Chapter 2: September. Autumn.

Rick watched the autumn leaves fall outside the window of his office at the King County police department.

At this time last year, he had been at home looking at the court papers that finalized his divorce. He had felt relief since the long process was over, but he had also felt a deep sense of displacement. Displacement of self. For his whole adult life, he had been a husband and father. He wasn't sure what to do with himself when one half of his identity was gone. At the time, he had been sure he would never go through the process of getting romantically involved with a woman ever again.

He had his job and Carl. His work and his son kept him busy. He didn't have the time nor the energy to meet someone new, talk them up, date them, marry them. And he didn't have the courage to let anyone else occupy his mind and his heart.

But before he knew it, he had put himself out there again. And he had been promptly rejected.

"Ohhh!" he groaned and put his face in his hands. It was embarrassing, and his brain wouldn't stop replaying the moment.

A knock sounded on his door. But before he could even respond, the door swung open to show his friend - Shane Walsh - on the other side. He was holding a folder and was about to start speaking, but he saw Rick's countenance and thought better of it. "Bad time?" he asked, lingering in the doorway.

"No," Rick said with a sigh. "Come on in. Whaddaya got?" He sat up in his chair, prepared to try to focus on his job instead of his cringe-worthy memories.

Shane walked in and closed the door. "Now," Shane said. "I could give you this report on new irrigation laws, which is boring as shit, or you could tell me what you're in here moping about."

"I'd rather talk about the new irrigation laws," Rick responded morosely.

"Aw, shit," Shane said as he sidled over and slumped onto the corner of Rick's desk. He laid the folder down next to him with a smack and disregarded it. "What happened?"

Rick sighed again, knowing his friend wasn't going to let this go. Rick was grateful for Shane's bullheadedness; he needed to get this gripe off of his mind. "I asked someone out," he said as he leaned back into his seat and shot Shane a glance. "Got shot down."

Shane tsked sympathetically. He knew that was a big deal for Rick. Rick hadn't put his heart out there for anyone after the divorce. Shane had started to believe Rick was just going to settle into being a bachelor for the rest of his life because, when Rick loved, he loved hard and unconditionally. So if Rick was starting to take those steps again…this must be some woman. Shane's curiosity got the better of him. "Who?" he asked. "The teacher or the sad mom of those badass kids?"

He had heard his friend damn near wax poetic about Carl's 7th grade Literature teacher; he had also heard him talk about some woman who kept hitting on him. Apparently, she was a parent of a couple of troublemakers. And he ran into her sometimes when they were picking their sons up from school.

Rick nodded at Shane's perceptive guesses. "The teacher," he answered. As he responded, an image of her floated through his mind. Her versatile hairstyles, her colorful outfits, her soft skin, her smile that practically lit up whatever room she was in… 'Damn it,' he thought. It had been a long time since he had a crush on someone.

"Ohh, yeah, I could have told you she was out of your league, man," Shane joked.

It didn't land. Rick winced.

Shane quickly tried to cover his faux pas. "I'm just shitting you, man. You're a handsome son of a bitch! What about the blonde you've mentioned? Why don't you try her?"

"The fact that you talk about women like they're cars you can test drive is why you're not married yet, brother," Rick said, ribbing him back for the many times Shane had ribbed him in the past. Then he addressed what Shane said. "Jessie," he said, reminding his friend of "the blonde's" name. "I'm not interested in Jessie."

"Who cares?" Shane scoffed. "She's interested in you." He shrugged. "It's a guaranteed thing."

Rick shook his head at Shane's words. He really had to stop going to Shane for advice.

"Besides, she's recently divorced, right? That's what you said? Just like you. She's vulnerable; her standards aren't high. She sounds pretty enough. Hell, maybe she'll even grow on you." When Shane saw Rick's displeased expression, he held his hands up in surrender. "Hey," he said. "I ain't saying you gotta marry her. All you need is someone to help you get your mojo back. Get a little more pep in your step. Once you get that just-got-laid confidence, you can go to the teacher and try again with her."

Rick stared at Shane; he was very unimpressed. Everything he said had been very unhelpful. "Get the hell out of my office, Shane," he said, exasperated.

