Chapter Text
“Morning. Anybody there?”
Rick Grimes’ voice crackled out across the house and Carl froze over the sink. RJ sprinted past the door to answer the call, followed by Oliver, who glanced into the bathroom at Carl with a wry smile.
Judith was refusing to get out of bed, and only allowed Safe Zone to curl up with her for comfort. Enid and Ginny were making breakfast for everyone.
Carl stayed in the bathroom for a minute, listening to his husband and his brother chat to his mother and father. He felt like he might be sick.
He glanced at himself in the mirror again, meeting his father’s eye in his own identical one, taking a steep breath.
He’d rehearsed what to say. Not word for word but enough to know what not to say — it’s my fault. I failed her. I let it happen.
I couldn’t stop it.
I couldn’t protect her.
I’m sorry.
He couldn’t let any of that leak out. If he said it, if his dad heard it, then it would make it real.
He headed towards the living room, passing RJ’s bedroom on the way. The door was open slightly, and he could hear Safe Zone purring in Judith’s arms, and it comforted him — not much, but enough.
In the living room, he sat on the edge of the coffee table opposite Oliver and Enid. RJ handed over the walkie. Carl almost dropped it. He put it to his mouth. Inhaled. Pressed the receiver.
“Dad?”
Silence for a beat or two. Then—
“Son…”
His father sounded older. Rougher. But still him.
“... oh, God… Carl, it is so good to hear your voice.”
And that was it.
Carl was gone.
He said nothing at first, because he was crying — silent, shaking sobs as he stood up and began pacing the room. Oliver, Enid, Ginny, and RJ watched him. His jaw locked tightly enough he thought he might crack a tooth.
He hated that this had to be his first conversation he’d have with his father in almost a decade. Ruined because of his own failings as a brother.
Michonne said something next, but Carl didn’t remember what it was.
He forced the words out. He made them as clinical as he could.
“Judith and Hershel were kidnapped. Maggie and I got ‘em back last night. They’re safe now. But something happened. Judith — she…”
For a second he couldn’t speak or breathe or think of the right thing to say, and he was too afraid to hear their responses yet to take his thumb off the receiver. They heard everything. The shuffle as he wrung his sleeves, his feet as they tracked the carpet, every hiccupping breath that escaped his throat.
“The people who took her — they cut out her tongue.”
He’d never forget the sound his father made after that, before the receiver cut off on their side. A groan so guttural it was barely human. It was a noise Carl remembered well from the day Judith was born, as his father learned of their mother’s death.
He couldn’t stand it.
He knew his dad. Even after so long. He knew how he laughed, how he cried, how he killed, how he suffered.
Carl didn’t remember sitting on the couch, just that he was now, between Oliver and Enid, with RJ watching him from the floor, Ginny standing over in the kitchen working through breakfast by herself, trying not to pay them too much obvious attention.
Enid was rubbing his back. Oliver was holding the walkie, his forehead pressed to Carl’s temple. Thick wet tears ran down one cheek, dripping off his chin.
Eventually Rick came back on. Voice ragged. Breathing shallow.
“We’ll be there tomorrow. Tell us what happened. It’ll be alright.”
Eventually Carl had to lie and tell them that he needed to go, then he sobbed into his hands for hours while Oliver and Enid tried to console him.
Judith still would not come out of RJ’s room.
For the second night in a row, Carl didn’t sleep properly. He didn’t eat. He barely scraped together enough courage and energy to even attend the meet spot the next day.
While Morgan kept an eye on Ginny at home, the Grimes’ travelled out to the Old Valley Farm a few miles out to wait for the helicopter to arrive in the big open field.
On the walk from the car, the five of them disturbed a huge flock of crows foraging in the long grass, causing the winged creatures to rise up from the earth suddenly like some ginormous, frantic being, like one large hand made of birds, reaching for the sky and making more shapes against the pale grey clouds.
Carl, Oliver, Enid, Judith, and RJ stopped to watch the flock in awe for several minutes, before finally heading across the rest of the field, near a grove of trees, to wait.
After almost an hour, they finally saw the helicopter soaring through the sky in the far distance, just a black speck in the heavens. They could hear it soon, too, and even made out the symbol on the tail as it flew low above the old desolate farm ahead on the hillside — Carl squinted, realising it was not three interlinked rings, but one white circle on the black metal.
