A/N: Enjoy!
20. Have a Little Faith (part 2)
I drove six houses up the street and parked outside of Daryl's house. My eyes were locked on my rearview mirror.
I was still watching Rick. Rick was still watching me.
Only after he trudged back to his front porch and stepped inside the house did I stop looking in the mirror.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck!
I closed my eyes and leaned forward until my forehead was resting on my steering wheel.
When I heard Daryl's front door open, I kept my head where it was resting and blindly felt around for the button to unlock the doors. Almost immediately after I pushed it, Daryl opened the front passenger door and got in the car.
"Yeah, she's still here," he said, and I knew he was talking to Rick on his phone. "Not sure… Uh huh… Uh huh… You need help with that?… Ok… Yeah… I'll try, man… Ok… Ok… Ok, I said I'll try! Calm down, crazy!… Uh huh… Alright… Yeah... I will. Bye," he said, ending the call. "It's almost five in the goddamn mornin," he grumbled, slamming the passenger door shut. "Lori is the goddamn devil!"
"You'll try what, D?" I asked, not moving my head.
When he didn't answer, I sat up and looked at him. "You'll try what, Daryl?"
Daryl grimaced at the sight of me. "Goddamn, 'Chonne! You look like shit!"
Before I could kindly tell him to shut the hell up, I noticed the baby monitor in his hand and snatched it from him. The live stream of my sleeping Nugget was enough to stop my heart from breaking completely.
"And you stink!" Daryl rudely grumbled.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reaching for the door handle, but I locked the doors and hit the window lock button for good measure.
"You'll try what, Daryl?" I asked again. "I know you were talking to Rick."
He made a show of pulling his shirt up over his nose and leaning as far away from me as possible before he answered.
"He wants me to get you to stay at my place," he said through his shirt.
"Not happening."
"Figured as much, but he wasn't exactly in the mood to hear that," he said through his shirt.
"I'm not exactly in the mood to argue about it, so how about we don't," I snapped.
I looked down at Nugget on the monitor and felt my irritation dissolve. "You haven't had any problems with him? He wasn't fussy?"
"Nah, Lil Asskicker's been out like a light since I got him," Daryl said through his shirt. "I thought he'd be up because of the sirens or from all that drama when Rick and them pulled up, but he musta been worn out from earlier."
From earlier… from when Nugget was practically in hysterics after Panty Man unexpectedly dropped by my condo.
"Fuckin' asshole," Daryl grumbled through his shirt.
That fucking asshole made my eye twitch, but my Panty Man emotion was going to have to take a backseat to my Fucking Lori Grimes emotion for the time being.
"GodDAMN, 'Chonne! Can you put the windows down?! You stink!"
I rolled my eyes and lowered all the windows.
And then my stomach dropped.
Drama from when Rick pulled up?
"Daryl, when did Rick hand Nugget off to you?"
Daryl made a show of sticking his head out the car window and inhaling fresh air before he answered.
"I got him right around the time you were bustin' out the taillights," he said, bringing his head back in the car.
Huh?
"What?" I asked in confusion. "You were there?"
"The whole neighborhood was there, 'Chonne. You were hollerin' at the top of your lungs. And the sound of bat on SUV is kinda hard to ignore at two in the mornin'."
Huh?
"What? The whole neighborhood?" I asked in confusion.
"Yeah, there was a crowd. Annette's friend Birdie was leadin' us in a chant at one point." He laughed and fanned the air around him. "No one can stand Lori's ass. This street is definitely Team Michick… Mirick… Rickchonne… Richonne. This street is Team Richonne."
I looked down at the monitor and felt my chest tightening.
"He saw me? Nugget saw me like that?" I asked in horror, staring at him on the screen.
"Nah, I told you he was asleep," Daryl said, sticking his head out the window again.
I'd been so worried about Fucking Lori Grimes ruining Nugget's birthday. But between Rick being so out of control that he had to be restrained in a chokehold and me being so out of control that I'd taken LuLu to Lori's SUV, Rick and I hadn't exactly been creating the best first birthday memories.
I clutched the monitor to my chest.
What if our violent and aggressive behavior left a lasting impression on Nugget? What if we had just shaped the ways in which he communicated and resolved conflicts? What if this was how little future serial killers got their start?
"Stop bein' so dramatic," Daryl grumbled. "He's one! You've got a few more years before he starts rememberin' shit he can blame you for in twenty years, so you're good. Besides, if any memory does stick, it'll be you teachin' him to say 'shit.'"
I rolled my eyes and groaned.
"Which Greene told you?" I asked.
"It was actually the Rhee," he laughed.
I shook my head. Big mouths. Each and every one of them!
"Daryl, you better not encourage him to keep saying 'shit,'" I said in threatening voice.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied, smirking.
I groaned again.
"But seriously, 'Chonne, don't beat yourself up over what happened. You did somethin' good. You fucked up Lori's shit, and you brought the community together."
"I… what?"
"The Jenners… they live two houses down… they started organizin' the next neighborhood cookout. I'm bringin' your famous peach cobbler. By the way, I'm gonna need you to make your famous peach cobbler next month."
Oh my God.
The entire neighborhood saw me lose my shit and they planned a neighborhood potluck because of it.
I leaned forward and rested my head on my steering wheel again.
