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Rick Grimes Junior Chronicles

Fishing, Camping, and Lamaze class.

“ Junior pull!” Rick yells, holding the fishing pole, along with his son; both of them pulling against the force that guarantees a feast for tonight. Junior is on break from school, and Rick aligned his time off with Junior’s days off, so it was no better time to have a fishing and camping trip. They are about 20 miles outside of the Commonwealth, a spot he and Michonne found when they decided to go on a run a month ago. Just the two of them, reliving the old times when they had to go on runs, and did not have the ample resources that they now have. Even now, this fishing trip is a bonding experience for the Ricks, but deep down, Rick wants Junior exposed to the rawness of the world, teaching him to make it on his own, and not becoming desensitised to ease and privilege. If you teach a man to fish…

This entire trip has been amazing and refreshing for The Ricks. They've spent two days out here in the wilderness, just the two of them - The Ricks. They set their camp out near the lake, Rick teaching Junior survival tips and tricks, reminding him of how he used to do this with Carl. And when the sun went down, Junior climbed into his father’s sleeping bag, wanting to be as close to his favorite person as he could be. Rick fell asleep with a smile on his face, cuddling the best gift he and Michonne gave to each other.

“ Dad!” Junior yells, holding the fishing pole as hard as his little seven years old hands allow. A minute feels like forever, when you're trying to catch your first fish, but the line snaps, the fish escapes, and Junior tumbles into the dirt, disappointed.

“ Hey buddy, there's always next time,” Ricks says, smiling at the way Junior frowns and pouts, looking exactly like his mother whenever she doesn't get her way. He sees this frown whenever he uses up all the hot water in the shower, or when Junior prefers his dad to tuck him in at night. He remembers one time, at 3 AM, they heard Junior screaming in the middle of the night. Nightmares of losing his dad, taunting him in his sleep. Michonne screamed that she was on her way, and the boy replied, “ I want daddy.” The frown she had then is the frown her son has now, and as much as Rick loves that the boy is 95% Rick Grimes, he cherishes the 5% that is Michonne Grimes.

“ Dad, I almost had it.”

“ I know, but sometimes, you lose some,” Rick says, squatting to his son’s level, wiping the dirt from his little boy's face. Rick stares at his boy, truly baffled at how Michonne’s genetics didn't even try.

“ I wanted to give mama a fish,” he pouts, looking down at his dusty jeans. Ever since Junior met his dad, he undertook a new wardrobe. He only wears blue and black jeans, cowboy boots, and whatever color or form of shirt his dad is wearing. Right now, Junior is in a brown shirt and so is Rick.

“ How about we try again?” Rick laughs, adjusting the boy's hat, and Junior smiles, headed to grab his dad’s fishing pole when the walkie talkie makes noise.

“ Daito to The Brave Man,” it sputters, and The Ricks dive toward the walkie, eager to hear the center of both of their universes.

“ Mom,” Junior says, grasping the walkie, and a stern look from his dad reminds him to use code names.

“ It's Little Brave Man,” Junior says, sitting on his dad’s lap who sits on the foldable chair.

“ Hi baby. How is the trip,” she asks, and Rick can detect the smile in her voice.

“ It’s good. Dad and I are having so much fun! Dad taught me how to make knots, traps, and how to hunt. I almost caught my first fish but dad says we’re going to try again. Dad let me tell ghost stories last night,” he says knowing his mom wouldn't allow it, and the finger placed to Rick's lips reminds Junior that it was supposed to be their little secret.

“ Did you have nightmares?” she ask softly.

“ No!” Junior quickly defends, and Rick stifles the laugh because though he knows his son is obsessed with him, he knows part of the reason he felt a little body squeezing in his already small sleeping bag, was because the scary wind outside of their tent reminded him of the scary wind that was talked about in the third ghost story.

