The words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them. Watching Judith play on the ground had given Michonne a rare memory of the son who died before the worst of the outbreak. His cherubic face was one she often thought about at night before going to sleep.
"I had a son. Once."
Watching baby Judith pull herself up on the table for the first time, had given her a fleeting memory of when Andre learned to walk for the first time. His face lit up like a Christmas light when he heard his mother cheering him on. That was months before the end; months before she returned to the camp to find her family gone.
Rick, who had been trying to coax Judith to walk over to him, stopped what he was doing to gape at her. The secret was one she had only shared with Carl before now. Staring at Rick and the googly eyes he had for his daughter, she wondered why she never thought to share that part of her life with him. It wasn't like he wouldn't be supportive of her story, and would even want to know about this child.
"You...you had a son?"
Michonne nodded, smoothing a smudge from the rug. Judith was still bouncing on the balls of her feet at the footstool. The usually outspoken little girl was now uncharacteristically hesitant about taking that big leap of faith. Reaching her hand toward the baby, Judith appraised her before accepting her help.
"I did."
Rick nodded slowly. "When...when did it happen?"
"After the turn. We were staying at a camp outside of Atlanta. One day, I left to go scavenge for supplies. When I came back, Andre and my boyfriend were both dead."
Rick was silent for a moment. Michonne wondered what he was thinking about, when he suddenly cleared his throat and stared down at the ground, before lifting his head to meet her searching eyes.
"Thank you...for telling me."