Chapter Three
"And Baby Makes Five"
The chilly air of the doctor's office was made ice cold by the silence Rick and Michonne sat in. Michonne racked her brain for something clever to say, to break the tension-filled quiet. She would glance at the man sitting at her side, in front of the doctor's desk, and every time, she'd find him either crossing and uncrossing his arms or scratching at his scruff. "Rick." She reached over to squeeze his jittery knee. "Relax, baby."
Rick let out a long breath that ended in a face-splitting smile. "I just wanna know." He looked like a kid on Christmas morning waiting to open their present.
Michonne shook her head, smiling back at him.
Shifting in his seat to face her, Rick took and held the hand she had on his knee. "How'd you find out you were pregnant with RJ?" he asked, softly.
"Uh—whoo," she blew out. "After the bridge... it was rough going for a while. Most days I couldn't get out of bed. So, when I missed my period I just chalked it up to stress."
Rick gave a slight nod, listening intently.
"I started getting sick, but I didn't immediately think... pregnant. With you not there it didn't even cross my mind. But I remembered that when I was pregnant with Andre, I got really sick in the beginning. And it was the same kind of sickness. One day I was lying in bed and it just... clicked. I took a pregnancy test the next day. God... I was so angry at you. Knocking me up and leaving me," she joked, hoping he wouldn't take it to heart. Hoping they were getting to a place where everything that had happened was losing its grip on them.
He gave her a small smile.
"But the moment I met RJ, I was immediately thankful you left me with a piece of you."
He kissed the back of her hand. "How was the delivery?"
"Hard," she said, honestly. "Eighteen hours."
"Eighteen?!"
"See... stubborn." She laughed. "He did not wanna come out... but Rosita was there. She stayed with me the entire time, and others would pop in here and there to sit with me too—check if I needed anything. They surrounded me. Us."
"I'm grateful."
"But, when it hurt the most. When I thought I couldn't do it, I'd close my eyes and see you, looking back at me. I imagined you were there holding my hand and telling me to keep going, that I could do it. That's what got me through the most."
Rick pressed a soft kiss on her lips and only pulled away at the sound of two knocks on the door, right before it opened.
In rushed a wisp of a woman in scrubs and a lab coat. Dr. Clayborne, who'd drawn Michonne's blood two days before, had her graying brown hair thrown up in a messy bun held together by a pencil. She was disheveled, in an oddly classy way.
Dr. Clayborne dropped the stack of medical files in her arms onto her desk, plopped into her chair, and sighed. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. and Mrs. Grimes. Lots of babies being born these days makes me a busy bee."
"No problem," Rick said.
And at the same time, Michonne said, "We understand," as she sat up straighter.
"Well," Dr. Clayborne clasped her hands and leaned on her desk. "It seems we're gonna be seeing a lot of each other for the next nine months..." She let her words float into silence and with a bright smile her eyes darted between Rick and Michonne, who waited for the punchline.
Does that mean... Michonne glanced at Rick, whose narrowed gaze was trained squarely on Dr. Clayborne.
"You are most definitely pregnant, my dear," Dr. Clayborne said.
"I'm... pregnant?" Michonne stuttered, desperate to hear the words again.
"You're pregnant." Dr. Clayborne's eyes shifted to Rick. "You okay, Dad?"
Rick stared at the desk, with red-rimmed eyes, in shock. A tear spilled over and down his cheek.
Michonne stretched her arms out, to drape them around his shoulders. Her lips were close to his ears when she whispered, "You can smile."
Rick's hand lifted to rest on her arm. He nodded, tentatively, and turned to face her. Bless his heart, Michonne didn't think he could have smiled if he'd tried. The emotion on his face seemed far too overwhelming. Instead, he closed the small distance between them and kissed her deeply. So deeply, she lost all awareness of her surroundings, until she heard an "ahem" from the doctor.
Rick and Michonne separated, choking out tearful apologies as they cleaned their faces and faced her.
"No problem. There will be time for that later," Dr. Clayborne said, giving them an amused look of understanding. "But there are a few things we need to go over." Dr. Clayborne picked up a file from the pile and opened it up. "Okay, so I see no concern in the results from your exam and your blood work, Mrs. Grimes. I know you were worried about the long-term effects of the gas you were exposed to."
Michonne nodded, still cleaning up her face.
"Your lung function doesn't seem to have suffered. So that's great. We'll continue to monitor you in that respect, but I feel confident we should see no lasting effects."
Rick tightened his grip on her hand, as she breathed an inward sigh of relief.
"But, as it concerns this pregnancy, it's what I'd categorize as high risk."
"High risk?" Rick and Michonne ask in unison, with identical tenors of worry.
"No need for alarm. But, Mrs. Grimes, you are of advanced maternal age," Dr. Clayborne said carefully.
Michonne tilted her head. "You calling me old?" she asked, with a hint of humor.
"No—no. I would never say such a thing," Dr. Clayborne laughed. "Besides, if you're old, what am I, a fossil? No, we generally put any mother-to-be over thirty-five in that category."
"What does that mean?" Rick choked out.
"There's a higher chance for complications. Such as preterm labor, and gestational diabetes or hypertension, to name a few. I'm not trying to scare you—just keeping you informed. But rest assured that we'll do everything to reduce those risks. This means I'll need to see the two of you a bit more often. And for you..." she said directly to Michonne. "That means taking it easy for the duration of this pregnancy. No stress. Listen to your body and immediately make me aware of anything that seems off. Even the slightest thing, I don't care how small the concern is. You let me know."
Dr. Clayborne's face was serious and sincere in a way Michonne couldn't quantify. Sincerity was something she hadn't seen in the face of the man who'd delivered Andre. Her first pregnancy had been difficult. She'd been sick the entire time. When one of her legs had begun swelling, her instincts had told her something was off. But with no frame of reference of what was normal, she'd sought answers from her doctor, who'd dismissed it as just part of pregnancy. Had it not been for her mother, who'd demanded her doctor do an ultrasound to make sure nothing was wrong, they might not have caught the blood clots before they'd broken off and spread through to her heart or lungs.
"Thank you," Michonne said.
Dr. Clayborne pulled a pad from her coat pocket and scribbled something on it. "This is a prescription for prenatal vitamins. Stop over at the pharmacy on the first floor and they will fill it for you." She ripped it off and handed it over to Michonne. "You two have any questions?"
"A due date?" Rick was quick to ask.
"Yes, next week we'll do some measurements and get an answer for you."
Rick and Michonne stood in an out-of-the-way spot at the side of the Hospital building, just shy of the sun's glare. He pressed their bodies closer together, quietly rubbing his hand over Michonne's back, with his face buried in her neck. They'd been that way since they'd stepped outside fifteen minutes ago; nothing had been said as they'd walked hand in hand out of the building and instinctively melted into each other's arms the moment they were alone. He didn't want to let her go and wasn't sure he'd be able to focus the rest of the day with this news at the forefront of his mind.
Rick had taken to heart her words in that apartment: we love on each other as hard as we can. They'd done that all the way home, every day since, and with no care or worry for the consequences. So, he hadn't been as shocked as he'd been filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude when Dr. Clayborne had delivered the news.
Just weeks ago, when Rick had been walking alone, resigned to the fact he'd never see his wife again, it hadn't even been in the realm of possibility for him to be sitting in that doctor's office beside Michonne. No one, not Dr. Clayborne or even Michonne, could ever understand how much it meant to Rick to be there to hear those words: you're pregnant.
Goddamn! He was overjoyed.
Michonne sighed. "We need to get to work." She leaned back and set her hands at the sides of his face, wiping the residue from the wetness that had stained his cheeks.
"We could... take the morning. Go home and celebrate," he said, with a suggestive tone.
"As much as I'd love that. And I really would... But, Yumiko's giving me my first case today. And you have just as big a day, right?"
He groaned. "Yeah..." In all the excitement, he'd almost forgotten the new Major General of the Civic Republic Military was flying in. Not that it changed a thing; he'd much rather spend the morning wrapped around his wife. My pregnant wife. He smiled at the thought. "We gonna tell the kids tonight?" He could already picture RJ and Judith's faces hearing that they had a little brother or sister on the way.
