Michonne didn't need to look down at the plastic stick in her hand to know what it was going to say. Two lines for positive, one for negative. It was going to have two lines. There wasn't a doubt in her mind. Periods weren't two weeks late for no reason, no one felt nauseous for three days straight without a good cause. And Michonne knew her body. Sleeping at all hours of the day wasn't normal, she wasn't supposed to feel tired all the way down to her bones from simply grocery shopping. It didn't take a genius a figure it out. Even the pregnancy test in her hand seemed to have came to the same conclusion rather quickly, despite the directions on the box telling her it could take up to fifteen minutes for the results to show.
She looked down, seen the two lines that confirmed her worst fears, felt her stomach drop at the sight.
Even if she'd known what it was going to say, it still didn't make the news any easier to swallow. A small part of her had prayed she was wrong, had almost felt like she was over reacting when she'd decided to finally grab a First Response off the shelf at the store.
But if she'd needed any more proof than the long list of symptoms she'd already recognized, it was staring her in the face now in the shape of two lines, lines that were so dark that there was no doubting their accuracy.
"How's it going in there?"
Her friend's voice coming through the door pulled Michonne out of her thoughts, finally setting down the pregnancy test on the counter, taking a deep breath as she opened the bathroom to see Andrea's worried face.
"Come see for yourself."
She cracked the door more allowing Andrea completely inside the small space, watched as she stared down at the stick that Michonne had just held, seen Andrea's forehead wrinkle in concern.
"You gonna tell him?" Andrea asked, her blue eyes staring into Michonne's with nothing but pity.
"What else would you suggest? Walk around for nine months and tell him it's a pillow under my shirt? Rick's gonna figure it out."
Andrea didn't look amused by Michonne's sass, but Michonne couldn't find it in herself to care in that moment. Her world had officially tilted on it's axis. At least she could be allowed her normal sarcasm.
"I mean, are you gonna tell him...like, now?"
Michonne had suspected she was pregnant for a few days, but not once in those few days had she'd considered how she'd tell Rick. How do you tell your best friend that he accidentally got you pregnant from one a night stand? One that neither of you could even remember very well because you were both black out drunk. That one night of idiotic drinking while his son was out of town had led to something far more life changing than a hangover?
It wasn't supposed to happen to her and Rick. Nothing was ever supposed to happen between her Rick.
Rick was her friend. The one man in her life she could count on. One of the few people she trusted, period. She didn't even really see him that way. Rick Grimes with the bow-legged walk and the strong southern drawl? No thanks. He didn't even have a penis as far as she was concerned, no offense to him. And the idea that at some point he'd been inside of her made her cheeks blush just thinking about it. Knowing that they'd somehow created a life together was too hard to wrap her head around, why she'd waited so long to pee on a stick.
"Well, at least you already know he's a good father." Andrea joked, clearly trying to make Michonne feel better.
And it wasn't that Michonne felt terrible, just scared. Scared that a baby would change things. Knowing that a baby would change things.
"He's a good father to a teenager. That doesn't mean he wants a newborn."
Michonne watched as Andrea stubbornly shook her head, clearly about to enlighten her to something. Or at least attempt to.
"Give him time. Give yourself time. The question is, do you want a newborn?"
And this was the part of the conversation she'd been dreading. The self reflection. Did she want a newborn? The answer was yes, Michonne knew that. How long had she struggled to get pregnant with Mike? And how terrible had it felt when she'd finally miscarried that baby, only to have the bastard leave a few weeks later? The thing was, she'd missed the baby more than she'd ever missed the man. How could she miss a man that had never once tried to comfort her after that loss, had never once understood how much it'd meant to her?
But Rick was different, Michonne knew that. He understood, it was probably why they'd bonded so quickly when she'd moved in next door to him and Carl.
He'd been reserved at first, but so had she. And maybe opposites did attract, but so did two people that had so much in common that they could recognize it almost upon first glance. From the first guarded conversation they'd ever had when he'd helped her roll her trash cans to the curb.
They'd both been burned by life. Her by Mike and Rick by his ex-wife who'd slept with his best friend, a story Michonne had slowly gathered the details of from bits and pieces of clipped conversation. Clipped conversation that had slowly evolved into a friendship like nothing she'd ever really had before. But who better to trust than a person that was just as cautious as you?
"Hey, I asked a question." Andrea spoke again, snapping her fingers in front Michonne's face. "Do you want a newborn?"
She asked it so bluntly, Michonne knew what her friend was getting at. It was the reason for their budding friendship, their shared love of harsh honesty.
