michonne abruptly says, and she grabs Rick's hand. "It will take only a minute," she adds for the other party on the table as she drags Rick away.

Michonne shoves Rick into the restaurant's bathroom. She draws a deep breath and walks toward the door to lock it to prevent any disturbance. Michonne inhales the courage to face Rick.

During two months of marriage, Rick and Michonne have done nothing besides arguing. Tonight, everything is leading to an argument.

"What are you doing?" Michonne inquires while displaying her displeasure.

"Showing him that my cock is bigger and my wife is prettier than his wife." Rick replies without an ounce of sarcasm. "It seems to be the intended purposes of the night."

Michonne searches for words. She only retrieves the ability to mumble sounds. Hence, Michonne grunts more than once. Rick is unmoved. He looks at his wife while she loses a bit of her composure.

"Stop it," Michonne plainly demands. "There is no need to cause a ruckus. We can have a perfectly quiet dinner and leave it at that."

Rick scoffs, and he shows his desire to disregard Michonne's wish. His wife makes him angry. Rick's look is one of disdain. He cannot believe she wishes to capitulate when Philip attempts to belittle her at every turn.

"The chance for a quiet dinner flew through the window when you dragged me away from the table," Rick responds. "This is a ruckus." Rick's finger travels between the pair.

"You don't know what a ruckus is, Richard," Michonne argues. "This is a needed attempt to calm the minds because my husband is a petulant asshole."

Rick smirks, and he shoves his hands in his pocket. He looks at Michonne from head to toe, and he plaintively sighs.

"That is unfortunate," Rick declares. "You certainly forced us into a scene. Aren't we arguing in the bathroom? When I return to that table, I will find myself equally annoyed with that clown. So, what purpose does this serve?" His finger twirls to cover the surface of the room.

Michonne sighs. She never expected the dinner to turn into a rooster's battle. Neither Rick nor Philip have valuable reasons to antagonise each other. Both men made it clear where they stand in regard to Michonne.

"It gives me enough time to talk you out of a futile argument with Philip," Michonne states. "This dinner has an actual purpose."

Rick immediately displays scepticism. His eyebrow twists like a question mark. He steps toward Michonne. Rick crowds Michonne's space.

"A futile argument?" Rick's voice carries his poor mood.

"What should I call it?" Michonne inquires. "As vulgarly as you said before Philip and you are ridiculously engaged in a phallus measuring contest." She announces with a prude tone.

"A phallus?" Rick chuckles. "Unless you continue to wonder, I have no reason to engage." He takes Michonne's hand and places it on his groin. His hand covers Michonne's while he guides her into a feel of his manhood. "Is it enough of an answer?"

She takes a step back to retrieve a space which belongs to her. Rick takes hold of her wrist before Michonne can move.

"No," Michonne replies. "I understand that your ego…"

Rick snorts and interrupts Michonne. She looks at him while displaying her irritation.

"My ego is intact. As I said my dick is bigger and my wife is prettier. My ego is bigger than ever." Rick calmly replies. "Besides a clear display of insecurity, the clown hasn't invited the circus to play on my porch." He genuinely answers.

"Then your actions…" Michonne stops to take a breath. "Is it that you can't help yourself?" She inquires. "You enjoy being despicable and rude when it is unnecessary. I thought it was a misfortune I had to suffer. I do not care for half of what you say to me, but tonight, you should quietly take a few punches."

Rick tugs her hand, and Michonne must face him directly. She stands in the vapour of his soft scent, and Michonne refuses to take a breath. Michonne refuses to indulge in anything that may bring a reason to enjoy Rick's proximity.

"So I can join you in your misery," Rick declares. "Were you as pitiable and spineless as tonight all along your marriage? Could he go on a rant about how you're worthless? You certainly can quietly take a few punches. You have done nothing else besides looking at him with enamoured eyes or is it adoration." He continues with disgust. "Why do I bother? He must have seen right through you. Yet, he didn't like it enough to stay despite how…"

Michonne slaps Rick, and she does it again for a second measure. Rick grabs her hand before she can take it away.

"You shouldn't speak on what you can hardly understand," Michonne warns.

"What is so hard to understand?" Rick argues. "He certainly found the less subtle way to belittle you, and you look like you're going to thank him for talking to you. You're pitiable, darling."

"Please can you shut your mouth," Michonne says while she stands on her toes to be at eye level with Rick. "I cannot endure another minute listening to whatever you wish to say."

"That's perfect," Rick replies. "I don't think I care to speak now." He adds while he slightly leans, and his forehead brushes hers.

"That is all I ask," Michonne continues to speak. " No one cares about your little ego," She repeats. "You want to have a cockfight, have it on your time not mine." She adds with quiet fury. "And I do pay for your time. It means you can forget about…"

Rick cradles Michonne's face and kisses her before she can end her chastising rant. For a second, Michonne freezes. She did not expect Rick's touch or the peculiar sense of comfort it brings.

Michonne returns Rick's caress out of instinct. The eagerness to escape a constant state of fight drives her to forbidden acts. She kisses Rick with passion and abandon. The punches and fury sharply turned into her fingers coiling around his bust and her mouth parting when his tongue teased her lips.

She has to stand on her toes because Rick is in a perpetual position to burden Michonne. He burdens Michonne with anger. He cripples her with corrupting desire. Michonne gulps for air after kissing him for an endless minute.

Rick does not allow his wife to escape his arms. Michonne remains in his enclosing embrace, and she eases into it. Her lips brush Rick's as she fills her lungs. Rick's sharper nose flattens Michonne's as it digs into her skin.

Michonne tightly shuts her eyes. She is hesitant with the kiss. Her skin burns where Rick's hands lay. Michonne's heart gallops. Michonne kisses Rick until her reason is a succession of pleasurable mistakes.

Rick takes a step forward, and Michonne steps back. It is a tango danced on non-rhythmical harmonies of anger, agitation, lust, and possibly more than what lingers at the surface. Michonne finishes with her back pressed against a sink.

Rick has caged her. The passion in his kiss is less fiery. He has gotten the hang of it. It slowly quenches unknown needs until there is a sentiment of fulfilment. He lazily kisses her until it is a familiar act. He kisses Michonne until he adores the taste of her lips. He continues to kiss her because he has found satiety and gluttony at the tip of her tongue. Rick pries his body from Michonne's arm. He drew a needed breath and looked into her eyes for anything.

"What was that?" Michonne stutters, and she maniacally pulls on a wrinkled dress. "Richard," She quietly questions.

"The other alternative would have me in prison for feminicide, darling." Rick sincerely replies. "A bathroom is not the place to discuss this," Rick declares as he walks up to the bathroom door before stopping. "I'm heading home. This little fuckery with the clown is above my pay grade. Goodnight, darling." Rick leaves without waiting for Michonne.

The act is opportunistic. Rick makes a needed escape, although he cannot explain his disarming desire to run. He looks at Michonne for a few seconds, seeking answers to unestablished questions. Rick settles on the escape. It is swift and leaves Michonne in a state of unrest.

"Richard?"