Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.

The loud squawk of a bird flying over the modest house could be heard through the open window. Rick groaned as he was jolted from his deep slumber. He laid in the middle of the bed on his stomach with one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee. Raising his head; he coughed a few times feeling the pressure in his whole torso. A light drool pooled at the corner of his mouth. Trying to gather his bearings, he flipped over onto his back and slowly blinked his eyes. He focused on the ceiling fan as he chased the last remnants of his dream. The whirring of the blades and his heavy breathing were the only sounds in the room. Before he could catch it in his grasp the dream faded from memory. All he remembered were the vivid colors and her. She was hard to forget. It was the fourth time that week she was front and center starring in his subconscious. Her bright smile and especially those eyes stayed with him; almost haunting his waking hours. He could still feel those dark brown orbs staring into his soul radiating love and understanding. Turning to his side, he hugged a pillow to his chest and tried to slow down his breathing enough to beckon sleep back to him. He needed to meet her again on whatever ethereal plane she existed.

The heat of the early morning sun made the stuffiness of the room suffocating. He flipped back over while flexing his right hand. The tightness wasn't helping his bid to fall back to sleep. He knew from experience the ache would soon turn almost unbearable. He stared at the scar sitting diagonal across the palm. It was almost pulsating with each thread of pain. Realizing it was no use lying there any longer, he swung his feet to the floor while pulling his t-shirt over his head. He used it to wipe the sweat from his face before tossing it to the corner where the rest of his dirty laundry was piling up.

He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as he scratched at his chest with his left hand; feeling the coarse salt and pepper hair. The hall was a lot cooler than the bedroom. His sweat-soaked skin prickled with goose bumps as he was only wearing his boxers. Momentary panic overtook him when he stuck his head into Carl's empty room until he remembered he'd dropped his son off at Lori's parents' house the day before. The boy was spending the summer with his grandparents.

He shuffled passed the guest room to the bathroom. He paused gripping the doorjamb with his good hand. The pain was becoming worse. He took a few deep breaths and continued on into bathroom. His reflection in the mirror didn't garner much more than a glance. The bloodshot eyes and bearded face wasn't worth seeing. He smiled slightly remembering Carl told him he looked like Moses the other day. He missed the kid already, but knew it was best his son got away from the gloom of that house for awhile.

The bottle of hydrocodone was waiting for him on the counter where he left it the night before. After relieving his bladder he grabbed the pills and eased down the stairs. Moving around first thing in the morning always increased the chronic pain on his right side. At the bottom of the stairs he was met with an announcer's voice promising the downtrodden success if they attended the latest for profit technical school. Rick couldn't remember if it was him who'd left the TV on when he went to bed the night before. He stopped short when he saw Lori sitting on the edge of the couch; her forehead creased in worry. She regarded him silently. He kept the unkind words festering in his mind to himself as he continued to walk to the kitchen.

The refrigerator was almost bare except for a two-day old box of pizza, three bottles are water and a six-pack of beer. He grabbed a beer and a slice of pizza before joining his wife in the living room. He sat on the opposite end of the couch from Lori and changed the channel to The Price is Right. Using his teeth he opened the bottle of beer and popped two pills into his mouth. Without having to turn his head he could feel Lori's stare judging him. He lifted his beer to her in a mock salute before downing half in one swallow.

The cold pizza felt rubbery on his tongue. The cheese had hardened and the saltiness of the pepperoni was more pronounced than usual. He looked at his wife from the corner of his eyes. "I don't know why you're the one not talking to me. I'm not the one who caused all of this trouble."

The woman sat with her hands folded in her lap. She just shook her head and looked away from him; wetness framed her lashes. Rick rolled his eyes at her trying to manipulate him with another crying jag. He decided to ignore her this time as he ran his hand through his hair making the already unruly curls stick up even more.

By the time the mid-day news signed off to make way for the afternoon soap operas the pain in his hand had gone from excruciating to an annoying throb. Though the usual numbness in his ring and index fingers remained. His service weapon laid on the coffee table covered in mail and old newspapers. Rick swept the papers to the floor. He flexed his hand again trying to get the blood pumping into the damaged nerves. He covered the gun with his whole hand before wrapping the fingers around the handle. His face contorted in pain as he raised the gun and pointed it at the TV. Making sure the safety was still on, he tried to push in the trigger, but he couldn't get his fingers to cooperate.