Shane had the nerve to look offended as he got kicked out. "Wha-?" he spluttered. "I'm just trying to help you out! Get you back in the saddle!" He was being pushed out of the office by Rick. After the door was closed in his face and the blinds were drawn, Rick went back to his desk and buried himself in the irrigation laws. Anything to keep his mind off of his new realized crush and the upcoming parent/teacher conference where he would have to face her again.

It was the first parent/teacher conference of the year.

Michonne gave herself a once-over in the bathroom mirror. She was dressed in a white, bell-sleeved top that cinched at the waist. The top ran into a pair of high-waisted blue jeans that tapered off at the ankles to show off her elegant heels. Her hair was again styled into twists and pulled up into a ponytail. It really allowed her doe eyes and full lips - covered in peach lipstick - to stand out. She looked great. She didn't allow herself to think about why she was suddenly obsessing over her appearance. She told herself that she just wanted to make a good impression on the parents. All of the parents. A teacher should be put together. It was only professional.

It had nothing to do with a cop who boasted a bow-legged gait and electric blue eyes. A cop who had asked her out with the cutest blush rising in his face.

She had found herself replaying that moment more times than she was comfortable admitting over the weekend. His interest in her had always been somewhat obvious in the way he telegraphed it through his stares. But by asking her out, he was saying that he wanted to get to know her. He wanted to date her. It made her feel afraid, uncomfortable, and a little giddy. It made her feel…

It made her feel…

It made her feel.

"Duane is doing great, Mr. Jones," Michonne said. She was finishing up a debriefing with Morgan Jones, the parent of one of her most well-behaved students. "He's very social, but he doesn't disrupt class. He keeps on top of his assignments. He doesn't really offer much in class discussions. But when he does, it's very insightful."

They were 40 minutes into the parent/teacher conference. Michonne had talked to about 15 parents before him. The stream of parents coming in and out was starting to dwindle. Michonne quickly checked her watch. She anticipated that she would be wrapping up around the hour mark. 'Where is Mr. Grimes?' she couldn't help but to wonder. He usually would have been there by now.

"Got somewhere you need to be?" Mr. Jones asked, breaking into her private wonderings.

"Oh. No," Michonne said, slightly embarrassed that her mind had gone somewhere else during their meeting. "Do you have any questions?"

She finished up her meeting with Morgan and then bid him goodbye at the entrance to her classroom. When he was gone, she looked around the hallways at the various parents, teachers, and students starting or concluding their meetings and at the few people gathered around the refreshments table. She didn't see a sheriff's uniform, slicked back curls, or a bow-legged strut. He really wasn't there.

She was about to withdraw back into her classroom to grab a quick snack from her drawer when she saw a willowy woman with long brown hair appear around the corner. She seemed to be headed towards her.

"203, 203, 203," the woman was muttering to herself. "203. Literatu-" She looked at the number next to Michonne's classroom. "Oh! Literature. I'm in the right place. Hi!" She held her hand out to Michonne. "I'm Lori Grimes, Carl Grimes' mother." Michonne blinked, and she immediately felt disappointment settle in her stomach. This was the first time she was meeting Carl's mom. Rick was usually the one who came. Was Rick avoiding her because of what happened the last time he saw her?

Michonne quickly recovered and welcomed Lori into her classroom. "Hi. I'm Miss Hawthorne. Come on in."

"Rick told me Carl's been getting into trouble recently," Lori said as they settled into their seats.

Michonne nodded. "Carl is a very clever young man. He keeps me on my toes for sure." Michonne chuckled. "He is very mischievous. He's already been to detention a handful of times since the beginning of the school year. But he's also doing very well in class. He's one of my top students."

Lori shook her head and chuckled. "Rick is too soft on that boy," she said. "I keep telling him Carl needs a strong father figure. I can't be both mother and father, you know. But Rick just keeps saying: 'All I can do is give him a listening ear.' Well, no, Rick, that's not all you can do."

Michonne shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. She decided to move the subject past the gripes of a divorced spouse. "Has Mr. Grimes talked to you about enrolling him in extracurriculars?"

