I don't own the walking dead.

An: This is going to be a short story. We know each other by now. Don't start to threaten me because y all can't handle a sprinkle of angst. In this it is minimal.

Please, review

Prologue

Rick searches through his locker, and he is sure that he left his scrub there. After a few minutes of pointless search, he groans and gives up the hunt. He must have forgotten to give it to the cleaning service. Rick sighs at his first hiccup of the day, and there is no worse way to start his day than not having a scrub to wear.

He looks at the locker next to him, and Rick's frustration grows. He checks his watch, and he is ten minutes late for his shift. As a thumb of rules, Rick hates Monday. Something always goes bad, and he dejectedly allows his head to fall down. The locker winces at the contact between Rick's head and its door.

"It's eight, and you look like shit, Rick." The voice of his best friend laced with amusement fills Rick's ear while Shane's arms yank him away from his locker. "What is it this Monday? Got your dick locked in a zipper?" Shane asks as he begins to open his locker.

"You know I deal with children and they have a better sense of humour," Rick says with exasperation.

Shane remains unfazed, and he knows Rick tumultuous affair with a Monday. He throws his white coat into his locker, and he begins to switch from his scrub to his clothes. Shane yawns, and he is barely standing.

"So what's up? New patient?" Shane gives a concerned look to his best friend.

"I hope not…" Rick quickly says, and he knows it sounds bad.

However, Rick hates to start a Monday with new patients. The day is already awful, but a new patient can only make it horrid. Sometimes, he regrets picking his speciality.

"Just forgot to give my scrub for cleaning, and now I have to deal with puke and all body fluids." Rick sighs, and he reached for his coat.

He looks at his clothes, and he could be worst. At least, he is not wearing designer clothes like Shane. Not that he could afford Shane lavish lifestyle and closet, he was not a surgeon, and Shane was renown in his field.

"You could have just asked," Shane leans to pick a clean scrub from his locker, and he unceremoniously throws it at Rick. "Also Maggie was looking for you." He adds while Rick begins to slide into the scrubs.

"Couldn't have say it before, I mean with have spent ten minutes here." Rick checks his watch, and he groans at how late he is

"Night shift brain…" Shane shrugs, and he closes his locker, "yeah, she said you are going to outpatient today instead of Wednesday." He finishes.

"Shane, anything else?" Rick expresses his frustration, and he throws his coat over the scrubs.

"Nah," Shane nonchalantly says, and he cares little for Rick's bad mood because he knows his friend has a love and hate relationship with his job. "See you tomorrow," He adds while Rick begins to stroll out of the room.

"I don't think so," Rick replies, "Nightshift." He finishes as he begins to rush toward the outpatient department.

Rick already dreads it, and now, he is sure to have a bunch of new patients. He truly hates Mondays.

The small hand grabs her silk pants, and Michonne redirects her attention from her son to her daughter. Big blue eyes stare at her with expectation. Michonne glances at her watch, and she is thirty minutes late.

"What is it, Judith?" Michonne softly asks as she lifts her daughter from the floor.

Judith swallows, and she carefully grabs her mother shoulders. Her timid nature makes an appearance while they are away from home. She leans to whisper in her mother's ear.

"Pee…" Judith quickly says, and she pulls away from Michonne.

Michonne looks at her daughter and then to her son. He sits straight in his chair. His small feet dangle back and forth. He looks good, and she tells herself to remember that he looks better than he did a week ago.

"Can it wait?" She asks already knowing the answer.

Judith looks at her mother, and she waits for a second to think about her answer. Once she has come to a final decision, Judith pulls again on her mother's pants.

"I have to peeeeeee…" She whines, and Michonne sighs.

Michonne looks at her wristwatch and the clock on the wall. She has patiently waited thirty minutes since the nurse called for their name.

"Okay," Michonne resigned herself, and she stands from the chair to take her daughter's hand. "Give me a minute, Jude."

