A/N: This takes place in the universe of 'The Ambassador's Daughter'. You don't really need to read that story to follow this, but it might reveal some small details that are not yet clear in that story. In any case, I don't plan to continue with that particular story the way it is. I am thinking of starting over and doing a more linear rewrite.
"Gifts of love keep giving" — J. Stanford
Mariah Carey's high soprano voice belted her most popular Christmas song through Rick's small temporary kitchen as he attempted to prepare his wife's Grandmother's famous soup, that was guaranteed to heal any ailment.
"What more can I do?" he sang along, loud and off key as he ladled the soup into the first of three bowls. "Baby, all I want for Christmas is you."
If there's anything worse than a sick child, it's a sick wife and two sick children in the middle of nowhere just before Christmas. It certainly not where he imagined himself as a young man growing up, but his life turned out better than he could have imagined. The six years since his reconnection with Michonne was filled with even more adventure than when they first met at a house party in London. Ever since, it had been Rick and Michonne against the world.
He deftly loaded the bowls unto a tray, humming along to the song as he made his way down the narrow hallway in their little two-bedroom home on wheels. Photojournalism was never a career Rick imagined for himself. In fact, like most things in their life, it happened by pure chance. He had come to learn that knowing the right people can get you far.
Now their family of four was on a cross country trip, to document the state of National Parks for a special edition issue of a prestigious magazine with hopes to inspire public interest in national parks and environmental protection. What better way to do this, than to pack up your family in a sizeable, modified RV and drive across the United States, instead of doing something more ordinary, like flying. Rick always preferred the open road and he'd always been very persuasive, so that's how they ended up.
December took them further west.
Yosemite was next on the list.
"I hate being sick." Michonne groaned from her place in the center of their bed. Their two boys lay on either side of their mother wearing equal expressions of misery.
"I hate you being sick too." He placed down the tray, sitting on the edge of their bed.
Michonne glanced at the mountain of snotty tissues that occupied their bed with a defeated sigh. "What time is it?"
"Lunch time," he grinned, gesturing to the tray while feeling remarkably proud of himself with his attempt to recreate a traditional family dish. "I think I have the exact thing to make you feel better."
Instead of the look of awe or appreciation of his mastery of the dish he had been expecting, Michonne recoiled away from him and the tray, her palm pressed against her mouth. "What is that?" Her voice was muffled behind her hand.
"It's Grann Marie's famous soup. It'll make you —"
Michonne bolted from the bed, nearly knocking over the tray in the process as she sprinted across the short hallway to the bathroom. "Throw up I guess," he muttered to himself when he heard the retching sounds coming from the bathroom. He glanced back at the two boys. "I should probably get rid of this before the two of you start too."
"Mommy's tummy hurts," André said patting his own stomach. He didn't appear to be as sick as the previous day and appeared more energetic than his brother.
"You're not as good at it as Grann Marie, Dad," his eight-year-old rasped through a tired smile, his humor, one of the many traits he shared with Rick.
"You're hilarious Carl," Rick said dryly as he walked away with the unwanted soup.
"Thanks," he answered, oblivious to the sarcasm in his father's voice.
Rick carried the tray and its contents back to the kitchen feeling somewhat disappointed with his attempt at surprising his family with a natural treatment for their ailment. It was just their luck to have the whole family sick in bed right before Christmas.
His eyes paused on the shelf across the room where they kept their mail. A letter addressed to his wife, from a familiar name arrived earlier that morning. It was sent a while ago, but with their constant movement around the country and world.
He was worried about her reaction and decided it was best to wait to share the fact that her family, well her stepfather mostly, had been in contact. Unfortunately for them, her family wasn't happy when they reconnected when Michonne left England to attend college in the States. Especially since it led to a second pregnancy.
"Oh, and Rick?" Michonne called as she strolled out of the larger room in their camper. She still had a stuffy nose, but the nausea she woke with was gone.
"Yeah?"
"Baby, I love you, but if I have to listen to Mariah singing about what she wants for Christmas for one more minute, I just might try to stab you." He had the song on repeat for over an hour. It was nearing on what she might consider torture, especially since it was paired with his off-key harmonizing.
