Chapter Text
Mail was light that day - the only things that came in were the monthly bank statement for their savings account, next month's car note for the minivan, a belated birthday card for Judith from the dentist, and --
aha.
'Heyo - looks like the invitation for everyone's fav-ourite family reunion has finally arrived,' Rick called out, flipping open the invite as he shut the front door behind him. He glanced around as he hung up his windbreaker and kicked off his boots, switching the mail between hands. Where was everybody?
He smelled something seasoned and legume-y coming from the kitchen, even though it was technically his night to cook. Lentils and rice, he assumed: Carl was still on that vegan kick with Enid. And a-pparently the meals Rick made for his precious firstborn were no good.
'Oh?' Michonne called from upstairs. He heard the hollow metal slam of the washing machine door, then the tell-tale beeping of the dryer settings. Rick frowned - Carl was supposed to be on laundry this week. 'Your mother remembered our address this time?'
'Uhh - no comment,' Rick said, chuckling ruefully under his breath as he looked the invite over more closely. At least this time his mother didn't 'accidentally' send the event details to his office address. Or worse: to Lori, at the old house.
His mother sure was crafty, he thought. She'd made an entire reunion-themed newsletter, it looked like, all glossy and official-looking, complete with an itinerary for the long weekend, directions to the reunion venue, and a link to a whole website.
'A website,' Rick muttered to himself incredulously, looking back and forth between pages. Never let it be said that the Grimes family did things halfway!
The whole thing was covered from front to back with a colour collage of family photos. Behind, below and above the fancy text boxes, there were photos of his grandparents, his parents, his dad and his late aunt, his brother Jeff and his sister-in-law Becca, his newborn nephew Lawrence, his nieces Leighton and Lilly, his cousins, cousins' cousins he'd never seen in person before, relatives he didn't even recognise... he huffed out a laugh. Before his mother started her family tree project, he'd never known just how big their family actually was.
Rick flipped to the front again and caught a photo he'd missed before: it was of Carl and Judith during Judith's second birthday party, beaming at the camera from between him and Lori. That had been a few months after the divorce... only a couple days before he met Michonne and Dre.
Rick smiled back at the memory, and came into the kitchen, placing the mail in a mini pile on the table. Carelessly, he tossed his keys into the little purple bowl that Carl had made three years ago for Michonne for Mother's Day.
Two pots were on the stove already, one on low heat, one with no heat. One after another, he pulled the lids off of both, leaning back from the steam: one pot held lentils - as he'd suspected - and the other held ... brown rice, this time, not basmati. Hmm - Michonne was mixing it up! He put the lids back where they belonged.
Next to the sink, to wash his hands. From the cabinet, he pulled out the macaroni shells and breadcrumbs; from the fridge: the butter, the cream and various shredded cheeses. Dre and Judy always loved the way he made mac and cheese. Michonne still had some salmon from last night, but he'd probably just toss some chicken tenders in the oven for him and the kids. He tilted his head, putting his hands on his hips as he eyed the assorted ingredients on the countertop contemplatively. He figured... he'd take the string beans out from the freezer and do them last, probably. Or, if they still had any tomatoes left out back, he could use the last of the white vinegar and do a quick cucumber and tomato salad.
He heard his wife's footsteps before he heard her voice: 'you just missed the kids - Carl went to go pick Dre up, and you know Judy insisted on tagging along.' She sounded a little out of breath. Rick turned to her with a smile and a bit of concern. She smiled back, looking a little tired as she came up beside him for a side-hug.
'Well, hello there,' she said, her smile warming as she gazed up into his eyes.
'I thought I saw Carl's car on the road,' Rick murmured, pulling her into a proper, front-facing hug, '--and he-llo to you, too,' kissing the words against her forehead. Michonne squeezed her arms around his waist, pressing her face against him with a small happy sigh.
For the first time since he'd left home that morning, Rick felt himself relax. 'Carl shirking laundry?' he said quietly.
'No, no,' Michonne said, nuzzling the ticklish part of his collarbone. He grinned down at the top of her head. She was so cute sometimes. 'Just needed something to do with my hands.'
