First person; little love story between young and moody Rick and sassy Michonne.

The Open Window - Part 1

I climbed up to the window as I had done countless times, though not for a few years; being that it was on the second story, it had its complications, but luckily for me, this particular window looked out on the roof of the patio in the back. Rick's form came into the room, and he slid the door shut behind him. Within a second, his shirt was off, and he was starting for his jeans.

Rick was easily the kind of guy girls would go crazy over. He was twenty-four years old, had a perfect smile and straight white teeth, and was coy, charming, mischievous, and heartwarming, sometimes all at once. His hair was a mix of brown and blonde, and he did whatever he wanted to do.

The deep, rumbling southern voice was a mark in his favour, giving him a bit of a country edge. He stood a bit over six feet and sported a perfectly chiseled body, a few ridiculous tattoos, and was bright and full of emotion. The kind of eyes that could get a girl in trouble, and they only lit up further when he smiled.

I was more of what you might consider pretty but plain. My dark brown locs reached mid-back, I was a bit underweight for twenty-two years, and I had dark brown eyes. I had been told more than once that my smile could light up a room.

Since I was still perched outside his window and he was still undressing, I tapped on the window. I didn't want to be viewed as a Peeping Tom; he'd never let me live it down. Rick looked up from his undone jeans and squinted towards the window. Even knowing he wouldn't be able to see me until he turned the light out in his room, I waved, thinking who the hell else would be perched on a rooftop in the middle of the night. Finally, he turned off the light and got a good look at me. One of his charming smiles spread across his lips, causing me to smile in return. After refastening his jeans, he rushed towards the window, unlatched it, and threw it open; I fell through it and straight into his arms.

"What are you doing here?" He asked in his deep rumble. "Aren't you freezing? I think you've graduated to using the door."

"Hell yeah, I'm freezing," I responded with a laugh. "I'm not ready for the door. Hurry up and close the window."

He reached behind me and slammed it shut while I rubbed my hands together for heat.

"Come here." He turned to me and wrapped his arms around me again. It had been years since I felt a hug from him, and it was a sensation I missed every day. Even better, his body was warm against my cold skin. Rick let out a sigh. "It's so good to see you, Michonne."

"You, too, Rick." I hugged him back before slapping his shoulder. "I still can't believe you left this town without me. How are you?"

His smile faltered, leaving the habit without a hint of truth or joy. "I'm good. I'm okay, hanging in there."

"Don't lie to me, Rick. I didn't just climb on top of a fucking frozen rooftop for that. There's no way you're okay." Rick's mother had been killed by a drunk driver a week earlier. He was the youngest of three brothers and easily the most fragile, though he tried to play it off and was constantly trying to live up to David's—his oldest brother's—tough guy attitude.

Rick sat on the bed, looking down at his hands. After a few quiet seconds, I sat beside him, resisting the urge to curl into a ball or wrap his blankets around me. The bitter cold was clinging to my clothes. I put my hand on his arm, trying to be comforting. He pulled away sharply with a slight gasp. "Sorry." He chuckled a bit.

"You're hands are freezing. Get out of that coat. It's keeping in all the cold air." Rick glanced around and then picked up a fleece blanket. "Here, take this blanket."

I shook out of my snow-covered coat and pushed my shoes off my feet. He wrapped a blanket around my shoulders as I curled into myself. I guess I didn't have to resist that urge for too long; he must've been reading my mind. Rick kept both of his arms around me, rubbing his hands up and down my arms through the blanket, trying to get me warm.

I caught his eye while he looked down at me, and we both smiled.

"I've missed you like crazy, you know." Silence followed my deepest sincerity. It was the one absolute certainty in my life. He stopped rubbing, though his arms stayed around me, more out of lack of movement than conscious choice. His eyes did not catch mine again.

Rather than remain in the nothingness, I broke the tension with a repeat accusation. "You always promised to take me with you when you left this rotten-ass neighbourhood."

He slid away from me and picked his shirt up off the floor, beginning to pull it back on.

"Michonne, you know I would've taken you with me if I could've, but you had school, and I didn't even know where I would end up. I was running around the east coast with some shitty band trying to pretend I was about to be a rock star." His voice was soft. He wasn't growing annoyed or short-tempered but merely stating what he saw as facts.

"I could have been the world's best groupie." I said with a smirk.

"School."

"And when did you ever care about something as mundane as school, Rick?"

"Since my best friend turned out to be one of the smartest people in this neighbourhood, someone who could actually make something of herself if she stayed at it, someone who could do better than what this neighbourhood had to offer her, someone utterly brilliant in every way, someone who deserved more."

"Man, you sure know how to flatter a girl."

Rick looked me straight in the eye as he spoke, but he looked away as soon as he was done. His eyes searched around the room. My stomach flipped at his, admitting to thinking of me as his best friend. I was only two years younger than him, but when I was twelve, and he first moved to the neighbourhood, I spent more time with him than anyone else.