Michonne's hands dropped from his face and encircled his neck. "It's still early. We should wait a few weeks. Make sure we're in the clear."
"I'll follow your lead."
"His name is Collin Carter." Yumiko handed Michonne a file across her desk.
Michonne flipped it open. Inside was a prisoner report, with a small photo of a teenage boy, clipped to the right corner. The kid looked about thirteen. Michonne scanned the file, she was right. It stated he was an eighth-grader at the Academy.
"Two weeks ago, Collin murdered his father in cold blood," said Yumiko.
Michonne's eyes flicked up from the file.
"Shot him while he slept. His mother was the one who radioed authorities. Collin was brought in without incident. At his plea hearing, he pleaded guilty."
"And it wasn't self-defense?"
"He says no."
"What was the motive?"
"Judge Velasquez grilled him at the plea hearing. He said there was no reason, that he just didn't like the guy. He showed no remorse and she had no choice but to convict."
Michonne shut the file and set it on Yumiko's desk. "Case closed then."
"It should be. But..." Yumiko shifted in her seat and momentarily glanced away from Michonne. "I've asked Judge Velasquez to delay sentencing, so I could have time to look into it. She said that if I could find evidence and get him to withdraw his plea, she'd overturn the conviction and take it to trial. So maybe he can get a lesser sentence."
"The facts seem pretty clear."
"But the motive, that part's still murky."
"Oh, Yumiko. Come on." They were lawyers. The basis of their job was not feelings and emotions. It was fact—cold, hard truth. And the truth of this case was too plainly laid out for her to try and misconstrue it as something different.
"I know, I know. But the kid's a straight 'A' student. Principal Steinburg said he's never had a disciplinary complaint or act against him. He works at the market on the weekends. And volunteers with the elderly for Christ's sake—"
"That's all very nice, but a track record of good deeds doesn't make up a substantial enough defense. How many people have you defended without a record, whose friends and family spoke highly of them? Who just—out of nowhere—snapped. I mean, there was a whole damn show about it, before. If he'd do that to his father, he'd have no trouble doing that to anyone else in this place."
"And I'm not refuting any of that. But there is something more going on here, I can feel it."
"You can feel it?" Michonne said, dubious.
"Yes!" Yumiko sighed. "And I've gone to that prison every day for the past week, but Collin refuses to speak to me, or anyone else. He refuses to let me represent him." She pointed at Michonne. "That's where you come in."
"You think he'll talk to me?"
"What I think is that you're a mother."
"Here I'm a lawyer."
"But you have those instincts and better insights in that regard. I'd just like for you to talk to him. See if you see what I see. Or if you can break through with him."
Michonne sighed. "I thought you were giving me an actual case."
"If what I suspect is true, then I am... The minimum sentence for first-degree murder here is life in prison." Yumiko's eyes bore into Michonne. "We need to be certain this is as cut and dry as it looks before we put this child behind bars for the rest of his life."
"He did this Yumiko. We know that."
"But the reason matters. And I don't believe it was for nothing."
At that moment, Michonne wished she would have taken Rick up on his offer, and that she was lying in bed right now basking in the good news they'd just gotten, not being guilted into talking to some twisted kid Yumiko had a hunch about. How many times did this world have to prove to them that there were just some people who were beyond saving?
But she'd told Yumiko she'd give her all to every case, and due diligence was the least she could do for this one. "A conversation," she relented. "That's it."
Rick strode briskly beside Ezekiel, through the vehicle depot packed with military jeeps and transport humvees. Soldiers moved about all around, head nodding and slapping fives with Ezekiel—the Commander of their army—as they passed. Observing Ezekiel lead, with grace and informality, put Rick at ease.
"The response has been overwhelming," Ezekiel said to him. "We got over a thousand in this army, and nearly everyone signed up to be considered for your program."
"My program," he scoffed. The idea of heading up an entire flight program was daunting as hell. Yeah, he knew how to fly, and teaching people how to do it had sounded good in theory, but now... he wasn't so sure.
"It's the most exciting thing to happen here in quite some time."
"Never done anything like this before," he admitted. "Never taught anyone anything, if I'm honest."
"Don't underestimate yourself, my friend." He slapped Rick's back, then squeezed his shoulder. "You taught me a whole helluva lot. You're a natural." They stepped into an empty vehicle hangar and stopped to watch a Commonwealth Soldier guiding a slow-rolling black three-ring emblemed chopper and chinook inside. "And don't worry, you don't gotta do it all alone. I got you covered." He turned back to the planes as they parked and the doors popped open.
Rick's back straightened when CRM soldiers stepped out and years of habit had his body kicking into defense mode. His heart ticked up a few beats and the hand behind his back trembled. Rick furled it into a fist at his side and blinked a few times, pushing away flashes of memories from his not-too-far-off days in those uniforms. Of the corpsed, torched bodies of all the ones in those uniforms he'd killed.
These people aren't those people. The thought only calmed him a little, but the soldier's approaching faces, no longer cloaked by the helmets, tipped the scale. They were no longer hiding behind those helmets or the red stripes.
These people aren't those people, he thought to himself again. But shit, he couldn't let go of the worry that had nagged at him since they'd left the CR: they'd killed the ones who'd sworn on the sword, but what about the ones who hadn't needed to? Whose silent devotion to Beale may not have died with him.
"Major General Chopra!" Ezekiel parted from Rick's side to approach the white-haired Asian man, Rick had seen a time or two in passing on base. "Welcome to The Commonwealth," he said with arms spread out wide.
Major General Chopra led the pack of soldiers, with a youthful pep in his step. "It is my honor, Governor Ezekiel," he bellowed with the same enthusiasm as Ezekiel, and the remnants of an Indian accent.
Ezekiel waved him off. "Formality went the way of the old regime. Just call me Ezekiel."
"Only if you call me Dev," he said, taking Ezekiel's hand and slapping his back. "I enjoyed the view of your city. What you have here is quite impressive."
"From what I hear, you're not slumming it over there in Philly either."
"I can't wait to show you. We've got to get a visit on the books."
"Hey, I was just waiting for my invitation."
Dev let out a hardy laugh. "You are formally invited, my friend."
Ezekiel turned and waved Rick toward them. "I'd like to introduce you to—"
"Former Sergeant Major Grimes—" Dev took a few steps to meet Rick, as he approached. "Needs no introduction. He's the stuff of legends where I'm from." He held his hand out.
Rick hesitated, staring down at it for a beat before he slid his hand inside and gave the other man a slow, firm shake. He wondered where this man—the sole surviving high-ranking soldier of the Civic Republic Military—had been when the grenades and gas had gone off at Cascadia.
As if aware of Rick's thoughts, Dev said, "I'm sure you have some questions for me."
"I do."
"Ezekiel, please allow Rick and me a moment alone, before our tour commences," Dev said, keeping his eyes on Rick.
"Uh—alright..."Ezekiel said, hesitantly. "Rick?"
Rick looked away from Dev., past him, at Ezekiel.
"You good with that?"
"I'm good."
"This peace tour, it's my first time out of the Civic Republic in nearly a decade." Dev walked with his hands behind his back and his nose turned to the sky as he took in a whiff of the air that smelled of saltwater. Rick and Dev strolled alongside the lake shore, among Commonwealth Citizens out for a leisurely lunch, couples picnicking. "I can understand how you felt when you broke free."
Rick glanced sidelong at him through narrowed eyes. "I don't see how you could."
"You're right. Please forgive me. Ours are deeply polar circumstances. I didn't mean to make light." He glanced down at Rick's dangling limb. "What you went through, to get here—what you had to do, you... shouldn't have had to do it. There were many things Jonathan and I disagreed on. Free movement was only one of them. The world was never coming back that way, with us closing ourselves off. Killing everyone who wasn't us."
"With all due respect, how come you never did anything?"