"There are options you know."
Michonne just shook her head, not even wanting to consider those options for a second. She had a baby. No matter how Rick reacted, no matter what it changed, she surely wasn't going to get rid of something she'd tried so hard for in the past. Something she still wanted, even if it came unexpectedly.
"I'm aware of the options. Not interested."
"Suit yourself. Your life, your baby. Well, and Rick's baby."
Andrea's attempt at humor was much needed, finally making a smile form on Michonne's lips.
And it was Rick's baby. Michonne was positive of that. She surely hadn't slept with anyone else, not in a long time anyway. It was almost funny that the one time she'd finally crawled into bed with someone, she couldn't even remember it. She had a baby that she didn't remember making. Other than a few scraps of information. She could recall ending up in his bedroom, remembered unbuttoning his shirt. Couldn't quite place what they'd been talking about, what had led to it. If she thought really hard, she could pull up how his beard how felt against her face, how clumsy his own intoxicated actions had been.
She did remember the morning after though. Waking up and sneaking out of Rick's bed before his eyelids even opened. Getting dressed while refusing to glance in his direction, afraid she'd see parts of him she'd rather not see.
Michonne would've been happy to never mention it again, to pretend it'd never happened. But in true Rick fashion, always the gentlemen, a few days later while they'd been standing in his backyard grilling steaks, he'd finally brought it up, clearly feeling more awkward about what had happened than she had. Of course he'd phrased the question perfectly, had asked Michonne if she needed to talk about it. But she knew the truth, that Rick needed to talk about it. That he was the one that needed to make sure it wasn't going to effect their relationship.
She could still remember the quiet acceptance on his face when she'd brushed the entire thing under the rug, telling him it'd been an intoxicated mistake, that she'd rather stick her head in an oven than ever talk about it again. And she hadn't asked his opinion either. Rick valued their friendship as much as she did, and Michonne had known he'd simply been trying to acknowledge the elephant room, to make sure their mistake wasn't going to change things. And with her answer, he'd finally smiled and went back to flipping their steaks, at ease in her presence once more.
But now the shoe was on the other foot. Now it was Michonne's turn to hunt him down and bring up what had transpired once again. And she had a funny feeling this time after speaking her peace, Rick wasn't going to smile, was going to be anything but at ease.
It wasn't until after seeing Andrea out the door with promises to update her later that Michonne's brave resolve started to crack. The reality sinking in as just another wave of fatigue was washing over her, reminding her how very real the life growing inside of her already was. A baby that was half Rick, a small piece of him that would forever be a part of her life. Was she ready for that type of commitment? Better yet, was he? How was he going to feel that they'd managed to create a bond that would last until they both took their last breaths?
There was only one way to find out, to tell him. And Michonne had never been one to shy from fear, if anything she'd always looked it dead straight in the face. Just like she was going to do to Rick, look him straight in the eye and break the news, already knew he'd tilt his head in confusion like he always did, that his jaws would clench until his mind worked out what he wanted to say.
Looking out the window, she checked for his police cruiser, seen it parked in the driveway next door, telling her that he was home for the day. A part of her had wished he'd had a late call, anything to allow her to put off the conversation that needed to happen. But clearly, it was meant to be.
Finally, taking a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare herself, Michonne stepped outside closing her own front door behind herself and made the small walk over to his house. She stopped on the doorstep for a moment, wondering if she should give the usual knock before barging in like she always did. Everything felt so different now, at least to her. But she remembered that the two Grimes boys inside had no idea of the changes to come, and she didn't want to alert them. Not yet.
So she did what had come to be expected of her, gave the door a few firm beats with her knuckles to announce her presence before walking straight in.
And when she seen only Carl, sitting alone at the kitchen table doing his homework, she breathed a silent sigh of relief. Carl she could handle just fine.
"Dinner's not done yet." He told her, looking up from the books on the table, a teasing smile on his face.
"I don't always come for food."
It normally would've been a lie, but not anymore. Just the idea of eating now made her stomach turn, her nostrils filling with smells that weren't even there. Another symptom. Another reminder of why she was there. But if Rick wasn't in the room, she could push it away a little bit longer, put her attention on Carl, fall back into their normal routine.
"So what evil teacher gave you homework on the last week of school?" She asked, genuinely curious.
Michonne was done with the school year, hadn't given her students homework for two weeks. But she had to remind herself that Carl was in high school now, next year he'd be a sophomore. Much more sophisticated than her first graders.
