- Collaboration fic written by Misty Knight and me. -

Chapter 5:

Rick was in a rush.

Michonne's sudden, unexpected invitation to him and his father's sudden, unexpected message telling him that he was moving back to King County had left Rick reeling – one with overwhelming excitement and the other with a bitter kind of nervousness. So back at the precinct, he had buried himself in work to temporarily take his mind off of his coming meetings. But that had apparently worked a bit too well...He had delved so deeply into his work that he ended up getting off work later than he wanted.

Now it was 7:30 in the evening and he was supposed to be meeting Michonne at eight. At McReary's Hill, which was twenty minutes away.

"Ow!" He ran into the coffee table placed squarely in the middle of the room, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his shin. "Damn it," he groaned. He made his way around the table as he struggled with his tie, putting in the back of his mind to rearrange his living room when he got back.

When he got to the mirror tacked inside the door of his closet, he lifted his chin. He wondered if the tie he had picked out worked with the blue dress shirt he had decided to wear. 'Do I even need a tie?' he continued to ponder. 'Is it too much? This isn't some business meeting. Yeah, the tie's too much...' He snatched it off and threw it aside. 'Much better,' he thought, admiring the simplicity of his shirt and jeans. He looked put-together but not stuffily so. Very casual.

Meeting his own eyes in the mirror brought some clarity back to him when he saw how frenzied he looked. "Calm down," he murmured to himself, self-hynoptizing. "What are you expecting? She's got a boyfriend, she's out of your league...Stop dreaming..." He muttered these things to himself, but his wretched brain whispered back at him...'But what could she possibly want, calling you out tonight? And to your favorite childhood place?' He shook his head and took some calming breaths.

"Get ahold of yourself, Rick Grimes," he tried self-motivating again. "You're the Sheriff of King County; you've never distracted yourself with thoughts of dating before. Don't start now. When it's impossible."

00000000000000000000000000000000

McReary's Hill was a tall almost grotesque-looking mound in the middle of what would – without it – be a flat expanse of rolling green, land. It was located just a few feet off of Jim McReary's farm and Rick and Michonne had long discovered it when they were kids and christened it as their favorite place to get away and just talk.

A tree trunk stuck precariously out at the edge of the hill. Rick made his way over to it to look down at past handiwork. 'R + M = BFF'. Rick chuckled, unable to keep his laugh at bay while he looked down at the childish and cliché scribbling. "Who's idea was that?" he mumbled to himself, remembering very clearly the day they came up here and scratched it in.

"Yours."

Rick turned around quickly at the sound of Michonne's thick, honeyed voice. He almost lost his balance and tumbled off of the hill at her sudden appearance, but Michonne stepped forward to help hold him steady.

Which proved useless...

Michonne's small frame was no match for Rick's body weight so they both went rolling down the hill. "Ahh..." Michonne moaned when they stopped and she found her back pressed into the uneven ground and all of the air being crushed out of her lungs since Rick was atop her.

In the two seconds before he hurriedly pushed himself off of her and apologized profusely, he noticed how large and beautiful her eyes truly were up close. "Sorry," he said, brushing his pants off with his hands after he stood. "Sorry. You startled me."

"I can tell..." Michonne said, following Rick's lead in hoisting herself up off of the ground. She swiped at her clothing and Rick could have kicked himself.

What she wore looked expensive. It was a beautiful, white designer blouse and a maroon A-line skirt. A matching shawl was draped across her shoulders and covered the skin there that the drooping sleeves of the shirt left exposed. Rick winced when he saw a grass stain on the hem of her once spotless top. 'She's gonna regret even asking to see me tonight,' Rick thought to himself, glancing cautiously at the furrow in her brow while she brushed at the stain. With her hair pulled back into a ponytail, she looked as if she wasn't just coming from a relaxing night at home. "Sorry," he said again. "If you give me a dry-cleaning bill, I can pay for it. Or...I can get you a new blouse; just tell me where to order it."

"You can't order it," Michonne said, giving the stain one last useless brush-over and meeting Rick's eyes. "It was given to me personally by the designer."