Dev dropped his head and stared at the pavement a few steps. "One of my mentors once said that even inside the bravest there still lies opportunity for cowardice. All it takes is the right moment to bring it out. And I'm not proud, but the world going the way it went, happened to be my moment. I buried my head in the sand, thinking everything I did would make up for what I didn't do."
"What do you mean?"
"Jonathan gave me the option of receiving the Echelon briefing or not. Something he never did for anyone else. I think it was because he knew that telling me the secrets would mean he'd have to kill me. He didn't want to kill me, and I didn't want to die."
"Why were you the exception?"
"I was in the CIA for thirty years before the world turned. A numbers guy. Military analyst. My previous experience and intel made me a valuable, unexpendable asset to Jonathan. But I wasn't a soldier. He knew that and respected it."
"But you knew what he was doing out there, you knew."
"Yes, I had my suspicions. Like I said..." He gave a humorless chuckle. "Cowardice." He stopped them and turned to face the waters. "Doing what you and your wife did... not many among us could have done that. Even knowing what you knew, I don't think I would have made that choice." Dev stared at the low rising waves for a while, before he turned to look at Rick. "That's why it should be you, leading this army."
Rick stared at him... What?
"I was given this position because I'm what was left of the high-ranking officers, but you... you're what's left of the qualified. And I would gladly give up my position to a man more worthy of it. To you. If you'll accept."
"I can't." Rick didn't waste a single moment thinking about it. "I'm sorry, but I've finally got a taste of the life I've been fighting for since the start and I won't give that up." He'd done his part, and then some. He'd sown into the reclamation of this world and now it was reaping season. He wasn't letting anything get in the way of that.
"It's what I figured," Dev said. "But it was worth a shot. I guess I'll have to settle for having you as an ally."
"For what it's worth, I like to think a marker of a good leader is when they can recognize that they're not the answer. That there's not one right way... In this world, no one's ever truly qualified, you just do what you gotta do."
"That's right." He slapped Rick's shoulder. "Ezekiel asked if we could spare a flight instructor to help you develop the program. Sergeant Major Morrison is one of our best. I'm leaving him with you."
"Morrison? I don't remember him from my training."
"You two just missed each other. While you were going through flight training, he was being trained to teach. Morrison will handle the admin work, the curriculum, and all the classroom teaching." Dev chuckled. "Basically, he'll take care of all the boring stuff, so you can focus on flying."
"I appreciate that... sir."
Later that afternoon Michonne found herself sitting among a small, silent group in the waiting room of The Commonwealth's prison. They were searched and led through a sparsely lit hallway to a visitation room. Sat at one of the circular tables, Michonne scanned the room, her attention catching on the CCTV cameras mounted in the four corners and the armed guards walking about.
Gone were the days of makeshift basement cells and shoddy security rotations.
She appreciated the formality of The Commonwealth, the slow return to the way of the old world was quietly comforting. After everything Rick had been through at the Civic Republic, there had been no world where she'd suggest they stay there, but she couldn't lie... Though she was proud of what she and Rick had helped to build in Alexandria, the thought of returning there, after seeing the best of what she could give her children had saddened her a little. But The Commonwealth had turned out to be everything the Civic Republic was, save the terrible memories. With each day here, she felt it could be the last place they'd put down roots. A place where her kids could have a piece of the world she'd grown up in.
Her hand went to her flat stomach when she remembered again that life was forming inside her. It had popped up on her more than a few times that morning. Her mind would be too preoccupied to dwell on it and then... bam. Oh, shit, I'm pregnant. It's what was rolling through her head when a buzzer sounded and the main door of the visitation room unlatched: a line of prisoners, dressed in matching gray sweats and white Keds filed in.
She watched them peel away from the line and hurry to the tables where their people were stationed until only a slumped-shouldered, lanky boy with his eyes trained on the ground stood by the door. Michonne sat up and waited for him to look up so she could catch his attention, but he never did. Collin just stood in front of the wall, hugging himself.
She was thrown off; this shell of a boy looked nothing like the dead-eyed kid in his photo. She pushed her chair back to stand, but a guard grabbed Collin's arm and guided him toward the table before she could. And when Collin made no move to sit, the guard pulled the chair out and nudged him down.
Conversation hummed around them as they sat silently, for what must have been five minutes. Michonne, out of practice, tried to figure out how to begin. Her clients, before, were not always innocent. Shit, most of them were guilty, or partially so, of whatever crime they'd been accused of. But her job was to fight for a fair sentence for people who'd normally get the book thrown at them for a petty drug charge simply because of their socioeconomic status. In this case, though, Collin's punishment seemed to fit the crime. So where the hell did she even go from here?
"Collin, my name is Michonne," she said, gently. "I'm a friend of Yumiko. A lawyer here. She told me what happened. Thought you and I should talk."
Collin didn't move a muscle. His hair was swooped so far over his eyes that Michonne couldn't see them, and couldn't be sure he'd even heard her.
"Yumiko seems to believe that what happened with your dad wasn't just for no reason. She thinks there's more to it... is there?" Michonne let the question float in the air between them for a few minutes. But when it was clear this kid wasn't going to answer, she said, "I can't help you unless you let me." She was sure he'd heard those exact words from Yumiko, judging by how unmoved he was by them.
Michonne leaned back in her chair and watched him through narrowed eyes. She'd have to try a different approach to get anywhere with this kid. "If I'm being honest... I think she might have it wrong. Maybe it is as simple as it seems."
Collin flinched.
"You and your dad didn't get along and you couldn't take it anymore," she said, nonchalantly. "You thought you could take care of it the way they do out there, but that's not how things work here. You don't just get to kill people anymore without consequence... and if that's the case, then you deserve whatever sentence Judge Velasquez gives you." She leaned forward. "But if it's something else. If you did this... say to protect yourself or your mom, then you staying in here for the rest of your life doesn't help anyone. All it means is that your dad wins."
Collin's hand rose to push the hair out of his face. His gaze flicked up to look at her, then dropped back to his lap. She saw his eyes for only a split second, but it was enough to catch the fear in them. This kid was terrified. But it was more than that, he was carrying something. Michonne saw it, just as she had in Elodie.
"Collin, you need to look at me." Michonne's voice dripped with an urgency she felt in the pit of her gut. She couldn't explain it, but she knew, at that moment, that this kid was not guilty of a senseless murder. "Look at me," she demanded.
His head rose slowly.
"This is your last chance... And I'll let you know something. Before the world went to shit, I was a damn good lawyer. I won a lot of cases. So, whatever is making you so scared, you don't have to face it alone. I'll fight for you if you let me. But I need to know the real reason why you did it."
Collin's heart pounded fast, Michonne could see it in the rapid rise and fall of his sweatshirt. "My... my mom," he said softly. "She's not—"
"Visitation time is over," one of the guards shouted to the room.
Collin startled and clammed up. Shaking his head, he set his hands on the table to push off it, and Michonne was quick to reach over to grab his wrist, stopping him. His alarmed eyes met hers.
"Your mom? She's not what?"
Collin stared at her, for a long moment. His trembling lips parted and just as he was about to speak—
"Times up," the guard yelled. "Let's go."
Collin snapped his mouth shut, shook his head, and hurried toward the door.
An hour later, Michonne heard a knock at her office door. "Come in," she said, absently, her eyes on the words of the transcript from Collin's plea hearing.
The door squeaked open. "How'd it go?"
Michonne looked up; Yumiko stood in the doorway.
"I think you were right."
Yumiko closed the door and hurried to sit in one of the seats across from Michonne's desk. "What changed your mind? Did he talk?"
"No, but he was about to. We ran out of time."
"Then what changed your mind."
"It was just..."
Yumiko leaned back in the chair and folded her arms. "A feeling?" she asked, with a shit-eating grin.
Michonne rolled her eyes. "Okay. I deserve that."
"Mm-hmm."
"It was the way he reacted to something I said about him protecting his mother. And he was about to tell me something about her."
"You think he's protecting her? You think she did it?"
"Or he did it to protect her? Not sure which one yet. You spoke to her?"