Michonne crouches in front of her son, and she cups his cheek in her hand. She looks at him to make sure that no hair is out of place. She smiles when she notices that he has regained some colour. Michonne remembers that she has to hold on faith and hope.

"Mommy is going to be right back, RJ" She presses a kiss on her son's cheek, "and you are going to sit quietly until I come back." She finishes, and any other day Michonne would not leave him out of her watch.

However, a Judith tugging at her pants is an emergency. Above all, she does not know how anything bad can happen while RJ quietly sits in the office of the doctor who wasted thirty minutes of her precious time.

"Just a minute," Michonne says to quiet her own anxiety, and she continues to have that strange feeling. "And please no exploring." She adds well aware of RJ's curiosity.

"Okay, mama." RJ nods with a mischievous smile, but Judith pulling on her pant is too much of a distraction for Michonne.

"Let's go find the bathroom," Michonne takes back Judith's hand, and she is grateful that Sasha took Carl to his karate training.

As much as she loved being a mom, Michonne still had to deal with triplets. Three five years old kids were a lot of work, and even with help, it always felt as if she had too much on her plate. Michonne shoves those thoughts away, and she has very little choice in the matter.

"I'm terribly sorry for being late," Rick says while he enters Maggie's consultation room.

Rick hated when he had to switch days, but he couldn't say no to Maggie. Rick looks around him, and he might have been too late. He comes out of the room to check.

"There are no patients in, Tara," Rick says as he glances at the empty office.

His eyes fall on medical history in his hand. Rick waits for Tara to inform him, and she quickly raises her head from the appointment list.

"The Barnes should be in, but they might have left," Tara says, and she studies the list for the next patient. "The next patient is coming in an hour." She apologetically adds.

Rick sighs, and his frustration with the day continues. He returns to the office, and he goes to sit. Rick's feet hit something, and he leans to see what hides under the desk.

A pair of deep hazel eyes blink at his sight, and Rick guesses that he found his patient. A smile appears on Rick's face, and he extends his hand for RJ to take.

"Hello?" Rick chases the previous annoyance in his voice, and he likes that part of his job.

The children always made it worth, and this little boy with his big staring eyes already started to brighten his day. RJ looks at Rick's hand with a small, but he eventually takes it.

"Hello," He tries to mimic Rick's drawl, "Who are you?" RJ asks with a serious frown.

Rick looks at the little boy, and RJ's curious eyes almost feel familiar. He chases the thought to focus on the question. Rick does not know who has taught him a scold, but he is good at it.

"Doctor Grimes," Rick obliges RJ.

The little boy comes out of the table, and he stands in front of Rick. He does not have the most please look, and Rick's cheeks redden with embarrassment.

"You are late; very late," RJ says with a chastising tone, and he seizes Rick's wrist to point at his watch.

Monday, Rick has no other explanation for this scene, and a toddler has lectured him on his tardiness. Rick slightly blushes, and he looks at the little boy with an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry about that." Rick sincerely says, and he waits for the little man's answer.

"It's okay, but don't do it again." RJ ceremoniously says, and he moves away from Rick to return to the chair, which he previously occupied.

"I promise," Rick feels compelled to say, and RJ nods as he takes the words in consideration. "Now, where is your dad?" He asks with slight gaucherie, and RJ responds with an empty stare as if he does not understand. "Sorry, where is your mom?"

"Pee," He replies while he struggles to return to his seat.

Rick leaves his seat, and he goes to RJ. He picks the toddler, and he carefully places him on the chair. Rick reflexively ruffles RJ's hair.

"All set," Rick says, and he returns to his seat.

For a minute, they sit in silence. RJ touches everything, which catches his attention on the table. Rick does not mind as long as the toddler familiarised with the pieces of equipment, which he might need to use on him. He stares at the boy, and there is a familiarity to him. However, Rick can't put a finger on what feels so familiar. Rick crosses his arms, and RJ does the same.