Rick's stomach dropped. That was worse. "Shit. I'm sorry," he said again.

"It's okay," Michonne said.

Being back in King County felt weird. And being back here in front of her old friend and one of their favorite old hangouts felt even weirder. "You still haven't gotten over that thing you do," Michonne said.

"What thing?" Rick responded.

Michonne opened her lips to speak and then shook her head, deciding against it. "Nothing." But she knew what she had wanted to say. It seemed he still hadn't gotten over treating her like she was special.

Rick began to look around. "I should've brought a jacket," Rick said. "So you could sit down."

Michonne looked down at the green grass that surrounded them. It wasn't really necessary for her to sit down. She didn't expect that what she came out to tell Rick would take much time anyway. But she found herself taking the shawl off of her shoulders and placing it on the ground.

"No-!" Rick said, not wanting her to ruin anymore of her fancy clothing. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," Michonne said, not paying him any mind and sitting down on the sprawled-out shawl. "These clothes aren't really my style anyway."

"Really?" Rick asked, curious to know what her style was. In fact, he was curious to know everything about her. Especially why she had called him out here tonight.

"You can sit down with me if you want," Michonne said.

Rick glanced down at the shawl that stretched just a few inches long. If he sat down, they'd be awfully close...

For a moment, he struggled with what he felt comfortable doing. But it was a short moment.

He sat down next to her.

Their arms brushed and when he turned his head, he could smell a sweet vanilla scent that seemed to be coming from her. And he couldn't help but to realize that if she turned her head as well, they'd only be inches apart. He faced ahead, telling himself not to have such thoughts. He hadn't been expecting this, but it seemed more and more that he was thinking of his old friend in ways that he knew he shouldn't.

"You're probably wondering why I called you out here," Michonne said, her voice breaking into his thoughts. The thoughts she was oblivious to.

With his legs stretched out before him, Rick crossed his feet at the ankles. "No, I know," Rick said. Michonne glanced over at him, slightly surprised and curious. "You wanna catch up? For old time's sake?" Rick's lips lifted on one side to show her that he was teasing.

His quarter smile became a full one when he saw Michonne respond to his joke with a softened expression. For the first time, he felt like they were in sixth grade again.

"Sure," Michonne surprised him by saying. "Go ahead and tell me what you've been up to."

Rick's smile fell off of his face. He hadn't been expecting that. But now, faced with the question, he realized he had nothing to tell her. He spent his days working as a cop in a small town where the most exciting disturbance that happened was someone's pig getting loose and running through City Hall. Then he would go home and eat dinner alone if Shane and Lori didn't invite him over. "Uhh..." Rick said, chuckling nervously. "You first."

Michonne smiled. "I just got back from a fan signing event I didn't even know I was having. And this was immediately after I had spent the day being carted around a parade like a fake Santa. So I don't really feel like talking about me right now."

"You weren't a big fan of the parade I take it?" Rick asked.

Michonne shrugged. "It wasn't really the parade," Michonne said. "I just wish Mike would tell me about these things before I schedule them." Michonne looked at Rick. "Mike's my manager," she clarified.

'And boyfriend,' Rick thought. But neither felt the need to speak it aloud. Rick nodded. "I know. I've been...keeping up with you- with your career."

"Really?" Michonne asked, that slightly surprised lilt back in her voice.

"Yeah..." Rick said. "And I gotta say...you were the best-looking fake Santa I've ever seen."

A silence followed Rick's words. He saw Michonne's smirk and he wondered why he even said that.

"Thank you," Michonne responded simply. "I was wondering how I held up among the Santa crowd."

Rick stopped wallowing in his own self-made embarrassment long enough to chuckle. Leaning back on his hand, Rick pretended to feel more confident than he actually was. "But...besides the craziness of your schedule...and life, these days I'm sure...you-? You're happy with where you are right now?"

"Yeah!" Michonne answered immediately and almost too cheerily. "I mean...there are things that could be better, but...everyone has things. No one's life is perfect. Right?" She glanced over at Rick and he was taken aback by the innocence and curiosity in her eyes. As if she was expecting a real answer. Things he hadn't expected to see when asking the question.

