The First Responder

It was Christmas Eve and temperatures had remained unseasonably low. They were forecasting a white Christmas this year. Living in Atlanta, Georgia it was not a usual thing. The last white Christmas we had was in 2010 and the last one before that was said to be a hundred years ago in 1910.

My family, oh yeah, I'm Michonne by the way, Michonne Jones to be exact. We were preparing to head out before the snow starts but as usual, we're waiting for my older brother, my twin. His name is Mark and we couldn't be more different if we tried. He's the dreamer and I'm the realist. We work well together at times but then there are those moments when even I can't reel him in. These are the times we break away from each other. He's an artist and I'm an attorney. Together, we both epitomize our parents perfectly. Our father, Morgan Jones is also an attorney and the patriarch of the Jones clan. Our mother Jennifer, also known as Jenny Jones, is a high school English teacher.

We also have a younger brother, Duane. He's twenty-two and in his last year of college. He's the lost child somewhat because he has yet to decide his future.

We would soon set out for our Christmas away from home. We have a rustic cottage in Cottage Country, a sleepy little town called Kings County, Georgia it's in Fulton County and I sometimes plead cases there. It's beautiful and idyllic. It's the place where my family goes on the big holidays to just reconnect with one another and nature. It has been a tradition in our family for as long as I can remember. Christmas in Kings County on cold nights meant a fire in the hearth and the family dressed warmly, telling stories of Christmases past while stringing popcorn and trimming the tree. Sipping hot chocolate and in my father's case a shot or two of scotch. Occasionally, my brother Mark and I would indulge him mostly at New Year though because we're not big drinkers. On warmer occasions, we would make more of a tropical event since our mother is of Caribbean descent.

The cottage had been prepared for us by the caretakers, we simply had to show up.

…

Finally, the Jones family left our Buckhead estate in Atlanta en route to the cottage in Kings County. This year is special, we're going back to the basics. Mark's divorce is now final and there would be no in-laws. Our parents are happy as there would be no additional drama this year, it would just be a simple old fashion Christmas.

We started out much later than planned and the trip is slow because the snow has begun. It was blizzard-like conditions by the time we left the city. It was the reason for which we were travelling in the family SUV instead of separate cars. Dad insisted on it. It was snug but we're a close family. I sat between my brothers in the back. They always felt I needed protecting when in fact I didn't. I could hold my own as much as they could. You have to understand growing up with two brothers meant I had to join them so I learnt to fight at an early age.

We wouldn't allow the weather to dampen our spirits so we sang along with the Christmas Carols playing on the radio to pass the time. The only thing that was missing was the fireplace but we knew it was only a matter of time.

As we crossed the county line, however, we headed into a squall. Progress was extremely slow and the jovial feeling from before stopped so that our father could concentrate on the road ahead.

Out of nowhere came headlights… more like a yellowish glow came our way but the light didn't pierce throw the wall of snow. The roar of an engine was nearing and then there was the sound of crunching metal on metal. I heard their groans and glass breaking. I had enough strength to dial 911 when I felt the vehicle spun and rolled over the embankment. Then nothing.

The fire hall was alive and hopping with Christmas music. The men and women on duty that night were making the best of their night. Tara Chambler, Shane Walsh, T, Dog, Glenn Rhee, Carol Peletier, Daryl Dixon and Sasha Williams were all playing darts and pool when the call came in.

…

I'm Rick Grimes, Captian and Team Leader on Fire Rescue 1 the Heavy Rescue Vehicle. That night, when we got the call my men and women rolled into action with fine-tuned precision. My truck was the first out of the gates. The weather condition being what it was, we knew it was going to be ugly. We had to navigate the rural road during a snow squall and make it to our destination alive in order to save lives. The police and ambulance were already dispatched, but in my heart, I knew they would be of no use until we got there.

"Steady as she goes, Sasha. Get us there in one piece."

Luck appeared to be on our side. The pubs had closed early. The only traffic was that coming into town; folks from the city who were going to their cottages for the holiday weekend. It already told us we would be needed below the road level because traffic wasn't blocked. We had rollovers ahead.

The GPS on the cell helped the police to ascertain the general whereabouts of the collision because visibility was poor. Then they would be able to set up roadblocks so we could swing into action.

…

At first glance, on seeing the SUV, we knew the front passengers had no chance but there might be hope for those in the back seat. The other team on the opposite side of the road had already confirmed a fatality of the sole occupant. He was the local drunk, Negan.

An hour later, after the mangled wreck was cut open and portions removed we saw three bodies: two men and a woman. I shook my head at the senseless tragedy… a complete family lost. Then I saw it, she stirred. I looked again to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. I bent down and checked for a pulse. It was weak but it was there. I immediately radioed for the EMT's but I was determined to get her to help as soon as possible.

I quickly unbuckled her seatbelt then lifted her out of her seat. I navigated my way up the hillside carrying her in my arms. My heart broke for her for the moment when she'd realize she was the only survivor. It'll be tough. Somehow though, I knew she'd be okay. I don't know why I felt so drawn to her but I did. I've done hundreds of rescues in my career but never before did I feel the way I did, that night. I was just about to lay her on the stretcher when she opened her eyes. Her locs had fallen away enough for her to see my face.