"Don't tell mama that I was exploring?" RJ breaks the silence, and he looks at Rick as he waits for a promise of silence.

"Okay, I won't tell anything." He agrees, and they fall back into quietness.

Rick decides to read RJ's medical history while they wait for his mother. After the five first lines, Rick remembers why he sometimes regrets his speciality. He continues to read, and the discovery that they share the same first name mildly amuses him. Perhaps, he is familiar because he looks like a Richard. Whatever, it means to look like a Richard.

RJ' sigh interrupts Rick, and he looks up to the boy, who is tired of waiting. Rick is about to ask what is wrong when the door opens.

"Sorry, Judith was being difficult." A woman says, and Rick assumes that she is talking to his little patient.

On her arm, a pouting little girl with freshly dried tears hangs. She has not noticed him yet, and Rick does not feel like startling her. He waves to Judith (He presumes), and she pulls on the woman's leg.

"Baby," She sighs and turns to look at the toddler, who points at Rick, "Oh, so…rry" She stutters, but she quickly regains the upper hand.

She pushes her hair away from her face, and another impression of familiarity assaults Rick. However, he does not have time to dwell on it, and she is already speaking.

"I think we got the wrong office," She says with embarrassment coating her words, "I thought it was Doctor Maggie Rhee's office. I have been waiting in the wrong office." She rumbles, and Rick watches her do so with a surprising fondness.

The moment on itself feels like a Déjà vu, and Rick can't bring his mind to pinpoint what feels so familiar. She continues to speak, and Rick thinks that she will eventually run out of breath.

"Mrs Barnes?" Rick ultimately speaks, and she only nods. "Doctor Rhee had an emergency, and I am handling her patient." He tells Michonne, "Doctor Richard Grimes; I'm sorry for being late and very late." He extends her hand for her to greet, and he borrows RJ's words.

The colours have drained from Michonne, and she hesitantly takes his hand. She sees it in his eyes that Rick is attempting to place her face. Michonne does not know if she should feel relieved or disappointed. Her emotions are a mixture of both.

Rick holds her hand for too long, and Michonne stares at their joined hand. He knows the truth, and she begins interiorly to panic. She looks at her son and daughter. She returns her attention on Rick, and it is the same man. She has stared too long in her children's eyes, not to recognise where that particular feature comes from, and God, he knows the truth.

"Richard like me," RJ says, and Michonne's heart rate plummets.

"Ah," Rick answers with similar excitement, and Michonne looks at the duo with apprehension.

Rick has not let go of her hand, and Michonne does not know who will give it up first. RJ's features who looks like a miniature of this man, or Judith's big blue eyes that are exactly the same shade. Again, Carl's absence is a blessing.

From the triplets, Carl is the one who looks exactly like this man, who Michonne never anticipated to see again in her life. If she did not give birth to three replicas of Rick, she would have forgotten all about him, as he seems to have about her. Michonne did not even know his name until today.

"Oh sorry…" Rick's voice brings Michonne out of her stressful thoughts, "I forgot a second there." He returns Michonne's hand. "Again sorry for being late, but Doctor Rhee only informed me of the change a few minutes ago."

Michonne nods, and she reminds herself to breathe. She is not able to breathe around Rick. Michonne does not trust herself to speak around Rick. He has not recognised her. She flashes a smile to brush off his apology, and she knows her voice will quiver.

"So can you tell me what brings you to our hospital?" Rick tells Michonne, as he retrieves his professionalism.

The question serves to remind Michonne of the place and time. She draws a deep breath, and her concerned eyes fall on her son. She takes RJ's hand.

"The last weeks, my son has been tired. He is a lively kid, but now he barely plays. Next, he started to have random bruises, and I took him to his doctor." She takes a minute to breathe as she retells the events.

Everything happened so suddenly, and Rick's pen quietly continues to take notes. He quickly read RJ's medical report.