After a few minutes of catching up, Michonne asks to speak to Rick in a way that means she just needs it to be her and Rick, so Rick sends Junior off to repair his fishing line. Rick settles into his foldable chair, imagining how she looks today. A month ago, she signed up for lamaze class with the CommonWealth’s best Midwife, Mrs. Tyler. Rick would be with her now, but it's hosted by the Midwife Legend, who is a much older and traditional Southern woman who does not let men attend. She is so old fashioned, she doesn't allow men in the labour and delivery room; suffice to say, she won't be delivering Rick and Michonne’s baby girl, but she was good at what she does, so Michonne decided to take her class. Rick listens to her lament on how strict Mrs. Tyler is, holding his laughter in.

“ Why are you whispering?” he ask.

“ Because I am hiding in the bathroom,” she says urgently and Rick can't help but release the laughter he’s been holding in, at the thought of his fearless wife, hiding in the bathroom from an 89 year old Southern sweet old lady. She pushed him out of a helicopter, blew up the CRM, gave birth to their baby all alone, and yet this old woman is scaring her. Rick's joy attracts attention, a walker coming into view, snarling toward them.

“ Hold on, Michonne,” he says resolutely, exchanging the walkie down for his gun, when Junior grabs his little hatchet from his belt buckle.

“Junior, wait!” Rick yells, thankful Michonne can't hear the commotion of what's going on. Suddenly his heart stops, and his body is transported back into a realm where his oldest son lay defeated by a walker bite. It's like a movie that plays before Rick's eyes, as he watches his son knock the walker to its feet, before puncturing it in the brain. He should be happy. He knows he should. His son knows how to defend himself and survive. But his son’s independence reminds him of what he missed. Rick wanted to be there to teach him to walk, to hear him babble and boast to Michonne that Junior said dada before he said mama. Rick knows that he’s guilty for babying his son, but that's his son whose life he missed out on. That's his baby and if he wants to baby him, he can. But the boy standing over the walker, wiping blood off of his arm reminds him that he is growing up right before Rick's eyes.

Suddenly, Rick remembers the walkie and knows that Michonne will worry if he doesn't return fast, so he gestures for Junior to come back to his fishing line, noticing how the boy avoids his gaze the whole time. Rick returns to his foldable chair, taking a deep breath to level his heart rate, retaining a demeanor that wont alarm his already troubled and annoyed wife.

“ Hey baby, I’m back.”

“ Is everything okay? RJ?”

“ Junior’s fine, now tell me about Mrs. Tyler,” Rick says, eager to change the subject.

“ What happened?” Michonne says, not letting this go.

“ It was a walker. It was far away and in the distance - I killed it,” Ricks face is sour, hating lying to his wife. And after a few more seconds of assuaging her worry, they return back to Michonne’s day of drinking slimy and disgusting drinks because Mrs.Tyler swears it’ll give her a healthy pregnancy.

“ Honey, I'm coming to get you,” Rick says, starting to rise.

“ No! I can handle this myself.”

“ You don't have to handle this yourself, honey-”

“ I know, but even though I feel like a teenager with a strict parent, she has been very helpful. I’ve learned alot from her so maybe it's best that I stay. Besides, I'm afraid of what she might do when she sees you rescuing me. Oh shit. She’s onto me. I gotta go. Tell Junior to be good. Love you, bye,” Michonne says quickly, her voice exiting the walkie. Rick holds it dearly to his chest, pondering his next steps. He needs to talk to Junior, he knows he does. A rain droplet falls on his arm, and he looks up and sees dark clouds forming. He grew up on a farm and can predict the weather better than any meteorologist.

“ Junior, let's go and rescue your mama.”

It's night time when The Ricks arrive at the east end of the Commonwealth. The drive from the campground was quiet, and not just because Junior fell asleep in the backseat, but because Rick had to focus. A storm was brewing, one that meant power outages, and stocking up on food from the pantry.

Now, The Ricks stand outside on the porch, waiting for Mrs.Tyler to open her door, so that they could rescue Michonne. Eventually, it slowly opens, revealing a very pregnant Michonne who is shocked to see her boys.

“ What are you doing here?” she excitedly whispers, going for Junior first, kissing his forehead, and hugging him tightly.