"I tried, but she was too distraught. She gave an initial report to authorities. It should be in the file."
"I saw it. But I'd like to speak to her."
"I have some time. Let's go."
Michonne stood too fast and had to grab the edge of the desk, the lightness in her head making her unsteady. She dropped back into her seat.
"You alright?"
Michonne opened her mouth to answer, but her stomach growling interrupted, reminding her she'd worked straight through lunch.
"We'll get a bite to eat on the way," Yumiko said, staring with a raised eyebrow at Michonne's hands that had subconsciously gone to her stomach.
Standing in the vehicle hangar, staring at the stationary CRM airplanes, Rick reflected on the day. Getting to know Dev as he'd walked alongside him and Ezekiel through the city had been eye-opening. The man's plans for the Civic Republic and the world at large were such a stark contrast to that of Beale's. Where Beale saw the world only having a fighting chance through conquest and annihilation, Dev saw it coming back through collaboration and unity. "The only way we start winning against the dead is if we stop seeing each other as the enemy," Dev had said. Rick couldn't agree more.
"Never thought I'd get to fly in one of these things again," Rick heard Ezekiel say, as he stepped in beside him. "This world just keeps surprising me... Dev invited Mercer and me to his induction ceremony. He's sending one of those for us."
Rick nodded.
"He wanted to extend an invitation to you, but... he thought you'd decline."
"He was right."
"Think you'll ever go back there?"
"Not anytime soon." Or ever.
"Don't blame you. Oh, I got Morrison set up in his apartment. He seems like a good kid. Seems to know his stuff. I thought Dev would be giving us more hands, though. But he said he could only spare one, seeing as they just... ya know... lost a significant amount of their force."
"Right."
"Don't know that just the two of you are gonna cut it."
"Yeah... I was thinking that too. We can't look within the ranks? None of your soldiers have flight experience?"
"No, we've got some former marines and seals, but no airmen…"
Oh, but I know one, he thought. "I think I might have someone."
"Really? Who?"
"Let me talk to 'em first. See if they're interested."
When the world had still been the world, there'd been a show about desperate housewives. Michonne remembered sometimes having it on in the background when she'd cleaned her condo. She also vaguely remembered there being a redheaded Stepford wife character and when Kelly Carter opened the door to Michonne and Yumiko later that afternoon, she could have sworn it was her. She had the same teased slick, end-curled red hair, and perfect matte red lipstick, and she even had the same stilted smile. She wore a khaki skirt, a delicate floral top, and pearls. Who the hell still wore pearls?
"Hello, may I help you?" Kelly said.
"Hi, my name is Yumiko. This is Michonne. We're officers of the court. May we speak to you about your son, Collin?"
Kelly's smile faltered infinitesimally. "I've already spoken to authorities."
"We have a few more questions. We won't take too much of your time. May we come in?"
Kelly hesitated. "Sure." She stepped aside and gave them room to enter.
Michonne stepped inside the house that smelled of lemon pine sol and lavender and followed Kelly through the entryway, into the living room that looked like something straight out of an issue of Home and Garden. Everything was clearly scavenged, but it all worked and made the house feel homey. She lowered onto the couch cushion and saw a photo of a man on the side table.
"Yumiko, right? I remember you from just after... everything happened. You tried to speak with me about the situation, but I was still processing it. I apologize."
"I completely understand," said Yumiko.
"So, what can I help you with?"
"We just want to understand what could have made Collin do what he did. We thought you'd have some insight into what we might be missing."
Kelly blew out a shaky breath. "Honestly, I'd like to know that myself. Collin's always been such a good boy, never gave us any problems. That's why I'm in shock right now."
"Did Duncan and Collin have any disagreements? Were they fighting about something?"
"Never. They were close. In fact, Duncan had just taken him fishing at the lake. He wanted to make sure he knew how to take care of himself if he ever ended up out there again. That was the type of father he was. He cared deeply for our kids... We always wanted to have children and tried, but failed, for many years before we were blessed with Collin and our daughter."
"So you can't think of any reason why Collin would want to harm his father?" asked Michonne. "Not one?" She gave her a pointed look.
Kelly hesitated, only momentarily, but Michonne took note of it. "No."
"Look, I'm sorry to have to ask this, but did your husband ever physically or mentally abuse you or your children?"
A horrified look crossed Kelly's face. "What? No, of course not. Duncan was a gentleman. He would have never." Kelly paused. "Did Collin say he did?"
"Not outright. But it seemed like that's where he might have been going."
Kelly nodded and was quiet, staring at the carpet for a prolonged moment. Michonne could see the wheels in her brain turning.
Kelly gave a soft gasp. "I... uh... I just remembered something..." she began, before looking up. "My mother and her father and his father before him, they all suffered from schizophrenia."
Michonne glanced at Yumiko, whose face read what she was thinking—what the hell?
"I thought it might have ended with me, but I guess it didn't." Kelly wiped at a tear that trickled down her face. "God, I can't believe I didn't realize before."
"You believe your son has schizophrenia?" Yumiko said, slowly.
"He must have been having an episode," said Kelly.
"And he never had one before?"
"He was born at the start, there was no way we could have diagnosed it. And out there, things were so upside down, that it would have been hard to notice. But it all makes sense. Wh–when my mother would have episodes, she'd hear and imagine things that weren't real. She was paranoid. It got so bad that we had to check her into the hospital a few times so she wouldn't hurt herself or anyone else."
Well... that would explain it. But damn, Michonne couldn't shake how convenient it felt to her. How had Kelly not considered this before? She watched Kelly dab at the corners of her eyes with her knuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe I let this happen."
Michonne's eyes slid just past Kelly's shoulder when she caught sight of a black-haired little girl, peeking out from around the corner. Collin's sister—Skylar. She remembered the name from his file. She stared at the girl, who looked nothing like Kelly. Michonne looked back at the photo of the man, on the side table.
"Is this Duncan?" she asked.
"Yes," said Kelly, her voice shaky. "It was the only photo I was able to hold onto from before."
Skylar looked nothing like him either. And come to think of it, neither did Collin. Michonne had barely paid attention in biology, but this blonde-haired man and that redheaded woman having two children with jet-black hair didn't add up to her.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to rush you two out," Kelly said. "But this has all been a bit too much."
"Of course, we've taken enough of your time," said Yumiko.
They stood and followed Kelly to the door.
"Thank you for caring about my son," Kelly said, as they stepped onto the porch. "Despite what he did, he'll always be my baby. I just hope now he can get the help he needs."
"I have kids of my own," Michonne told her. "It's what I'd want someone to do for them... You know, Collin is the same age as my oldest daughter. She's not biologically mine. Her birth mother died during childbirth. Can I ask, how was your delivery? I assume you didn't have a doctor."
Kelly's smile faltered again before it stuttered back into place. "I—it was difficult. Duncan... uh, he—he had some medical training," she stammered. "He knew the basics."
"And with your daughter, Skylar?"
"We'd found a group by then. There was a doctor. It was a much more peaceful birth."
"That's great," Michonne smiled. "And thank you for your time."
"Of course. Bye." She closed the door.
Michonne waited until she and Yumiko were down the stairs and far up the sidewalk before she grabbed Yumiko's arm to stop her. "She's lying."
Rick's gaze bounced between the list Dorothy had given him that morning and the artisanal packaged goods displayed on the shelves of the compact grocery store, as he walked through the narrow aisles. He found the last item on his list—paper-packaged pasta—and threw it into the basket hanging off his arm, before stepping into the long line of last-minute dinner shoppers.
Rick slid his hand inside his pocket and pulled out the envelope Ezekiel had handed him before they'd parted for the day. Inside was a stack of dollars. "To tide you and the family over until you and Michonne get your first month's wages," Ezekiel had said.