"Well, the diagnostic was leukaemia, and someone referred us to Doctor Rhee." Michonne's voice breaks, and she does her best not to cry.

Rick sits his pen, and his hand covers Michonne's one. He gives her a good minute to breathe and reorganise her thought. The scene is common for Rick, and as much as he hates it, he has lost his sensibility. Four years as a pediatric oncologist has made him witness many breakdowns.

"I'm fine," Michonne timidly says, and Rick's touch makes her uncomfortable.

He does not remember, but she does. Michonne subtly pulls her hand back, and she wipes her tears before they fall. She has never had such a stressful week.

"I'm okay." She repeats the sentence a few times to ground herself.

"I have a few questions," Rick says when Michonne begins to breathe again.

Rick asks many questions, which Michonne answers at the best of her ability. She gives her family history, and she adds about RJ's birth conditions.

"And so you are the biological mother of all three, and I'm sorry for the question," Rick says as his eyes travel between RJ and Judith.

Michonne already knows the following question. Her children are genetic oddities. They seem to have selected a gene and gone with it. Judith appears to be fully white and so does Carl, but RJ is the perfect mixture of his parents.

"They are fraternal triplets," Michonne says, and so Rick can't stop stuttering while he attempts to ask her the paternity of her children.

"And have they all undergone testing to see the risk?" Rick softly asks, and for a minute, Judith who has begun to crawl under his desk distracts him.

"Judith?" Michonne sighs, and she hesitates to go pick her daughter. "Come out of under the table."

The thought of kneeling between Rick's leg to grab her daughter crosses her mind, and Michonne has to remind herself of the place and moment.

"Mama…" RJ whines on her right, "It broke," he shows a little broken piece in his hand.

Between Judith crawling under Rick's desk and RJ breaking parts of medical devices, Michonne does not know what to do.

"I'm sorry…" She tells Rick while she takes the broken piece, which RJ hands to her, "I will pay for it." Michonne quickly adds with an apologetic look. "Judith?"

"It's okay…" Rick offers a reassuring smile, which brings forward a single night. "Don't worry about it, and the hospital has more than enough hammer."

"Hi, Judith?" Rick says as he leans to look at the little girl pulling at his pants, "Do you need anything?" He tenderly asks, and Judith shakes her head. "Do you want to come out of the table or I need to make space for you to explore?" Rick adds.

Michonne looks at Rick, and she can't help the emergence of a past memory. There is a reason why her life always takes a strange turn on Mondays. It almost feels like a twilight zone. Judith extends her arms for Rick to help her out of under his desk. He picks her up, and Michonne thinks that so close of Judith, Rick might see it.

"Okay, you're going to help me for a minute," Rick puts a pen in Judith's hand after carefully sitting her on his lap, and he gives her a white page. "Now, you're a little doctor."

"I will take her," Michonne rushes to say with embarrassment, "and Judith is…" RJ's teary voice interrupts her.

"Mama," He pulls on Michonne's pant, and when she looks at her son, He points to his sister, "I want to help…" The tears fill the rim of his eyelids.

Michonne scratches her head, and she does not know what made her believe it was a great idea to take two toddlers to a medical visit. However, she did not have a choice. Carl needed to go for his practice, and it meant no one to watch after Judith.

"I'm so sorry." She profusely apologizes, but Rick only answers with a smile.

"Here," He carefully gives his stethoscope to RJ, "Now, you're a little doctor too."

"I'm sorry," Michonne repeats.

"Don't be. This is part of my job, and these two have the mildest tantrums that I have seen." He reassures Michonne.

"You caught them on a good day," Michonne replies with easy comfort. "And so those questions?" She says to break the moment.

Rick continues with his lines of questioning about her children. Michonne gives any information, which she can remember, and she promises to ask their nanny for any extra information. The conversation is smooth until Rick asks a question, which ties Michonne's tongue.