Daryl laughed at me and pulled me back up. He was about to wrap his arms around me but stopped himself and stuck his head out the window. After he inhaled deeply and held his breath, he brought his head back in the car and pulled me in for a one-armed hug to avoid the vomit.
"GODDAMN! You stink so bad!" he shouted a few seconds later, holding his head away from me.
"Shut up," I mumbled, breaking free from his hug and pushing him away.
"Can we get outta this car now? I have furniture that I enjoy sittin' on in a house that doesn't smell like… you," he pleaded.
I rolled my eyes and unlocked the doors. The instant the locks popped up, Daryl ran out of my car and into his house, leaving both the car door and his front door wide open.
And I was dramatic?
I walked into Daryl's house and started to make a beeline for Nugget, but Daryl stopped me with an "Uh uh."
"Change into that shirt," he said, looking at Rick's shirt in my hand, "and throw the one you're wearin' in the washin' machine. Then you can see your Nugget."
I couldn't argue with him for not wanting me to walk through his house wearing this top. The vomit did smell bad.
Really bad.
But I gave him an eye roll anyways before going to his guest bathroom.
I didn't want to see the stain again and didn't need to see the toll that being at Rick's house had taken on me, so I very carefully pulled off my pajama top with my back turned to the vanity mirror. After I folded the top and placed it on the floor, I held up the shirt Rick gave me. There was nothing notable about the plain black tee at all… except for how much it smelled like Rick.
It smelled so much like him that it almost felt obscene when I pulled the shirt down over my bare upper body. It was as if Rick himself was caressing and then wrapping himself around me.
I wrapped my arms around myself and deeply inhaled his scent.
"'Chonne!" Daryl shouted, pounding on the door and startling me out of my self-embrace. "You ok in there?"
Get it together, Michonne.
"I'm fine!" I shouted as I picked up my top from the floor.
I opened the door and Daryl looked at me suspiciously. "What were you doin' in here?" he asked, pushing me aside and looking around the bathroom.
"Minding my business," I retorted. "What do you want? I have a baby to see."
"Rude," he mumbled under his breath. "I found these. Not sure if they're yours or Maggie's, but Rick said you needed shoes, so here you go," he said to me, holding up a pair of slippers.
Because Rick, Daryl, Gleggie and I were always at each other's places, we often left random things behind. The fuzzy pink slippers Daryl held up were Maggie's. She wouldn't care if I wore them.
After I slid my feet into the plush slippers, I let out a very blissful sigh. If I ever found myself in another Beat a Bitch's Ass situation, I would remember to wear shoes.
"Thanks, D!" I smiled at him and handed him my pajama top.
Before he could complain about it, I rushed to the spare room he'd converted into a nursery when Rick was depressed.
"Rude," I heard him grumble.
It was, but I wanted to see my baby. And when I saw his sleeping, chubby cheeked face, I was almost paralyzed by my joy. I didn't want to wake him—and I knew that that's what I was risking if I picked him up—but I desperately needed a cuddle.
"Hey, Nugget," I whispered, lifting him from his crib. I breathed in his powder fresh scent and grinned.
He continued to sleep after I cradled him in my arms and gave him two soft kisses on his forehead. One kiss from me and one from his dadu.
"I love you, son," I whispered, smoothing down his wild bedhead hair.
My son.
Always.
No matter what.
I froze when Nugget's eyes started to flutter and cringed when his eyes opened.
But I silently squealed when he gave me the most brilliant little half-smile.
And I let out a quiet sigh of relief when he closed his eyes again.
He truly had the face of an angel… so perfect, so precious, so-
His little brow furrowed.
Uh oh.
His little lips pouted.
Oh no.
His little face scrunched up.
Shit!
I quickly placed him back in his crib. As much as I wanted to hold him, I knew the signs of a tantrum in the making. I was in no condition to deal with the cranky that came from prematurely waking him up, though I would if I had to.
It didn't look like I would have to when his prickly expression softened into a peacefully sleeping one.
He really, truly did have the face of an angel… so perfect, so precious, so magnificent.
I fought the urge to rub his tummy and walked over to the rocking chair in the corner of the room instead. Nugget's stuffed penguin, Mr. Puff, was in the chair, so I picked him up and hugged him to my chest before I sat down. I settled into the chair and watched my son sleep, letting the love I felt for him suture the break in my heart.
I could've sat in that chair for hours while he slept, but when the urge to pick him up struck again, I decided it was best to leave the nursery and find Daryl.
"Everythang ok with Lil Asskicker?" he asked when I found him in the kitchen.
"Yeah. My son," I said, trying the word out on him, "is still sleeping."
Daryl grunted. "I thought for sure you'd wake him up. What do you feel like eatin'?" he asked, opening his refrigerator. "A meatball sub or roast beef with cheese?"
I narrowed my eyes and watched Daryl rifle through his refrigerator.
"Did you not hear what I just said?" I asked.
He looked at me over his shoulder with a blank expression on his face.
"I just referred to Nugget as my son."
"Yeah, I heard that. And?"
And?
I wasn't expecting confetti and cartwheels, but I thought I'd get more than an underwhelming response of "And?" from him.
"He's your son, 'Chonne. What else would you call him?" He turned his attention back to the inside of his refrigerator. "So what's it gonna be? A meatball sub or roast beef with cheese?"