"Yes," Lori responded. "And I think that's a good idea. I think he should maybe start playing football so that he can take his frustration out somewhere."

Michonne tilted her head. She couldn't see Carl as a footballer. But it wasn't her place to decide that. She could nudge, though. "I told Mr. Grimes this. I oversee a club of young writers. I also think that might be good for him to help get his ideas and feelings out onto paper."

Lori nodded. "Maybe," she said. "I'm not sure if Carl is interested in anything like that but…" She waved her hand. "I'll talk it over with Rick."

Michonne nodded. "Great." She took Carl's essay from the top of her desk and handed it over to Lori. "If you could share this with Mr. Grimes as well, please. It's his most recent essay. As you can see," she pointed toward the red 'A' at the top of the paper. "Carl did very well."

"Will do," Lori said with a smile. "I'll share this with Rick when he gets here."

Michonne felt her stomach give a hopeful swoop at Lori's remark. "Oh, he's going to be here?" Michonne asked and then quickly snapped her lips shut. She couldn't believe how immature she was acting - like a schoolgirl with a crush.

"He is," Lori said. "He's usually the one that comes to these things because he's closer. But I wanted to make sure to come and introduce myself and meet Carl's teachers."

"Of course. Understandable," Michonne said.

She finished up with Lori and sighed. "What is wrong with me?" she muttered even as she pulled a compact from her desk drawer to make sure her light makeup was still intact and that there were no flyaways in her hair. When she saw that she looked just as she had 50 minutes ago, she went to stand at her classroom doorway to welcome any other straggling parents. And Rick.

And speak of the devil.

Rick appeared just as she reached her doorway. She despaired when she felt a swell of happiness upon seeing him. He stopped to converse with Lori, and then he finally started making his way towards her. She smiled, preparing to welcome him. But he gave her a nod and just continued past.

Confused, Michonne turned to watch him saunter toward one of Carl's other teachers further down the hall.

She felt slighted.

Michonne made her way to the refreshments table to take a drink of punch as if it was hard liquor.

Jessie Anderson was flirting with Rick.

Michonne was still over by the refreshments table talking to the science teacher, Spencer Monroe. Her eyes kept drifting over his shoulder to watch Jessie touch Rick's bicep, his beard…She was laughing at everything he said. And Rick seemed to be welcoming it.

Michonne spared a glance at Mr. Monroe and gave him a tight smile just to make him feel like she was listening to whatever he was talking about.

Jessie Anderson hadn't even come to her classroom to hear about her son, Ron's, progress. 'Looks like she just came here to flirt,' Michonne thought resentfully.

"Not just any woman, huh?" Michonne muttered to herself as she remembered his stammerings about being willing to date the right woman. Yet Mr. Grimes was putting on this display after asking her out just a few days ago. Michonne scoffed and excused herself from Mr. Monroe.

She walked into her classroom and closed the door to take a breath. She knew she was being ridiculous since she rejected him, but her emotions weren't succumbing to her rationality.

This was why she couldn't do relationships.

It drove her crazy.

5 years ago

Michonne looked at the positive result of the pregnancy test and was elated. She and her boyfriend of five years, Mike, had conceived. They had had a lot of ups and downs. But for the past year, their relationship had been good. So much so that Michonne could only be happy about having a baby with her beau.

After she told Mike the news, there was honeymoon-like bliss.

They went on expensive dates. They made love under the stars. Mike romanced her so well that she felt like she was falling in love with him all over again.

But that didn't even last a full month.

"Monica."

The name was whispered reverently in her ear during one of their nights of passion. And her idyllic bliss immediately came crashing down. "Who is Monica?"

She never got an answer to her question. There was only deflection and excuses. So the arguing started all over again. And Michonne searched and searched through the threaded pockets of Mike's existence until she found answers.

Mike had been cheating on her for two years. Monica was a woman he had been dating that entire time. But that wasn't even the worst part.

He already had a child. With her.

He had another family. What Michonne thought they had been building toward, he had already built with someone else.