Rick laughed, moving to turn off the radio. "You always did have a crazy streak Tipsy." Lately he had taken to calling her the nickname that stemmed from their first meeting. "I know to take these threats seriously. I gotta keep both eyes open around you."
"I think we should still do something," she said shuffling around in the small kitchen, cringing at the lingering smell of the soup, but managing to keep herself from throwing up again. "My mom used to go all out for Christmas."
"We haven't even finished wrapping the kids presents yet," he agreed. "And we still need to finish decorating the tree."
"Presents we can do, but Carl and André won't forgive us if we decorate the tree without them."
"Andre's looking better though," he mentioned as he put away the rest of the soup.
"We're moving somewhere warm after this," she grumbled, fatigue of their extended family vacation growing with her sickness. "I'm tired of this freezing cold weather and I hate getting sick."
"Don't worry that's something we both agree on," he assured her, stepping behind her and wrapping his strong arms around her waist. "Only a month and a half left. But it's a nice change."
"My parents are back in the states." Her eyes remained fixed on the snowy landscape outside their window. The Westbrook's remained in London for a year after her stepfather's post at Ambassador to the United Kingdom over.
Rick stiffened involuntarily his eyes finding the little nook where the letter lay. "How do you know?"
"I saw some pictures of them at some state dinner thing," she said softly as she played with her hands. He knew there was more, "And…James called while you were out yesterday. He wants us to put all this behind us, but I know her. I don't think we can."
"Are they living in D.C?"
She shrugged. "I didn't ask."
"We can go see them," he offered. "Maybe we should put this behind us. André should know his grandparents."
She seemed to consider it for a while, but ultimately shook her head in the negative. "No. I'm done begging for forgiveness. He doesn't need them and we don't need them." She finally met his eyes and her voice was steady when she spoke. "All I need is you and our boys. Our family."
His wife was a conflicted woman. He knew she battled heavily with guilt.
"If you ever change your mind…"
"I won't," she declared. "I'm right where I'm supposed to be."
"They wrote to you," he said. "There's a gift for André too."
"I don't want to deal with that now," she sighed. "I'm exhausted."
"And you've been sick for a while too."
"Yeah, I think I need to just…" she trailed off, her body stiffening as realization overtook her. "Wow, I'm an idiot."
"What?"
She shook her head, slipping out of his arms as she recounted her symptoms in her head: fatigue, nausea, vomiting and tender breasts she had attributed to a probable upcoming period. "I don't think I'm sick. Maybe I was at some point, but I doubt I still am."
"I'm lost."
She ambled over to the couch, plopping down with a sigh. "We might be welcoming a new little Grimes soon."
It took a few beats before Rick connected the dots. "You're pregnant?"
"Possibly. Most likely."
His eyes were bright with happiness and she tiredly returned his smile. "We need pregnancy tests." He darted toward the shoe cupboard in search of shoes. "There's a pharmacy in walking distance. Another baby!"
As Rick pulled on his jacket and shoes, excitement buzzing in the air, she thought back to the first time she used one of those little tests. She was eighteen years old, in an unfamiliar country, at a time she had no idea what to make of what was happening. She kept it to herself at first, and when she shared the news with Rick, their emotions were a mixture of mutual happiness and fear. Those emotions did not last, as it ended in her long journey back to her family in England sans Rick.
With her first pregnancy, she never got the chance to experience a swollen stomach or the fluttering of her moving baby as she did when she was pregnant with André three years later. She lost her first baby before she even had the opportunity to find out if she was carrying a boy or a girl and it felt like she lost a part of herself forever.
She spent months crying over her baby and Rick, who she pushed away when she refused to see him when he came looking for her as promised. She did and said nothing when her family spoke down to him and threw him out after informing him there was no baby.
She placed a hand over her still flat stomach. Even without the test, she knew she was pregnant.
"Mommy?" André stood outside her and Rick's bedroom rubbing his eyes.
"Hi baby," she smiled at her baby boy who was delivered prematurely three years after his unborn sibling. "Feeling better?"
"Uh huh." He shuffled over to her climbing unto the couch and settling in. "I'm hungry."
"So am I. We missed breakfast," she said. She didn't feel like having anything elaborate though. "How about I whip us up some sandwiches? Did Carl go back to sleep?"
