Before the world ended Rick had always been an early bird. Having grown up on a farm, he would always rise with the sun to get started on his chores. "Get up Dean," his father would call out to him every morning, using his middle name as he often did when he meant business, "...those cows aren't gonna milk themselves." He carried that habit well into his adult life. It was almost as if his mind was incapable of sleeping past 6:00 AM. For the last eight years, however, it took every ounce of energy he had to drag his worn beaten body out of bed. Feeling the sun's rays on his face, reluctantly opening his eyes only to be reminded that he was not where he wanted to be. The perfectly creaseless, cold half of his bed was a stark contrast to his vivid dream world where he spent most of his nights. He always wanted to go back to sleep as it was only in his slumber that he could be with them, with her. There, Carl was a strapping young man off to college, Judith was the most beautiful pre-teen fretting about trivial problems and Michonne was by his side to take it all in. In his dreams he was whole. But then the morning always came and he would be reminded of where he was. For a split second, in those first few minutes as he was becoming more lucid, he would remember digging Carl's grave and it was like losing him all over again. In that moment he would panic, not knowing if Michonne was still alive, if Judith ever got the chance to lose her baby teeth. And his heart would pound against his chest, his throat would close up, his vision would get blurry and he felt like he might die. But then he remembered,"We are the ones who live.", and despite feeling dead, he'd drag himself out of bed and get the day started.
Now, he did not need to dream anymore. He did not have to build fantasies to be with her because she was right by his side. His children were close. Children. Two of them, alive. Rick barely slept that first night. Long after Michonne had drifted off, he was still wide awake staring at her. It took all his will not to touch her and risk waking her up even though his hand kept gravitating towards her face. Finally, a little after midnight, he surrendered to the exhaustion of the day, and it was the most peaceful rest he had in years.
Hours later, he stirred to the slightest rays of sunlight sneaking through the curtains. It was an odd feeling waking up in this unfamiliar place, but her warmth made it feel like home and he was perfectly content basking in it. His calm was interrupted by the sound of light footsteps pattering down the hallway. Figuring one, maybe both of the children were awake, he carefully detangled himself from Michonne and headed towards the living room. There he found RJ at the table, still in his colorful pajamas, hunched over a book, a pencil in hand, scribbling. The boy furrowed his brow and bit on his lower lip, deep in concentration as he moved his hand in broad strokes over the page. The sight reminded Rick of many evenings in what felt like another lifetime now, when he would come home after a long day at the camp to find Michonne in a similar position, poring over a stack of books from Deanna's library as she worked on the community charter.
"Do you remember the life we built? What we had? What we were building, it's kept people alive."
It was staggering how things he hadn't thought about in years, memories he didn't even know he had anymore would be triggered by the most mundane events and come rushing up to the surface. It often left him speechless.
"Good morning," he finally let his presence be known, clearing his throat as he joined RJ at the table.
"Morning!" his son looked up from his project for a fleeting second to return the greeting before getting back to it.
"What are you working on there?"
"It's the helicopter you and mom came in yesterday." A hint of excitement gleamed in his eyes just thinking about it. "I wanted to draw it before I forgot what it looked like. I've never seen one like that before, or anything that flies really. Not a real one. I saw a train once, that was cool."
"A train, huh?" Rick could not contain the grin on his face as the seven year old who had been quite reserved the day before came to life. He was clearly very passionate about this. A comfortable silence fell between them as RJ focused on getting the rotor blades just right. "You know, the one you saw is called a Chinook helicopter."
"Chinook?" RJ finally put his pencil down and sat up to face the man he was still getting to know as his father.
"Yeah." Rick could see the curiosity on his son's face and now that he had his undivided attention he would not disappoint. "So, it's a long story but before…all this," he waved his hand in a shared understanding, "the country we lived in, The United States had an army. And the army named different types of helicopters they built after Native American tribes. Native Americans were the original people of this land, that's what 'native' means. They lived here long before it was even known as America, and they had some very fierce warriors who were great fighters. So to honor them, the army named helicopters after their tribes, like Apache, Lakota and Chinook."
The young boy was clinging on to his every word. He knew a little bit about the old world but most of this was new information. "Did they get to fly the helicopters, the Native Americans?"
"If they were in the Army or the Air Force, yes." Rick tactically evaded the landmines of American history to avoid putting a damper on his bonding session with his son.
RJ seemed to be lost in thought for a moment before he asked, "You were in an army, did you get to fly one?"
Rick did not think he would ever find himself looking back at any part of his time at the CRM with fondness. But now, presented with the opportunity to thoroughly impress his son, he was at least appreciative of his skills as a pilot. "Actually, yes. Many times."
The look of sheer astonishment on RJ's face with his mouth agape, as if he had not anticipated that response despite asking, was priceless. The famous Rick Grimes was already living up to the hype. "Really! That is so cool! Where did you go?"