“ She’s gonna kill you,” she smiles into Rick's kiss, cradling his bearded cheek, and holding Junior’s frame with her other hand.

“ I’m not scared of Mrs.Tyler,” Rick says, his hand sliding down Michonne’s back.

“ Rick, you're not fighting Mrs.Tyler. She’s an old lady. Besides, I don't think you would survive.”

There they stand, Michonne holding her little boy who has an expression on his face that she'll investigate later, as Rick holds them both. They jump, startled, when Mrs.Tyler calls Michonnes names from inside of the house.

“ You better go,” Michonne says, pushing The Ricks down the steps.

“ Honey-”

“ I’m serious, she’s going to kill you if she -”

“ Mrs. Grimes, who are these people?” An older lady appears in the doorway, and Rick sizes her up, wondering how Michonne has been scared of her.

“ Uh - this is my son, Mrs. Tyler. Rick Junior, my baby that I was telling you about. And this is Rick, my husband,” Michonne says, standing in front of them.

“ Well, what are y’all standing out here for, you’ll catch a cold,” she says, making them follow her inside, as Michonne rolls her eyes, holding Junior’s hand.

It's an old farmhouse, reminding Rick of his grandma’s house when he was little. He loved visiting his grandparents as a child, him and his brother Jeff, playing practical jokes on his grandma who could give it as much as she could take it. His feisty old grandma is where he learned how to predict the weather and curse like a sailor. Suddenly the 89 year old woman feels like home, reminding Rick of people, family who he has not had the pleasure of thinking about since The Turn. He decides that he has no reason to be afraid of this country lady who looks like his childhood memories, understanding why his city wife finds her to be intimidating.

“ You know, you ought to dust in here,” Rick says mischievously, teasing the older woman, and suddenly he feels Michonne's elbow jabbing him.

“ You know, you ought to have named your son anything but Junior. Very unoriginal. Sounds like the boy comes from a couple of narcissists,” she says, leading them into the living room, and Rick laughs, falling in love with this lady, more and more.

“ Here you go,” Mrs.Tyler says, aggressively handing Rick two large blankets.

“ What is this for?”

“ you're staying here,” She says resolutely, slowly walking to pull pillows from a dresser.

“ Oh that's not necessary-,” Michonne starts.

“ It is storming out there.”

“ Oh it's just a little rain, we’ll be fine.”

“ You weren't born in the country, girl. That is more than a little rain, and if you don't want your little boy flying away in the wind, I suggest you get comfortable. You in there, and you two in there,” she says confidently, pointing to two different rooms for them to sleep in.

“ Uh- I’d like to stay with my Wife,” Rick over exaggerates the fact that Michonne is his wife, understanding people like Mrs. Tyler. His mother was the same way. In the South, Boyfriends and Girlfriends don't sleep in the same rooms. Not even if they were your fiance. Only spouses could.

“ Well, you and your WIFE,” she replies sarcastically, taking note of the emphasis Rick put on Michonne being married to him.

“-won't die if you sleep separated for one night. You made this little boy and have another one on the way. By the looks of it, you two could use a break from each other. Men in different rooms. Your boy is free to go to whichever parent he wants to," Mrs. Tyler says, her tone insinuating that there will be no negotiating. She disappears into the hallway giving them privacy, as Rick swallows his annoyance.

“ I see what you mean, Michonne. She is scary,” he says loud enough for Mrs. Tyler to hear down the hall.

“ But I want to sleep with both of you,” his son says, bringing him back to the situation. Michonne steps up, kissing her boy goodnight, already knowing that he can't sleep with both of them, and if given the opportunity to choose, he’ll always choose his dad.

“ You listen to daddy, you hear me?” she says, kneeling to her son's height, and he nods his head softly, falling into her embrace. She kisses his cheek, his forehead, his nose, all over his face- a kiss attack- the way she would do when he was a newborn, when he had chunky cheeks. Back then he would laugh heartily, that deep baby laugh that gave a person baby fever. Now, he grimaces, pretending to be disgusted.

“ Mom,” he whines, wiping her kisses away, and trying but failing to wipe the smile away too.