Michonne felt sick when she discovered the extent of Mike's betrayal. Who was this man she thought she knew and loved? And who had she allowed herself to become in those five years that she couldn't even pinpoint where it all went wrong? She had always prided herself on her ability to read people - especially those she loved. Had she been so in denial and desperate to hold onto this sham of a relationship that she had willfully overlooked all the red flags?

All of the love she felt over the span of those five years suddenly became a tidal wave of rage and disgust. She ran to the bathroom and vomited, wanting to expel every bit of Mike that she had allowed to burrow beneath her skin.

She scheduled an abortion for the next week.

And she purged every part of Mike.

But when she started to emerge from the crushing waves of resentment and betrayal that she had been buried under, she began to feel weight of a different kind. The weight of loss.

She began to regret.

She had been so consumed by her hurt and her rage that she hadn't even bothered to check in with herself about what she really wanted. Regardless of Mike.

She grieved her unborn child.

'What have I done?' she wondered as a tear slipped down her cheek.

It was then that she realized how dangerous unchecked emotion could be. She never wanted to lose herself like that at any future point in time, so she vowed to never succumb to love again.

Present

Michonne turned the lights off then moved objects around on her desk to make room so she could sit in a lotus position atop the mahogany wood. She took a few meditative breaths, pushing away thoughts of Rick, Jessie, and anything else that had her feeling off-kilter.

The door to her class opened and Okafor stepped inside. "There you are," he said. "I was starting to think you left early." The light from the hallway spilled in through the small window on the door, so Michonne could make out the small plate of food Okafor was carrying.

She smiled. "And I'm starting to think you're trying to fatten me up," Michonne said. "Is that for me?"

Okafor tsked. "You know…it was. But the fact that you assumed it was makes me want to hold onto it. You were spoiled as a child, weren't you?"

Michonne shrugged. "I can't help I was a Daddy's girl."

Okafor handed over the plate to her and Michonne smiled widely. "Thank you."

Okafor stood and watched her eat for a while. "Should I even revisit the question I asked you last week?" he asked.

Michonne looked up at him. She shook her head. "I'm flattered," she said. "But I'm a mess. I don't think you would survive me."

"That doesn't scare me," Okafor said, a playful lilt to his voice.

"No?"

"Nope. I think I can handle you, Hawthorne."

Michonne opened her mouth to respond when the door to her classroom opened again. It was Rick.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said when he saw Michonne and Okafor having a conversation in the dark room. He stepped out and started to leave.

"Mr. Grimes!" Michonne called out before he could go. He turned back and paused in the doorway. "Let's talk," Michonne said, sliding off of her desk and dusting her hands free of crumbs.

Rick hesitated but made his way into the classroom while Okafor made his way out. "We'll finish this conversation later, Hawthorne," Okafor said lightly. As he left, he flicked the light switch to bring the lights back up in the room.

"Thank you!" Michonne called after him.

He waved in response before closing the door behind him.

Michonne turned her eyes to Rick. "No Carl today?" she asked, refusing to let silence fall in the room when it was just the two of them. Too much could be said in silence.

"No," Rick said. "He's at the movies with some friends."

Michonne nodded and made her way around the desk to begin to talk to Rick about his son. "As I was telling your ex-wife, Carl is doing very well academically in my class. He gets all of his assignments in on time, and it's always quality work." Rick nodded. "I'm glad to hear it," he said. Michonne sat down and rattled off more of what she had already told Lori.

Because that's what they were there for, right? To speak impartially about his son and her student. This needed to be their focus.

Or so she thought.

Rick apparently had a different objective.

He tried to listen to his son's progress report, but he couldn't continue without addressing the elephant in the room. "I'm sorry," he said.

Michonne stopped what she was saying and focused in on him. "About what?"

"About last week," Rick said. "I crossed a line. I didn't know you were already seeing someone."

Michonne leaned back in her chair. "Seeing someone?" she said. She searched around in her mind for what he could be talking about. Her thoughts landed on what just transpired. "I'm not dating Okafor if that's what you think." Rick looked relieved. Michonne smirked. "Nice fishing, though."