I was sixteen the first time I crawled through his window; my parents were constantly too busy to notice or care that I spent my nights sneaking into the bedroom of an eighteen-year-old boy. Of course, any concern they would have had would have been misplaced. He and his brothers were the only siblings I had never had. They teased me and looked out for me. I imagine his mother even knew I spent nights there, one of us sleeping on the floor; nothing ever got past her. She allowed it, though. Because she felt bad for me, my parents' antics were notorious.

I hadn't noticed until he sat down next to me again that I had allowed myself to disappear into a daydream, remembering the past. When he looked at me again, I couldn't help but smile. "So, where'd you go? What did you do? I want to hear everything."

He began to tell me about everything he'd done in the past few years. Occasionally, I would press him for more details or call him out on obvious fabrications. We poked fun at ridiculous things that had happened, and I scolded him for any time he got himself into trouble. All the while, we kept our voices down so as to not bother any of his brothers in the house. It was exactly how things were before. We even sat cross-legged like children across from each other on the bed.

It finally came time for me to ask him the question that had been on my mind, though the answer was something I was not particularly anxious to receive. "So, how long are you staying?"

All of the laughter went out of his eyes, and it became obvious that the answer was something he was not anxious to give. "I don't know, but I'm definitely not leaving until the end of the trial. If he gets off, then my brothers and I will..."

"Rick." I wanted to reach out to him but held back.

He shook his head. "Michonne, he killed my mom. How could we let that go if he doesn't go to jail?" His eyes began to shine with the onset of tears and endless pain. "She was crossing the damn street..."

"I know."

"No, you don't!" He yelled.

I was taken aback. He had never raised his voice toward me before, but when I saw the tear fall from his eye, I knew that he wasn't truly angry with me. He took a deep breath, wiping the water from his eyes, and looked at me.

"I'm sorry." Rick moved toward me and shifted himself around so that he sat directly next to me, his back and mine sharing the headboard of the bed. There was nothing else to be said at that moment, so we sat in silence.

I looked down and noticed that I was half under his bed's covers. Strangely enough, I had no recollection of pulling them over myself. "You're staying tonight, right?" Again, my stomach lurched, though I tried to give nothing away in my face. "I mean, for old time's sake." He clarified. This only slightly lessened the excitement at the thought of him wanting me there.

"I guess so; you know no one will miss me at home." We sat up nearly an hour after that, talking, joking, and catching up. We avoided any more serious conversation, the closest thing being reminiscing about life before he left and the good times we'd had with his mom.

Eventually, he picked out one of his t-shirts and an old pair of shorts for me to change into. They were too big for me, but they smelled like him and were much more comfortable than my jeans, so I was glad to change. I was very aware of his body next to mine the entire time. He was always warm and sat closer to me than necessary on his full-sized bed. His arm would brush mine a few times, sending a jolt through my heart, but mostly, I felt the rumble of his voice through the mattress.

He was just finishing up a story when my head began to droop, and my eyes grew heavy. His words turned to mush in my mind until when I felt his body move away from mine on the bed. I thought he was moving to the floor, as one of us had always done when the other fell asleep. Instead, his arms moved under my body and slid me down until I was flat on the bed, no longer propped up against the wall. His touch was gentle. He pulled the blankets further up around me and then, with a moment's hesitation, climbed back onto the bed, staying above the covers.

"Your virtue is safe with me; we can share the covers." I yawned.

Rick chuckled and settled into bed under the covers. His breathing steadied, and I assumed he was already out. Then, as if making a last-minute decision, he rolled to face me. My eyes were closed, and my breathing was even. He ran a finger across my face anyway, his breath warm against my cheek.

"I missed you too, Mimi." He whispered. "More than I could ever explain. I'm so glad you're here." With those words, we were both taken by sleep. His hand was still on my skin.

In the morning, I was awakened by a door opening. Only the tip of my head was exposed from under the covers. The door closed again. David had come in to rouse his lazy little brother out of bed and was confused about finding a girl in bed with him.

I lifted my head to look at the clock—it was only a bit past eight in the morning. The thought had barely passed through my mind that I should get up before my head was back on the pillow and I was asleep. I woke up again an hour later, ready to face the day. I picked up my clothes from the night before and went to the bathroom. I started a hot shower and stepped in, enjoying the feeling of the water against my skin.

When the door opened, I was rinsing the last of the shampoo from my hair.

"Hey." David's voice rang against the walls. "I don't know what Rick told you, but this isn't a flophouse, so when you're done, you're out."

I laughed a bit to myself. "Oh, come on, Jamie. Don't be like that. You really think Rick picked up some chick and let her stay the night? It's very unlikely." I shut the water off and twisted my locs into a bun.

"Jamie?" He muttered to himself. "Listen, chick, I don't know... Oh, shit. Michonne?"

