A/N: Enjoy!

Chapter 8: Deja Vu

After I filled out the ER paperwork, Glenn returned to the surgical waiting room to be with Maggie and Annette. They'd decided to stay and wait for visiting hours to start to see Hershel. They wouldn't have to wait too much longer. The sun would be rising soon.

I glanced around my waiting room and quickly remembered how much I despised this place. I'd been to Grady Memorial's ER three times when I was a teenager, but not because of my own injuries. The visits were due to injuries Daryl had suffered by the hands of Merle or their mother Earlene. Being here always amounted to the same thing: waiting with someone in pain in a sea of other people waiting in pain. That pain was never hidden. It was always on full display in the form of broken bones, or bruises, or lacerations, or vomiting, or moaning, or crying or bleeding.

This was my first time here as an adult and my first time being the one in pain, but nothing about the ER experience seemed to have changed. Thank goodness it was a slow morning for emergencies. If there had been more than the five people already waiting, I would've crawled out the hospital, summoned an Uber and self-diagnosed myself by way of Google.

"He's insane, Sherry!" a scraggly man sitting a few seats away from me bellowed. He was holding a towel to the left side of his face. "Who threatens to burn someone's face off with a curling iron, and then actually tries to do it?!"

The woman next to him, presumably Sherry, sniffled. "I don't know, D. I didn't think he'd—"

"Fishing, beer, pretzels!" he interrupted. "That's how today was supposed to go."

Sherry cradled the right side of his face, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Don't give up on us," she said softly.

He shook free of her grasp without saying anything, but I could tell by the way he'd looked at her that he wasn't giving up. She must have felt me watching because she turned to me and said, "Crazy ex."

"He's an insane psycho!" the scraggly man shouted.

I gave them a sympathetic smile. Happy endings were different things to different people, and I genuinely hoped they got their fishing, beer and pretzels version of it one day. But this was one of the reasons why I hated the ER. A man whose face was burned off by a curling iron was sitting four seats away from me and shouting about a psycho.

I slowly turned away from them and moved closer to Rick.

If he and I were on better terms, this experience would be a lot different right now. We would've been silently gossiping about the couple next to us, and he would've called his department to find out about the curling iron psycho and shared all the details with me.

But we weren't on better terms. Rick was seething with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched tight. His seething made me seethe.

"You can leave now. I don't need you here anymore."

Other than clenching his jaw tighter, Rick didn't respond to me.

I leaned closer to him and whispered, "Leave, Rick. Go back to your home and be with your son."

His squinted his eyes and stubbornly said, "No."

Rick had no idea how close he was to claiming the #1 spot on my Lori List. Nevertheless, I was secretly relieved he was staying. My phone died earlier, so I couldn't call Mike. I doubted I would've if I could anyways. He'd want to come to the hospital, and I was too tired to deal with anything other than the familiar, even if the familiar was being an asshole of epic proportions.

Rick's strength is what got me through ER visits when we waited with Daryl when we were kids. It's what grounded me when I was overcome with emotion because of what Daryl endured. It's what soothed me after I became physically sick by what I'd seen in the ER.

In case of emergencies—or at least emergency room visits, Rick Grimes was my person.

I silently cussed out his profile and turned away from him.

"At least he only used my half-inch barrel," Sherry said to the scraggly man. "If he used anything bigger, your face would be a lot worse."

Oh my god.

I turned back to Rick. It was going to be another long, unpleasant ER wait.

By the time my ankle was examined, I could barely keep my eyes open. One moment Rick was waking me up to help get me to an exam room, and the next moment I was being placed in a wheelchair and pushed out the hospital.

"Michonne…"

For some reason, I felt like I was floating. It was nice. I smiled to myself and ignored Rick's soft voice.

"Michonne…"

And I felt so safe and so warm and cozy. I didn't want to open my eyes.

"Michonne, I know you're awake."

I groaned and fought the heaviness of my eyelids just so I could roll my eyes at Rick. I immediately squinted from all the bright light assaulting my eyes.

"Hey," he whispered.

His voice came from above me. When I tilted my head back and looked into his tired blue eyes, I realized that once again I was in his arms with my head resting on his shoulder.

"Hey," I whispered.

"We're at your condo, ok?"

I nodded and closed my eyes, snuggling into his warmth. He rested his chin on top of my head.

"Come on, sleepyhead. I need you to stay awake."

I groaned again but yawned and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

"I'm gonna put you down on your bed. You sprained your ankle, so don't try to get up. Got it?" He placed a quick kiss on the top of my head and then placed me at the foot of my bed. "Keep still."