"Well...yeah..." Rick said with a shrug. "I guess."

Michonne was looking at him too closely. He was sure she must notice every involuntary twitch his face made. Every loose eyelash on his cheek or long nose hair. He adjusted himself away from her. "What about you?" she asked. "You happy? I'm sure you are..."

Rick's brow pulled down slightly as he looked at her questioningly. "Why do you say that?" he asked.

"'Cause it never took much to make you happy," Michonne said, a grin pulling across her lips. "I mean...if anyone can stay in a place like this and be happy...it's gotta be you."

Michonne laughed softly and Rick wanted to laugh with her, but he couldn't. "What do you mean by a place like this?" Rick asked, feeling slight heckled. King County may not be much, but it was his home. And yes, he was happy here. Well...relatively happy. And he thought Michonne used to be happy here too. With him?

"Oh...you know..." Michonne said, her grin softening. "Just...a small town with nothing much going on."

Rick nodded. Her dismissal of their home as just a boring old small town stung him a bit. 'You're just overreacting,' Rick thought. 'Of course King County isn't her thing. She left for a reason. And she's a big superstar now.'

"Yeah..." Rick said, deciding to move on because he didn't want her to view him in a negative light when he argued in defense of his town. Which he inevitably would do if they kept on this topic. "Well...what did you call me out here for again?"

A flash of rememberance touched Michonne's face and she looked down, recalling what she came out there for. Rick watched her pull a card from the waistband of her skirt. A card he hadn't noticed until now – it must have been hidden under her shawl before. "This..." she said, handing him the fancy, well-lettered card that felt expensive to the touch.

He never knew paper could feel expensive.

"I'm getting married," she finished. "And I want you to be there."

Rick's stomach dropped to his toes.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Michonne watched Rick's forefinger glide over the gold lettering of her wedding invite. His silence penetrated the air, she looked up and observed Rick's downtrodden face.

Is he upset? Michonne thought, but she shook her head. He has no reason to be. She noticed at the parade the lack of a wedding ring on his finger when he caught her from falling. And the woman with the white blouse and jeans at the parade that seemed super into him. Yeah, he has no reason to be, she thought again closing her eyes.

Rick shifted beside her, leaning his weight to one side and placing the invitation behind him. He clasped his hands together and rested them in his lap.

"We should have dinner."

Michonne's eyes flew open, "What?" She just told him through a high-quality piece of paper that she was off the market and dinner was his response.

"You, Mike, and me." A cheeky grin etched on his face which only made Michonne's cheeks burn.

She nodded and cleared her throat, on paper that sounded like a great idea, but the lump in the back of Michonne's throat told her that she would need a buffer. "Could your friend, umm—Shane…" she snapped her fingers, remembering Rick's friend.

Rick groaned, but his smile didn't leave his face, but she could tell he was uncomfortable. "If you don't want to—," she continued.

"No," he reassured. "I'll have to invite Lori as well."

"Lori?"

"Shane's wife."

"Oh!" Michonne said in a surprising tone. Rick looked at her questioning, but then dismissingly shook his head.

"Shall we do this in a couple days?" He asked.

"I would have to get back with you on a specific date," she said. Rick nodded understandably.

"So, how did you and Mike meet?"

"He was my dad's assistant, at first, only managing small things when it came to my career." Michonne blinked back a sudden onset of tears threatening to fall down her face.

"Mr. Tealle needed an assistant?" Rick remembered her father being a man who when Michonne and Rick wanted to earn extra money by selling candy, he told them to sell several large boxes of candy and when they weren't selling fast enough, he decided to sell the candy himself. "Mr. 'If you want something done right, do it yourself'?" He shot Michonne an incredulous look which quickly softened when he saw the tears in Michonne's eyes.

Michonne's lips upturned into a reassuring smile, "I had to threaten him to hire someone."

"He couldn't have taken that well." Rick stared ahead and looked as if he was in the middle of a remembering the many times in the past, Michonne's father hadn't taken things well.

