SCENE 1: (Rick wakes up, shirtlessly, with the thoughts of his family on his mind and hears muffled sounds in Carl's room. He reluctantly, for him and the entire audience, throws some clothes on to peek through the cracked doorway and see Michonne at Carl's bedside, handing him a bowl of Jell-O.)
MICHONNE: I don't care if you don't even like green, Carl, I almost had to sell my left kidney to get Olivia to give me the mix.
CARL: (sighs, takes the bowl) Do you ever wonder about Olivia?
MICHONNE: In what way?
CARL: Just…isn't she…eh? (does the "eh" hand gesture)
(Rick, still observing, furrows his forehead but Michonne knows what he's talking about)
MICHONNE: I have a secret: We all have no idea what we're trying to do here, not just Olivia.
(Carl raises an eyebrow).
MICHONNE: Yes, this includes me. (pause) You're right though, I can't forget that one time I saw her put pineapple on pizza.
CARL: Now that is treason.
MICHONNE: (sighs) I think she's the best we can put over there. Unless you want to help her out.
CARL: Yeah, me and my one eye will be great for inventory.
MICHONNE: Now, come on, Nick Fury had to help his crew out too. It wasn't just all about fighting that rock man looking guy.
(CARL lets a tiny smile slip.)
MICHONNE: I think its time for you to take advantage of not having to run around and kill walkers. Be a kid. In the meantime, we will figure out everything. Together. You, me, and your dad.
(Rick is relieved behind the propped open door. He's comforted by the fact that Michonne is continuing to look after his son. No longer not just as a friend but as part of the family.)
CARL: How is he holding up?
MICHONNE: No bullshit?
(CARL nods)
(Rick takes a deep breath, knowing that, whatever Michonne's perceptions are about him, they are going to be pretty accurate.)
MICHONNE: Surprisingly pretty well. I could kind of tell that something happened between him and your almost second mom that kind of gave him the ick already before…the incident.
CARL: Her dumbass sons gave me the ick. I'm going to ignore the second mom comment, by the way.
MICHONNE: Oh come on. The problem wasn't her. She was a quick learner on weapons and wanted to take an active role in the community. But your dad. You know how he was acting around her. I knew I was on the way out, let you guys adjust as a unit.
CARL: If there was anyone that was going to be with us permanently, I would choose you. Judith too.
(Michonne smiles and squeezes his shoulder).
(Rick is stunned by this. Jessie taught him to be open to getting to know people again, and yes, they kissed, something about that time in the garage with her gave him pause, that maybe she wasn't quite what he was looking for. Michonne has been by his side through so much, she is so important. How could he show her how much she meant to him?)
RICK: (barging in) You are not my second choice, Michonne. Ever.
MICHONNE: (standing up) Was I even a choice in your mind at all, Rick? How long were you listening to us?
RICK: (lowering his voice) Did I ever make you feel like you weren't always the first person I thought about?
MICHONNE: You went over the line with Jessie. You were obsessed with her up until the end.
(As soon as she blurted out the words, Michonne realizes how passionately she feels about seeing Rick being foolish. Am I supporting him or are some latent sentiments spilling out of me?)
(Carl sinks lower into his bed.)
RICK: (sighs). I admit it, I thought there was something there for a little bit. Her husband and her kids were not (he's trying to find the polite word for them) …the sharpest. But she seemed to be a kind person in a time where I was distrustful about Alexandria. (pause) Maybe she was my type in the past.
MICHONNE: (wanting to know who is his type now) She was pretty and a damsel in distress. I get it. But there would be no room for me to be this close in your life if things went further with her. I would have to give you space. I was this close to moving in with Glenn and Maggie but I didn't want to interrupt their shack-a-roni.
RICK: (pleading) You wouldn't need to leave.
MICHONNE: And do what? (shaking her head) Come on, Rick. Carl is a reflection of how great you are—
CARL: --Thank you
MICHONNE:--But living with those kids? Living with her. It wouldn't work.
RICK: You are Carl's best friend. You are the one that I look to the most.
MICHONNE: There would have been someone that would take care of your needs already. She wouldn't understand the high stakes of some of the things we went through, but she would at least be there to listen. Where would I fit in?
(Rick moves closer and wipes away a tear rolling down Michonne cheek with his thumb. Michonne, a bit stunned by the intimacy, gently grabs his hand to remove him from touching her face).
RICK: Michonne. I confide in you. You and maybe Glenn are the only people in the world that would make me turn around anywhere in a heartbeat. You convinced me to make the move for the whole group to go to Washington. Now that we have a home, all because of you and what you have done, I want to do is make you happy. Just tell me how.