"I'm not hungry," I grumbled, taking a seat at the kitchen island.
"Doesn't matter. You're eatin' somethin'. Rick was... insistent, we'll say, that you be clothed and fed. I don't wanna deal with his head tiltin', eye squintin' ass if you don't eat."
"That sounds like a personal problem, Daryl. Like I said, I'm not hungry."
"And like I said, that doesn't matter. Eat." He slid a plate with a six-inch roast beef and cheese sub on it to me.
I rolled my eyes but picked up the sandwich.
He placed the baby monitor and a bottle of water next to my plate. "After you eat, we talk."
I rolled my eyes again but bit into my sandwich.
While I was chewing, Daryl's phone started ringing. Except for Maggie's "Roar" ring tone, which she programmed in Daryl's phone against his will, Daryl didn't have ring tones assigned to anyone, but I knew that it had to be Rick calling.
Daryl looked down at his phone. "I'll be back," he mumbled, leaving the kitchen to answer it.
Rude.
I took another bite of my sandwich and tried to eavesdrop from where I was sitting. The only thing I could make out before Daryl was heading back to the kitchen was something about a flathead screwdriver.
Daryl sat next to me in a huff, but I paid him no mind. Whatever was happening in the Grimes household was not my concern. I finished eating my sandwich and drank my water.
"That ain't Rick's kid," Daryl grumbled, taking my plate from me when I was done eating and putting in the sink.
I ignored him.
"Thanks for the sandwich and the water, D."
I really did feel much, much better now that I had something on my stomach. If I ever found myself in another Beat a Bitch's Ass situation, I would remember to eat a proper meal beforehand.
"You know that ain't his kid, 'Chonne," Daryl grumbled, sitting back down next to me.
"I don't want to talk about it, Daryl."
He scoffed. "Yeah, you do."
"No, I don't! And of course that baby is Rick's! Her timeline adds up. Rick confirmed the haircut."
"The what?"
"The baby making act," I clarified.
Daryl shook his head. "Nah, uh uh. Not his kid."
"You make a very compelling 'nah, uh uh' argument, Daryl, but do you care to elaborate?"
"Just doesn't make sense to me. Why would she disappear the day she found out she was pregnant?" he asked. "She knows Rick woulda been nuthin' but happy about that. Shit would be harder for them with two kids back-to-back, but they coulda handled it. And why would she choose to pop up on Lil Asskicker's birthday? And only after that prick Panty Man tracked her ass down?"
Daryl's questions were valid, and it was true that the explanation Lori provided in regard to her disappearance was sketchy at best, but if Daryl was right, then that meant one of two things: either Lori kidnapped a child or she cheated on Rick.
Lori was stupid and evil, but I didn't believe she was so stupid that she'd commit a felony or that she was so evil that she'd cheat on Rick and pass another man's child off as his, especially after their fertility issues.
No, that baby was Rick's.
"Why are you so certain that kid is his?" Daryl asked.
"Because."
"Do you care to elaborate on that?" he sassed.
"No."
I didn't want to talk about that baby anymore. I couldn't. My heart was starting to hurt again.
"And since when do you take anythang Lori says at face value?" Daryl asked. "Bitches still be crazy, right?"
"Yes, D, of course. Bitches still be crazy." I was offended he would think I thought otherwise. "Bitches be so crazy, in fact, that all these years later she blames me for ruining her prom night and her wedding. As if I had control over either of those things."
Daryl gave me a look.
"What?" I asked innocently.
"Michonne, your best man suit was tight as hell."
"It wasn't that tight," I argued, rolling my eyes.
But it was that tight.
"Everyone was starin' at your ass. Not at the blushin' bride in her big ass dress, but at your ass," he grumbled. "You know how many assholes I had to tell to look the other way?"
I shrugged. Lori brought that on herself.
She'd deemed the very tasteful, very conservative black dress I wanted to wear as being "incompatible with the style and tone of the wedding." It was her wedding day, so I accepted her disapproval with only the tiniest eye twitch.
Two weeks later, after rejecting every dress option I presented to her, she presented me with a very unflattering, very unfeminine, five-piece pantsuit to wear. That suit made both my eyes twitch, but it was her wedding day, so I agreed to wear it.
And I would've worn it… if not for the smirk I saw her exchange with one of her bridesmaids after I tried the suit on.
Because of that smirk, I decided I would wear the hell out of that suit at the wedding. Luckily, I had a designer friend in Atlanta who was able to work miracles. I got rid of the jacket and the vest and kept the tie, the long-sleeved shirt, which was transformed into a sleeveless halter top, and the pants, which were altered to fit like a second skin.
"If you had just served as best man, my outfit would never have been a problem," I pointed out.
Daryl gave me another look.
"Fine, but I can honestly say I had nothing to do with ruining her prom night. Me being crowned prom queen was the result of how our peers voted. How would I have even rigged that?"
When Daryl's eyes shifted, my eyes widened in shock.
"I may have had somethin' to do with that," he revealed. "You were popular, 'Chonne, but after all the votes were counted, you came in third."
Third?!
"Lori had the numbers, she won the vote… It was only because no one wanted to deal with a Lori meltdown, but she still won."
Third?!
"How did I go from coming in third to being crowned prom queen?" I asked.