He threw the gun back down to the table before settling into the couch with his third beer for the latest episode of Maury. The ring of his cell phone interrupted the mindless entertainment he was trying to loose himself in. He hit mute on the TV when he saw King's County Sheriff's Office flash across his caller ID. His boss was calling again. Thoughts of ignoring the call flashed through his head, but after the fifth ring he took one more sip of beer before pressing the talk button.

"Grimes, please tell me why I just got a call from the gotdamn psychiatrist office telling me you missed your last two appointments?" His boss said as a way of greeting.

Rick sighed and covered his eyes with his left hand. "Ned, I thought it was only one session. I didn't know I had to see him again."

"Don't bullshit me, Grimes. You know that shit is mandatory."

"I don't see the point of going to talk to some stranger every week. I don't need it. I'm fine. I'm ready to come back to full duty."

"Not yet. Neither your head doctor nor your primary doctor has cleared you for duty. And we still need to find you a new partner." Rick glanced over at Lori at that. "Look, Grimes," Ned continued in a softer tone, "you know I want nothing more than to have you back, but you've been through a lot these past few months. This time off is the blessing you need. These dumbass criminals aren't going anywhere. Your job will be here waiting for you. Take your time." His voice went back to his naturally hardened tone. "Now you have an appointment at 2:00 pm today. I strongly advise that your ass be lying on the shrink's couch ready to talk no later than 2:01 pm."

Rick nodded before realizing the man couldn't see him. "Yeah. Okay. I'll be there, Sheriff."

He threw the phone on the couch where it made a small thud before bouncing to the floor. He dusted off the pizza crumbs that covered his bare chest, and stood up with a groan; his knees cracking. The stiffness of his body made him lurch forward to the stairs. "I guess I'm going to get my head shrunk." He called to Lori over his shoulder. "Maybe I'll let him know about all of your shit."

Lori disappeared into the kitchen; her dress almost floating behind her. Rick expected to hear the sounds of her slamming the cabinet doors; the tell-tale sign of her anger. But he was only met with silence.

It was 1:56 pm when he parked his truck in the garage attached to the five-story building. Rick sat there with his hands still holding the steering wheel. The right one started to shake. "Shit," he mumbled under his breath as he closed his eyes tightly. He hadn't had an attack of the shakes for almost a week. He thought he'd finally cleared that hurdle. Blindly he reached into the glove compartment for his bottle of pills. He shook out two directly into his mouth and threw his head back swallowing them dry. After counting down from a hundred to zero he felt himself calm down and the shakes subside. He opened his eyes. From his rear view mirror he could see the cane prescribed to him for walking long distances laying on the backseat. The original plastic was still wrapped around it. He sighed and willed himself out of the truck; walking on his own.

Dr. Franklin's office was filled with warm browns and beiges with a touch of green here and there. Rick figured it was a way to generate warmth so the patients would feel comfortable spilling their secrets, but it put him more on edge. He sat across from the doctor with his baseball cap pulled low on his head and his arms crossed. The older man with his black-rimmed glasses and graying hair had several pieces of medium sized cardboard rectangles faced down in his lap. He pulled up the first one featuring abstract splotches of ink. Rick raised an eyebrow silently asking if the doctor was for real with this.

"Just tell me what first comes to your mind when you look at the ink," the doctor said. He lifted the cardboard a little higher. "Let's start with this one."

Rick studied the weird shapes in the image. "Ram," he finally said.

"And this one?"

"Clown."

"And this?"

"The Penguin from the old Batman TV show."

Knowing Rick's monotone responses weren't getting them anywhere, Dr. Franklin placed the pictures to the side and leaned forward. "It's no secret you would probably prefer to be anywhere other than this office, but this session and the many more that will come after are mandatory. You may as well get something good out of it. Wouldn't you agree, Rick?"

Rick just shrugged his shoulders and rested one leg on top of the other.

Not deterred by the man's silence Dr. Franklin picked up Rick's file and took a quick scan of the pages. "The last few months have been rough for you."

"That's what people keep telling me," Rick said dryly.

"Do you want to talk about that night?"

Rick picked at a piece of string that was unraveling from his sock. "According to my wife I'm the most non-talking son-of-a-bitch that ever lived so I guess I don't have a lot to say about that night or any others."

Dr. Franklin perked up at the mention of his wife. "This is the first time you mentioned Lori. It would help sort out everything that has happened if you verbalize your feelings."