"Do you have any knowledge of their paternal side medical history?" Rick finishes with a routine question.

Michonne blinks, and she thinks about what to say. She draws a deep breath. Judith continues to act as if Rick has given her the greatest task in the world, and she has never been so quiet in anyone's lap. RJ has been twisting the stethoscope in every direction.

"No," She opts for the simplest version of the truth.

"Can you possibly access it?" Rick asks without a malicious thought.

"No," Michonne replies, and ultimately Rick's eyes still on her, "He is not in our lives."

" Okay," Rick hesitates in his answer, and he quickly speaks to avoid a malaise, " Okay" He looks for better words, " I will have RJ run a series of test, and from there, we will determine a treatment plan."

Michonne listens to Rick speak, and she slightly tenses. She never expected to meet him again in a million years. She knows he does not remember her, and it is a little bruise to her ego. However, she understands why he would not. They did not meet in the most normal circumstances.

"Doctor Rhee…" Michonne halts, and she does not want to sound tactless, "She was recommended by a friend, and well, I thought…"

"Doctor Rhee specialises on neonate and infant," Rick replies with an understanding of what Michonne so gauchely wants to say, "but if it does not sit well with you that I handle the case, I could have a colleague take RJ's case."

"Oh god, I didn't mean it like that." Michonne says with slight embarrassment, "As long as you are the best at what you do in this hospital, I will want you to handle RJ's treatment. I just need the best doctor to take care of my baby." She says with sincerity.

Their past, which Rick fails to remember, is a non-factor in this situation. Michonne tells herself to get over her anxiety.

"Then I will open a spot for RJ." Rick answers, "Here," He passes to Michonne the test order. "I should see you in a week, and we can discuss the results."

"Thank you," Michonne nods, and she rises from the chair.

She is anxious to leave, and she carefully pries the stethoscope out of RJ's hand. Judith is a bit more reluctant to leave Rick's lap. Michonne prepares herself for a scene, but Rick handles it with the experience of dealing with cranky children every day.

"Say goodbye to doctor Grimes," Michonne tells her children.

Judith and RJ raise their hand to obey, and Rick returns the goodbye with a smile. He hates and loves his job. However, today, it feels odd. He has no opening for a new patient, but he has a natural affection for RJ. He did not lie to Michonne, and he is the best at what he does, which is why his list of patients is endless.

Rick takes challenging cases, and RJ's case appears to have a good prognostic. He could have passed it to anyone in the department, but Rick felt the need to handle it. He looks at Michonne, and he has a question on the tip of his tongue.

"Bye, doctor Grimes," Her voice sounds oddly familiar.

Rick considers his options, and it is a harmless question. Therefore, he calls for Michonne while she is on the verge to leave.

"It's going to sound weird, but have we already met?" Rick dares to ask.

Michonne halts, and she ponders on the answer. A second of hesitation has her believe that Rick made the connection.

"Euh..." She begins, and Rick can swear it is a deja vu, " euh.."

"No, but I have a very common face." Michonne prays to have a steady voice, and she holds her tongue not to expand on the matter.

"Hmmm, maybe it is that," Rick replies without commitment.

He does not think it is very ethical to tell Michonne that she is too gorgeous to have a common face. Rick knows that he has not met a woman as gorgeous as her, and the comparison includes his current girlfriend, Lori.

"Good Bye, doctor Grimes," RJ repeats, and his small voice drags Rick out of his thoughts.

"Bye RJ, and see you next week," Rick says, and he already begins to think about the hours to schedule him.

He would have to pull those hours for his nonexistent personal time. Rick can hear Lori's complaining about his schedule, but he feels compelled to help the little boy. The sense of friendliness, which he felt around the entire family, influences Rick. Rick's eyes drift on Michonne, and he can't stop thinking that he knows her. She gives him a smile as she walks out, and her smile jolts out his mind. Perhaps, he met her during that time. Rick quickly shakes his head. Why would a woman so gorgeous go to that length?