"All of them. But it's okay, I'm almost done. Wanna finish for me?"
She looked down at the sneaky look on his face, just shook her head at his question. But she had to give the kid credit for trying.
"Fine. Want to help at least?" Carl asked accepting defeat.
Michonne knew Carl probably didn't really need her help, just wanted her attention. Not that she minded. He was a loving kid, even if he didn't realize it. Sure, his parents divorce had effected him, but he was managing okay. Always had a friendly smile for her, sometimes talked to her so much that Michonne wasn't sure who she was closer to. Rick or his son.
And as she sat at the kitchen table trying to answer his questions, her mind wandered easily given the circumstances.
How would this baby effect Carl?
Rick was as close to being a single working father as possible, without actually being one. Lori was still in Carl's life, but Michonne could tell he preferred his dad. That he only visited Lori in Atlanta when absolutely necessary. Eventually he'd get over the anger he had for his mother, Michonne knew that. But would he ever get over the anger of having to share his father's attention with a new baby?
Her gut told her yes, but the small insecure part of her that she didn't even like to admit to having made her worry.
There was no doubt Carl was capable of being an amazing big brother. But Michonne had never once for a minute thought she'd take part in turning him into one. And it would come as much of a shock to him as it had to her.
"Where's your dad at?" She finally asked, her nerves building again. Knowing the only way to make anxiety go away was to just do what needed to be done.
"He's in the shower. Probably done by now."
Michonne nodded standing up, felt her muscles tensing at what she was about do.
"Stay here, alright? I gotta talk to him for a second."
If Carl noticed anything odd, he didn't say anything. Just gave her a shrug as he continued writing down his answers, clearly more concerned with getting his homework done than worrying about what Michonne wanted his dad for.
She pushed her chair in, took another deep breath, rolled her shoulders to work away some of tension. It was now or never, and never wasn't an option.
By the time she walked up the stairs, the bathroom door was wide open, steam rolling out of it, Rick nowhere in sight. But she knew where he was. The last place she'd wanted to have this conversation, his bedroom. The same place everything had unfolded, the room that was responsible for putting her in such a position. But it almost seemed fitting. To break the news while sitting on the very same bed that had started it all.
Another deep breath. Another nervous knock on a door, a door she wouldn't dare barge into.
"Come in." Rick answered from the other side, his voice that of a man that was just going about his day. Of a man who didn't know the bomb awaiting him when she opened it.
"It's me." She told him, letting him know it wasn't Carl, that he needed to get dressed first.
She heard a few dresser drawers open and close, heard some shuffling as he put some clothes on. Tried not to imagine him standing there shirtless, debating between a plain white t-shirt or a plaid button up.
"Alright, now you can come in."
His voice was full of laughter and when she finally walked in, a playful smile was on his face. It was a smile that most people didn't get to see, one he saved for her and Carl, the people who knew him best. To everyone else he was Rick Grimes, the slightly bitter man who's wife had left him for his best friend.
And she almost felt guilty for what she was about to do, almost backed out as she closed the door behind herself, finally having worked up the courage to come completely inside.
"You came all the way up here for me to tell you dinner's not done yet?" He asked, still standing in front of his dresser, putting his watch back on his arm.
Michonne felt herself smile despite her nerves, shooting him an evil glare for the comment.
"It's not always about the food."
"Fair enough. You can't be here looking for Carl though, so what else could it be?"
It was a running joke and Michonne wasn't even sure why they still pretended that the only reason for their friendship was because of food and Carl anymore. They both knew the truth, even if they didn't want to admit it. But that was them, she figured. The way it'd always been. Even if it was about to change.
"I'm looking for you, believe it or not."
"Garbage disposal broke again?"
That time she did laugh, actually tried to hold it back for Rick's sake. The memory of him under her kitchen sink would be forever etched into her mind. How only his body had been visible from his position on the floor between her cabinets. She'd never been able to see his face, but she'd heard the curse words loud and clear as water had spewed out everywhere, creating a mess far worse than what she'd started out with.
"Even if it was, you wouldn't touch it again. You were supposed to fix it. Not flood my kitchen."
"Alright, what is it then?"
She met his blue eyes, knew it was probably the last time they'd be looking at her without a worry for a very long time.
"Maybe you should sit down for this."
He was still clueless, still thought she was stringing him along for some form the ball busting that usually came. It wasn't until he sat down on his bed, always one to happily follow her commands, and looked up at her that she seen his expression finally change. From blissful ignorance to immediate worry, an expression that matched her own.