He pulled out a bill, held it in his hand, and stared at the dirty piece of paper that was still obsolete outside the walls of the Commonwealth. Having money again, to be working for it again, felt surreal. When the world had gone to shit, much of what was wrong with it had gone that way too. And so many of those issues could be traced back to the paper he held in his hand. But maybe this time would be different. Ezekiel, Mercer, and the Commonwealth Council seemed to have a different plan for the new direction of the city. Gone was the caste system Milton and her people had put in place. The Commonwealth had firmly cemented itself as a socialist society. Free housing—with placement based on the size of a family. Free education. Free healthcare. With citizens left only having to purchase consumer goods. While some earned more according to their jobs, the disparity was not great enough to create the inequality that had been before. I can get behind this, he thought.
"Next."
Rick looked up to find Elodie staring at him, from behind the checkout stand, and looking none too pleased to see him. He stepped up and began placing his items on the counter. "Elodie." He nodded. "Good to see you again."
"Rick." Coming out of her mouth, his name sounded like an unpleasant word. She began punching prices into the machine "My sister send you?"
He held up his list. "Your mom."
She gave him an apologetic look. "You got your work cut out for you, living with 'em both."
"Eh, as long as I do what I'm told, I should be fine, right?" he joked and managed to get a smile from her. He placed the last item on the counter and moved to the other side to bag his groceries. "You been working here long?"
"Couple years."
"You like it?"
"Does it matter?"
"I'd like to think so."
She shrugged. "We all gotta contribute."
"There are other things you could be doing... Michonne said you were in the Air Force. Said you were a damn good pilot."
"I was. But that doesn't mean anything anymore."
"There's a military here."
She guffawed. "I'm not tryna be out here looking like a fake-ass stormtrooper."
He held back a chuckle. But, he couldn't say he'd be too pleased to wear that uniform either. "Well, what if you could fly again?"
She paused and glanced at him, curious.
"I'm heading up a flight program. I could use someone with your experience to help teach."
She went back to typing in prices, but he could see her contemplating. "That'll be ten bucks," she said, handing him the last item.
He set it in the bag and reached into his pocket for the money, handing it over.
"Would I have to wear a uniform," she asked, sliding the money into the register.
"Nope."
She ripped off a receipt and handed it over. "I'll think about it."
"What reason would that woman have to lie about being those kids' mother?" Dorothy asked Michonne, that night. Her mother was parked beside her at the kitchen island chopping vegetables as Michonne made salad dressing. "I could only imagine it'd be for the sake of the children."
That wasn't far-fetched. Judith didn't know about Shane. She and Rick had decided back in Alexandria that he was better left in the past. Rick was her father. Period. But if Judith ever asked, they'd tell her the truth. Michonne doubted that'd happen though, there were exactly two other people left in the world who knew. "It just doesn't sit right with me."
"Well, you're not gonna figure it out tonight, now are you?"
Michonne smiled down at her. "No, ma'am."
"Then stop fretting about it."
Michonne looked to where Judith sat in between her father and brother, at the dining room table, teaching them how to play chess.
"Can I move this one... that way?" asked Rick, picking up a pawn.
"No. Okay—" Judith tucked her hair behind her ears, and patiently explained, "So pawns, they don't move backward. They can only move straight."
Rick's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Ah, okay." He set the piece back down and bit his lip, concentrating hard on trying to decide his next move.
Michonne smiled. Her favorite part of being back was getting to watch Rick enjoy this life. When he'd be helping the kids with their homework or simply spending time with them, she'd often catch Rick just staring at them with a sheen in his eyes. Seeing that, made everything worth it: the years she'd done it alone, the emotional and physical pain she'd endured trying to find Rick, and the sting of everything that had happened after she had. For them to be here in this simple moment of domesticity, she'd endure it all again.
"You're holding out on me," Dorothy said.
Michonne turned her attention back to her mother. "What?"
Her mother dropped the knife on the cutting board and swiveled her chair inward, to face Michonne. "You and Rick went to get your results this morning," she said as if it were obvious. So?!"
Michonne glanced toward the living room and lowered her voice. "We're not telling the kids yet, but..." She nodded, unable to keep the wide grin off of her face. "Yeah. I am."
"Oh," her mother gushed. Her hands went to her mouth. "That's just... just wonderful." Her arm spread out wide. "Come here, baby."
She leaned down and embraced her mother.
"We're gonna have a little one in the house," she whispered.
"It's a good thing you moved in because we're gonna need all the help we can get."
"Whatever you need." She pulled back. "And everything's okay, so far?"
"Yeah—well, apart from the fact that I'm too damn old to be having a baby."
Her mother swatted her arm. "Oh, hush up. I was three years older than you when I had Yvette."
"It was a different time."
"And this is a different place. The doctors here are the best this world can offer. You, my darlin', are going to be perfectly fine."
"Thank you, mom. I needed to hear that." She hadn't known just how much until the words had come out of her mother's mouth.
"Get the casserole out of the oven, will you?" Her mother grabbed the salad from the table, set it in her lap, and wheeled around the island. "Dinners ready!" she hollered, and God if Michonne wasn't transported back to her college days, when she'd visit home just to eat a hot meal made with love. Her mouth watered when she pulled the oven open.
Yup, it smelled just as good as back in the day.
"This is so dang good, Nana!" RJ said, through a mouthful of food and Michonne decided to let it slide.
"Yeah, this is so delicious, Nana!" Judith seconded. "Thanks for cooking."
"Haven't had anything this good in a long while," Rick added, taking a sip from his bottle of locally brewed beer.
"It's my pleasure. It's a nice change—cooking for a crowd of hungry faces again." Her mother pinched RJ's nose.
"I'm gonna need you to teach me how to make this," Michonne said. "Okay?"
"Oh, now you wanna learn? "
"Ah, here we go."
"For years, I tried teaching your mama how to cook," her mother said to RJ and Judith. "But, nooo, she couldn't be bothered. She'd tell me—oh what is it you used to say?"
Michonne grabbed her water and took a sip. "I don't remember," she said, defiantly, setting it down.
"Oh, I remember now. 'I'm a lawyer. I don't need to know how to cook'."
"That is not fair." Michonne's tone was incredulous but she was sure her smile gave her away. "When Andre was born you stayed with us for three weeks and I asked you to teach me."
"Child, I'd long since given up by that point. And my priority was lovin' on my chunk o' lumps."
"Chunk o' lumps?" Judith asked, with a giggle.
"It was the nickname mom gave Andre when he was a baby."
"He was just a ball of rolls and baby fat," her mother gushed. "Just the cutest little thing."
"Yeah, he was," Michonne rubbed her fingers over the fabric of the table cloth, as she let the image of him fly to the forefront of her mind. She felt Rick's hand slide down her thigh to rest on her knee and when she looked at him, he gave her a gentle smile.
"I remember when Carl was little, he used to get into everything. I'd turn my back for a second and he'd have chocolate or paint or whatever he could get his hands on, just all over him… was Andre like that?" He glanced between Michonne and Dorothy.
They looked at each other and said, emphatically, "Yes!" Both of them laughed.
"He'd get into everything," Michonne said.
"You couldn't leave that boy alone for even a second," Dorothy seconded. "Remember the flower garden?"
"How could I forget?" Michonne glanced between Rick and the kids. "Mom had a beautiful garden in her yard, but it was infested with worms. Well, one day we were over at her house and someone…" She shot a look at her mother. "Left the back door cracked open and—"
"That was your father," her mother said, matter of factly.
"Andre found his way out there. And when we finally tracked him down he was sitting in a bed of dirt in the garden, in his diaper, just casually playing with the worms."
"No!" Judith exclaimed, with wide eyes.
"Yes! They were crawling all over him and he wasn't fazed one bit," Michonne laughed. "There wasn't a critter that boy met that he didn't make friends with. Not one." She came down from her fit of laughter, with a sigh. "He loved nature."
"Mmm," Dorothy murmured, as the memory settled with them both.
And the quiet that fell over the table wasn't filled with sadness. It was a moment dedicated to a beautiful memory of her baby boy.
Rick stepped into Judith's room just as she was sliding under the covers. "Hey." He moved toward the bed and dropped a kiss onto her forehead. "Wanted to say goodnight. I love you, sweetheart."
"Love you too."