“ ‘Mom’” she mocks, rising to wrap her arms around her husband, intimately pressing her bosom into his chest. He secures his arms around her waist, kissing her deeply, inhaling her breath. He hasn't slept with his wife in two days, and now he has to go another day.

“ Dad. Mom.You're being gross-” Junior whines, holding the blankets, and Michonne pulls away from Rick, wiping at his mouth, not releasing him yet.

“ I love you,” she says, staring deeply into his eyes.

“ I love you,” he says in his soft bedroom voice, only reserved for her, going back to softly pecking her lips, when he remembers the bump between them. He takes a step back, kissing her growing belly, before grabbing Junior and walking into their room for the night.

Now, Rick ponders the events of the day as he watches the dirt fall from his body into the shower drain. The warm water sedates him, feeling relaxed after his heart almost fell out of his chest today when Junior handled that walker. He formulates his thoughts and words, knowing that once he’s out of the shower, he’ll have to talk to Junior. He makes quick work of drying himself, and lotioning his skin with some sandalwood cream he’ll steal for himself when Mrs. Tyler isn't looking. After putting on some large pajamas Mrs. Tyler lended him, he calls Junior into the bathroom to brush his teeth, noticing the boy's hair.

“ Junior, when was the last time you washed your hair?” Rick asks, seeing a build up of dirt trapped in his locks, no doubt from their camping and fishing trip. Junior spits out the toothpaste, and pauses his brushing to answer his dad.

“ uh mama washed it last week.” he says, returning to cleaning his teeth. It's amazing what children get from their parents. Junior has gone his whole life never knowing his father, and yet he couldn't escape being Rick if he tried. Yet there are tiny moments that remind him that Michonne contributed to their baby- like the boy’s love for dental hygiene. Rick laughs to himself, thinking about how Michonne’s dental hygiene is the story of their love. The beginning of their story. Michonne’s dental hygiene and what followed after Rick wanting to satisfy her is the origin of Junior’s life. Rick owes that toothpaste his life.

Rick comes to kiss his son’s forehead.

“ When you're done with that, I'm gonna wash your hair-”

“ Daddy-”

“ No arguments, Junior. You’ve got dirt from the trip still in your hair.”

So now Rick stands above the sink, standing over a Junior who lays on the counter, his head dipped into the sink. He never thought to wash hair this way, but he saw Michonne do it, and now it's how they clean the boys hair. Rick lathers the shampoo he just finished using in his own shower into the boy’s locks, washing the dirt away, and shampooing the boy's scalp. He laughs to himself, purposely flicking a little bit of water on the boy's face, Junior animatedly calling his dad, trying to pretend he isn't having a good time. Trying to pretend he hates it when his dad shampoos his hair.

Eventually Rick finishes, and now sits on the closed toilet, Junior standing between his legs, moisturizing the boy's curls. Junior keeps his eyes closed, enjoying the massage, when a look of perplexion returns to the boy's face.

“ What is it?” Rick asks.

“ I know you’re mad at me - for getting that walker,” Junior says, and Rick stops his movements. He looks at him long and hard. Junior stands, a towel wrapped around his shoulders, in a shirt that is so big, it almost goes to his ankle, clothes that belong to Mrs. Tyler’s dead husband, Ricks presumes.

“ I’m not mad at you, son,” Rick says softly, gesturing for Junior to help him close the cap on the bottle; his one hand another thing that brings them closer together. Rick is independent, and capable of handling life on his own, but he can't help but notice the way Junior loves to help him button his shirt, or open bottles, or put on his boots. Rick has gone his whole life being tolerated, only to go half on a kid who thinks he hung the moon.

“ You're not mad?” the boy looks into his fathers eyes, relief washing over him,

“ No, son.” Rick says, a soft smile forming on his lips.

“ So, why did you panic?”

“ You’re my son, I am always going to panic.”

“ But I wasn't in danger, daddy. I had it-”

“ That doesn't matter, son. For the rest of my life, you will always be on my mind. Whether I am asleep or awake. When your mama told me about you for the first time, you were on my mind, and every action I did after that was for your safety.”