Rick cocked his head to the side. "I don't feel anything, doc."

"The trauma you suffered -"

"I didn't suffer," Rick said cutting him off. "I endured. I got stronger, and I'm almost back to my old self again." A sharp pain shot through his right palm reminding him of the half truths he was telling the doctor. He clasped his hands together trying to use his left palm to massage the right.

Dr. Franklin looked at the file again. "We can leave thoughts about Lori until later. How about we speak on Shane? That relationship spanned a couple decades. It seems he was almost as important to you as your wife. How does it feel not to have that friendship; that partnership anymore?"

Rick gritted his teeth and rolled his shoulders back. "If I won't talk about Lori why the fuck would I say one word about Shane," he said in a low growl.

The doctor closed the file and tossed it behind him on his desk. "We don't have the talk about Shane or Lori right now, Rick," he said calmly. "We can talk about whatever you would like. Your physician, Dr. Miller, is unsure if you can return to full duty any time soon. If at all. How do you feel about having a desk job the rest of your career?"

Rick took off his cap and used his left hand to scratch the top of his head. He was getting more and more frustrated as the session went on. "That's just one man's opinion. He's not God or whoever's up there in the sky orchestrating our lives. I'm a Sherriff's Deputy. I've been one since I was 21 years old, and that's what I'll be until the day I retire."

"You tie your identity to helping and protecting people. If you couldn't do that anymore do you feel your life's no longer worthy?"

"I have a son. Carl will always make my life worthy." Rick put up his hand stopping the next set of questions he knew was about to come from the doctor. "And no I don't want to talk about my son either."

Dr. Franklin rolled up the sleeves of his navy blue button down shirt and sat back in his chair. "Then you lead the conversation, Rick. Tell me what's on your mind."

Rick bit his lip and shook his head. "Absolutely nothing, Doc."

"Well, if we can circle back to that night-"

Rick stood up quickly; his frustration boiling over. "That's it I'm out of here. My hour is almost up anyway." He grabbed at his side. The sudden movement made the pain more pronounced. "They can make me come here every week, but I don't have to tell you shit."

Dr. Franklin stood also. "That is true, Rick, but I must emphasize the importance of taking these sessions seriously. If for no other reason than my analysis will be instrumental in the Sheriff's Office deciding whether or not to let you get back to active duty."

Rick stood in front of the bookcase nearly trembling from the combination of anger, pain, and fear. His shoulders slumped when he came to the realization the doctor was right."Yeah, well I guess I do need you," he mumbled.

"Excellent." The doctor clapped his hands together. "I'm glad we came to an agreement. Now for the next couple of weeks I'll be in Europe attending two medical conferences. I'm leaving you in the very capable hands of one of my colleagues, Dr. Lewis."

"Hmmm," was Rick's low grunted response. It didn't matter to him what doctor he saw. They were all the same to him.

"If you'll just step out into the waiting area I'll gather your files together and walk you to her office to make the introductions."

Rick treaded into the waiting room wishing he'd hadn't left his pills in the truck. Lori was there sitting on one of the hard backed chairs. He blew out a breath and sat on the couch across from her. "I thought you were going to stay at home this time," he said. "Don't worry I didn't talk about you if that's why you decided to follow me here."

She didn't have time to respond as Dr. Franklin came out of his office. He gestured with his hand towards a door adjoining the waiting room. "Right this way."

Rick looked back before following the doctor. Lori was wiping the tears from her eyes with a white handkerchief. His jaw tightened trying not to be overcome by the sight.

Dr. Franklin led him down to the end of a long hallway. Rick was slightly out of breath and had to lean against the wall when they finally stopped. The doctor tapped a couple times on half-opened door before stepping inside the office. "Dr. Lewis, I would like to introduce you to Rick Grimes. He'll be all yours for the next couple of weeks. Rick this is Dr. Michonne Lewis."

Rick conjured up enough strength to walk up to the opening of the door. There he paused unable to make his legs move to take a step inside the office. His brain was working overtime trying to put the pieces together. He took in her dark skin and how the yellow blouse complimented it perfectly. The long dreads pulled into a ponytail making her beautiful face stand out. Her kind smile making her whole being radiate. Finally, it was the eyes that did him in. Those big, beautiful, expressive brown eyes staring into his soul as they had so many times before.

Dr. Michonne Lewis was the woman from his dreams.