André shook his head. "No, he's watching TV. Where's Daddy?"
"He went to the store," she said. "Go ask your brother if he wants to eat."
"CARL! YOU WANT SANDWICH?" André yelled.
"Thanks André," she said dryly. "I meant for you to go into the room and ask him though."
"Oh," His dark brown eyes, which were almost identical to hers, widened as he nodded in understanding. "You're welcome Mommy."
"Why are you yelling?" Carl asked as he emerged from the bedroom rubbing his eyes. His skin was still paler than usual and his nose was bright red, but like his brother, he appeared to be much better than the previous day and the day before that.
"You want a sandwich?" Michonne asked.
"Sure. I'm starving." He let out a series of dry coughs and she could hear the mucous collecting at the back of his throat. He quickly shuffled out of the room, presumably to the bathroom to get rid of the mucus.
Michonne worked quietly thinking of their new addition as the boys settled in the small living room disagreeing about something or the other. She smiled as she watched Carl using hand gestures similar to her own as he explained his role in the family chain of command to his younger brother.
Carl was her son in every sense except biology. When she first laid eyes on the two-year-old cherub with Rick's eyes and features, she knew he was hers in every way that mattered. His presence in her life was a blessing and he was instrumental in bridging the gap that had grown between her and Rick during their two years apart.
Carl was now at an age where he would surely begin to notice the differences in physical characteristics within their family. While Carl was a dead ringer for his father, the only characteristics he shared with Michonne were quirky personality traits. André was a distinct blend of both of their parents, right down to his golden-brown skin.
"Can we finish decorating the tree?" Carl asked. "Christmas is tomorrow."
"Of course, we can. We can't have a partially decorated tree on Christmas. We're not complete slackers." This year, they were a bit behind on all their household holiday festivities. Usually, decorating would have been finished at least a week prior.
"And we have to open one present tonight," Carl said, reminding her of their Christmas Eve tradition.
"One present," she stressed, making sure they knew their limit. She and Rick would have to finish wrapping the gifts once the boys went to bed.
"Can we pick?"
"That's not tradition."
"Well then I think I know what it'll be."
"Don't be so sure," she sang, as she sliced the crust off of André's sandwich.
Rick returned to find his boys and his wife scarfing down their lunch while watching Christmas themed cartoons. "I'm back."
"Daddy's back!" André cheered.
"What did ya buy?" Carl asked peering at the bag in his hand. "Is it a present?"
"Reindeer food to go along with the cookies for Santa," Rick said smoothly, already expecting that line of questioning.
Michonne groaned internally at how late it had gotten with her and the kids simultaneous sickness. They only had a few hours to pack in all their Christmas eve traditions which included baking, making reindeer food, and watching a Christmas movie.
"We don't have a chimney," Carl pointed out as he noisily blew his nose into a napkin. He never did buy into the Santa thing. Mostly because Michonne wasn't particularly fond of that particular tradition and didn't promote his existence as much as Rick did.
"That's where Santa's key comes in."
"What's Santa's key?" André asked, his eyes wide with wonder.
"Well," Rick said putting away the bag and approaching the three most important people in the world to her. "Not all families have chimneys in their homes, so he needs some other way to get inside. So, we're gonna leave a key for him to get in."
"Oh," André said as if it made all the sense in the world.
"Good to see y'all out of bed."
"We're finally feeling up to eating," Michonne said.
"My head still feels like it has rocks," Carl sniffled.
"It's a good thing I got you some more medicine then." He rested the back of his hand against Carl's forehead. "You're still a little warm."
André stuck out his tongue in disgust at the memory of the awful liquid his father made him drink, the day prior. "Yuck!"
"So, am I leading the baking spree today?" Rick asked looking at an apologetic Michonne.
With Carl still having a more pronounced case of the cough and sniffles, Rick and André took the lead in the kitchen, with the boy wanting an active hand in every step of the baking process. In the meantime, Michonne and Carl went to work adding the last of the ornaments to the tree, with the exception of the tree topper.
Rick would occasionally call to Michonne for reassurance that they were not completely ruining the holiday cookies. She did after all, teach him most of what he knew.