MICHONNE: (shaking her head) Deanna, on her deathbed, asked about me. Asked what my greater purpose was.
RICK: (prepared to take a mental note) What did you say back?
MICHONNE: I told her I didn't know, and I still don't, but my first thought was of you.
(Their heads swam closer, as if they had something to express with their mouths but couldn't quite use their words. Some soft breathing interrupts the tension and they see that Carl fell asleep, Jell-O bowl in his lap. After a few seconds of both of them not wanting to make the next move, Michonne takes the bowl and storms out.)
RICK: (turning around after her) Where are you going?
MICHONNE: I need to talk to someone who knows what I'm going through!
SCENE 2. Michonne is pacing around while Sasha is disassembling and cleaning a shotgun at a makeshift workbench.
SASHA: Men are pigs.
MICHONNE: Yes, but this does not apply to this particular situation.
SASHA: Fine. Men are dumb.
MICHONNE: Yes!
SASHA: You could threaten them with an RPG to see the forest beyond the trees and they'd still stare at a useless leaf on the ground. Do you want to hear the dumb thing Abraham said to me today?
MICHONNE: Hold on. Never mind. Rick isn't dumb. He's not a…say…have your supply truck run into a lake dumb. Stubborn, yes. Obtuse, too. But not dumb.
SASHA: Do you want to hear the obtuse thing Abraham said to me today, or not? And what do you want with Rick, anyway? Why does he have you so spun up?
MICHONNE: (sighs) Honestly, I don't even know how I feel about him. I can't explain the capacity or role I want in his life. I just want to be seen as more to him than a caretaker or his literal partner in crime. I have needs too. Maybe he can meet them under one roof.
SASHA: Where under the roof? Say…in the bedroom?
MICHONNE: (rolling her eyes) Why the hell did I choose to talk to you anyway? You almost killed me and now you're giving me this shit.
SASHA: (cackling) Listen to yourself. You really don't know what you are saying to me? About Rick? You know that hot but crazy man is in love with you but doesn't know it yet, right?
MICHONNE: First of all, you calling him hot but crazy should have you looking into a mirror. Second, what? No!
SASHA: (goes back to cleaning the gun) Well, if I am the one telling you that it looks like he has it bad for you… (clicks tongue) Remember the barn? When Maggie and I brought Aaron in to talk about Alexandria? Other than punching dude in the face, Rick listened and deferred to everything you said. You've got him wrapped around your finger and the rest of group knows it, minus him…and probably you. He was looking spicier than a habanero in that brown T-shirt too. He's a catch.
(Habanero spicy? Maybe Sasha was spending a lot of time with Abraham after all. Although this phrase could also pass for a Eugeneism. Michonne looks out from the window, as the memory catches up to her. Rick at full beard and wild eyes, somehow a handsome face beneath it all. That miraculous body of his, somehow lean but sinewy all at once under that thin fabric of a shirt. So filthy. And boy does he heal up well. He survived so much after she and him and Carl were witnessed to many things. And yet, he never forgot about protecting his entire family, the group. While it was completely overdramatic, Rick punching Aaron was a glimpse of that peak virility that she saw with that rapist dickhead Claimer Joe.)
SASHA: Like I said, he doesn't know why he sometimes gets hard thinking about you, so don't worry about it right now. (pause) Abraham has been trying to get into my pants lately. Can we talk about something other than Rick, pleas--
MICHONNE: I wonder who Rick speaks with when he wants to talk shit about me?
SASHA: Mmm…Glenn is preoccupied with Maggie if he's not on patrol. And Morgan is way too Zen for that man. Carol?
MICHONNE: (shakes her head) When she speaks the air gets too thick from all the bloodlust. No way.
SASHA and MICHONNE: (in unison and both proceed to burst out in laughter) Daryl?!
SASHA: (as Rick) Hey Daryl, my hot lady friend that lives with me is sick of not being recognized as more than taking care of me and my kids. What do you think I should do about it? (then, as Daryl, she makes a grunting sound)
MICHONNE: (laughter fading) I can't make fun of him. I love the guy, we've been though a lot. A. Lot.
SASHA: He just saved our asses from a bunch of weirdos with an RPG! I feel the same way.
MICHONNE: (nodding) That being said, he's probably listening to Rick while skinning a squirrel on the porch as we speak. (beat) OK now about this Abraham thing…
SCENE 3. We focus on Carl's half eaten bowl of Jell-O by the kitchen sink. Then we are at the porch at Rick's house. Rick is pacing around as Daryl skins a squirrel.
RICK: She's the one person that I trust the most. (he sees Daryl's confused look and protects his feelings by classifying her, even though he wasn't lying) Woman I trust the most, I mean. Talks me into and out of almost anything. What do—how do I let her know that she doesn't need to worry about not being a part of the family?