'Well,' he said, wrapping his arms around her, 'here's something to do with your hands.' Careful not to squeeze too hard, he held her close, resting his chin on top of her locs.
Privately he thought she still looked too skinny for five months, even though she insisted that her nausea wasn't a problem anymore. Dr Pratap did say she didn't seem to be losing weight as much, but he still worried about her. She was supposed to take it easy on her WFH days, but it seemed like she was always doing chores he and the kids were meant to do - Rick was seriously considering sending her on an enforced sabbatical to Tybee Island.
She leaned back, a huge grin on her face, that one that he fell for the minute he met her. He leaned down with a growing smile. They kissed.
'How you feeling?' he said quietly, once they parted. Her shoulders had loosened some, he noticed. 'Rick Jr. isn't giving you too many problems, I hope.'
Michonne scoffed. 'We are not naming him Rick Jr,' she said, beaming, delighting him.
'We could call him Junior,' Rick conceded, pulling her close again, 'short--'
'Short for Rick Jr,' she said at the same time, shaking her head in amusement. She let out a little laugh. He realised he was grinning at her, that they'd started swaying back and forth in their hug.
'Well, Julien was good to me today,' she said, her smile growing as he reflexively shook his head. No way was he naming his son Julien. She raised her arms as they slowed to a stop, wrapping them around his neck to distract him. He shot her a wry look - she wasn't fooling him. 'He let me get through two meetings in a row without a single complaint.' She leaned up and kissed his mouth - ok, maybe she could fool him a little. 'We missed you, though. How was the compliance visit?'
Rick cast his mind back - the day's irritations seemed so far away now. 'It was alright. Eugene was ... Eugene,' he summarised, shrugging.
Michonne chuckled. 'That bad, huh? My poor baby,' she cooed, teasing him. Oh she thought that was funny, did she? Rick started nipping at her lips, her chin, her neck.
'Rick!' she yelped, pushing him away with a giggle. 'Stop biting on me!'
'Grrruff,' he said playfully, pretending to growl. Michonne swatted him away, still laughing as he released her.
He saw her notice the mail - he turned back to the counter, opening the cupboard to take out a pot for the pasta, as well as the colander. 'So I thought I'd make some of my blasphemous macaroni and cheese tonight--'
'Bread crumbs do not belong on mac and cheese,' Michonne said, sounding distracted.
Rick tossed a laugh over his shoulder. 'Yes, you've made your thoughts on my mac and cheese very clear, counsellor,' he said. He heard the sound of her typing on her phone. He glanced back at her, his smile fading when she didn't look back at him - was that her job, bothering her so late? The sabbatical to Tybee was looking more and more necessary with each second.
'I was thinking I could just do some chicken tenders for me and the kids,' he said, trying to keep his voice upbeat. They'd already had one disagreement about her work hours just yesterday - he had no plans on starting another. 'What are you thinking for your carb - sweet potato or Russet?' He laughed to himself, not noticing that she did not respond. 'It's all the same when the lights go out, I guess--'
'Rick,' said Michonne, in a very quiet voice. Rick turned around at once, looking her over rapidly, trying to figure out what was wrong. He saw she was holding the invite in one hand. 'Did you look at the invite your mother sent?'
The invite to the family reunion? 'Ye-s,' he said warily.
'You looked at every page, Rick?' she asked. She still wouldn't turn around. 'Every page?'
Rick took a step closer to her, trying to understand what had gotten her so riled up. Maybe he'd been naïve - he'd thought that things had improved. It had been a while since Michonne had insisted that his mother didn't like her and Dre.
'I, I mean, yea, I glanced through it,' he said cautiously, hovering over her. With a growing sense of alarm, he noticed that she was trembling. ''Chonne, what's the matter? Is it the baby?'
Michonne turned and looked at him - and the look of betrayal on her face drew ice into his veins.
''Chonne,' he said, furrowing his brow - he was shocked when Michonne pressed a hand to his chest, very clearly keeping him away. Without apology or explanation, she turned on her heel and walked right out of the kitchen. He glanced down and realised that she'd pushed the reunion invite against his chest.