Michonne leaves Rick's office, and she has the need for an urgent conversation with her best friend. The chances for a mistake are minimal because she never knew his full name. Aside from his first name, which she always thought to be an alias, Michonne did not have a clue on him.

However, he looks the same aside from a few signs of age and maturity. He still looks as good as she remembers. It took her a few months to get rid of the crush, and she still has to find a better sex partner. That is partly because she has three children to take care of thanks to Richard Grimes.

Michonne has to talk to Sasha, and she has to tell her how she has met her children biological father. After all, it is Sasha's fault if she was in the position to procreate with him. She looks at her children, and Michonne did not miss how they were so comfortable with the man, who is biologically their father.

To make matter worse, they both take after him. To anyone who knows the truth, the resemblance is blatant. However, with Carl, that resemblance would be hard to miss even by a blind man. How does she always find herself in this odd situation? Sasha, she always has a hand into it.

Michonne groans with frustration, and she has to speak with her best friend. How is she going to deal with this situation? She looks at RJ who is sleeping in the back of the car. If it means the best paediatrics oncologist, the how does not really matter if it matters. Michonne will endure the odd situation. She should have killed Sasha six years ago.

6 years ago

"What?" Michonne stares at her friend, and she needs Sasha to repeat her sentence.

"It is a birthday present and a rupture present," Sasha calmly states, and her smile is bright.

Michonne shakes her head, and she does not know where to start. She has to correct too much in Sasha's statement. Therefore, she rolls her eyes. She does not know what is worst: Sasha's choice of a birthday present or the fact that she celebrates a fresh rupture between Michonne and her longtime boyfriend. When she says longtime boyfriend, she means logically it should at least be a fiancé. Anyway, Michonne refocused her mind away from that bitterness.

"You can't be serious," Michonne sighs.

She gives up on getting ready for her birthday party, and there is actually no party because Sasha has instead decided to go with such insanity. Michonne glares at Sasha, and she bought a designer dress for tonight.

"I bought a vintage Gaultier for tonight and Sasha…" Michonne stops to breathe before she expresses more of her frustration, "that shit cost a lot, and now I can't wear it."

Sasha looks at Michonne, and she makes a show to roll her eyes. She knew her best friend would be difficult.

"Your mother bought you that dress, and to her, it was chicken change. It was the same mother that partly financed this birthday present." Sasha says with soaring pride, and the affection for Michonne's mother coats each word.

"My mother helped you pay the fees of a prostitute," Michonne asks, but she already knows the answer.

Evelyn Barnes is an eccentric and wealthy woman who has too much time on her hand. She is very much the opposite of her stern no-nonsense daughter. Michonne would say that she takes after her dad, but he is as eccentric as his wife is. Therefore, any of her parents could have paid for this odd birthday gift.

"Yep, "Sasha replies, "When I told her about your orgasm problem, she wanted to help." She finishes the sentence with the uttermost seriousness.

"Williams?" Michonne cries the name with frustration.

Michonne stares at her oldest and only friend, and the fact that Sasha is her only friend is why she continues to breathe.

"Barnes," Sasha dispassionately says, "You can't be twenty-five and still wondering what a proper dick down feels. Twenty-five is a golden age, and you are going to get an orgasm tonight." She walks to Michonne's closet and drags out the Gaultier dress.

"I could be frigid, Williams." Michonne counters with the insecurity of her. "I don't get there with my vibrator too, and another silly present that you thought I needed." Her frustration grows.

Sasha remains unfazed, and she knows Mike must have given excuses for underperforming. She passes the dress to Michonne, and she moves to Michonne cupboard to search for lingerie.