I murmured, "Got it" and watched him walk to the window and close the curtains to block out the sunlight. "What time is it, Rick?"

Since I was supposed to be keeping still, I didn't want to turn to look at the clock on my nightstand.

"A little after nine in the mornin'."

I looked down at my wrapped ankle and sighed.

"Hey, it's not that bad. Your robe's in the bathroom, right?"

Before I could say yes, he was heading to the bathroom.

"Found it!" he shouted, coming out the bathroom with my purple silk robe.

He knew how much I loved wearing it after particularly stressful days, although… I couldn't really remember the last time I'd worn it. It's not that I hadn't dealt with any trying days recently. It just seemed like the cure to my bad day blues came in the form of a smile from Nugget now.

"We should get you outta that dress."

I was staring at my ankle again. "It's sprained?"

"It is," he said, laying the robe on the bed beside me.

He held his hand out to help me up. I looked at it, then looked up at him.

Rick's face was filled with apprehension. I understood why, considering how I'd responded when he tried to help me up at the hospital. But I wasn't going to fight him right now. My tiredness and his familiarity were still winning out.

I placed my hand in his.

"Use me as support," he instructed. "Don't put any weight on that foot."

Once I was standing, he held me in place with his strong hands at my waist.

"It's just a light sprain. You should fully recover within a week if you follow the doc's orders. Rest, ice, compression, elevation. And no heels."

I cringed.

"No heels, Michonne," he repeated in his bossy voice. "Put your arms around my neck."

I put my arms around his neck and a memory rushed to my mind...

Sadie Hawkins Dance, 9th grade

"What is it, Rick? What's wrong?" I asked as we danced to All-4-One's 'I Swear.'

My arms were around Rick's neck and his hands were loosely holding my waist. After dancing to 'Tootsee Roll,' 'Insane in the Brain,' and 'Whoomp There It Is,' I was glad to be dancing to something slow so that we could catch our breaths.

"Nuthin'," he said, raising his eyes to mine before glancing back down.

My feelings were beyond hurt that he would rather look at the floor than look at me until I realized what he was staring at.

"You look really pretty," he mumbled, still looking down.

I tugged lightly on his curls and asked, "Me? Or my boobs?"

He turned a bright shade of red and looked up from my chest.

"Both?" he answered with a shrug.

"Perv," I said with a smile.

He laughed out loud and pulled me closer.

"You look the prettiest," he whispered in my ear. "Your boobs come in second."

I laughed out loud and held him tighter.

"Welllllll," he said as one of his hands moved down my back, "maybe your boobs come in third."

"Rick!" I squealed, but I didn't move his hand when it stopped on my butt.

I liked that he was finally noticing me in a different way.

From the sixth grade through our freshman year of high school, Rick and I were each other's go-to dates for school dances. It made sense for us to go together because we were guaranteed to have a good time. Daryl was always invited, but he only attended school functions when he was forced to.

School dances ended up being another one of those Rick and Michonne things until Lori entered the picture our sophomore year.

I was almost too busy reminiscing about our last Sadie Hawkins dance to notice that Rick's lips were moving... and then they weren't… and then he was staring at me.

"Huh?" I asked.

"Up and off or pull it down?"

What?

I was completely confused.

"Your dress, Michonne... how should we get it off? Pull it up and off or pull it down?"

Oh!

"Um… up and off? I think? Probably? Yeah... Up and off," I stammered, my cheeks warming.

"Are you sure?" Rick asked, raising an eyebrow. "You can leave it on if you want. I just thought you'd be more comfortable with it off."

Rick was right. I would be more comfortable once I was out of this dress. And getting my dress off would be easier if I had his help.

When he was battling depression, there were times I had to undress him to get him in the shower. I never felt awkward about what I was doing because I was trying to help him.

This was just Rick trying to help me.

There was no reason for my cheeks to be warming right now.

"It's fine," I said, talking more to myself than to him. "Up and off."

He stared at me a beat, gave me a nod and then leaned in close to reach the zipper on the back of my dress. I held my breath as his chest pressed into mine.

When he tightened his grip on my waist with one hand and began to unzip my dress with the other, I closed my eyes. The feel of his fingers slowly pulling the zipper down my back forced out the breath I was holding.

The intimacy of the moment was dizzying.

We stood pressed together, breathing against one another, until Rick took a step back and released his hold on me.

I opened my eyes and brought them up.

Rick's gaze lingered on the lower half of my dress, which stopped right above my knees. He gently grasped the swishy fabric with both hands and very carefully pulled my dress up, stopping when it was bunched below my strapless bra.

"Sit," he instructed, his voice soft but commanding.

I sat.