He heard her going upstairs - he heard her going into their room - he heard her opening the closet door.
Frantically, he flipped through the pages of the invite, trying to see what he'd missed that Michonne caught that had hurt her so badly - ok, there were no photos of her, but there was one of Lori right on the front, he could see how that would upset her, and, and, the invitation was addressed To Mr. Rick Grimes & Co., and that was disrespectful, that was just another one of his mom's fucking little jabs, she'd never had a problem sending things To The Grimes Family or To Rick and Lori Grimes before he got re-married--
his blood ran cold when he heard Michonne trudging down the stairs. She was wearing shoes in the house. Rick jogged to meet her in the foyer. She paused on the very last stair when she saw him, her face trembling with emotion. She was wearing his old fleece sheriff's jacket over her house clothes, and the paint-covered work boots she'd helped paint the nursery with. She was carrying a hastily packed duffel bag, not even properly zipped up. Sticking sideways out of the bag, was a stuffed Kodak envelope.
Rick's heart dropped to his feet. ''Chonne,' he said, stunned. 'Where--'
'I think,' she said, very clearly trying to stay calm, 'I think that Andre and I should stay at my dad's place tonight.'
'I,' Rick had no idea what to say. He had no idea how this evening had spiralled so badly, so out of control, so quickly. He came to stand directly in front of her. 'I'll talk to my mother, Michonne,' he said desperately, 'I saw that she only addressed the invite to me, I saw that she didn't include any photos of you--'
Michonne shook her head. 'It's not about her, Rick; it's not even about the invite,' she said. She seemed to want to ignore the tears dripping down her face. Rick stared at her miserably. 'It's about you.'
Rick rocked back on his heels. 'Me? What-- Michonne, what are you talking about?'
'I don't know what talking more about it will do. I've tried to explain it to you, to point it out to you,' she said, quiet and resigned, 'and you still don't know how to look out for Andre the way I need you to.' Rick's heart staggered - he felt she could not have hurt him more if she had run him through with a sword. 'So.' She swallowed hard. 'I love you, and I will be back in the morning. I just ... I have to consider whether I want to do this all alone again with another child.'
Do what all alone? Rick could not speak past the lump in his throat. While he stood there gaping like an idiot, Michonne pressed the envelope of photos against his chest - clumsily, he reached up to take it from her, accidentally dropping the invite - then she stepped down and around him, and walked back into the kitchen.
He heard the click of the stove turning off - the sound of car keys jangling - the creak of the back door opening and closing.
Rick collapsed on the stair. He did not know how long he sat there in shock. It was only when he heard an odd, splattering noise that he realised he was crying, and that his tears were dripping onto the envelope of photos. With great pain, he sucked up his tears and snot, then slowly, carefully opened up the envelope.
His mother had asked for photos of the kids months and months ago, he remembered, for the reunion. Michonne had gone above and beyond, as she always did, even going so far as to consult Lori on the perfect photos to send. At the time he'd teased Michonne about being a perfectionist, but secretly he'd been so moved and impressed that picking the right photos of their family had meant that much to her.
These must have been the photos she'd sent to get copied. He went through the photos slowly, carefully, memorising every detail, every pose, every gesture. He saw:
a photo of him and Carl standing behind Dre, on his bike for the first time, both of them stretching out their arms after him; Judith and Michonne, two Halloweens ago, doing a Charlie's Angel pose in their Captain America and Winter Soldier costumes, Carl squatting in the front as Deadpool; Lori and Nelson at their wedding, bent down and kissing a giggling Dre on either side of his face; Michonne hugging a flushed and happy Carl from the side, the day he won his team's MVP award; Rick knocked out in a hammock on their vacation to St Vincent, Judith and Dre asleep on either side of him; Nelson, him, Judith, and Dre triumphantly holding up four very small fishes; Michonne and Dre at Disneyland, wearing matching Mickey Mouse hats and making silly cross-eyed faces at the camera; Lori, Dre and Carl, captured mid-clap, in the stands for Judith's second gymnastics meet; a photo that Rick had taken of Michonne, flat on her back in their foyer, taking unnecessarily artsy photos of Carl and Enid, action-posing in their promwear; Judith standing with Michonne's stepmom Evangeline in the lake, the last July 4 they all spent together before Ange passed; Carl picking Dre up the day he got his yellow belt in taekwondo; Rick's favourite photo from the day of their wedding, when Dre had misunderstood what was happening and ran back down the aisle during the vows to talk to his mom.