"A lot of places," he chuckled. "Do you know all the states?"
"Yeah, they showed us the map in school and made us remember a bunch of them."
"Well, I went to Oregon, Wyoming, New Jersey, a lot of places."
"Cool." RJ repeated, the smile on his face slowly waning as he pictured the map of America he had studied. He knew some of those states were much further than Alexandria, where he had lived with his mother and sister up until a year ago."So he could go to Oregon but couldn't come home?"he thought.
Rick, immediately noticing a shift in his son's mood and realizing how callous his phrasing might have come off, hurried to explain, stumbling over his words. "It..it wasn't always like that." he leaned in, meeting the boy at eye level, "They only taught me how to fly two years ago. And, I..I couldn't just go anywhere I wanted, only where I was assigned."
Another bout of silence enveloped them, this time it was uncomfortable. "I tried to get back to you and your mother. I did, many times." He fought the lump in his throat to get the words out. He needed him to know. "I got real close one time, real close. But then they found me, and took me back. But I left my things there, and that was how your mother was able to find me."
The quiet persisted a while longer and just as Rick was about to speak again, feeling compelled to explain further, he was rescued by the sound of Michonne and Judith giggling as they walked towards them.
"Good morning baby," she crooned as she smacked an exaggeratedly loud kiss on her son's cheek, prompting him to feign discomfort and half-heartedly attempt to wriggle out of her grasp. Judith placed the item she was holding on the table next to RJ's notebook and tilted towards her father for a hug. Rick immediately identified the thick blue hardcover book over his daughter's shoulder to be a photo album. He remembered the conversation he had with his wife the previous night and could not contain his elation.
"Is this it?" he asked Michonne after she had settled next to RJ, Judith by his side. She simply responded with an encouraging nod. Rick straightened the binder in front of him, squeezing his hand into a fist to suppress the trembling. He simultaneously wanted to dive into the album while also being terrified of seeing all those memories that would never be his, an irrefutable account of all that he had missed.
It was as if Judith sensed her father's hesitation when she took the reins and flipped the book open. The two pictures on the first page had Rick ready to bolt to the bedroom, curl up in a ball and cry, away from his family's expectant looks. Michonne gently rubbed her foot against his calf under the table while Judith locked their arms and leaned into him. One picture was of himself and Carl, standing by the walls of Alexandria with hammers in hand, working together. Carl still had his eye, he looked so young, so innocent. Looking at his bright face, illuminated by the late summer Virginia sun, no one could have guessed the horrors he had endured up until then, nor the ones yet to come. And that was all thanks to Michonne. She had advocated passionately for a home for his children, who were now her children too.
"Don't you want one more day with a chance?"
The second picture was after, a bandage wrapped around his head, holding up the gauze covering his eye. He had his sheriff's hat on and Judith sat on his lap, smiling up at the camera as Carl took the picture. He looked content. They both did. Rick was almost catatonic, gazing at his beautiful boy, a version of him that was preserved in time. He was flooded by immeasurable grief. But somewhere within the bleakness that threatened to drown him, like a lighthouse in the dead of night far in the horizon, he felt something else. Something warmer, lighter, more buoyant. He was happy. Happy to see his boy again even if it hurt. Happy to have these three people by his side to share Carl's memory with. He was no longer alone. He did not notice the tears rolling down his face until he saw the wet spots splattering on the plastic sleeve holding his first born child, in the only form he could have him now. He rushed to wipe the surface with his shirt and then proceeded to wipe his face, looking up to meet Michonne's glistening eyes studying him with concern. She looked like she was ready to dismiss the kids at his signal. Instead he reached across the table and held her hand, a wistful smile on his lips.
"Carl loved you so much." he said to Judith, turning to kiss her forehead. "And he would have loved you too. He always wanted a brother." RJ beamed at that, having no reason to doubt the only people who actually had the privilege of knowing his big brother. Rick found the strength to continue flipping through the pictures while his family gave him the synopsis on each captured moment.
"This was taken on Halloween. The kids nowadays have had their fill of being scared so we kept it light and fun, silly costumes only. This was right after this little munchkin was born," Michonne playfully ruffled RJ's curls.
"He cried all the time!" Judith teased.
"No I didn'!" He was quick to defend himself, lest his father think him a cry baby.
"How would you know? Mom, remember when I'd sit up at night with you to try and get him to sleep?"
"Okay, okay." Michonne tried to appease both kids. "You were a little fussy," she had to admit to her son, "but you had your moments too, baby girl."
The light-hearted banter continued among them, Rick mainly spectating and taking it all in. Once they were done, for now - Rick had his face buried in that binder every chance he got - Michonne declared it was time for breakfast.
