A/N: Enjoy!

Chapter 7: Every New Beginning

"Say it, Rick," I demanded.

Everything about him—his eyes, the expression on his face, his body language—screamed that he wasn't going to say what I wanted to hear. For the sake of our friendship, I needed him to change his mind.

"Michonne," he said quietly.

"Say it!" I demanded more forcefully.

"I can't," he whispered.

I can't.

I hated those two little words. They pierced my heart when Lori said them the day Carl was born. They fueled my rage towards her for months after.

And now they were back, gliding weightlessly from Rick's lips as if they wouldn't hit me hard.

My breath caught in my throat. Rick Grimes, of all people, just said "I can't" to me. In the next few days, a profound sadness would seep in when I thought of this moment. But for now, I was giving in to my anger. All of it.

As that anger registered with Rick, he balked.

"I'm not the asshole here, Michonne."

I stood up slowly and looked down at him. "Yes, Rick, you are," I said calmly, letting my fury wrap itself around each word that I spoke. "You are the asshole."

Moments earlier...

"Maybe not the best idea," Rick mumbled as he inspected a very soggy-looking chicken salad sandwich.

The hospital's cafeteria grill didn't open for breakfast for another few hours, limiting food options to prepackaged sandwiches, salads and fruit cups. Rick decided to throw caution to the wind and buy the sandwich. I decided on a cup of coffee. Now that we knew Hershel would be ok, the adrenaline keeping me up for the past seven or eight hours had slowed its manic rush through my body. I needed the caffeine to fight off the exhaustion settling in.

"There is an upside to eating that sandwich," I said to Rick, who was sitting across from me at one of the small tables for two.

We'd decided to sit in the outdoor dining area to get some fresh air. Not surprisingly, we were the only two people outside at such an early hour, but we more than appreciated the solitude.

"Yeah? What's the upside?"

"We're exactly where we need to be once you become violently ill," I joked before sipping my coffee.

Rick stared at me with an unamused look on his face as a glob of filling fell from his sandwich and landed in a wet, mushy plop on his napkin.

He sighed and put the sandwich down. "I should've went with a fruit cup."

"You should've went with the steak," I retorted.

I tried not to laugh as he pouted.

"Well, Richard, maybe the next time someone's generous enough to pay for your meal at a top-notch restaurant, you'll eat it. Especially if it's a steak that's seasoned and cooked to perfection."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mumbled, moving his sandwich to the side.

I couldn't help but imagine how years from now when Nugget wanted to go outside to play but was told he had to finish his homework first, he would make the same face Rick was making now. I smiled at the thought, taking another sip of coffee.

I returned my attention to Rick, and I realized he was just… staring at me.

"What?" I asked self-consciously.

"Oh, uh... it's nuthin'. It's just... you... uh, you looked... you looked really… very nice tonight... at dinner, I mean. I didn't get a chance to tell you."

"Thanks," I whispered, feeling slightly flustered.

I'd noticed how nice Rick looked too. I cleared my throat.

"Daryl and his Panty Man rants are officially out of control, right?" I asked.

Rick looked at me blankly.

"Really, Rick?" I set my coffee down and reached for my purse. "You have no comment? Were you not listening to him in the elevator?"

Rick rubbed the stubble on his face and sighed. "What do you want me to say, Michonne? You know how overprotective Daryl gets. You're the baby sister he never had."

"I'm three months older than him," I deadpanned.

"Yeaaah, I know, but he's never been a fan of your boyfriends. And he'll never be a fan of one that sends a picture of your little red panties," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Of course Rick knew the color of those panties. Rick and Daryl gossiped too damn much.

I rolled my eyes.

Rick chuckled and said, "All I'm sayin' is that Daryl probably won't ever think anyone's good enough for you. He'll probably always have a problem with whoever you date. He always had a problem with Lori."

I bit my tongue to stop myself from commenting that everyone had a problem with Lori.

Rick was right though. Daryl had an issue with all the men I'd casually dated in the last few years. He thought Zeke had too much of a dramatic flair, he thought Ty was too sensitive, and then there was Abe…

Rick and I slowly smiled at each other.

"We all hated Abe," Rick said. "Even Lori hated Abe."

I bit my tongue to stop myself from commenting that Lori hated everyone.

"He made me laugh," I said with a shoulder shrug.

Rick scoffed. "But he was an idiot."

"He was an idiot," I agreed, unzipping the snack pouch in my purse.

I was down to my last Big Kat bar and about half a roll of mints.