"No, but what could he do? It was his second heart attack. It was time to slow down, not that it mattered—." Michonne sighed deeply, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arm until she felt Rick's warmth as he wrapped his arm around her.

"I wish I could have been there for you," he said sullenly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't reach out to you. It was a small funeral and—I don't know…"

"You forgot about me?" Rick's question didn't sound like an accusation, but instead a forgone conclusion, Michonne shook her head.

"I wasn't in a good headspace which is how Mike and I became closer. He helped me a lot during that time and then we fell in love."

"What's he like?" Rick asked, squinting his eyes as if he was looking directly into the sun instead of at Michonne.

Michonne swallowed, "Great! He's great!" Her voice cracked and it sounded as if she was doing a Minnie Mouse impression.

"Good." She looked over at Rick who picked up the wedding invitation. Michonne wished she could read his mind, to see how he really felt. Their reunion had been riddled with awkward moments and now conversations, so far. And Michonne realized it would take more than just small talk to rebuild a friendship broken by time and distance.

Michonne's eyes left Rick and towards the scenery before them. There wasn't much to see downhill, besides their cars parked next to each other and the farm in the distance, there was a small park next to it, riddled with trash, a broken swing set, and lots of empty space.

"What happened to the park?" Michonne broke the silence and pointed to the desolate playground.

"You remember Mayor Glib?" Rick asked and Michonne nodded. "Well, he decided that instead of cleaning up certain parts of the town which included this playground. The money would be better spent on a brand new park on the other side."

Michonne nodded slowly, realization all over her face. "The rich side," she said flatly.

Rick didn't answer, he didn't have to because not much had really changed in King County since they were kids. "So, when I was told that my hometown was falling on hard times that wasn't particularly the full truth," Michonne continued.

"More like half."

Michonne shook her head, scoffing, "Unbelievable."

"You're not going to leave, are you?"

"I can't," Michonne said quickly. "I won't," she amended after seeing Rick's crestfallen expression.

"Good, cause the town still needs the support, Mich. And there is that dinner." Rick rubbed her shoulder and pulled her into him.

Michonne smiled and placed her hand over Rick's. "I can't wait to try your cooking, Richie," she said with laughter in her voice.

"Oh! I'm not cooking."

"Why not?!" She moved her head to see Rick's smirk.

"No way am I risking being labeled the man that killed America's Sweetheart with his shitty food," he declared.

Michonne looked away, blushing fiercely, "I am not America's Sweetheart, I'm Naomi Campbell Jr," she grumbled.

"Naomi Campbell Jr?" Rick's eyebrow raised.

Michonne shook her head, dismissing what she said. "Long story."

"That you must tell me later, right?"

"Right…" She said slowly, her eyes met him and she almost snorted at Rick giving her the 'People's Eyebrow', "Okay, I'll tell you later," she resigned.

"Good. And I may not be doing the cooking, Lori's a pretty good cook and—," Rick suddenly sat up straighter. "You know my dad always knew his way around the grill. I'm picking him up tomorrow."

Michonne eyes widen and then she quickly looked away, nodding her head, "that's great. Rick, I need to get going, ok." If it was possible, Michonne thought her heart had stopped beating, she felt as if death had grasped her into a tight grip. She yanked her hand from Rick and stood up so quickly she almost lost her balance.

"Michonne?" She heard the concern in his voice and knew a question would follow. She took a deep breath, not wanting a repeat of her first night in King County and walked, practically ran towards her car.

"Michonne, are you okay?" Rick yelled behind her.

"I'm great." She stopped, realizing that running away from Rick didn't exactly scream 'okay.' She was close to the bottom of the hill and turned around, putting on her brightest smile, "I promise Mike I'd meet him for our dinner date and I'm late," she laughed, a little too loud. "I'll see you later." She turned again, she could hear Rick coming down the hill as well, his footsteps were heavy and coming towards her fast.

Once to her car, she yanked open the door and entered. Where are my car keys? Michonne was in a race with herself, how far could she get away from Rick before her panic attack became full blown? Her chest was tight and sweat beaded down her face. It wasn't until she looked at her car dashboard did she realize her rental had a push to start ignition.