"I know you didn't use it more than twice, and you have to know what you like to have a great experience." Sasha corrects Michonne, and she pulls a set of French lace underwear, "You, child, have had dry sex for too long, and so a vibrator was a bit ambitious. You could be a penetration girl, and I should have given you a dildo. And so I decided to go a stage lower, I am paying for your night with a fancy Gigolo."

Michonne listens to her friend, and she has in mind to suggest a psychiatric hospital. Sasha is beyond thoughts and prayers. She needs professional help and another hobby, which does not include using Michonne as a potential patient. Michonne sighs and she hates the perks of having a sex therapist for best friend. Michonne is more on the prudish side.

"A prostitute?" Michonne emphasises.

She does not pick the set of lingerie, which Sasha gives her. Michonne pulls her cupboard, and she begins to look through it. Sasha knowingly smiles, and Michonne always gives into her friend plan. Loyalty will be her best friend downfall.

"A Gigolo or an escort at best." Sasha corrects, "At the price one night cost, I will have you use the correct terminology. You are a freaking lawyer now, and you know how to use your words." She adds to annoy Michonne.

"Still waiting for my Barre result and I am already taking the risk on my future career by seeking a gigolo," Michonne says while she pulls a magenta set of handmade lingerie.

"That is the spirit," Sasha claps excitedly when she takes not of Michonne's choice of lingerie.

"I am going because you paid five thousand dollars for a pro…a gigolo. We don't waste money in this house. You could not pick a cheap one." Michonne laments.

She does not even know how Sasha found that agency, but she had seen federal courts more lenient with rules and regulations. Michonne would have asked for a refund, but it was not part of the policy. She considered sending Sasha to get the dick that she ordered, but only the person indicated as the client could. They even had her social security number.

"It is going to be worth it, Barnes." Sasha says as she pulls her phone out of her pocket, "Look at him. A whole snack." She almost shoves the picture into Michonne's eyes.

"He is alright, but he ain't all of that." Michonne looks at the man with his buzz cut.

Michonne likes pretty boys, and the man, who Sasha selected, is more in the side of dangerous attraction. Sasha picked a let me ruin your life and call me daddy while I do it. Michonne did not know how else to describe the man on the screen.

"Shane is fucking good looking, quit it." Sasha says with indignation, "I almost made this picture my saving screen. It is only because I have self-respect, and you're going to fuck that I didn't."

Michonne rolls her eyes, and she slides into her dress. She can't believe she is wasting her dress into this ludicrous Monday night. She bought the dress to turn head in the club, and Michonne checks her appearance in the mirror. She looks good, and the look is going to waste. She pulls her locks into a long ponytail on top of her head.

"Yeah, you should have saved him for you." Michonne deadpans, and she applies a layer of lipstick.

"Oh, you look so fuckable. You even thought of the ponytail. I am proud," Sasha hugs Michonne, "I swear he should be the one paying you. Turn around," She asks when she releases Michonne from the hug.

Michonne reluctantly turns around, and Sasha catcalls. The silk of the skirt perfectly flows on Michonne's curve, and the champagne gold colour of her dress flatters her skin.

"Okay, let's go before I change my mind," Michonne says, and she is already losing her nerves.

…

…

…

Michonne looks around the luxurious elevator, and she glances at Sasha who frowns. Her friend's expression suffices to raise her anxiety. She knew it was a bad idea. What happens if that Shane is a psychopath? He is going to assassinate her over an orgasm.

"What's going on?" Michonne asks when Sasha is silent for too long.

Sasha quickly types on her phone, and she pushes it down her pocket. Sasha looks up to Michonne, and she grins.

"Last minutes details," she breathes the words, and Michonne wants to know more. "A surprise," Sasha responds to Michonne's cocked eyebrow.

As if, she needs any more of this tonight. Michonne considers leaving the elevator. The place where she was supposed to meet the gigolo was on the top floor of the building, and they were quickly ascending no pun intended.

"Is it a potential murder?" Michonne sarcastically asks.