"Here," I said, rolling the mints across the table to Rick. "Have my mints."

He gave me a "I know you have a Big Kat in your purse" look.

I shot him a "You're not getting my last Big Kat" look in return.

"I know I'm not," he said with a smile. "You could've at least pretended to consider it. But thank you."

I gave him a wink as he popped a mint into his mouth. "You're welcome."

A comfortable silence grew between us, and while I normally appreciated those silences, I was anxious to start our talk.

"So," I said, slowly twisting my coffee cup.

"So," he repeated, sucking on a mint.

When it was clear that Rick wasn't going to break our silence, I lightly kicked his shoe.

"I thought it was time for 'later.'"

"Is that your thang now?" he asked with a smirk. "Kickin' me under a table?"

"Rick," I groaned. I didn't want something silly derailing us from why we were out here.

Rick exhaled slowly and looked away while he gathered his thoughts. I shook off the butterflies dancing around in my stomach. Dinner with Mike had been uncomfortable but necessary. For me, it confirmed what Rick and I should have done months ago. I hoped he felt the same.

When his thoughts were gathered, I sat back and braced myself for the conversation, which would undoubtedly start off as a Panty Man rant.

"I don't like him, Michonne."

"I gathered as much," I replied.

"I don't like his attitude. I don't like the thangs he said. He's condescendin'. Needy. Possessive. I don't like him. At all."

I rolled my shoulders and sighed. "Rick, he could say the exact same things about you. You weren't exactly Mr. Personable."

"He started it! 'I can speak twelve languages. I say 'things' not 'thangs.' I have a palate,'" he grumbled with an eye roll. "And he said we're not family, Michonne. As if you're not one of the most important people in my life."

"He said we weren't a family unit," I corrected him. "He's not wrong about that."

Rick's eyes widened in shock and then came dangerously close to squinting.

"What happens when Lori comes back?" I asked.

Rick ran his hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair. "We'd work together. We'd figure it out," he said simply.

"That's not a plan, Rick."

His eyes slightly narrowed.

"And what happens if she never comes back?" I asked.

"We'd figure it out, like I said."

"And that's still not a plan, like I said."

We stared at each other, our silence moving from comfortable to tense.

"You about to tell me I'm takin' advantage of you?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't think that, but…"

"But what?"

"But I can't help but feel like I'm acting as a seat warmer. That once she comes back..."

"That I'd forget about you and all that you've done for us?" he asked with a hurt expression.

"That you'd have what you've been waiting for since she left. That you'd have your real family, Rick. Your precious, do no wrong Lori would be back on her pedestal, and where does that leave me?"

Rick's hurt expression soured.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm just asking how this all works out in your mind. Do you really think she'd be ok with me being the one making decisions about Carl? Being the one to sing him to sleep when Row, Row, Row Your Boat doesn't work?"

"Unbelievable! He's turnin' you against me? Just like that?"

"Stop being ridiculous. Mike isn't turning me against you. These are things you need to think about. Things we should've already discussed. I've been thinking about them… and… I need to take a step back from you and Nugget. What we're doing isn't working, not anymore."

"What exactly are you sayin'?" Rick asked, eyeing me warily.

I took a quick breath and said, "I'm moving out."

And there was the eye squint.

"This is all because of him! Because of what he said!"

"No," I disagreed, shaking my head. "This is because of me, Rick. Because of what I need to do for my own happiness."

He leaned forward with a frown on his face. "I don't make you happy? Carl doesn't make you happy?"

"You know you do, but Mike is a part of my happiness now too. He and I can't build on that if things stay the way they are."

"Yeah, well, he won't be welcome in my house. He won't be welcome around my son!"

Rick's use of "my" had me narrowing my eyes.

"Your house? Your son? As I recall, I played a big part in making your house a home, in making sure your son was taken care of. When you couldn't do it, when Lori wouldn't do it, I did!"

"You know I don't mean it like that!" he argued.

I took a few deep breaths to stop my frustration from swelling. "You know what, Rick? You are absolutely right," I said slowly. "That is your house. Carl is your son. And that's exactly why I need to move out."

Rick opened his mouth to speak and then closed it.

"But I'm not going anywhere," I told him, reaching for his hand.

"Really?" He scoffed. "Because you just said you were leavin'."

"And I'll still be around. I live less than thirty minutes away. You have a key to my condo. My number isn't changing."

Rick stared at our hands and grunted.

"What's the problem here?" I asked, pulling my hand away as my frustration started to swell again.

