Candlelight

The need for shelter was the one thing that prompted Rick, Carl, and Michonne to seek sanctuary for the night in another house. He’d explained how he’d had to kill the man in the bathroom of the house they'd been squatting in and had barely escaped with his life. They’d hit the road, then, determined to get as far away from the gang of cutthroats that had plotted to rape Michonne as they could.

The arrival of a rainstorm had forced them to seek the shelter of another house. They’d located a very nice two story brick home and had broken in. The place was blessedly deserted, empty of both the walking and the quiet dead. The house looked as though the owners had packed up in a neat and orderly fashion before leaving. Perhaps, Carl had speculated, they’d been gone on vacation when the Turn happened and had never made it home. After all, if they’d evacuated because of the Turn, surely someone would have taken the photo album that was lying, neatly centered, on the living room table.

The storm that blew in was a fierce one. It brought howling winds and driving rain. It wasn’t too unusual for late summer to bring a few good rainstorms and this was one of them. Rick was glad for the sound of it. It was soothing and gave him something to listen to besides crickets and the shuffling moans of the occasional walker that shuffled by on the streets outside.

“Rick?”

Michonne came to the first floor bedroom that Rick had claimed as his own. She was going to take the living room and keep watch, though it was doubtful that any living soul would choose that night to break in. They’d boarded the windows, just to be on the safe side, to keep threats out and to keep light from their candles and flashlights in.

“Yeah?”

“Carl’s down for the night,” she said, entering the room with a white box. “He’s knocked out. Poor kid’s exhausted. You look like you are, too.”

He nodded wearily. “I’m always tired. The heat takes it out of you.”

“So does being shot and nearly beaten to death at the hands of a maniac,” she added. “At least the rain has cooled things off.”

“Wish I could crack a window, though. A breeze would be nice.”

“Come into the TV room. The drapes in there are nice and heavy. The candlelight won’t draw attention. Besides, it’s at the back of the house and the shrubs there are overgrown.”

He gave up the hard mattress of the master bedroom and followed Michonne into the TV room. A fifty inch flat screen had been mounted on the wall opposite a lavish, overstuffed sectional. Rick sank into it with a sigh.

“Pull down your pants,” Michonne said.

He flinched. “What?”

She held up the first aid kit and shook it. “I need to change your bandage.”

“Oh, right…”

She smirked at his embarrassment, and then opened the window. A cool breeze fluttered in, stirring the stuffy air in the room.

“Wish that TV worked,” he said. “Look at all the movies they got.”

“I know. They’ve got the entire series of Xena on DVD. I didn’t get to finish the final season,” Michonne lamented.

“Maybe we’ll find a portable DVD player and enough batteries for you to watch it.”

She smiled and sat down beside Rick to pull the bandage off his leg. She nodded in approval when she saw the wound. “No funny smell. No pus. It’s not hot to the touch. No unusual redness,” she observed. “Looks like you’re healing nicely.”

She soaked a piece of gauze with rubbing alcohol, cleaned off the wound, and then applied fresh antibiotic ointment to it before wrapping it again.

“Is this home?” she asked while she worked. “Or do you want to move on and look for the others?”

“What do you want to do? I mean, this neighborhood ain’t exactly safe with that rape gang wandering around,” said Rick.

“I know,” she agreed. “I just…I’m tired of wandering.”

She’d packed away the kit and now Rick took her hand in his. “Me too.”

Her eyes lowered, and she suddenly smiled.

“What?”

“We’re having a moment with your pants down,” she said.

Rick felt his face flush and he released her hand. He pulled up his jeans and then went to the window to look outside. It was pitch black until a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, including the back yard. There were two walkers meandering in the yard, getting drenched in the rain, oblivious to Rick’s presence in the house.

Though the lightning had been brief, it had illuminated something besides walkers: A huge propane tank.

“Michonne,” he said, and turned with a grin. “These people have a propane tank. Looks like its in decent shape, too.”

“Hot water?” she said.

“Maybe, if it isn’t empty.”

“I’ll see if the pilot light will work. If they used propane to heat and cook with, and they left the house expecting to return, they probably put out the pilots on the stove and hot water tank to save their gas,” she said, and went to her bag to pull out a lighter. “I’ll find the hot water heater.”

She returned twenty minutes later with a triumphant grin on her face. Rick had to share in her enthusiasm. It was good to see her so happy. She hurried toward the master bedroom. There was a full-sized bath there, with one of those humongous garden tubs. Michonne turned on the water. It came out brown for a bit, but then it ran clear. She let the pipes flush for a moment and then tried the hot water.

It was sluggish at first but soon began to warm, then the water came out piping hot. She whooped at the steam that floated up from the tap and began to fill the tub.

“I’m going to heat some water,” said Rick. “We’ve got some tea bags. I wouldn’t mind a hot drink.”

“I’m taking a nice hot bath,” she said. “A bubble bath,” she added, when she saw the array of soaps that had been neatly lined up along the shelf over the tub. She chose something that smelled of sandalwood and added a liberal dose of it to the tub. She planned to indulge.