"Cookies and the cake are in the oven," Rick said as he and André rejoined Carl and Michonne in front of the small tree. "The tree is coming along good."
"I get to put the star on top, right Mommy?" André asked.
"You and your brother can do it together."
"I don't mind if he does it, Mom," Carl graciously offered.
She hugged him to her, placing a kiss on his forehead. At only eight years old he was such a thoughtful boy and a wonderful big brother to André. She knew this would continue with the arrival of their new sibling. While she was sure Carl would take it well, she worried about André who was so used to being the baby of the family.
Would he see a new baby as competition? She'd have to do well to keep her more sensitive son make a smooth transition into olderbrotherhood.
Once the family was finished with the tree, they moved onto their next art project: Decorating the Santa key.
"What if somebody who is not Santa gets the key?" Carl asked when thy finished.
"That's why we wrote his name on it," Michonne pointed out, playing along.
"Mommy?" André asked, the familiar look of curiosity on his face.
"Yeah sweetie?"
"When I grow up, I want to be an elf," he proclaimed, adding to his ever-changing career goals of his five-year old self. "And live in the North Pole."
"Really?" She exchanged an amused glance with Rick. "You'd move so far away from Mommy, Daddy and Carl?"
"You can come visit," he said as if the solution was obvious.
During the early evening, they settled in the living room, where Michonne presented everyone with one wrapped gift each. As with the previous year, it was matching fuzzy Grimes family pajamas, which she promptly instructed them to change into.
Rick chuckled to himself as he stared at his reflection in their bedroom mirror. Eight years ago, he would never have expected to be here. He was moving aimlessly through life trying to find himself, when his wife, quite literally jumped into his sight and changed his life forever. Although some might say the change in hers was more profound, as she was so removed from her old life.
Over the years, they learned from each other. She learned how to be carefree without fear of being herself and he learned to take responsibility for his actions, go after what he wanted in life and quit smoking. They were a perfect balance for each other.
The four resettled in front of the television for a Christmas-themed family movie. After some debate, they decided on The Nightmare Before Christmas over Home Alone 2. The children were more lethargic than previous years, but they were managing to still have an exciting holiday.
"Can we stay up until twelve to open our gifts?" Carl asked hopefully, after the movie was over.
"Twelve noon tomorrow?" Michonne asked in mock surprise, knowing he meant midnight. "Why not the crack of dawn?"
"No, the earlier twelve Mom. Midnight."
"Then you'll be tired all through Christmas," Rick pointed out. "And you won't enjoy it. So, you two have to go to bed, okay? The two of you are still recovering from being sick. We'll read you the story. Come on."
They led the boys to the slightly larger second bedroom. "In you go," Rick lifted André and then Carl into their individual beds as Michonne settled in a chair with A Visit from St. Nicholas.
"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…"
"They're definitely out cold," Rick said rejoining her in the living room where she had begun to wrap the last of the gifts. He popped one of Santa's cookies in his mouth before picking up a stray toy.
Michonne carefully added a final piece of tape to the oddly shaped gift she was wrapping. "Santa gets way too much credit. This takes skill, you know."
"They'll be even more appreciative once they're older. I kind of did, even though I gave my parents a hard time about lying to me."
"So, you believed?"
"Doesn't everybody, at that age?"
"Not me." She shook her head. "My mother didn't even mention him and she always gave the impression that he wasn't real. Plus, it wasn't like I was getting presents from unknown sources so…"
"Do you think they believe it?"
"André maybe, but definitely not Carl," she laughed. "I hope their cold and fever are completely gone by tomorrow. I hate seeing my babies sick even more than I hate being sick."
"Speaking of babies." He looked pointedly at her. "We have a few things to attend to."
"I've been thinking about it all day," she admitted with a small smile, her dark eyes shimmering in the dim light. "And even though it was eight years ago, I've been thinking about our first baby and what he or she would be like. It still hurts at times."
"I think about her too." He had convinced himself that their first child was a girl. Attributing characteristics to the child they never met made it feel more real and thus, easier to grieve. "What I put the two of you through wasn't fair."
"It wasn't your fault." Her voice was thick with emotion, gift wrapping momentarily forgotten.
"I made you go." He took her hand in his. "No matter what happens, I'm never letting go of you ever again."