"You remember Anne from Art Club? She used to hang out with Tami L. and Brian from Drama Club…"
I laughed, remembering the girl with the bowl cut in the front, mullet in the back hairstyle. "Who could forget Anne? She got suspended for making that ass sculpture, didn't she?"
"That's her. She was in charge of countin' votes," Daryl said, his cheeks turning pink. "I made a deal with her."
My eyebrows furrowed. "What kind of a deal, D?"
He started to turn red, and my eyes widened in shock again.
"No!" I squealed.
His eyes shifted.
"No!" I squealed again. "One of those asses was not yours!"
Anne had created a 6-foot-tall totem pole of asses using the ceramic molds of four bare asses. The entire school knew that one ass was hers, one ass was Tami L.'s, and one ass was Brian's. No one knew who the fourth ass belonged to…
Until now.
I covered my mouth with my hands and cackled into them until my stomach hurt and I couldn't breathe. After I wiped the tears from my eyes, I looked at Daryl, who was giving me an unimpressed look.
"But why, D? Why give up your ass for me?" I asked with a gleeful smile.
"Couldn't stand Lori's ass," he said without apology. "Rick was gonna win prom king… there was no contest there, and I knew the only thang that would piss Lori off more than losin' would be losin' to you. And I was right. Twenty years later, she's still pissed off about it."
He laughed gleefully.
Daryl never told me the awful thing that Lori did or said to him to make him detest her so much, but that fire of hatred had burned for over twenty years. That bitch would forever be crazy to him… to us both.
"You're ridiculous," I said, laughing with him. "I can't wait to tell Ri..."
My laughter and Rick's name died on my lips. He and I probably wouldn't be laughing together any time soon.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose and breathed through the ache in my heart.
"Michonne, if Rick says he's gonna handle Lori, then he's gonna handle Lori."
"I'm sure he will," I said with no confidence whatsoever.
Daryl narrowed his eyes and stared at me. "Do you know what the three most popular types of gold are?"
Huh?
"What?" I asked, confused by a question that I was in no way expecting.
"The most popular types of gold… do you know what they are?"
I stared at him, no less confused than the first time he asked.
"Cuz I do. White gold, yellow gold and rose gold."
"Ooo-kayyy," I said slowly.
"Do you know what the difference between twenty-four karat and ten karat gold is?"
I stared at him, still confused as to why he was asking me about gold.
"Cuz I do. It has to do with the purity of the gold. The higher the karat, the more pure the gold."
"Ooo-kayyy," I said slowly.
"If there were four chains in front of you, would you know which was the snake chain, which was the rope chain, which was the curb chain and which was the spiga chain?"
"No, Daryl," I sighed out, "but let me guess… you would know."
"Damn straight I know! And how about clasps? You wanna talk clasps, Michonne?"
"No, D. I really, really don't."
"You wanna know how I know all that shit?"
I honestly did, but he didn't give me a chance to let him know before he started talking again.
"About a month ago, Rick and I spent all day in Atlanta because he wanted to find the perfect necklace. For you. So he could thank you... for bein' you. We went to five different jewelry stores and looked at every... goddamn... necklace, only to go back to the very first store to get what's hangin' around your neck right now."
I grabbed the M charm on my necklace. "What?" I breathed out.
"At first I thought it was because of what he said about showin' his appreciation for you, but after we left the third store… I realized it musta been somethin' else."
My heart was pounding hard in my chest.
"I know you're upset right now and that you're thinkin' the worst, but you gotta trust in Rick, Michonne. He's not the same person he was a year ago. You have shit you're dealin' with but so does he. You goin' rogue and murderin' that SUV, and you passin' out, and him findin' out he may be a dad to a six-month old he never knew about is a lot to add to the mix. So maybe give him a chance to show you who he is before you shut him down," he encouraged. "And you? You gotta find a way to get past whatever you're feelin' because of Lori and that baby and figure out what you want, cuz it didn't look like Rick was the only one makin' googly eyes when you two were standin' by the tree swing at Hershel's."
"I wasn't-"
"Figure that shit out and go after what you want. Audentes fortuna iuvat."
My Latin was a little rusty, but I remembered enough to understand what he said.
"'Fortune favors the bold.' I didn't know you knew Latin, Daryl."
"I don't," he said with a wink. "Rosita has a tattoo of it on her-"
"Too much information," I deadpanned, rolling my eyes.
But since he brought her up, it seemed like the perfect time to discuss why he brought that fucking nightmare into my home.
I narrowed my eyes.
"Before you get started… yes, I ended it with Rosita," Daryl grumbled. "No, I didn't know she walked around with a taser in her purse. Yes, I will replace the Big Kat she ate, so I don't even wanna hear about it."
"All I know is she better not turn up nine months from now with a grunting bundle of joy in her arms," I warned. "I will sell everything I own, change my identity and live my life as an expat in another country if I have to deal with anymore baby or baby mama drama."
Daryl grunted. "I'm not a heathen like you, Gleggie and Rick," he said. "Still savin' it 'til marriage."
"You better be. And I want five Big Kats," I demanded.
"Five it is," he agreed. "But..."
"But what, D?" I asked in exasperation, ready to move on from talking about Rosita.
"But she did taze the hell out of Panty Man." He grinned gleefully.