"Arms up."

I raised my arms and tried my best to ignore the way his knuckles grazed my body as he pulled the dress off me.

It took more than a few seconds for it to register that I was sitting in front of Rick in next to nothing. I crossed my arms over my chest and peeked at Rick. He was looking at the dress in his hands.

"I'll go hang this up," he mumbled, disappearing into my walk-in closet.

I was too flustered to say anything.

But I had no reason to be flustered. Rick was just helping me. We were friends. This is what friends did.

Nevertheless, I put my robe on without Rick's assistance. His face was unreadable when he walked out the closet.

"Hey," he said casually.

"Hey," I said just as casually.

He held his hand out to help me up, and once again I placed my hand in his and let him. This time, he scooped me up, carried me to the side of the bed and placed me down so that my head was resting on my pillows.

"Rick, I could've hopped."

"And I already told you I'm not gonna watch you hobble," he reminded me, giving me a sweet but tired smile.

He reached across my body, and I jumped a little.

"Just gettin' a pillow for your foot," Rick explained, hovering above me. "Lift your leg for me if you can."

Oh.

"I can."

He grabbed a pillow from the other side of the bed and positioned it under my foot. "You're gonna have to keep your leg still and sleep like this, got it?"

"Got it."

"Do you need anythang? Excedrin? Water? Juice? Somethin' to eat?"

"Just sleep," I said with a sigh, letting my body relax into the mattress.

"Let me know if you do need somethin'. I'm gonna give Daryl a call and check on Carl."

"Rick," I called out softly before he left my room.

He came back to me and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. We looked into each other's eyes before he rested his forehead lightly against mine.

"Get some sleep," he whispered.

My eyes were already closing.

I knew there was a reason I was upset with him, but I stopped searching my exhausted mind for it when I heard the deep timbre of his voice in the living room.

"Yeah, I'm at Michonne's... Sprained ankle... Nah, I'm gonna stay here... On the couch, Daryl... Yeah, yeah, yeah... How's Carl?..."

He let out a hearty laugh that made me smile.

"Give him a kiss for me and Michonne. And don't give him anymore chocolate puddin' today... Uh huh. I mean it, Daryl. No more chocolate puddin'... Ok. See ya later."

When I woke up, I felt rested and immediately recognized the sound of Rick's steady breathing from his heavy sleep. My bedroom was too dark for it to be anything but nighttime, so I wasn't surprised by the glowing numbers on my clock.

9:46.

While I was yawning and stretching, I flexed my ankle and was instantly reminded of everything that happened... the uncomfortable dinner with Mike and Rick; Hershel's tractor accident; Rick's I can't; spraining my ankle; waiting in the ER.

"Shit," I groaned, grimacing from the pain shooting from my ankle.

Rick jerked awake. "Are you ok?" he asked in a voice thick with sleep.

When I didn't answer, he sat up.

"How are you feelin', Michonne?"

I truly did appreciate how Rick had taken care of me, but I was wide awake now. My tiredness and his familiarity were no longer clouding my judgment.

"Like I should call Mike," I said.

I was supposed to be building something with Mike. I should have found a way to call him when I was in the ER. I should have thought to call him once I was back at my condo. I should have told Rick to go home.

I sat up and turned on the lamp on my nightstand. Rick and I both flinched from the light, but he threw back the blanket he must have covered us with and turned away from me to sit up on his side of the bed.

His irritation with what I'd said was obvious. When he reached for his boots and put them on, I knew he was minutes away from leaving.

My own irritation grew.

Without saying a word, he left my room, and I heard him go through the kitchen cabinets and then open the refrigerator. A few minutes later, he returned.

"Your crutches," he said, nodding to the crutches resting against the wall. "Here's water, Excedrin, a peanut butter bar, your discharge papers, your phone," he said, placing each of those things on the nightstand.

"That's all you have to say?" I asked.

He put his hands on his hips and finally looked at me.

We stared at each other for a full minute.

"If you feel like you should call Mike, then call Mike."

I narrowed my eyes. I was waiting for him to take back that I can't and tell me he supported my relationship with Mike.

"You have nothing else to say, Rick?"

He continued to stare at me.

"Then I'll contact you before I stop by your house to get my things."

He scoffed, walked out of my room and then walked out of my condo.

I sat against my headboard, refusing to feel the full sting of Rick's departure. He was being selfish and unreasonable, that's all there was to it.

I took a deep breath before grabbing my now fully charged phone. There were text messages from Daryl, text messages from Gleggie and a handful of missed calls and voicemails from Mike.

I glanced at the side of the bed where Rick had slept, rolled my eyes and called Mike.

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