"Why were you up so early, RJ?" She asked as she walked to the kitchen.
"I was drawing the helicopter, wanna see?" He eagerly picked up his notebook and sprinted to his mother's side before she could even answer. "And then dad was telling me stories about the Native Americans. They didn't teach us that in school."
Michonne subtly threw Rick a questioning look across the room waiting for him to elaborate. "I was just telling him about how the military used to name helicopters after Native American tribes." Her face softened, glad to hear that father and son were connecting over common interests.
"Speaking of school, we need to get ready RJ." Judith effortlessly fell back into the guardian role, one she had to take on while their parents were away.
"I think you can skip that today, right?" Michonne paused, waiting for Rick's input. It did not go unnoticed, her making room for him after years of filling both roles. Bringing him into the fold, allowing him to be a parent again. In moments like these, he felt like his words were severely inadequate in expressing just how much he loved this woman. He wanted to show her, whisper his adoration in the crook of her neck as he proclaimed his devotion with his rocking body over hers. But that would have to wait. "Maybe even the rest of the week?"
"Yeah, I think that's fine," he confirmed, laughing at the kids' overjoyed reactions. "What do they teach you at this school?" They all easily worked together on the kitchen counter as the children rambled on about their classes, teachers and friends at school. Their parents listened intently, genuinely interested in their lives, while also taking note of things they would have to discuss later. The CRM's Echelon Briefing was still top of mind and even though Beale was gone, the possibility of spies in their midst still worried them. There it was again, the CRM. The organization had taken root in their lives and no matter how far they ran it always reared its ugly head.
So when the same topic came up later that day when they went to see Ezekiel, it was not a surprise. After an afternoon spent lazily exploring the community as the kids talked their ears off, Rick and Michonne were invited to the Governor's office to continue their discussion.
"Rick! Michonne! I hope you are finding the house to your liking. If there is anything else you need just let me know."
"You have been more than generous Ezekiel, thank you, truly." Michonne intimated as they both took the same seats they were in the previous day.
"Yeah, we're awful grateful for what you did!" Rick noticed that this time Mercer had not been invited and he appreciated it. He seemed like an decent man, his imposing stature notwithstanding, but Rick did not know him nor was he comfortable discussing the the things that he knew would inevitably be brought up in the presence of a stranger. There was however, a CRM branded amplifier and a couple of radio transmitters on the desk.
"Rick, I…I still can't believe that you are here." The charismatic leader looked on with a stupefied grin on his face. "After that bridge ..uh..I'm just happy to see you. And I'm sure your family is too." Rick wondered to himself how many of these reactions he would have to tolerate.
"Well, you already spoke to Aaron," he now addressed them both, "he passed on the message to Maggie who is trying to set up a new community close to Alexandria. Hilltop … we lost Hilltop." They instinctively observed a moment of silence for the community that had given them refuge at their lowest, and the unspoken loss of the people who undoubtedly went down with the ship. "Anyway, they will be coming to see you. We have a biweekly supply exchange with Alexandria when we can afford the fuel and they will be on the next one coming in next week. They couldn't believe it either!"
"What about Daryl?" Michonne finally asked, surprised that the man who was primarily tasked with caring for her children was yet to make an appearance, in person or in conversation. "...and Carol, Rosita, Saddiq? Where are they?" The air in the room suddenly thinned as their long time friend lost his cheerful demeanor. They had both been on the giving end of bad news enough times to know when it was coming their way. Rick reached out to soothingly rub Michonne's back as her distress became more apparent, holding back his own tears.
Ezekiel had the misfortune of having to bring them up to speed on all the horrible happenings of the past year, and as a result some of the friends they had lost along the way. None of them hit Michonne harder than Rosita. She was like a sister and had profoundly stepped up for her and her children after she lost Rick. Even more so, she was heartbroken for her children who greatly loved their Tia Rosita, and Coco who would never know her mother. Over ten years into the apocalypse and they were still senselessly losing their loved ones, when would it end?
Once they could compose themselves, it was their turn to return the favor. Rick recounted a sanitized version of his life after being captured by the CRM, not wanting to get into the weeds about things that were too painful or too embarrassing, some of which he was yet to muster the courage to even share with his closest confidant. He talked about his escape attempts, his service in their army and how eventually Michonne saved him. Ezekiel was shocked, the CRM Rick described sounded nothing like the one he had interacted with. Knowing the extent of Rick's horrid experience made him even more hesitant to bring up his proposal.
"How well do you know these new people, especially the ones at the school?" Rick inquired once the weight of his revelations had lightened.
"As well as anyone knows anyone nowadays. We can only trust what they tell us about their past lives. It's not like we can conduct background checks anymore. Most of these people were here when we came along and some were wanderers looking for a home and we took them in, like we always did. We've had a few problem cases but we have some sort of legal system here, there are laws - most of which were stated in Michonne's Charter. There are consequences to breaking the law and we enforce that. It's just like you always wanted Rick, rebuilding. I can't really say if we have spies in our midst."