I sighed.
Rosita Espinosa would never be my cup of tea, but she did taze the hell out of Panty Man. I had to give her that.
I left Daryl's house a little after six AM and sat in my car before driving away. One thought was running through my mind.
Audentes fortuna iuvat.
I could be bold and drive back to the house Rick insisted was my home, or I could drive away.
My fingers tapped nervously on my steering wheel.
I looked at Rick's house in my rearview mirror.
Being bold was not something I typically struggled with, but Rick had been alone with Lori for a while now and all of the outdoor house lights were now turned off. I didn't know for sure what that meant, but I knew what I feared it meant. My fear was enough for me to make a decision.
I chose to drive away.
I drove aimlessly for about half an hour until I came across Lake Chambler exit. The lake had been a staple in my childhood, serving as the go-to site for family outings, lazy summer days and late night high school makeout sessions. Except for a few parked vehicles that probably belonged to early morning fishers, I was alone.
I appreciated the solitude after a very tumultuous past twenty-four hours.
Maggie would torture me for days and then kill me if I ruined her slippers by walking out to the pier, so I sat on the hood of my car and looked out at the lake. I'd missed the sun rising while I was driving, but its shine was kissing the surface of the water and creating a lovely shimmer.
It was the perfect scenery for pondering.
It had been quite some time since I'd been here to ponder. The last time I felt the need to do so was a few years after graduating from law school. I'd returned to King County for a weeklong summer visit from Atlanta, which was where I attended law school and where I stayed after being offered a job at a fairly prestigious firm. I enjoyed my Atlanta life—I liked my job, I liked my condo, I liked my social life—but like never turned into love. After three years of law school and spending another three years as a working professional in Atlanta, the city never felt like home.
The day I was supposed to return to Atlanta, I made a detour to the lake to ponder what I wanted my future to look like. On that sunny morning, I decided my future looked like King County. Eight months later, when my lease was up and I'd secured a position with my current firm, I returned home.
And so here I was, once again pondering what I wanted my future to look like, except I didn't truly need to ponder anything.
I knew what I wanted.
I knew I only saw a future with Rick and Nugget in it.
I spent an hour or so on the hood of my car thinking about that future before I started giggling over Daryl's ass on that totem pole. At that point, I knew it was time to throw in the towel on pondering and go to my condo.
I was physically and emotionally exhausted after I pulled into my parking garage. I plodded to my condo, and with the little energy I had, I wondered about Rick.
I wondered if he was just as tired as I was.
I wondered if he remembered to take today off at his new gig.
I wondered what kind of understanding he had come to with Lori.
I wondered if that understanding had led to something more.
It had been a long time since Rick last had a haircut, so it was entirely possible that at this very moment he was naked and sweaty and-
Oh.
I stopped walking.
My breath caught in my throat.
A very weary pair of heavenly sky-blue eyes was looking up at me.
"Hey," Rick whispered.
"Hey," I whispered.
He was sitting on the floor outside of my condo with his legs stretched out and his back resting against the wall. A small smile curled the corners of his mouth up when I took a hesitant step toward him.
"You're here," I said, stunned that I was seeing him.
"I am." He slightly tilted his head and gave me a "where else would I be?" look.
"How?" I asked, though I really wanted to ask why.
"Borrowed Daryl's motorcycle."
I took another step toward him, stopping next to his outstretched legs. "You could've used your key. Waited inside."
He slowly looked me up and down and shrugged. "I guess I wanted to see you as soon as I could see you."
Heat warmed my cheeks.
Those damn butterflies were back.
Not the time, Michonne.
I didn't want Rick to see the effect he was having on me, so I thrust my hand out to help him up to distract him. He looked at it and then looked back up and into my eyes.
"Sit with me?" he asked softly. "These past few hours… hell, these past twenty-four hours have been… a lot." He sighed. "I just wanna turn my brain off and sit with my best friend. Just for a few minutes."
I lowered my hand.
"Will you sit with me?" he asked again, holding his hand out to me.
Prior to seeing Rick, the only thing I'd wanted to do was crawl into my bed and sleep the rest of the day away. But I couldn't not get down on the ground next to him.
So I took his hand.
Because I needed to turn my brain off and sit with my best friend too.
I stretched my legs out next to his and rested my head on his shoulder, leaving no space between us. Rick rested his chin on the top of my head and let out a tired sigh. After a few minutes of silence, I started fiddling with a loose thread hanging from the bottom of his shirt.
I slowly twisted the thread around my finger.
Being here with Rick—dog-tired, emotionally drained and sitting on the unforgivably hard ground—felt so… right. Nugget being here with us was the only thing that would have made what felt right feel perfect.
I slowly twisted my finger in the opposite direction, freeing it from the thread.
Shit.
We were supposed to be sitting here with our brains turned off. I needed to focus on not focusing, which was more challenging than I realized.
Thankfully, Rick's pocket started vibrating.
"That's probably gonna be Maggie," he said, pulling my phone out his pocket. "She's been callin' you for the last hour."
I had six missed calls from her. She was now sending text message after text message. Since this was Maggie I was dealing with, I leaned away from Rick so he couldn't read whatever inappropriate thing she was probably texting.
Maggie: Why cant I reach u?