Rick ignored her jibe. "Regardless," he said. "I crossed a line. I'm sorry."

Michonne studied Rick for a moment."I didn't think you were coming in," she said. "You looked busy with Miss Anderson." If he could fish for personal information, so could she.

"You saw that?" he asked. Michonne arched an eyebrow, wondering if what she had seen was supposed to be some sort of secret. "...And you didn't come save me?!"

Michonne couldn't help but to laugh. It was a deep laugh that came from her belly. He always surprised her with his humor. When she looked at him again, his eyes were sparkling as he watched her laugh at his joke. She cleared her throat and tried to sober up. "Mm," she said.

"I don't think a line was crossed," she said. "You weren't disrespectful or anything. I'll let you know if you cross a line."

"Well…I don't intend to do any line crossing. I'll be on my best behavior," Rick said with a small smile.

"Well, that's disappointing," Michonne said. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

A blush bloomed on Rick's cheeks, across his nose…His entire face was red. Michonne smiled even as she internally cursed herself for flirting. This was exactly the opposite of what she had set out to do.

'Michonne Hawthorne,' she thought. 'Get your shit together.''

"That was an invitation, right?" Rick asked Maggie Greene. Maggie was Glenn's wife. Glenn was a forensic photographer who worked with the King County police department on many occasions. Rick had grown to be fast friends with him after he realized how adept Glenn was at his job. They had managed to close many cases due to the details Glenn managed to capture in his images. He had purposefully asked Glenn to bring his wife to have drinks with them tonight because he needed a woman's perspective. "She wants me to…pursue her?"

They were sitting in a honky-tonk bar. Country music wafted out of various speakers and alcoholic substances from this glass and that glass left a permanent sticky residue on hastily cleaned surfaces. Rick, Maggie, and Glenn all nursed pints of beer and shouted over the din of drunken conversations and warbling lyrics.

"Oh, definitely!" Glenn said. He was sitting with one arm around the back of Maggie's chair and the other arm resting on the table.

"Now hold on," Maggie said. "I will say she was definitely flirting with you, but some women just like to flirt. Is she the flirtatious type?"

Rick thought back to the few interactions they had. "I'm not sure," he said. "She usually keeps things fairly professional. In fact, she seems to try to maintain a distance." He thought back to their time on the beach and how happy he had felt because he finally seemed to make some headway in breaking down the barrier between them.

"Okay, well, the fact that she was obviously flirting could be a good thing then," Maggie said. "But we can't just dismiss the fact that she outright rejected you just a few days ago."

"Maybe she's just playing hard to get," Glenn suggested.

"Said every creep ever who gets locked up for sexual harassment…" Rick muttered before he took a drink of his beer.

Maggie chuckled. She felt sympathy for her friend. She did not miss the days of "what are we" uncertainty between her and Glenn when they first started dating. "Okay, here's my advice," Maggie said. "Start slow. Court her like a gentleman for a few weeks. Send her a few 'I'm-thinking-about-you' gifts. And if she seems receptive to that, then take it up a notch. Maybe don't ask her out again just yet, but make your interest - like - crystal fucking clear so that she can't ignore it." Maggie shrugged. "Then see what happens."

Rick stared off, deep in thought. His hand tapped against the table. It was nerve-wracking, the thought of putting himself out there again.

"That sound like a plan?" Maggie asked.

Rick downed the rest of his beer. "That sounds like a plan."

Michonne enjoyed the autumn breeze through her window as she prepared for the day's lesson. She wore a short-sleeve black shirt and a flowing black skirt with white flower print.

As the autumn leaves fell outside, Carl walked into the classroom with a wide smile. "Miss Hawthorne," he called. Michonne welcomed him happily and took the rose he held out to her.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Read the note," Carl prompted.

Michonne opened the note and read: Am I crossing the line yet? - Rick Grimes. Michonne's heart thudded in her chest, and she felt butterflies rise in her stomach. She hadn't felt butterflies since high school. Michonne placed a hand to her stomach and walked to her desk to take a seat as she felt her knees getting weak. "Fuck," she whispered.

She was not prepared for this.