"Sleep tight," he said, walking back to the door.
"Dad?"
He stopped and turned around. "Yeah."
Wordlessly, Judith reached into the nightstand beside the bed and pulled out a photo. She stared at it.
"What's that?" He moved toward the bed and sat on the edge. She handed it over. He almost didn't recognize the clean-shaven man in the photo, as himself. He was a stranger to the man he'd been when that photo of him, Lori, and Carl had been taken at Carl's birthday party. It was a whole other life.
"Mom gave that to me, a few years after we lost you. She said you were gonna give it to me when I was old enough to understand."
Rick stared at it. He and Michonne had agreed that when the time was right Judith needed to know where she came from. Or at least as much as was necessary. And her learning about Lori was important.
"She said she didn't know much about her..." Judith trailed off.
A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, as he remembered the day the picture had been taken. "This was Carl's eighth birthday... Lori told him he could have whatever he wanted. And that meant fifty of his closest friends at the amusement park. It was chaos. Half the parents dropped their kids off and left. And she ran around all day like a chicken with her head cut off, tryna make sure we didn't lose any of 'em."
Judith laughed.
"But not once did she complain... that's just who she was. She'd do anything for the people she loved." Rick looked up at Judith. He hadn't realized just how much like Lori she looked. The image of her had long since faded from his mind, it now lived in the collection of vague memories of those he'd lost. Rick ran his hand over Judith's hair. "You know, I see her in you. She was kind. A good person, with a good heart. You're a perfect mix of her and your mom."
Judith stared at him a moment, before her eyes dropped to her lap. "She died because of me, didn't she?"
"No. She died for you. So you could live. It was the last thing she did, making sure you had a future."
Judith nodded and managed a small smile. "So... then Carl didn't just get it from you."
"Get what?"
"How brave he was."
"No, he didn't."
Judith thought for a moment. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"You think Uncle Daryl's okay? Like, for real. Because you were, but it doesn't usually happen that way. And we can't get that lucky every time, right?"
"Honestly, sweetheart, I don't know. I'd like to tell you different, but I don't wanna get your hopes up. What I will say is that I know Daryl. And if I had to bet, I'd bet on us seeing him again. Okay?"
"Okay."
Michonne was teetering on the brink of sleep, when she heard a deep manly chuckle against her ear. She opened her eyes, turned her head slightly, and came face to face with the smirk on Rick's lips. Her gaze shifted up to his tired eyes. "What's so funny?"
Beneath the sheets they were huddled under, he tightened his arms around her naked body. "Nothing." He chuckled.
She rotated in his arms to face him. "Now I really wanna know."
Rick pressed his lips together, fighting the laughter that tried to break through. "It's nothing." A snort of laughter slipped free.
"Rick." She slapped his bare chest.
"Okay. I was just thinking about how... for the next nine months..." He said it like he was letting her in on a groundbreaking discovery. "I get to make love to you..."
"Mm-hmm." She snuggled in closer to him, loving where this was going.
"And... I don't gotta pull out."
"Oh, my God. Really?" Michonne laughed. "That is what you're looking forward to most about this pregnancy."
"It's high on the list," he said, unapologetically.
"You are... such a man—"
"Who's been away from his wife for seven years."
"Good point."
"And you can't tell me you didn't miss this as much as I did."
She ran her hand over the side of his face and slid her fingers through his hair, to rest at his neck. "Oh, I did. Especially when I was pregnant."
He raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Mm-hm. My hormones were raging. It was nuts. I'd be distraught one minute and the next I'd find myself replaying my favorite moment of us together in bed, just to get a release."
"Really?" Rick gave her a smug smile. "And what's your favorite moment?"
"The morning we made RJ."
"Oh, that's a good one."
"And yours?"
He didn't even have to think about it. "Our first time."
"The couch," she said fondly.
"That first time, with someone you love, there's no other feeling like it... Well, maybe except for the first time with the love of your life after years of being apart from her."
"You know, I have a feeling that night's when we made this one." She pointed down toward her belly.
"There was no way you weren't getting pregnant that night."
Michonne narrowed her eyes at him. "Was that your plan, Grimes?"
"No, just got lucky."
She settled deeper into his body. "Okay, so what else is on the list of things you're looking forward to?"
"Hmm..." Rick's face scrunched up as he thought about it. "Can I say everything?"
"I'll allow it."
"Everything." His expression grew serious. "Just being here for it all, really. That's number one on my list."
"Me too." She pressed her lips to his, for a soft fleeting kiss. "You never told me how your meeting with the new Major General went."
"It was good. He seems like a good man."
"He seems or he is?"
"I think he is."
"Well, that's good for them."
"And us. The Commonwealth and the CRM working together, that's the right first step at giving us all a real chance. The walkers are always gonna have the upper hand if the people left in this world continue to try and go it alone."
"I agree."
"He gave me one of their men, to help me build up the program. And I enlisted Elodie."
"My sister? Agreed to work with you?"
"Not just yet. But she did say she'd think about it."
"That's something coming from her."
"I think she'd be a real asset."
She grabbed his face and kissed him. "Thank you for reaching out to her."
"She's family. And probably a better pilot than me."
Michonne sat beside Yumiko the next morning, in the prison's empty visitation room, after Yumiko had sweet-talked the head of security into allowing them to see Collin outside of visitation hours. They stood when the door opened and he emerged.
Collin halted a few steps in, looking surprised. He glanced between them and only moved when the guard behind nudged him forward.
"Collin," Yumiko said, motioning for him to sit across from them. "You remember Mrs. Grimes?"
Collin gave a subtle nod as they sat.
"There's something we need to ask you," Michonne said. "And all you need to do is answer it honestly. Can you do that?"
He nodded.
"Kelly's not your mom, is she? That's what you were going to tell me yesterday?"
Again he nodded.
"Start from the beginning."
"My—My mom was pregnant with me when it all started. She had me at an army camp. But not too long after, things went bad. I grew up out there, in the wild. For years we went from one camp to another... but each one went bad." He went quiet and stared at the table.
"You're doing great," Yumiko said. "Take your time."
Collin took a deep, shuddering breath. "Three years ago, we found this mansion, on a few acres. It was tucked away pretty good—and gated. My parents thought we could make it home. It was safe." He blinked, and a tear spilled from his eye. "Until it wasn't."
"What happened?" Michonne asked.
"One night I woke to the alarm system my dad set up around the perimeter going off. My parents made a plan, if anything went wrong, they told me to take my sister and go and hide in the basement until they came and got us. I did what I was supposed to, but on the way, I heard it."
"You heard..."
"My mom. Screaming. Pleading for her life. For their lives. And then I heard this man I didn't recognize. He was laughing like a maniac. He sounded crazy. He was telling my dad to beg. But I couldn't hear my dad's voice. And th—that scared me." He stared at the table like he was seeing it all unfold before him. "So I told my sister to go to the basement and I went to find them—I don't know what I coulda done. But I couldn't just leave them. I snuck downstairs and I saw my mom and dad tied up on their knees in front of this man and woman, who were covered in so much dirt and blood, they didn't look human. It's like they were... feral animals. They had machetes aimed at both my parents. They were taunting them."
"Christ," Yumiko breathed.
"But my dad wouldn't do it. He wasn't the type of man to beg for his life. So they killed my mom first, so he'd have to watch. Then my dad. I watched them hack them into pieces until they weren't... anything anymore."
Michonne stomach churned; she could feel bile rising and focused on keeping it at bay. She couldn't be sure if it was her body reacting to what she'd just heard or morning sickness. Or a combination of both. She focused on evening her breaths, calming the chaotic seas inside her.
"I went to hide. But they found us. I thought they were gonna kill us too. But it turns out the woman really wanted kids. So they took us. Made us help them do to other people what they did to our parents. People trust you when you have kids. And when we found The Commonwealth, they made themselves look like people who would belong here. They became what they needed to become, to be accepted here."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Yumiko asked.