Maggie: Ubetter be in jail for fckn up Olive Oyl
Maggie: Or knocked out from fckn Rick
Maggie: ;)
Maggie: Call me later slut!
"Oh my God," I groaned.
"Do I wanna know?" Rick asked.
"No," I told him, locking my phone and setting it down.
"Gotta love Maggie," he said, laughing.
Damn.
That laugh.
That perfect smile.
Those perfect dimples.
Focus, Michonne.
"Gotta love Maggie," I said, smiling.
I was ready to try to turn my brain off again, but Rick was looking at me in a way that made it impossible.
"What?" I asked self-consciously.
He held his pinky up. "Make me a pinky promise."
"Like the pinky promise we made on Saturday? That we've already broken? I don't think so, Rick. I think we may need to replace pinky promises with handshakes."
"Michooone," he whispered, wiggling his pinky.
I looked away with faux disinterest.
"Michooooooone," he whispered, wiggling his pinky under my chin.
I laughed and swatted his pinky away. "Ok, ok! What? What's the promise?"
He smiled at me and his eyes seemed to sparkle.
"The promise is that we always do this, Michonne. We always make time to just be best friends with each other. No matter what," he said, looking at me earnestly.
I liked the sound of that. A lot.
"Deal," I agreed, wrapping my pinky around his.
We smiled at each other and rested our connected pinkies in my lap.
"I'm sorry for earlier, 'Chonne." Rick squeezed my pinky and sighed. "I shoulda told you why you passed out. I shoulda stayed outta your way when you said you wanted to leave. I was just tryin' to protect you and keep you safe. But I am sorry."
I squeezed his pinky in response, appreciating his apology and knowing I owed him one as well.
"I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I shut down on you and tried to sneak out, and I'm so sorry for some of the things I said. I was out of line," I admitted. "How about we blame all of it on a shitty situation, and we let it go?"
He smiled and bumped my shoulder with his. "Yeah, I can do that."
I bumped his shoulder back and looked down at our pinkies.
"So," he sighed out, unhooking his pinky from mine and interlocking our fingers. "Let's talk about Lori and Judith."
When the conversation shifted from us to Lori and that baby, Rick and I decided that a hard, uncomfortable floor was no place to have what was more than likely going to be a hard, uncomfortable conversation, so we moved the conversation to my dining room table.
"Motherfucker," Rick muttered when he saw the rose and vase that Mike had given me.
He snatched the vase from the dining room table and slammed it into the trash bin in the kitchen. I didn't mind. Had I remembered the vase was still on the table, I would've done the same thing.
When Rick came back to the table, he was noticeably calmer. He pulled a chair out for me to sit in and sat down in the chair across from me.
"Ok," I said, laying my hands flat on the table and steeling myself for our conversation, "I know what she wants, but what did she say?"
Before he could answer, I stood up and started pacing.
"She thinks his name is Jr., Rick. That's what she called him… Jr.!"
"Yeah, I know. I had to correct her," he replied. His face turned a shade of red and he started fidgeting his fingers. "Twice."
Twice? That bitch!
"She said it's hard not thinkin' of him as Jr. because of what we were supposed to name him. I'd forgotten all about that 'til she mentioned it."
I stared at him, starting to fume. "You're defending her? Because I couldn't care less why she thinks Nugget's name should be Richard Arthur Grimes, Jr."
"I'm explainin', not defendin'," Rick said calmly.
"Did you explain to her that I went through ten hours of contractions?"
"I did."
"Did you explain to her that I spent an hour pushing Nugget out?"
"I did."
"Did you explain to her that since neither of you had the decency to show up during the eleven very painful, very stressful, very terrifying hours it took to bring him into this world, I earned the right to name him?"
"I did, Michonne."
"His name has never been an issue before, Rick!"
He stared at me for a beat before scooting his chair back and holding his hand out to me. "Come here," he said softly.
I rolled my eyes but took his hand and allowed him to pull me into his lap. I sat stiffly against him with my arms crossed.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder. "Carl's name isn't an issue. I'm not questionin' or doubtin' what you named him, Michonne. I fell in love with his name the second you introduced me to him… even the Glendrick part of it."
I held in a groan. I'd never admit it to anyone ever, but Glendrick was a hideous name. I had no idea what I was thinking when I thought that was a good idea.
I relaxed against Rick and he tightened his arms around me.
"What did she say, Rick?" I asked, resting the side of my face against the side of his.
Rick waited a beat before saying anything.
"After you left, I got Lori to come out to the front room," he began. "I tried to ask her about her pregnancy and why she left King County and where she's been, but she'd cut me off when I was askin' questions or she wouldn't give me a straight answer. She kept tryin' to make me read her medical records to prove she was pregnant and that Judith was mine. After goin' around in circles, I got tired of talkin'. I told her that me and her were done, but I would take care of Judith if she was mine. She didn't take that well. She started screamin' and cryin' and carryin' on, and then she ran to my bedroom and locked herself in there with Judith."
Of fucking course she did.
"She refused to come out, so I went to the livin' room to calm myself down. I saw the file with her medical records and went through it. The file looks legit, Michonne. Lori was in Florida, she was pregnant, she was put on bed rest because it was a high-risk pregnancy and she had a baby six months after Carl was born."