She was beautiful even through the blood and scrapes. Her face grimaced several times but there were no tears. She didn't say anythang before she passed out again. I could only imagine the pain she was in. I knew then and there, she was someone I wanted to know more.

…

I visited her, Michonne Jones, that was the name on her chart every day for a while but there was no change in her condition. They hadn't been able to find a next of kin. Her family had a law firm in Atlanta. She worked there too.

Some days, I would read to her and tell her about the world outside. Then, I felt compelled to tell her about myself. The more time I spent with her, I was haunted by her face. My friends told me what I was doing wasn't right and I would ask them what would be the right thang to do if they found themselves in her situation? No one had an answer, so I continued to visit and to talk to her. My visits grew more infrequent as time went by but I never completely stopped either. I felt compelled to be that little link to this side of the divide for her.

...

One day I woke up in a hospital, tethered to machines. Dr. Jenner, my treating Neurologist told me I had been in a horrific car accident. It happened on Christmas Eve, it was now March 21st. I had undergone brain surgery to relieve the pressure in my brain and was in an induced coma ever since, nearly three months. Then the shrink, Dr. Anderson drops the bomb that my entire family died that night. I was crushed.

After a week in the Rehab Center, I had them transfer me to Atlanta. I didn't want to there anymore, in a small town where I knew no one, a place with such a horrific tie to me.

...

Two weeks after my last visit, on my days off, I returned to the hospital to find Michonne gone. I was crushed. Yes, it made absolutely no sense to me, she didn't know me ... didn't even know I exist. It was only at that moment, I understood why the guys thought what I was doing was wrong. I couldn't very well show up at her place of work with flowers nor could I send them to her because it would creep her out.

I had allowed myself to fall in love with a woman who didn't even know I exist. How the hell could I change that? I couldn't.

...

A year later, on Christmas Eve, it was cold and I was sad but nonetheless, I set out on the drive to pay my last respects to my family. I planned to arrive at the scene at the same time the accident occurred for the anniversary of my family's death. When I arrived there, however, I discovered that someone had erected a roadside memorial in my family's honour. The gesture touched my heart and tears began to flow.

I slowly removed the old bouquets and replaced them with the ones I brought with me. I knelt there and said a prayer for my father, my mother, my twin and baby brother; then I said my goodbyes.

I was so emotionally engrossed, I didn't hear the car stop across the street nor, did I hear his footsteps as he approached me.

...

I pulled up on the shoulder of the road and parked my car behind hers, my heart quickened. I hadn't counted on the fact that she'd be returning here, tonight of all nights, but in a way it all made perfect sense, it was the last moments they were together as a family and then all was lost.

I opened the car door and retrieved the four bouquets to be placed at the memorial I erected in her family's honour. I quickly crossed the road. I walked slowly towards her so as not to startle her.

"Hi, I'm Rick Grimes," I said as I introduce myself to her.

Throughout my recovery, I have had dreams of a Good Samaritan with the kindest blue eyes. The ones that were now staring right back at me. When I told this to my therapist, she suggested hypnosis, which was unsuccessful. There was no context whatsoever, simply me staring into the kindest blue eyes. My therapist concluded it had to do with my accident, that it could have been my last conscious thought. But here he was with me in this awful place.

"I'm sorry to intrude on your private moment, I didn't think anyone would be here. I just wanted to pay my respects to the family because tonight of all nights, I thought it was important for them to be remembered."

My mind wandered, God, she's breathtaking. I knew she was a beautiful woman from the night I rescued her and from the time I spent at her side after that while she slept, but that was nothing compared to the dark-skinned beauty before me now. She wore a touch of makeup and her locs were cut to shoulder length probably to compensate for the fact they had to shave a portion of them for her surgery. Her lips were full and heart-shaped and tantalizingly red.

I had this overwhelming urge to hug her and kiss her to tell her everything was going to be alright. I wanted to protect her. That feeling I felt the night I held her in my arms when she was broken … it came back with a vengeance. I wanted to take her pain away.

"I'm Michonne… Michonne Jones; they were my family." She added as a single to tear slid down her cheek. "You, did this?" I asked indicating the memorial while looking into his compassionate blue eyes.

"I'm truly sorry for your loss ma'am. I hope you don't mind. It was such a tragic accident, one of the worst I've seen in my career thus far."

My heart was pierced with such a profound feeling I found it hard to breathe. His sincerity was too much. I didn't understand in the midst of this frigid night, engulfed by all this hurt I suddenly felt as though I was floating above it all. His eyes held such warmth. The stranger felt familiar somehow.

"Your career? Were you here then?" I was suddenly curious to know more about him.

"I'll tell you all about it over a cup of coffee or hot chocolate your choice." I accepted his offer. Suddenly, snowflakes began to fall. Rick then placed a bouquet at the bottom of each cross next to the ones I had laid out. Then we both walked back to their cars to rendezvous at the nearest coffee shop.

He instructed me to follow him and I did.

…

A year later, on December twenty-fourth only one car pulled up that fateful night. Rick and I exited the vehicle each carrying one of our twins and two bouquets of flowers. We paid our respects to the Jones family. After, we drove up to the cottage to make our own memories.