"Good."
"So, you ready to take this test and find out for sure?"
She blew out a breath, surprised at the nervousness that filed her. They hadn't been actively trying for a child, but it was a welcome addition.
"It wasn't your fault either," he reminded her.
"I know." She carefully placed one of Carl's gifts under the tree. "That reindeer food thing was really smart though," she said, mentioning his distraction for the inquisitive children. Although she seriously doubted they would even know what a pregnancy test is, so it wasn't one that was extremely necessary.
Rick shrugged as he got up to retrieve the tests. "I was planning to do that regardless."
"Let's do this." She grabbed the test from his outstretched hand, making her way to the bathroom in their bedroom. Rick entered after her, as she was waiting for the little red lines to show up on the test.
"Pregnant." She breathed, a breathtaking smile spreading across her face. "Merry Christmas baby."
He took the stick out of her hand, placing it on the counter behind them before pulling her flush against his body, kissing her passionately. His hand slipped under her shirt and he splayed his large palm against her still flat stomach.
"I love you so much, Tipsy." It was thrilling to know that a little piece of them — a perfect blend of the two — laid beneath the palm of his hand. The two of them made another life. "This one's a girl."
"I wouldn't mind another girl around here," she said thoughtfully. "guess this is our early Christmas gift."
He hoisted one of her legs around his waist, resting her body against the door of the cramped bathroom. He held her for a moment, simply staring into her eyes with an intensity that made her quiver.
"I love you, Tipsy," he whispered as he rid her of her pajama bottoms and top, his own pants following quickly after, falling into a sloppy pile on the floor. He didn't bother removing her panties, simply pushing them aside as he plunged in, a soft moan of ecstasy leaving her lips.
He started to move, pushing her harder against the door and held on to her thighs, pulling both her legs around him as he started to pump deeply into her. The walls were extremely thin and they did their best to keep the noise down, on a night where the kids would be especially light sleepers.
They moved in rhythmic harmony, his eyes focused on hers as she stared back in an almost trancelike state, their eye contact never breaking. He felt her tightening around him as his orgasm approached and he reached down to make sure to get her there with or before him.
"Oh god," she sighed breathlessly, before letting out a familiar cry that Rick enjoyed hearing above all else. The thrusting of their hips quickened and he felt her coming undone around him and he quickly followed after.
They remained in position, clinging to each other, her legs tight around his waist after it was over. She rested her head against his shoulder as tears of happiness spilled from her eyes as she caught her breath. "I love you so much."
He kissed her forehead, rubbing circles on her thigh with his thumb. "You and me. Always."
They took some time before they were finally able to physically move to their bedroom where Michonne promptly fell into blissful slumber, leaving Rick to finish wrapping the remainder of the gifts.
On Christmas morning, the sound of pattering feet, boyish squeals, and small knuckles against their bedroom door woke Rick and Michonne from their slumber. "It's way too early," she groaned, regretting being up so late, knowing she'd be awaken at the crack of dawn.
"Mommy! Daddy! Wake up!"
"I'll get them settled," Rick mumbled in a sleepy haze. "Stay here and sleep some more. We were up pretty late."
"No use," Michonne yawned as he opened the door and the boys bounded inside.
"We have to open our presents."
"Merry Christmas to you too," Rick said crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorjamb.
"Merry Christmas," the boys repeated apologetically in unison.
As his family gathered around the Christmas tree exchanging gifts, Rick felt a swell of emotion at how well life for him was turning out to be. They dealt with a miscarriage, two years of separation, a surprise baby, and a falling out with family, before they were finally together.
He wouldn't change a thing. Their turbulent past was what shaped an strengthened them.
He remembered the night he realized his love for her— although it would be weeks after before he admitted it aloud.
He had found her standing outside his small apartment in the dark of the night with fresh tear streaks on her beautiful face. It was a night that would change their lives forever. In the eyes of the world, she simply vanished that night, leaving behind vague memories of her past self.
Rick watched her as she accepted a haphazardly wrapped gift from their youngest child, admiring the woman he married and feeling especially thankful for the priceless gift they already gave each other.
They grew together and their life was a testament that they'd follow each other anywhere.
Merry Christmas! Review and let me know your thoughts.