I sighed. "How-"
"I don't know. I don't know how it's possible that she got pregnant. Maybe we can talk to Dr. Cloyd and she can explain it to us."
He hugged me just a little tighter.
"Since she wasn't there to stop me or get in the way, I took her stuff out to the curb," he told me. "Her shit's no longer litterin' your front room."
Thank God.
He would still need to contact a cleaning service to deep clean my house though.
"She still wouldn't come outta my room, but I'd had enough by then. I didn't wanna kick the door down, so I called Daryl to ask how to unlock it. When I finally got it open, Lori ran to the bathroom and locked herself in there. She said she'd come out if I promised to hear her out. I told her I would just so she'd come out."
His arms tightened around me in what felt like a restraining way more so than a comforting way.
"She wants me to sell the house and move to Florida."
I tensed.
"She wants us to get marriage counselin' and work on bein' a family out there."
I took a deep breath. "Are you telling me… that she wants you… to give up your home… your family... your friends... your job… to move to Florida… to be with her?" I asked.
Breathe, Michonne.
"She wants you... to take Nugget away from me… to be with her?"
"No, Michonne," he said quietly. "She wants me to move. Just me."
She…
…
…
…
"She WHAT?!" I shouted. "What the fuck does that mean, Rick?! There is no just you! What does she mean?"
I started struggling against him to get out of his lap, but he easily held me in place.
"She can't possibly mean she doesn't want Nugget! She can't possibly be suggesting that you abandon Nugget!"
I'd never been so livid in my life!
"She doesn't want my baby?!" I asked in confused outrage. "She doesn't want my Nugget?! She doesn't want you to be with Nugget?!"
In a very pained voice, Rick said, "She doesn't."
His words sliced through my heart.
"She..." My words got stuck in my throat as I choked on the pain of her rejection of Nugget. "She doesn't want Nugget in your lives? She wants you to abandon him? To pretend that he doesn't exist?"
The thought of her having such little regard for my baby gutted me.
"She doesn't get to reject him, Rick! We reject her!" I shouted. "She's not good enough for him! She doesn't deserve him!"
I could barely breathe.
My heart had never been so wounded.
I should have been fighting my way out of Rick's lap. I should have been deciding whether I'd be using my bare hands to murder Lori. I should've been getting in my car to get to Lori.
But I couldn't move.
I couldn't think of anything except for my Nugget.
"She hates my baby that much?" I asked in a broken voice as my tears started to fall. "Rick, how could she hate him that much?" I whispered unable to comprehend her cruelty. "How could she not… He's the most amazing… He's so..."
Rick pressed his forehead into the back of my head and I felt his hot tears rolling down his face.
"I don't know, Michonne," he whispered.
The pain in his voice nearly broke me.
"How do we tell him, Rick? How do we tell him that she never loved him or wanted him? That she doesn't want him to be a part of her family? How do we do that, Rick?"
My heart felt so heavy in my chest.
Rick stood us up and I turned around, wrapped my arms around him tight and sobbed. I sobbed for my son because I didn't know how to stop this from hurting him one day.
"Michonne," Rick said, pulling away from me to cup my face. "Carl will never feel unloved."
I looked into his teary eyes and nodded.
"He won't," I promised, bringing my hands to his face to wipe away his tears.
"He will never feel unwanted," he said, wiping away my tears with his thumbs.
"He won't," I promised.
"He's ours. He's our son. He'll never know differently." He rested his forehead against mine.
"He's ours," I repeated.
We stood together for I don't know how long, our foreheads touching, our arms wrapped around each other, until I moved my head to his shoulder and brought my hand up to his curls at the nape of his neck.
"This is the last time she affects us like this, Michonne." Rick's voice was solid, resolute. "No more tears over her bullshit. No more fightin' because of her. No more of her comin' between us."
I nodded, twisting my fingers around his curls.
"Once I get back home, I'm gonna call a locksmith to change the locks," he said. "Daryl has a divorce attorney contact I'll reach out to, and I'll call the hospital to set up a DNA test."
I nodded again, starting to feel a little numb.
"Judith… she's with Daryl," Rick said.
I stiffened in his arms but ran my hand through his curls, enjoying the calm that the act brought me.
"I kicked Lori out, but it didn't feel right lettin' her take Judith since I don't know if she's mine. Lori's not fit."
I closed my eyes. Rick was right. No child was safe with that monster. I couldn't fault him for putting the best interest of a child first, especially if that baby… if Judith... was his.
If Judith was his.
I latched on to the thought, barely listening to Rick as he continued talking.
"But I really don't think Judith..." he was saying.
If she was his child, Rick would fight for full custody.
"… her hair is so..."
And he would get it. I would do what I could to make sure he got full custody, though I doubted it would come down to me having to interfere.
"...they're brown..."
We would have a one-year-old and a six-month old who were biologically siblings.
"She looks nuthin' like..."
But I didn't know if I could look at her in the same way that I looked at Nugget. I didn't know if I'd ever even want to.
"Michonne?"
And that scared me.
"Michonne?"
Because that made me just like Lori.
"Michonne!"
I dropped my hand from his hair and looked up at him.
"You ok?" he asked.
I took a small step away from him.
I wasn't ok.
"Everything is just… I'm tired, Rick. I'm really tired. I just... I need a minute."