*knock knock*

"Fuck!" Michonne's head swiveled towards Rick who was at her car window. He shook Michonne's shawl while Michonne pressed the ignition button. The car mewed to life, cool air hitting her sweaty face as she pressed the down button for the window. "Thank you," she said grabbing the shawl and avoiding her friend's eyes.

"You're not okay, Mich," he said with a matter of fact tone, a tone she recognized most cops used when talking to a citizen. "If I said anything—."

"I'm fine, Richie," Michonne grinned and forced herself to make eye contact. "I'm good," she said emphatically. "I'll see you later." It was obvious from Rick's expression he didn't believe her, but he gave her a small smile and stepped away.

Michonne waited until Rick was at his own car before pulling out. She gave him a friendly wave and drove away.

…

Mike rented a two-story home on the "rich" side of King County from the town's only neurologist, its modern construction made the home stick out like a sore thumb amongst the more traditional colonial style houses, but it was a step above the hotel they stayed.

Michonne thought her panic attack would subside once she got to her new temporary residence, but her chest was still tight and her tears hadn't dried up. She parked in front of the garage door and pressed the on/off ignition button and sat back in her seat.

Breathe in, hold for 10, and slowly breathe out.

Michonne did six sets of these until her heartbeat slowed down and most of the tension she felt in her chest, neck, and shoulders alleviated. She reached over to the passenger side for her purse, her eyes forward she dug through her purse until her hand grasped her phone.

Michonne dialed the number of the person she needed to hear from the most.

"Andanya, how are you?" Aunt Jacqui 's voice was a comforting sound, but it brought more tears down Michonne's face. Michonne tried to stop herself, but she cried harder. "Michonne?"

"He's not dead," Michonne managed to choke out before she broke into more heavy sobs.

"Who's not dead?" Jacqui asked, clear confusion in her voice.

Michonne couldn't clarify if she could, breathe in, hold for 10, and slowly breathe out.

"Is Mike okay?

"Yes," Michonne gasped out.

Brief silence on the other line as Michonne tried to get herself under control and then she heard her aunt sigh, "Give me two days, I'll be there."

"No!" Michonne grabbed a tissue from her purse and blew her nose. "What about momma?"

"Michonne, your momma will be okay, she has around the clock care. And you should know that you hired them."

"I know."

"You need me more right now, okay baby."

Michonne nodded her head, pleading with herself not to cry anymore. "Okay. I'll call you tomorrow morning."

"Ok, I love you."

"I love you too… tell momma that I miss her." Michonne leaned forward and adjusted the rearview mirror to get a better look at herself. Her foundation was now streaky, eyelashes clumped and a trail of mascara ran down her face.

"I will and Michonne—."

"Yes?"

"Stay away from that fucking monster." Aunt Jacqui's voice was low and trembling. Michonne knew her aunt was angry which only made her bothersome tears welled up in her eyes.

"I will see you soon."

"Night, baby."

Ending the call, Michonne cleaned her face as much as she could, erasing signs that she just spent almost a half hour crying.

…

Only one high heel was off Michonne's foot when Mike came into the living room, a billion questions on the tip of his tongue. Michonne held up a hand and balancing on one foot took off her other shoe.

"Not tonight, Mike," she said, plopping down on the couch. Exhaustion had set in and so did a light headache.

"We have guests, Michonne and we've been waiting for you to start eating." Mike stood in front of her. Any other time she would be admiring how suave he looked before her. Black button up shirt and black pants. The top two-three buttons were undone, showing off his smooth mahogany neck.

"Eat without me."

Mike rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, "These guests are your co-workers."

Michonne looked at him, blankly and after a few seconds of their staring contest, she stood up. "I'm not in the mood. Eat without me." She walked by Mike, getting only halfway pass before he grabbed her arm.

"And what do I tell them?" His grip wasn't tight, but the fact that he couldn't see that she was upset was starting to hurt her.

Michonne looked at Mike in a stupor and fought back tears, "Do what you do best. Lie."

Snatching her arm from his grasp, she continued her walk to their upstairs bedroom where there she can bury herself under covers and sleep her problems away.