"They said no one would ever believe me. Who they became, here, no one would have ever believed me if I told them what they were like out there. And I didn't have any way to prove it. But this place was safe. We had school and other people around. I thought I could just forget." His face clenched in anger. "But... every time I looked at them, I saw my mom and dad begging for their lives. And it wasn't fair that Duncan and Kelly got this life too... I figured if I killed them both, even though I'd be in prison for the rest of my life, my sister would be free of them. We both would. And then maybe she'd get a good family to raise her. I did it for her."
"Then why's Kelly still alive," Michonne managed, her stomach finally settled.
"I planned it all out. I was the one who radioed the authorities, right before I did it. I walked into their room and I woke them both up with a gun to their heads. I wanted the last person they saw to be me. After I shot Duncan, Kelly was crying and pleading and I—I couldn't do it. Despite what she'd done, I couldn't... And now my sister she's—I didn't protect her." He sobbed. "I just made it all worse."
"It's not your job to protect her," Michonne said. "You're the one who should be protected."
"And we're gonna make sure you are," said Yumiko.
"But I did it. I killed him."
Michonne looked at Yumiko. "The reason matters." She turned back to Collin. "And we'll get Judge Velasquez to see that too. But first, you need to change your plea."
Michonne and Yumiko were in Judge Velasquez's darkly decorated chambers—with its oak and wood wall furnishings—the next day. They were seated in the two leather chairs across from the desk, which the dark-featured woman sat behind.
"While I am sympathetic to this young man's circumstance. This boils down to he said, she said," Judge Velasquez explained. "I can't push this case through to trial with zero evidence."
"What about a DNA test," asked Michonne.
"A DNA test?"
"Yes. My mother works at the lab, she said they have everything they'd need to do one."
"It'll establish that Kelly's lying," Yumiko added. "Which therefore further supports the claim that she murdered those kids' parents and then kidnapped them."
"And that means Collin was acting out of self-defense," Michonne said.
Judge Velasquez sighed. "Even if those tests come back negative. We can't convict Kelly Carter for what she did outside these walls."
"Who says we can't?" Michonne argued.
"Mrs. Grimes, how many people have you killed since the start?"
Michonne narrowed her eyes at the Judge. "I only ever killed to protect myself and my family."
"I don't doubt that, but I'm sure some of the ones you killed were trying to do the same. Look, it was the wild wild west out there. It still is. We all did vile things. But the moment each of us stepped foot inside these walls the statute of limitations on whatever crimes we committed out there ran out. Even for Kelly Carter."
"Okay, but there's no statute of limitations on kidnapping. If she's not their mother, then that's enough circumstantial evidence to prove that what Collin is alleging is true."
"I'll give you that. I will subpoena Kelly for a DNA test. If it comes back that she is not their mother, then the city will reevaluate the charges against Collin, and Skylar will be taken out of her custody."
How many people have you killed?
Michonne's finger tapped incessantly on the arm of the desk chair in her office, as she stared out the window and considered the question. She had asked it of so many people, but no one had ever asked her. The question had rolled around in her mind all afternoon, as she anxiously waited in her office for the lab results.
How many people had she killed? She'd lost count. But the number had risen significantly since what she and Rick had done at the Cascadia base. Not for once had she ever taken pleasure in taking a life, but she also hadn't ever allowed herself to feel guilt for it. Every life she'd taken had been in self-defense.
But did that justify it? She'd felt she'd been on the right side, every time. But had she really been? Contemplating the answer caused tightness in her chest and churning in her stomach, which she knew couldn't be good for the baby. She pushed the question out of her mind and popped the lid of the lunch her mother had made her, which she wasn't at all interested in eating. Her anxiety over the case had her appetite shot to hell.
As Michonne pushed her fork around the Tupperware bowl, the door to her office burst open, and an out-of-breath Yumiko rushed in.
"The results are in."
"And?"
"The maternity test was negative... and Kelly's gone."
Michonne shot up. "What?"
"Mercer went to bring her and Skylar in. But their house was empty, their clothes were gone."
It was late in the evening and Michonne sat on the couch in front of the television, with an arm around a dozing Judith and RJ, who were tucked into either side of her. An episode of Good Times, from the DVD they'd found at the general store, played low on the screen. It was well past the kids' bedtime, but they'd begged her to wait up for their dad, who'd been called on to fly air support for the search effort of Skylar and Kelly. Good Times was a good distraction, to keep her mind off the worst case, that her brain was so keen on pondering.
"Here." Her mother rolled in with the plate of dinner, Michonne had only picked at.
"I'm fine."
"You need to eat," she said in a tone that made it clear to Michonne it wasn't a suggestion. "I'm pretty sure you haven't put anything in that stomach today."
Her mother wasn't wrong. Michonne carefully slid her arms from around her kids and repositioned them to lay against the sofa's armrests. She took the plate and set it on the coffee table. Took a bite and then another, realizing just how starved she was.
"Like I thought," her mother said. "When's the last time you ate?"
She paused, midbite, to think about it.
"See now, if you have to think about it, it's been far too long. You can not skip meals."
"I know. I just got caught up in this case."
"Sounds familiar."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"This is you all over again. Getting so wrapped up in your work that the important things fall by the wayside."
Michonne dropped her fork, and her defenses rose. "That's not fair."
"It's the truth. And I understand you wanna do your part here, but what you need to be caught up in is making sure you're taking care of you and..." She glanced at the kids. "You know who. That's what is most important right now. Baby, everything you've done since the start, has been for everyone else. It's time you took care of yourself. You deserve to be a little bit selfish."
The front door creaked open before Michonne could respond. She shot off of the couch and hurried to meet Rick and Mercer. "Hey."
"Hey." Rick hugged her.
"So," she asked. "What happened?"
"We found them," Mercer said. "Near Culver River. Kelly's been taken into custody. And Skylar's safe with my sister and Eugene. They've agreed to watch after her until everything gets sorted out."
"Good. Thank you."
"Of course. Judge Velasquez wants to meet with you and Yumiko."
"What, right now?" Rick asked.
"That's what she said. I'm going that way," Mercer said to Michonne. "I'll walk over with you."
"Okay, let me just get—"
"Michonne." Rick looked concerned. "It's late."
"It's fine. I'm sure it won't be long. Mercer, let me just get my coat." Michonne moved toward the stairs but stopped when she saw her mom sitting at the end of the hall watching her. Shit, this was exactly what she'd been talking about. It'd been a long day and she needed to rest.
Michonne turned back around. "You know what, Yumiko can handle it. I'll get up to speed in the morning."
"I'll let her know," Mercer said. "Good work. Both of you." He walked out of the house.
When the door shut behind him, Rick turned to face Michonne. "Come on, let's get the kids to bed."
One Month Later
Every seat inside of The Commonwealth University's Main Lecture Hall was packed, filled by the one hundred and twenty dressed down soldiers Rick had selected to be part of the first-year flight class. He stood up front, at the bottom of the rows of riser tables, looking around at the men and women eagerly waiting for him to speak.
What the hell have I gotten myself into? Rick scratched at the neck of the collared shirt Michonne had insisted he wear for the first day—along with a pair of khakis—when he'd been content to wear his jeans and plaid button-down.
He placed his hand on his hips and looked to the far side of the front row, where Ezekiel and Mercer sat beside Lucas Morrison, who gave him an encouraging nod. Lucas was the only person in the room who knew how much Rick was shitting bricks. They'd worked closely the past month to curate the program and prepare for this very moment.
"It was a routine flight up the coast," Rick began, looking out at the students. "I was the pilot-in-command. I'd flown that same plane hundreds of times by then. And beside me—in the right seat—was a man named Okafor. The man who taught me how to fly. He was my Commanding Officer, but that day, he was my co-pilot."
Rick leaned back against the table behind him and crossed his arms over his chest.
"The sky was clear and so was our path. It was a smooth flight, until out of nowhere, our aircraft was hit with an improvised explosive device, instantly killing Okafor. My whole body was in shock, and the plane was malfunctioning. My right seat down, I had seconds to decide what to do next."