“ But dad-”

“ No buts, Junior. One day, when you grow up to be a man, and if you decide that you want to be a father, you will see what I am talking about. You never stop worrying about your kid. Besides, you’re too young to be handling walkers-”

“ No I’m not, dad.”

“ Junior-”

“ No, I'm not dad!” he practically yells, startling rick. And if this were any other situation, Rick would be stern with him for raising his voice, but something is on the boy's mind.

“ You know. When I was in class, back in Alexandria- they would talk about people who changed history. People who changed the world. You were always at the top of that list. And when I realized that the hero in my history books was my father, that I was his son and I was named after him- I knew that I had something to live up to - big shoes to fill.”

“ Junior, you have no shoes to fill. I am a character to them, but to you, I am your dad-”

“ You’re both! You're the man who pours the milk in my cereal every morning, who goes on school field trips with me, and lets me eat the last waffle. But you're also the man who led Alexandria to safety against the Saviors. You blew up the bridge to save everyone. You chopped off your hand because you couldn't bear not seeing mama in your dreams anymore. You changed the world. You are my hero. And I want to be just like you,” Junior says, his voice cracking, a tear rolling down his face, and Rick’s heart shatters into pieces. He pulls the boy into his embrace, enjoying the feeling of Junior's Face snuggling in the nape of his neck, imagining what that would have felt like when Junior was a baby. He would've loved to play fight with 2 year old Junior. He would've loved feeding Junior bottles at 2 am, while Michonne caught up on rest. He would've loved blowing bubbles in his belly, and wiping his nose during the colder months, and finding matching swimming trunks during the warmer ones.

“ Buddy, you don't have to put yourself in danger to be like me. You are me.”

“ I wasn't in danger, though dad. I knew you were behind me, and if I needed help, all I would have to do is call you,” he says, leaning into his dad’s chest, and suddenly it hits rick. He and Michonne created a child who is half a person who took down the CRM and half a person who ripped someone's throat out. Junior never stood a chance at being a normal and a regular kid. Rick doesn't want to go down the spiral that makes him ponder all the years of the boy's life he missed but he can't help it. The truth is, Junior did have that walker- but oh how he wishes he didn't. How he wishes Junior called him instead, needing him like a two year old would. But Junior isn't two. He is seven and half of two insane people which automatically makes him more progressed than most. Rick can't turn back the clock- Junior will never be a baby again, but his Junior, his baby boy, is here, in the flesh, and from the moment he’s met his boy- he gets to raise him. Rick will do that, he'll teach him how to fight, and how to go on runs, and how to be a leader for the future… he’ll do these things so that he gets to be the person who pours the cereal, and goes on field trips, and makes forts in the living room.

Junior pulls back, with tear stains on his face.

“ I love you dad. You're the best gift that I have ever received,” he says confidently, as if nothing truer were ever uttered. And Rick swallows the lump in his throat, staring into the creation that exists because Michonne made loving her so easy to do.

“ And you’re my best gift, Junior,” Rick says, and he tickles the boy's sides, inviting levity into the moment. They return to the boy's hair, then the boy's skin, Rick lotioning him when he notices how dry the boy's skin is. Junior starts talking about his favorite character in “Invincible.” Comics used to be Michonne and Carl's thing. But the way Junior talks about it, makes Rick vow to read every comic he can get his hand on, so that he can connect to his boy on yet another level. Suddenly, a thought pops into Rick's head.

“ I have an idea.”

Down the hall, Michonne lays restless in her bed, massaging her growing bump, thinking of all the fun The Ricks are having. It's funny. Junior was never a mama’s boy. When he was a toddler, his first words were dada. All he’s ever done was talk about his dad, even when he hadn't even met him yet. It’s like she destined him to be like and obsess over his father, the moment she looked at Rosita almost 8 years ago, confirming the name of her and Rick’s baby. A smile forms on her face, when she realises how happy she is that she was able to gift Rick someone who makes him so happy- someone who he wanted so much.