(Daryl grunts.)
RICK: What that's supposed to mean?
DARYL: She's not worried about being a part of the family. She locked that down way before she made Carl that Jell-O. (under his breath) Probably had to threaten Olivia too.
RICK: Yeah, she says she wants something more. I don't know how else I can show her.
(DARYL and RICK look at each other for a brief moment. There is a nice breeze bursting through the porch, practically whispering the reply 'with your penis' but Daryl continues skinning with his knife and attempts for subtlety.)
DARYL: I can't believe I'm the one telling you this…I know that you know…she's…you know… (grunts)
RICK: (wondering if he's about to be offended) No, I don't know. Say it.
DARYL: There was one time, back in Georgia, at the prison, when I was riding up on my bike as she was returning from one of her breaks…On a horse…You seemed happy she was there, back with us. She looked good.
(Rick looks out from his porch, as the memory catches up to him. Michonne, smiling, locs bouncing in the wind. Those doe eyes and full lips that revealed a beauty underneath a tough façade. Her leather clad and vivacious body straddling the sleek, majestic creature. Skin radiant as ever. The gift for Carl and the prank for him. Oh, how he wanted his face to win the war, especially if it was going to be that easy. In the end, she was the first one to take a stab at victory. Only one of the many times she saved him. Seeing her katana, shiny and full of secrets, splattered with the blood of that J.Crew wearing motherfucker that decapitated Hershel.)
RICK: Should I get her a horse?
DARYL: (shaking his head) Mannnnn, you aren't getting it. (pause) Hey, I don't want to be this asshole, but, and I mentioned this to Deanna before she rejected it, can we make an open fire pit here? I mean, really open? I'd love to roast this bad boy (holds the raw squirrel meat in his hands like it's Simba in The Lion King).
SCENE 4: Michonne enters the house again as Rick plays with Judith on the living room floor. Rick looks up at her in sort of awe.
RICK: Hi.
MICHONNE: Hey.
(She sits on the couch and Rick follows, picking Judith up and balancing her on his lap.)
RICK: I'm sorry. I don't know how to show you how I feel right now.
MICHONNE: It's ok. I don't know how to tell you.
(Michonne sticks out a fist, a peace offering. Rick bumps it and they smile.)
(Judith coos.)
FIVE WEEKS LATER…
RICK: Have your mints.
Rick gently pats Michonnes hand and she grabs onto it. The mints fall onto the couch. She avoids looking back at him until she dares herself to, only to find that he was catching sight of her the whole time.
As he moves closer, the expression on his face is asking the tacit question: Can I touch you? Really touch you?
And the thrilled look in her eyes has the answer: Yes, you can.
Their lips barely meet and she already has her fingers wrapped around his dark curls, as if she has been dying to do that forever.
She recovers from the awkwardness of his gun holster just in time to feel tingles all over her body as he grabs her hips with his to lie her down in the couch.
He breaks off a kiss just to gaze at her for a second. A small smile parts his lips. How are we getting away with this? There's no one knocking at our door, interrupting us with a problem that they have no solution for.
She touches his ruggedly handsome face to return himself back to her. We have time to stare at each other later, you're too good of a kisser to stop right now.
His hands leave the smooth small of her back and slide down, grabbing her ass, causing her to let out a tiny sigh in his arms.
She meanwhile is already trying to slide her hands into his back pockets, her thumbs catching onto his belt loops, grasping as much as she can of him.
Their legs wrap around each other.
She feels something hard press on her inner thigh. And small.
At least you can get it up pretty easily. She told herself a minute ago that this wonderful man was going to be the one for her no matter what. She reasons now, as her hands drifted off of him, that the size of him was just something to adjust to, it didn't matter in the end of things, really. But with that bowlegged way you walk, I just assumed —
RICK: Michonne? Is everything OK? You stopped touching me. Should we stop?
MICHONNE: (her hands on her face, smiling, and slightly panting as her brain catches up to her synapses) No. I like this. I just don't know how to address this. (clears throat) Is that your protein bar on my leg or are you just happy to see me?
RICK: (knowing that his hardness is actually rubbing on the cushion so he can be a gentleman) Huh?
He presses himself up, peels off of her.
The mints roll onto the floor.
She breathes out a giant sigh. He collapses on top of her, laughing.
As his facial hair and warm breath of laughter brushes against her cheek, she does feel his size graze against her legs during this. Seems substantial.
Only one way to find out. And besides, what if someone would rudely barge in and interrupt this intimate session between them?
MICHONNE: Let's go to bed now.