"Of your pussy and only your pussy," Sasha flashes perfectly aligned white teeth, and it was an easy one.

"Let's go home, "Michonne groans, "We can threaten to sue them over the refund."

She says hopeful, and the elevator stops. Sasha stands behind Michonne, and she pushes her friend out when the doors open.

"Stop being such a Michonne, and enjoy your present, Barnes," Sasha says, and Michonne feels like a reluctant child on the first day of school.

She runs toward the elevator, and the door has closed. Michonne presses on the button to call it back, and she patiently waits. After a few seconds, the elevator returns empty. Michonne slides inside, and she has no intention to go through with Sasha's insane plan. She presses the lobby, and the elevator does not move nor does it closes. Michonne looks around, and she apparently needs an access key.

Michonne suppresses a cry of frustration, and they had to be on the top floor. She is not going down thirty-five floor with 7 inches Ferragamo. Her life is precious, and walking straight in these shoes is an extreme sport. She has no choice but to knock at the only door aside from the elevator one. She will ask the access key, and she will leave. Michonne repeats the word a sufficient amount of time to be able to say it.

After a few minutes of pondering on the plan, she knocks at the door. It takes enough time for Michonne to begin to feel exasperated with the wait. She almost thinks about the stairs, but the door opens before she makes the decision.

Where she expects rough feature and harsh masculine line, Michonne finds the definition of a pretty boy. She does not know if she should feel relieved that Sasha dropped her at the wrong door or if she should feel disappointed because the Lord help her the man is a feast. Her mouth is dry, and she has caught him at the wrong time.

He finishes sliding his arm in his black shirt, and his pretty eyes fall on Michonne. Those eyes, Michonne knows that she should state her purpose for knocking at his door, but she has to stop looking at his eyes first. She must have thought the word a million of time, but he is pretty. Michonne draws a deep breath, and she can't add fainting on the list of embarrassment.

Please take me? Michonne attempts to remember what she wanted to say. Something about some elevator and not willing to take staircase with Italian designer shoes worth a semester of a good education, Michonne strives to make sense of her thoughts.

"Euh…" Is she stuttering? Is she ogling him? She thinks that she has done both in a second of opening her mouth.

Michonne takes a slow breath. Can he close his shirt? Father in heaven, she is nervous. The floor needs to swallow her, and so she can't stop staring at the lean muscle of his abdomen.

Say something, Michonne.

"Euh…" something else, but not impregnate me "Hi," she blurted, and it is good enough by her current intellectual level.

"Hello," He replies with a soft huskiness to his voice

She should have asked him to be the father of her children so he could elaborate an answer. He leans on the doorframe, and his eyes take note of her. Michonne feels a shiver going down her spine.

"Come in, please" His voice is extremely sensual and smooth.

How can she objectively say no to what sound like verbal sex? Until anyone finds the answer, Michonne will do the wisest thing. He moves his arm away from the doorframe, and Michonne squeezes between the door and him. His perfume saturates the air when her nose grazes his chest.

"I' m Richard" He softly says as he slowly closes the door.

"Richard," Michonne repeats, and she attempts to retrieve her common sense.

How do you do that with Rick? Rick? She can't help it, and Michonne knows he must be Rick in an intimate setting.

"Shane couldn't honour your appointment, but you already know that." He continues to speak.

"I know…" She only echoes him.

Rick looks at Michonne, and he can see that she is nervous. He approaches her, and his hands sit on her shoulders. His thumbs delicately explore her collarbone.

"Relax," he softly tells her, and she can only nod. "A glass of wine," Rick asks, and she nods again.

He disappears for a second, and Michonne quickly pulls her phone out. As she expected, Sasha has left her a message.

"You deserve it," Michonne whispers the words, and she watches Rick return to the room.

One night, her birthday, a pretty boy. She deserves it. There is no refund, and everyone including her mother thinks she needs an orgasm to celebrate her twenty-five years old. What can be the consequences?