When the tub was nearly full she began to undress. She’d just kicked her panties aside when Rick came into the bathroom holding two steaming mugs of tea. He froze when he saw her standing naked in the center of the room.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down with something in his eyes that was hot but definitely not embarrassment. “I should have knocked.”

She shrugged. “We’re adults, Rick. It’s okay. Why don’t you join me? The soap is sandalwood. It’s not girlie.”

Rick gulped. “Um…I don’t know. That’s kind of…I mean…”

“Believe me, Rick. You need a bath as much as I do.”

She continued to coax him until he reluctantly agreed. “I spotted a few more candles. I’ll get them.”

He lined them along the window sill and lit them up. Michonne watched as he took off his shirt.

“You should look away.”

“Why?” she asked playfully. “You saw me naked. I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

“Michonne!”

She was smiling and laughing so playfully he couldn’t help but laugh along with her.

“Fine. What the hell? You’ve already seen me with my pants down once,” he quipped, and climbed into the water. He involuntarily moaned as the heat soaked into his sore, aching muscles.

“I know,” Michonne said in sympathy. “Its heaven, isn’t it?”

“We could stay until the propane tank runs out at least,” he said. “Oh, God, this is too good to be real. I must be dreaming.”

“Mmmm…” she sipped her tea and then put the cup down. She slipped under the water and came up before lathering shampoo into her hair.

“You’ll never get the soap off your skin,” Rick pointed out.

She pointed to the walk-in shower across from them. “Yes I will.”

Rick caught the bottle of shampoo she tossed at him and lathered his hair up as well. He had to dunk and repeat to get all the oil and grime out of it before he felt he’d gotten his hair clean. He set the bottle aside and then regarded Michonne. Under the water he could feel her unfold her legs and then place one foot on either side of him without looking up to meet his gaze. He was between her legs. Her knees were poking up just out of the tower of soapsuds and he felt a stirring in his groin.

“Michonne?”

“Mmm?” she said, her head back and her eyes closed.

“Nothing.”

“No, what is it? You know you can ask me anything.”

“You think you could fall in love with someone the way this world is now?”

She opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling, then down at Rick. She ran her hands over her arms, scrubbing herself clean. “Yeah, I could. You?”

“I didn’t allow myself to consider it for a long time until…Well, I think I can. Yeah.”

She nodded and gazed into his eyes until the intensity of the moment became too much.

“The water is cooling. I’m going to rinse off in the shower.”

He nodded, thinking he’d spooked her away. He watched soapy water cascade down her body as she stood up. Her dark skin was so smooth and firm. She had a very curvy, womanly body. He hadn’t been with a lot of women outside of Lori. He could count the lovers he’d had on one hand, even if he included Michonne, which he couldn’t because he was too much of a gentleman to try to cross that line. As he watched the water cascade over her skin, however, rinsing away the soap suds, he decided to hell with chivalry. He’d almost died again that day, and he could see no reason why he should deny himself the chance to be with the woman he wanted to be with.

Rick got out of the tub and walked over to the shower stall. The water was almost too hot for his liking, but it warmed the bathroom nicely. He made a decision to do something that he'd been putting off for a long time. It was time, he decided, to move on from the bond he'd once shared with Lori, that death had broken apart. For the first time since he'd slipped the ring on sixteen years previously, Rick Grimes slipped his wedding band off. Michonne watched him slip it onto the tile shelf, next to some bars of soap, and wondered if he would retrieve it before they left the house. The message he was sending her was clear. He was ready to move on. With her.

She didn’t flinch when he ran his hands over her shoulders and over her hair, rinsing out the soap. She kept her head down and turned to trade places with him. He rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, waiting for her to look up at him and meet his gaze. She wasn’t normally so shy.

Gently, Rick placed his fingertips under Michonne’s chin and lifted her face. Her eyes found his and he was happy to see that the longing he felt for her was reflected in her eyes. He ran his hands down her sides and let them come to rest on the swell of her hips before bending slightly to capture her lips with his. The kiss was slow and tender to start, nothing more than a gentle grazing of his lips against hers.

He could taste the tea on her lips. He flicked his tongue gently out, parting her lips, tasting more of her, before taking her bottom lip between his to gentle suckle. Her hands tightened on his shoulders before her fingers laced behind his neck and she pulled him closer. Her body, so soft and warm, was flush against his now. She parted her lips and slipped her tongue slowly into his mouth. They began a gentle game of tasting one another, of enjoying breathy sighs and low moans before pulling apart.

“Share my bed tonight,” he said, his lips still brushing hers. “Share my bed every night.”

Michonne nodded, but she still had one last question. “Is this home?”

“It is tonight,” he said, and scooped her up, into his arms. He carried her to the master bedroom and laid her down. He didn’t know where they would go tomorrow, where they would call home or how far they would have to travel, but for tonight he had a bed to share with the woman he loved. That was enough for now.