He paused, letting the tremors from the memory of that day pass through his body. That plane crash, apart from the bridge, had been the closest he'd come to death.
"I couldn't even decide my next move before another projectile hit the tail end of our helicopter. The plane was spiraling at this point and all I could do was try and steer us into a clearing. Had we crashed into the trees in our path, I wouldn't be here today." He threw his hand up. "You're probably asking yourself, why is he telling us this story? Because what no one told me was that no amount of training could have prepared me for that moment. And nothing we teach you in this program will prepare you for a moment like that. But what this program will do, is arm you with the necessary tools you'll need to be able to make the kind of calls you'll have to make in moments like that. When you're up there and things go wrong, you're on your own. It'll be on you to follow through with what you learn here, to save your life and the lives of your passengers. The moment you're ready to do that is the moment you're ready to fly."
"Great job, sir," Lucas, who'd been waiting in the wings after class as a long line of students had introduced themselves to Rick, swaggered up to him when the last student stepped away. The tall guy, who Rick had long since assumed was in his early thirties, stuck his hand out to him.
Rick shook it. "Remember I told you to call me Rick?"
"Sorry about that. Old habits die hard, I guess."
"Not a problem. Thanks for helping me prepare for today."
Lucas held his hands up. "Can't take credit for the delivery, that was all you—your opening speech was truly inspired." His hands went behind his back. "I knew Okafor well. I think he would have been proud of what you did at Cascadia and what you're doing now."
Rick slapped his shoulder. "I sure hope so."
"I have to agree." Rick and Lucas turned to find Elodie sidling down the carpeted staircase aisle. "The only thing my flight training classes inspired in me was sleep. I didn't nod off once during your little lesson."
"Didn't know you were here," Rick said, pleasantly surprised.
"Slipped in halfway through. Thought I'd check out what y'all got going on here before I said no."
He raised a brow. "And?"
Elodie made it to the bottom step and crossed her arms. "You asked me if I liked working at the grocery store. No one's ever asked me that, so I've never had to think about it. But, I realized..." Sighing dramatically, she dropped her hands. "I fucking hate it."
Rick chuckled.
"So? You still got a job for me?"
"It just so happens that we do..." He looked back at Lucas who stared, in a daze, at Elodie. "This is Lucas. He's the main teaching instructor for the program. Lucas, this is my sister-in-law, Elodie. She's gonna be assisting me with in-flight instruction."
Lucas shook his head, shaking out of his stupor. "It's uh—nice to meet you. Elodie, right? That's a—a beautiful name. Melodic."
Rick watched in amazement. He'd only known the guy for a few weeks, but all he'd seen of him thus far was a composed, poised, and militant man. With his striking good looks—green eyes, sandy hair, and sharp scruffy jawline—Rick thought he would have been better with the ladies. What the hell was this bumbling mess?
Lucas extended his hand and when Elodie slid hers inside, he held onto it, for a little too long. "Welcome to the program."
Elodie snatched her hand away. "Yeah, thanks. Rick, I will see you tomorrow morning, then?"
He nodded. "See you then—or if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight, your mom's making what I hear is her famous meatloaf and collard greens..."
"And I'll be there," Lucas added as if that would do anything to sway her.
Elodie gave him a suspect look.
Poor guy, he doesn't stand a chance.
"Thanks for the invite," she said. "But I'm not ready for all that, just yet."
"Another time?" Rick said, with an understanding smile.
"Another time."
On the other side of town, Michonne and Yumiko sat in the hospital food court, across from Collin. He was one month into his six-month mandatory inpatient psychotherapy treatment, ordered by Judge Velasquez. Though it'd been justified, he'd still murdered someone inside the walls and Judge Velasquez couldn't just let him off scot-free. Michonne had been in favor of his "punishment": the kid had been through a whole hell of a lot out there, and therapy seemed like a fair deal.
Kelly on the other hand had gotten off too easy—fifteen years with parole. Damn woman should have gotten life.
"How's Skylar doing?" Collin asked.
"She's doing great," Michonne said. "Eugene and Maxxine said she and Rosie are best friends."
Collin smiled, it was the first Michonne had seen him do that. "I'm glad she's okay... what happens to me when I get out of here?"
"That's what we came to talk to you about," Yumiko said. "Eugene and Maxxine have agreed to adopt Skylar... and you, once you're released."
"What?" His eyes welled. "Do they know what I did?"
"They know everything."
"And they still want me?"
Michonne swallowed, her face hot with emotion. "They're so excited to have you as part of their family. And they'd like to start visiting you when Skylar comes. If you'd like that?"
"I would." A tear spilled onto his cheek. "Thank you both, for not giving up on me. For believing me. I don't know how I could ever repay you."
Yumiko reached out to touch his arm. "You can repay us by taking full advantage of this second chance you've been given. By making your parents proud."
"We make quite the team, wouldn't you say?" Yumiko said as they walked out of the hospital. "Like Cagney and Lacey."
Michonne chuckled. "So then I'm Lacey and your Cagney?"
"Exactly."
"I gotta admit, it's been good to be back..." she trailed off.
"Uh oh." Yumiko grimaced. "I hear a 'but' coming on."
Michonne stopped and turned to face her. "I don't know that this is right for me right now." The past month she'd taken on five different cases and more stress than she or Rick were comfortable with. "I'm pregnant, Yumiko."
"What? Wow. Congratulations!" She brought Michonne into a hug. "You and Rick don't waste any time."
"The thing is... this pregnancy is high risk and the past year has been a lot. And I'm realizing that I can't just do the bare minimum. It's just not me. But the stress of this job is not what I need right now. I need to rest."
"I see. I won't lie, I'm gutted. But I get it. Shall we call it an early maternity leave?"
"Uh... I don't know if—"
"It means you still get paid."
"Then let's call it that."
"Your mama and I have something we need to tell you," Rick said, tightening his grip on Michonne's hand. They sat together on the sofa, across from RJ and Judith. It was Saturday, and they'd just come home from their first ultrasound with Dr. Clayborne.
Seeing their baby for the first time, though it'd only been a tiny spot on the screen, had nearly brought him to his knees. It'd been over twenty years since he'd experienced bringing a child into the world and he was savoring every minute of it. But today, today had to be the milestone he'd been looking forward to the most.
Rick couldn't keep the smile off his face, when he said, "Thing is... in about…" He turned his eyes up to the ceiling and made a show of silently counting. "Eight months, the two of you are gonna have a brand new baby brother or sister."
RJ and Judith stared blankly at him.
"So... mom is having a baby?" RJ asked, his face looking like he was trying to make sense of what his dad had just said.
"That's right, baby," said Michonne, through a wide smile. "I'm pregnant."
"So... I'm gonna be a big brother!"
"You are!"
"Score!" RJ jumped off the couch and ran into Rick and Michonne's open arms, as they laughed at their son's enthusiasm.
"You're gonna be a great big brother," Rick said, rubbing his back.
RJ pulled away. "Can I name the baby?"
"Well," Michonne glanced at Rick. "I was thinking, since I got to name you, Dad could choose this time."
"I wouldn't mind having some help though," he said to RJ.
"Okay! I've already got some ideas."
Rick looked over at Judith, who sat staring at them with tears steadily flowing down her face. He pulled RJ down into his spot beside his mother and left them cuddling, to walk over and sit beside his daughter. "You okay?" He rested an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side.
She nodded and looked up at him. "I—I thought there was a chance you and mom wouldn't come back." She wiped at her cheeks with the tail end of her sleeve. "And we wouldn't be a family again. And now... now we get a baby?!" she sobbed.
"So these are happy tears?" Michonne asked, sniffing away her own, as she held onto RJ.
Judith vigorously nodded against Rick's chest. "I'm so happy," she bawled.
"Ah, come here, babygirl." Michonne held her free arm out wide and Judith squeezed her dad before hurrying to sit on the other side of her mom.
Rick sat there, with a perfect view of his family, overwhelmed yet again by the sight of them.
Michonne's eyes found his. "You too."
He walked over and dropped to his knees in front of his family, enveloping all three of them in an embrace.