He stands up promptly as these words were uttered, thinking if this is the first time he is about to jerk off in the walker apocalypse. Well, it certainly is going to be the first time that he does it after a evening that he will not forget. Just has to imagine her soft yet firm body naked, wanting more of him. Gathering his holster, he leans over as she gets her katana.
RICK: (awkwardly) Thank you. That was fun. Hope we can stop and say hi to each other tomorrow.
MICHONNE: What?! No, let's gooooo to your bed. Together. (pause) I mean, with your consent of course, if that's ok.
RICK: (floored) Oh! Yes! That's OK.
MICHONNE: (snort laughing up the stairs) 'That was fun'. You think I would reject having my way with the legendary Rick Gri—
His denim shirt hit the bedroom floor first. Her hands made busy work of his buttons while he buried his face in the soft tender flesh just above her collarbone. She has long been aware that he knows his way around a neck. But it was never in this way. With her, his way is with soft lips and a concern to not leave any marks. The pins and needles feeling down her spine made it difficult to focus on her task but she prevailed.
His pants were next, landing with a thud. He was thankful as he laid back on the bed, he couldn't remember the last time he was achingly hard in jeans for so long.
His boxers were next.
She pulled back on all fours on the bed, finally able to see all of him. His body strong and taut lying on the bed, his skin pale minus for a couple of red patches in places where she put her lustful lips on him. His legs long and lean from all that running around. They only accentuated the size of his cock, already throbbing before her.
RICK: (closes his eyes) Please tell me he's at least fatter than the mints.
MICHONNE: (still staring) Jesus!
RICK: (wincing as the day comes back to him) Please don't bring Him up. Just say my name instead.
MICHONNE: (crawling back up on the bed, stroking his beard, thinking that maybe Gabriel is finally gaining some trust back with Rick) I never thought of you as a 'don't take the Lord's name in vain' guy.
RICK: (chuckling) Since today, yes. (opens his eyes) Wait, why am I naked, but you're—
He reaches for her. Entangled bodies, their laughs turn into kisses between breathless gasps of air. She attempts to grab his fullness, but he disarms and distracts her by putting her hands back in his curls for fear that he would lose control already.
Her tank top floated off her. She yanks that off herself while his thick fingers roamed for her bra clasp.
She lays back topless as he pulls back to admire. The moonlight graces every curve of her chocolate hued skin, from her full cheeks and lips to her ample breasts. Her body is toned and strong from the art of survival, yet also soft and curvaceous in all the places he had fantasized. He never thought he would be lucky or worthy enough to see all of her in her glory.
RICK: Wow. You look incredible. I can't believe—
He peeled her pants off of her. So form fitting. He has to stand off the bed for this one. Just staring at the contours of her body makes his member twitch.
He kneels down at her altar and pushes his hands to part her toned, smooth legs. Her valley is already glistening with desire.
Surprised, she watches him swing her rich brown legs over his creamy pale shoulders. His stubble and lips touch her in areas where the roll of mints once were as the rest of her body quivers in response.
MICHONNE: Oh, Jesu—I mean…Rick. Rick.
He isn't even there yet. He gets there soon, he takes a note to tease her more next time.
But it had been so long, he knows he's rusty at this, and she is so different than any woman he ever met.
He finds her clit and gently presses his tongue to it, causing her to breathe heavy and grab his hair at the shock of it all. He knows to keep going, applying more pressure.
As his slight beard rubs against the intimate parts of her, her waist squirms in his arms.
She squeezes her breasts together as he stretches out for them but is unsuccessful. He sacrifices the desire to touch them in order to keep her hips steady.
She gazes down at his face, as his wild blue eyes glance up at her, her sparse pubic hair tickling his nose.
It has been so long since she received this kind of attention, and she assumes the same for him, but with his wanting mouth and prickly beard rubbing on her, it doesn't take long. She lets go of her breasts to grab his curls and moan out his name, trying not to be loud but failing as she crashes into his mouth, squeezing her thighs around his head and riding into the waves of pleasure.
She tries to push him away, giggling, after he attempts another go round. Too sensitive.
After stumbling back at her rejection, he crawls back on the bed. They both burst out laughing.
But he was still hard.
Before his cock finds her altar, he confesses to her that this is going to be an embarrassingly short time for him and promises that next time will be better. She assures him that he's made her happy enough.
Can I touch you? Really touch you?
Yes, you can.
JESUS: Rick.
Nothing.
JESUS: (again) Rick!
They both are jarred awake.
This fucking hippie with beard oil. About to ruin his chance to get a morning session in with his lady.
Two fighters. Two warriors, both naked now, with their signature weapons, pointed at an intruder.
A team more than ever.