"No problem," he said in an icy tone.

"Okay then," I replied, using the same icy tone. "Then tell me you understand why I'm leaving. Tell me you wish me and Mike the best. Tell me you're happy for me."

He looked away.

"Say it, Rick," I demanded.

Everything about him—his eyes, the expression on his face, his body language—screamed that he wasn't going to say what I wanted to hear. For the sake of our friendship, I needed him to change his mind.

"Michonne," he said quietly.

"Say it!" I demanded more forcefully.

"I can't," he whispered.

I can't.

I hated those two little words. They pierced my heart when Lori said them the day Carl was born. They fueled my rage towards her for months after.

And now they were back, gliding weightlessly from Rick's lips as if they wouldn't hit me hard.

My breath caught in my throat. Rick Grimes, of all people, just said "I can't" to me. In the next few days, a profound sadness would seep in when I thought of this moment. But for now, I was giving in to my anger. All of it.

As that anger registered with Rick, he balked.

"I'm not the asshole here, Michonne."

I stood up slowly and looked down at him. "Yes, Rick, you are," I calmly stated, letting my fury wrap itself around each word that I spoke. "You are the asshole."

"But he-"

"For the last time, this isn't about Mike! It's about us. You and me!" "But you don't have to worry about that anymore."

"Worry about what? About us?" He jumped out of his chair, put his hands on his hips and tilted his head. "That's not fair, Michonne."

I shook my head in disbelief and walked past him, bumping him out of my way.

"Michonne!" he called out.

I stopped.

Not for him. For me. I needed to compose myself before a bad situation became worse.

My shaky breathing and fidgeting fingers told me we'd already crossed the threshold from bad to worse. Composure was out the window. I whipped around to unleash a stream of anger-laced words, but I was unaware of how close behind me he was standing. I crashed into his chest, stumbled backwards and landed on my bottom.

I made no attempt to get up.

"Are you ok?" Rick asked with concern, reaching out his hand to help me up.

I stared at that hand for a long minute before looking up into the blue eyes that could almost always diffuse my anger.

"Do. Not. Touch. Me," I warned him.

"Michonne! Rick!"

We looked in the direction the shout came from and saw Glenn running toward us.

"Hey, guys," he panted. "Everything ok?"

Rick and I looked at one another. Everything was not ok.

"Help me up?" I asked Glenn, reaching out to him.

Rick placed his hands on his hips and mumbled something under his breath.

"Thanks, Glenn," I said once I was standing.

I smoothed down the skirt of my dress and ignored Rick. Glenn must have felt what was radiating off the two of us because he suddenly seemed very uncomfortable.

"Uh, so I was just coming out to get some air, and I saw you guys, and um... should I leave?"

"Yes," Rick said at the same time that I said, "No."

Glenn looked at Rick, then at me and then back at Rick.

"Guys? I don't know what to do here," he said nervously.

"I'm leaving," I said to Rick.

I took one step and felt a twinge in my ankle that stopped me in my tracks. I winced in pain and Glenn rushed to my side. Rick tried to do the same, but I stopped him with a look.

"I must have hurt it when I fell," I muttered.

"It's a good thing we are where we are then," Glenn joked.

Rick and I stared at him.

"Because you're hurt… and need medical attention... and we're at a hospital…"

Rick and I continued staring at him.

"Yeah, ok," he said awkwardly. "We should probably get that shoe off and get you inside."

I looked down at my foot and nodded. "Help me make it to that table over there?" I asked him.

Glenn held me around my waist and I put my arm around his shoulders. After two steps I realized it was going to be a very slow-going and painful walk to the table.

"Watch out, Glenn," Rick said with authority.

Without giving Glenn a chance to respond or me a chance to protest, he scooped me up.

"Can you get her shoe?" he asked Glenn.

"Of course," Glenn answered, looking at me apologetically. He carefully removed my sandal and handed it to me. "I'll let the ER know they have a patient on the way."

I sighed when he ran into the hospital, leaving me alone in Rick's arms. I grudgingly put my arm around his shoulders.

"I know, I know," Rick grumbled, walking to the hospital. "I'm not supposed to be touchin' you, but I wasn't gonna watch you hobble, Michonne."

I was still furious, but I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Rick..."

He sighed, stopped walking and looked into my eyes.

"Whether it's twisted, sprained, or broken, I'm moving out."

His face hardened before he looked away and continued walking.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please take the time to leave a review. It's appreciated!