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Rick was forced to look away from Michonne when Okafor tossed himself onto the bench seat next to him. Any other CRM grunt, and Rick would risk a few glances over at Michonne again, if only just to reassure himself that she was still really there, but Okafor was too perceptive for it to fly. He read Rick like he wore his heart on his sleeve, sometimes noticing things that Rick didn’t even know about himself , and there was no way in hell Rick could allow the man to make a connection between him and Michonne.
“You’re looking better. Rest must have done you good, huh?”
Rick ignored him as he took a quick drink. Luckily, these one sided conversations were expected of him, and Okafor didn’t blink twice. Rick could see Michonne out of the corner of his eye, watching the two of them, and it took everything in him to keep his eyes passively on the horizon, or his salad.
“Honestly, I was hoping you’d stay in for a little longer. After everything that happened, Lord knows we could use a break.”
The ‘we’ wasn’t hard to pick up on as ‘you’, despite the fact that they had both had a rough couple of weeks. Rick had been reserved since Michonne had shown up, and Okafor had already noticed and commented on his mood in the days before. He’d been trying to open Rick up about it casually over the past week, but Rick remained stubbornly stoic and evasive. Now, after his recent injury, Okafor was being more attentive than usual.
Rick would have to get himself in check, or come up with a good excuse, and soon , because it wouldn’t take long before news of Thorne’s ‘pardon’ reached Okafor and he started asking questions about that, instead.
“I’m fine.”
Okafor scoffed, rolling his eyes with his whole posture as he often liked to do. “If fine means walking around like a sallow-eyed walker, then sure .” Okafor tore a piece of his bread off and bit at it thoughtfully; not the genuine kind of thoughtfulness, but the foreshadowing conspiratorial kind of thoughtfulness. “That last mission was rough for all of us. I know you’re still feelin’ it.”
His voice was void of the kind of sympathy or sorrow a sentence like that should have had, and Rick prepared himself for a lecture, or an interrogation.
“We lost a lot of soldiers- good, honest men.”
Rick wanted to scoff himself, but just took another bite instead; letting the grinding of his teeth do the talking for him.
“You know, we
were
the only ones to get out of there. Other than the new consignee’s, of course. Some would call that good luck.”
A lecture it was, then. Rick let his hand pause, turning to give Okafor a sharp look for his twisted idea of optimism. “You’re the only man I know getting shot and callin’ himself lucky.”
Okafor grinned, bringing his hand up to his own sternum where no doubt several thick layers of bandages still rested underneath his uniform. They had both been cleared by medical, but Rick hadn’t been the one with a dozen doctors crowding his room to make sure he lived.
“ Us. ” Okafor clapped his hand around Rick’s shoulder, pulling them in together. “It’s ‘us’ now.”
Rick held his stern look for longer than he would have liked before Okafor flicked his eyes away.
“And her. Of course.” Rick allowed his sight to be guided up in alarm to where Okafor had glanced, a nervous thrill sending through him as he locked directly in on Michonne. She was in conversation, not even looking at them anymore, and Rick relaxed when he realized Okafor had not been talking about her but Thorne; her conversation partner. His mouth felt dry as the adrenaline quietly drained away from him, and he took another sip of his drink.
“Us,” he murmured, mocking it innocuously as he set his cup back down gently. “What next then? You got us here,” Rick gestured to his patch ironed on his uniform, displaying his new rank that he now shared with Thorne. “What now?”
When Okafor didn’t answer immediately, Rick glanced over at him again curiously, only to see him still gazing at Thorne and Michonne across the field. Rick’s earlier restlessness returned, and he abandoned hope of strategizing for the rest of the meal when he saw how intensely inquisitive Okafor looked.
“Her-” Rick paused as Okafor gestured towards Michonne. “She’d come in with us, right? One of the ones you saved?”
Rick chewed slowly. Okafor had been delirious from the moment he’d been shot from the blood loss, but he was in and out of it enough that Rick wasn’t sure what exactly he remembered. Okafor carried on without consideration of the silence.
“They seem to be getting along,” he mused. Okafor watched them for another moment, then chuckled to himself. “No wonder Thorne helped her application through.”
Okafor looked over to him like he was expecting something, and Rick glanced again at Thorne and Michonne. She was beautiful, as always, but that wasn’t the answer Okafor was looking for. “She fights well and she’s strong; Thorne can see that.”
Okafor grinned and scoffed, nudging him like he’d made a joke. “ You fight well. But that’s not why I pushed your documents through.”
Rick felt chillier than usual as the comparison of their own history was laid bare in front of what Michonne’s was becoming; it filled him with dread thinking about how everything was evolving together.
“You want to know about step two of all this?” He pointed towards Michonne, finally catching her attention as both women turned to look at both of them. “ It’s her. ”
Rick tried to remain neutral, but when he looked up at Michonne all he saw was worry on her face.