I slipped my head behind the shower curtain, reaching for the towel against the wall. "Who else?" I gave him a smile as I wrapped the towel around myself and stepped out of the tub.

"Well, I'll be damned." He looked at me squarely. "I should've known you'd be showing up here. I like the way you only come around when his ass shows up. I'd hug you, but you're a bit undressed."

We both laughed as I began to dry myself, carefully avoiding exposing anything that wasn't meant to be. "Oh, come on, Jamie. You know you can't keep your hands off me."

"Come to think of it, you are over eighteen now. That makes me less of a creep when I have dirty thoughts of you." I lifted the nearest object, a tissue box, and threw it at him. He caught it with a laugh and pretended to throw it back, nearly causing me to lose my towel.

David started to walk away but turned back at the last moment. "Hey, uh, how's he doing? He was always such a momma's boy; he's taking this the hardest."

"David, it wouldn't kill you to be easy with him. He thinks the world of you, half the shit he does is to impress you or prove himself to you. And as for how he is, I have no idea. He won't talk about it."

"Not even to you?"

"Not a word."

"Well, if you can't get that out of him, see if you can be more successful at getting him out of bed.

"Sure thing, now get out of here. I need to get dressed and do my hair." He started to make a joke but chose to leave the room instead. "That's what I thought!" I yelled back.

Then, right before he closed the door, he turned back one last time. "You know the other half is for you, right?" My expression showed that I didn't understand. "Half the shit he does is to prove he's good enough for you. The kid loves you." Then he was gone.

I got dressed and returned to Rick's room. When I saw him, I couldn't help but think about what James had said. Rick loved me. The thought was silly, though. Love me like a sister, maybe, but not anything more.

He was still sleeping, sprawled out on his back with an arm over his eyes, blocking the sun's reflection off the snow. I went and sat next to him, poking him in the side.

"Hey, sleepy head. Your brother has charged me with the task of getting your butt out of bed." He groaned at me and started to roll over, but I grabbed his arm. "None of that, now." He stuck his tongue out at me.

"Very mature. How old are you, again?"

"Twenty-four and a half, thank you."

I continued to poke him. Rick grabbed my hand quickly to keep me from continuing. I was so distracted by the electrifying feel of his hand on mine that I almost didn't hear his next words.

"How's this for immaturity." He latched onto me then and started a tickle assault on my ribs.

I squirmed and fought against his arms, but there was no way I would be any match for him—not that I'd actually want to get away. I loved the feeling of his hands on me and the closeness of his body. For a second, I managed to tickle him back—I had always loved that a big "badass" like him was ticklish—and he lost his grip on me, allowing me to start to roll away. That, obviously, didn't last for long.

With my back to him, he wrapped his arms around my middle and pulled me on top of him, pinning my back against his stomach and really attacking my sides. There was absolutely nothing I could do but thrash back and forth and laugh, trying to catch my breath and trying to not kick him in the balls. A minute or two passed, and he was not letting up.

"Stop! Stop, you win." I cried.

Finally, he stopped tickling but did not let me move. I was panting, and my chest heaved. "No more questioning my maturity?"

"None, absolutely not. You are the most mature person on the planet." He grabbed at my ribs quickly. "Ah! What?" I yelled.

"Your sarcasm is unappreciated."

"Okay. Okay! No more questioning your maturity and no more trying to get you out of bed for David if it can be avoided. I'll just leave that to him from now on."

I looked down toward Rick, and his face changed to contemplation. "That actually sounds like a terrible idea. Your version is actually quite effective, not to mention enjoyable." He slipped me to the side so that I slid between him and the wall, my body still pressed up against his. His arm was underneath me, and he was also breathing heavily.

He rolled a bit, then, to look at me. My heart was racing, no longer because of the tickling. Our faces were only a few inches apart, and he looked straight into my eyes. For the longest second of my life, we both lay there, breathing heavily and looking into each other's eyes. My gaze dropped to his lips. Too soon, he broke the moment.

"I should, uh, probably get up." With that, he slid his arm out from under me and moved away, getting off the bed. "I'm going to shower." And he left. It would be an understatement to say that I was disappointed, but with a heavy sigh, I accepted defeat and got up.

I spent the next week at the Grimes' house. I cooked and cleaned, trying to help where I could. They went back and forth from court to jail daily, answering various questions. Sometimes, David would tell Rick to stay at the house, which Rick took as them treating him like a baby, but I knew that it was just David's way of showing that he cared and didn't want him to get hurt or have to keep reliving that moment over and over again.

"One of those nights, Rick and I were alone in the house. I sat looking through the small collection of movies under the television while he paced, speaking - to himself or me; I'm still unsure. This isn't fair. She was my mom, too. Fuck, I should have just ignored David and gone anyway. This is stupid; I'm going." He grabbed his coat from the side of the sofa and started toward the door.