Rick let out a watery laugh at the memory. He kept looking.
There was a photo of him, Michonne, Nelson and Lori from a few years ago, smiling awkwardly around a campfire... what a shitshow that had been... a photo of Judith and Dre burying a laughing Rick in the sand on Myrtle Beach... Lori and Michonne in matching bridesmaid gowns for Andrea's third wedding... Dre as Woody from three Halloweens ago, standing beside a very sweaty-looking Rick as Buzz Lightyear... Carl and Michonne dancing at Jeff's wedding... Lori, Carl, Dre and Judith at the aquarium, standing in front of a tank filled with four sea turtles... him, Michonne and Judith grinning in front of the cabin... a very visibly pregnant Lori, letting Dre and Judith put their ears up against her belly... their annual family photoshoot from last year, all five of them in various casual poses in front of the rusting train tracks, dressed like the Blues Brothers in suits and sunglasses...
photo after photo after photo of some of the happiest years of Rick's life.
At the very back of the pile, in a carefully folded wax envelope that Michonne had to have made herself, was the photo of Judith's second birthday, Carl and Judith grinning toothily between him and Lori, oblivious to the tension between their parents. The photo had some water damage at the very bottom, as well as a few scratches. Michonne had left a post-it note on the wax envelope that said: Please handle with care.
Rick's heart would not stop breaking. Blinking back tears, he silently counted his breaths till he did not feel as though he would sink under a wave of panic and pain. He put the photo back into the wax envelope, the wax envelope back into the pile of photos, and the pile back into the Kodak envelope.
He wiped his eyes; he stared blankly ahead of himself. He wondered what he was going to do next.
He paused - he looked down at the Kodak envelope. Something told him to look at the photos again.
He picked the envelope up, took the photos out and went through them again, starting backwards this time.
He slowed, tilting his head. He noticed: every photo (save one) had either Michonne or Dre in it. He put the photos beside him, on the stair - with a grunt, he reached out and picked up the invite from the floor, where he'd dropped it.
Carefully, methodically, he looked through every photo in the invite that he could see. He pulled out his phone - he typed the website name into the Safari browser: grimesfamilyvalues dot com.
Impatiently, he exited out of the RSVP auto-pop-up. There were photos on the reunion website, too, in the background, and in the Photo Album section. He looked at each page, every photo in the Photo Album section. He clicked on every link. He scrolled up, he scrolled down. In both the invite and on the site, he counted photos of Jeff and Becca. He counted photos of Lilly, of Leighton, of Lawrence, together and apart. He counted photos of him and Jeff, at various ages, before marriage. Lori - who had already RSVP'ed 'No' to the reunion, since she and Nelson wouldn't be back in town in time - was in no less than 8 different photos, 7 of which his mother had taken herself when they were still married.
Michonne wasn't in any of the photos.
Neither was Dre.
And Rick finally noticed. He noticed in half an hour what Michonne had noticed in moments. What she had feared, what she must have tried to specifically plan against. What she had been trying to tell him about his mother for years. Years.
And all this time, he'd kept dismissing her, had kept running interference. All this time, he'd been saying things like, 'believe me, she didn't care for Lori, either.' All this time saying things like, 'I promise you this isn't a race thing.'
All this time: letting his mother cut his wife, cut one of his sons. His family. Leaving Michonne to deal with the reality of it all. Alone.
Rick felt his face flush with humiliation, with grief and regret; with rage.
He took in a quick, sharp breath. On his phone, he navigated to his keypad. And he dialled his mother's number for the last time.