"We have to go to the school, meet everyone that works there." Michonne would be damned if she were to send her kids off to potential danger.
"Of course, I can introduce you, keep it covert."
Ezekiel did not know how his next suggestion would be received but he had to try.
"Listen...um, there is something else I wanted to discuss. I am really sorry to hear about Rick getting caught up with this fascist faction of the CRM. But, as you said so yourself," he turned to Michonne, instinctively knowing that she would be the one who would need more convincing, "we can work with them now, and Major General Shaw made it clear that that is something they would be interested in. The Commonwealth is a big community, better than most, but it's far from self-sufficient. Our hospital is running low on both supplies and personnel, our food production is in desperate need of a boost if we keep expanding, and we can only produce enough fuel for essential travel. The best thing we have is a locomotive train but it is old and requires constant maintenance which we can barely keep up with. We don't have planes or any other advanced military technology. What the CRM has to offer, it could significantly improve the quality of life here, if not outright save it."
Michonne agreed with all that was said but she stayed quiet, bracing for the next blow. Her husband on the other hand rubbed his wrinkled forehead, squinting his eyes as if he was seeing into the future. He already knew where this was going.
"If we are to work with them," Ezekiel continued with a measured tone, "and especially after knowing what you just shared, I would feel more comfortable if you two took point in those interactions. Acting as our ambassadors, with them."
"You want us to work for the CRM?" The scoff in her voice was impossible to ignore.
"With…work with them. You would be helping us build what we have. Up until yesterday, no one here knew about them. But Rick," he called out to the agitated man who was now on his feet, " you were within their hidden city for almost a decade. And Michonne, you've gotten to observe them up close. The two of you are best suited to lead up this initiative, make sure we are not vulnerable."
"It's precisely because of what we've been through, what we've lost because of them that we would never want to go anywhere near that place again!" The tremble in Michonne's voice gave away her frustration.
Rick stayed mute, listening, observing from his new position perched at the window. The exact spot where Shaw had stood. She kept noticing these slight changes in his behavior which she could only attribute to his military training. Always aware, alert, ready for anything. Sometimes he looked like he was still waiting on his next orders, but they never came. His lack of input in this conversation, specifically in her support, was working her last nerve.
"I understand that Michonne, really, I do. And I would not be asking if this wasn't important. We have to think about the future, about the next generation. Our children could benefit from this."
That was the last straw! Was Ezekiel trying to guilt them with their own kids?
"Don't bring my children into this!" she shot up in anger, her chair screeching as it dragged against the floor. Rick briskly moved to her side in a show of solidarity. But still, he said nothing.
"I apologize," Ezekiel raised his hands in surrender. "I did not mean to upset you, but you know what I'm saying is true." The two of them were briefly in a standoff, Rick seemingly caught in the middle. "Look, at least think about it. Shaw left this radio equipment here for Eugene to set up and test so that we can communicate. We have a few weeks to decide whether or not we want to take them up on their offer. If you are up for it, I can take you around the Commonwealth and show you exactly how this place runs. Maybe once you see it for yourself you will understand. You don't have to agree to do this for us to move forward with the alliance, God knows the two of you have done enough for your community, but I would feel more confident about our interests being protected if you did. I trust you."
The couple walked back home in silence. Eventually, right outside the steps of their house where their kids were waiting inside, Michonne turned to face Rick, her eyes pinning him down. "Well, are you gonna say something?"
Rick had developed a new habit since that fateful night in the woods with the flaming axe. He cradled his maimed arm to his chest whenever he felt exposed or unsure. The weight of the prosthetic helped him stay grounded. But now all he had was his stump, and that made him feel even more laid bare. He needed to be careful with his words. He did not want Michonne to think that this was anything like what had happened in Greenwood, when he had hurt her and made her doubt his love. He saw that for what it was now, a misguided sense of duty to that army at the expense of his own family and himself, an unwillingness to reveal his wounds to his love stemming from the crippling fear of incurring more and possibly not surviving it this time around. This, this was different. This was a chance to do it right, to do it together.
"We've been crawling around in the dirt so long Michonne, losing people we love. This felt like a way, or a chance to stop that, not surrender to it. To fight."
"I think he has a point, it is something worth considering."
He held his breath, dreading her response. Michonne could only stare at him in disbelief, like he had just betrayed her, and turned to walk into the house.
Rick had hoped that this evening would end with him wrapped tightly around her beautiful naked body, expressing his love the best way he could. It seemed very unlikely that would happen now.
"Thanks Ezekiel!" he murmured under his breath before following her inside.