Suddenly, Michonne jumps, when she hears a noise, instinctively grabbing whatever threatening object next to her. She holds the lamp in her hand like she would her katana, staring at the darkness of her room when her heart almost falls out of her chest. It's her boys, sneaking into her room, both plastering mischievous grins on their faces, and by the looks of it, she knows that it was her husband's idea, and Junior was just eager to be a part of whatever plan his father concocted. Junior is on Rick’s back, whispering, SURPRISE!

“ Rick,” she whispers shocked, as Junior jumps on the bed, excited to be sharing a bed with his parents.

Rick instinctively grabs his wife, kissing her as much as he wants, free to do so, now that Junior is distracted by how comfortable the sheets are.

“ You’re gonna get me in so much trouble,” Michonne whispers in rick's mouth, as he tilts his head, consuming her lips.

“ Just wait until we get back home. You’re really gonna be in trouble then,” he whispers seductively, squeezing her bottom in his hand.

“ You promise?” she whispers passionately and bites his lip. She entertains Rick for a few more seconds, playing with the hair on his chest as he kisses her neck. Eventually she pulls away, knowing where this is headed.

Michonne grabs her boy, smelling his lavender shampooed hair, praising Rick for scratching one thing off her todo list. They whisper, speaking in hushed tones, updating Michonne of their camping trip, Rick Grimes Junior in between both of his parents, their bodies facing their boy and their hands interlocked. Junior makes a joke, and they have to hold their hands to their mouths, both of them, reaching over to kiss the boy's cheeks, just like they would have if he was a newborn, and they were new parents to the gift that they gave each other.

Now, Junior sleeps on top of Rick, Rick's back sitting up and leaning on the bed frame, with Michonne laying in the space of his open arm. She rest her head on his shoulder, playing in Juniors curls, as he softly snores.

“ I know something happened, Rick. When there was a pause on the walkie. It's fine. You both are safe and that's all that matters.”

Rick nods, gently caressing Junior’s back, deciding to tell his wife the truth.

“ He took his first walker,” he says and Michonne’s eyes buck because she doesn't know whether to be happy or sad.

“ He’s too young to be-”

“ I know. It's exactly what I thought. But after he took his bath, I washed his hair. We talked. He’s half of you and half of me, baby. Two insane people, he never stood a chance,” Ricks says, and Michonne eventually agrees, nodding and understanding that everything Rick is saying is true. It's the same for the baby growing inside of her. It’ll be a few more years before Junior becomes a weapon, and a machine. But if Michonne had anything to do with it, those years would have to wait.

“ I know what you're thinking,” Rick says.

“ Yeah?” she looks up into his eyes, kissing his shoulder.

“ He's our baby. Our baby that we were supposed to raise together, the fact that you were alone, pregnant all those years angers me so much Michonne. Those people who we survived with- our own fucking family, turned away from you and I wasnt there to help. They owed you so much.”

“ I know baby,” she says softly, caressing his beard and looking at his lips. She knows how angry it makes Rick that all she had to help her in her most difficult time was Daryl and Rosita. A Lot makes him angry, but they can't go back, so she softly pecks his lips three times, shushing him when she sees how he wants to continue down that dark path.

“ The fact that we couldn't experience his early life together-but I have to find peace in the fact that we get to raise him at 7 and not 14 or even 18. Imagine, if it took that long for you to find me. I have to find peace in the fact that he still is shorter than my shoulders, and crawls in my tent when he is scared, and that he thinks I’m cool and still wants to sleep with mom and dad. He‘s got Michonne and Rick in him. He can't help but be insane. But for the moments that remind me he's just a little boy, I will cherish them forever. Jadis took years away from us. Let's not let her take anymore.”

And Michonne nods, helping Rick to lay back in a way that wont wake up their future heir. He startles a bit, a chain of saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth. Michonne wipes it away, laying his head more comfortably on his fathers chest. She kisses her boy's forehead before kissing Rick one more time, and resting on his shoulder.

“ Goodnght, Rick.”

“ Goodnight, baby.”

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