He nodded in understanding but didn't say anything or make any moves to leave. After about a minute of standing there, he started counting.
"Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty. It's been a minute. Are you ok now?"
"Riiiiiick," I sighed out, unable to keep myself from smiling at how ridiculous he could be. "I need a longer minute… Alone."
"I know," he said softly, his eyes searching mine, "but I can stay. Keep you company until you fall asleep."
I appreciated the offer but shook my head. "You have things to take care of, Rick. And you left Daryl with two babies," I pointed out. "You should get back to him sooner rather than later."
"Yeeeaaahhhh… He's probably ready to put me in another chokehold."
"You know he is," I replied.
Rick smiled and pulled me into a hug. "Get your rest and call me when you wake up. I don't care what time it is," he whispered in my ear.
"I'll call," I promised, pulling away from him.
He nodded but stayed right where he was. "You need help gettin' to bed before I go?"
I almost laughed. "Your arms of steel are not needed at this time, sir. I'm ok to walk."
"Had to ask," he said, grinning.
We stood where we were, staring at each other.
"So... I guess I'll go… give you your minute," he said. "I'll see myself out, ok?"
"Ok, Rick," I whispered.
I could see that he wanted to say something else, but he gave me a tender kiss on the side of my forehead. He took a few steps to the door, then stopped, took another step, then stopped and then walked back over to me. When he was standing in front of me, he gently cupped the sides of my neck.
"Don't disappear on me, Michonne," he pleaded with a fiery look in his eyes. "I know you're dealin' with a lot, but please believe me when I tell you I got this. I'm gonna make sure Lori isn't a problem for Carl, for you, for us or for Judith."
I stared into his eyes, feeling bolstered by his every word.
"And when Lori's no longer a problem, you and me have unfinished business we need to take care of."
We do?
"We do?" I breathed out.
"We do. You and me are gonna talk, Michonne," he said as his thumb gently traced the underside of my bottom lip.
"W-we are?"
"We are," he said, staring at my lips. "You're gonna tell me what you were gonna say when Morales walked in and interrupted us. You're gonna tell me what you were thinkin' about when you were lickin' your lips and starin' at me in the kitchen. And then," he said, staring into my eyes with a look that made heat spread, butterflies flutter and my heart race all at the same time, "you're gonna tell me how long you've loved my face."
I gasped.
How did he know what I'd been thinking?
"You said it out loud, 'Chonne. You said you really, really love my face," he whispered, gliding his thumb across both my top and bottom lips and then sliding it down my chin.
He stepped closer to me, invading all of my personal space. "Don't disappear."
Then he dropped his hands and walked out my condo without looking back.
I brought my fingers to my lips, feeling the scorch left behind from his thumb rubbing over them.
My chest was heaving.
I had to lean against the couch to support my weakened knees.
Hot fucking damn!
I felt like a kid on Christmas morning.
Rick just threw Lori out of the house, and she landed on her ass in the driveway.
"Bony ass bitch," Rick grumbled, slamming the door and locking it.
I threw my head back and laughed and took a sip of my champagne.
"Mmmmm," I moaned. "Is this Dom?"
"Seemed fittin' for the occasion, don't you think?" Rick clinked his glass to mine. He swallowed his champagne in one gulp, hungrily eyeing me as he did.
I took a modest sip from my glass, trying not to melt from the blaze of his gaze traveling up and down and around my body.
Suddenly, a tortured look fixed itself to Rick's face, and without warning he hurled his glass across the room.
I jumped at the sound of it shattering against the wall.
"Rick!" I gasped.
He took my glass from my hand and slammed it down. "I need you, Michonne! Now," he growled, pushing me against the front door.
My back landed against it with a hard thud.
"Can I have you?" he begged, his lips brushing against mine, his body pressing into mine. "Michonne," he breathed out, ragged and desperate. "I need to touch you. I need to taste you. I need to fu-"
Doo-dee-doo-doo doo-dee-doo-doo doo-dee-doo-doo-doo…
Doo-dee-doo-doo doo-dee-doo-doo doo-dee-doo-doo-doo…
Doo-dee-doo-doo doo-dee-doo-doo doo-dee-
"What?!" I croaked into my phone with my eyes closed, my head still on my pillow and sleep thick in my voice.
I didn't care about pleasantries. I already despised whoever was calling me for waking me up and interrupting the best dream of my goddamn life.
"Good afternoon," the voice on the other end replied. "My apologies for disturbin' you, ma'am, but I am tryin' to reach a Miss Michonne Danvers."
My eyes popped open.
I was wide awake now.
I didn't recognize the voice, but there was an air of authority to it that put me on edge. I looked at my cell phone to see who was calling. The number was showing as unknown.
Oh no.
I wondered if I had been sloppy in how I was proceeding with my Panty Man revenge. Had something been traced back to me? Did I need to contact my attorney?
I cleared my throat. "This is Michonne Danvers," I said cautiously.
"It's her," the caller whispered to someone.
"'Chonne, hey… Hi! This is Shane! Shane Walsh," he said, now speaking both rapidly and excitedly. "I don't know if you remember me, and I'm sorry to be callin' you outta the blue like this, but I'm hopin' you can help me out… I'm lookin' for Lori Grimes… and my baby girl... Judy."
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please take the time to leave a review. It's appreciated!