〇
They all kept back as the chopper landed in the middle of the field, covering their faces from the wind as it swept up against the propellers, blowing around leaves and dirt and their hair and clothes.
When the helicopter doors lowered, two familiar figures stepped out onto the grass. Judith broke into a run. RJ only followed her after a nervous look back at Carl to make sure it was okay. Carl nodded, then watched his siblings flee across the field, as their parents threw aside their bags and caught them in their open arms.
Carl, on the other hand, felt rooted to the spot, breathing very fast.
It took Oliver nudging him by the hand and Enid whispering, “Go to them,” by his ear for him to find the nerve to move his legs.
His father saw him approach over Judith’s shoulder, hugging her tightly in his arms. Carl couldn’t hear the words the four of them were saying to each other, but he could see they were all sobbing. Rick set Judith down, his eyes on his eldest son.
Carl wanted to turn and run, but he forced himself to keep walking. His heart bashed violently inside his ribs. Tears stung behind his eye. He only stopped when he saw his father’s left arm — ending above the wrist.
His father didn’t seem interested in dwelling on his missing hand. He just opened his arms.
“Carl,” he said with a choked sound. “My boy…”
Carl couldn’t move. His father closed the space for him, pulling him into his embrace. And it was like no time had passed at all. Suddenly, Carl was a little boy again. Small and in need of his—
“Dad.”
It fell between his lips in a sob. He squeezed his father around the ribs, burying his face into his collar. His father held him, arms cradling around his shoulders and his head and his chest all at once, rocking him side to side. After several long moments, Carl finally made himself pull away. His father held his face in his only hand, looking lost for words. He only let Carl go as Michonne and the kids approached behind them.
Michonne opened her arms and let Carl fold into her.
“I’m sorry,” he cried into her dreadlocks, unable to stop himself despite the promise he’d made himself. The weight of the guilt was too crushing. He couldn’t ignore it. “I tried to protect her.”
“Oh, baby,” Michonne said, which wrung a whole new sob from his chest. “You did exactly what you were supposed to do,” she cooed. “You were there.”
Carl’s knees began to give. Michonne knelt down with him to let him cry into her shoulder. He felt his father’s hands rubbing circles into his back, whispering comforting things into his hair. Carl felt the same as he had when he was twelve years old cradled in his parent’s arms at the quarry camp…
He had found them.
He had found them.
For a while they just sat there in the grass, holding one another. RJ and Judith sidled in to sit in Carl and Michonne’s laps. Judith clung to Michonne, but her eyes were curious of her father, smiling when he spoke to her. RJ was a little more shy. Rick didn’t seem to blame him or mind at all. He didn’t stop smiling, even though there was anguish in his eyes, flickering every so often.
Eventually, after a lot of used tissues and blown noses, Carl regained enough composure to speak properly again.
“We never stopped telling them you were out there,” he told his father, sniffing as he glanced at his siblings and Michonne. “Even when we doubted it. Especially then. We never wanted you to feel alone.”
“I thought I was for a long time,” Rick admitted. “But I realised... I wasn't.”
Carl smiled, sniffed, and looked at Michonne. “You did it. You got him back.”
“Well, I had no choice — Judith told me to,” Michonne said playfully, causing Judith to crack a small smile.
“RJ,” Carl said, “this is the brave man.”
“I know,” he said bashfully, hiding his face under his mother’s dreadlocks. Rick smiled at him, leaning forward with his shoulders hunched in what seemed to be an attempt to seem less intimidating to him.
“Maybe you can call me Dad, though,” he said.
At this, RJ unveiled himself from beneath Michonne’s hair, curious of this familiar stranger who he’d only ever heard about in stories. “I knew you'd come back,” he whispered, like it was a secret.
“How?” Rick asked.
RJ grimaced a grin like it had been a silly question, because it was, really, and as if it were the most obvious answer in the world, he shrugged, laughed, and said, “‘Cause I believed in you.”
While Enid and Oliver sat in the front of the minivan —her driving and him in the passenger— the rest of the Grimes’ took seats among the back. Carl took the seat behind Oliver, needing him and Enid close in that silly way he did for the time being, while his siblings sat next to him, turned in their seats, to talk to their parents behind.
For a long while, Carl just sat there listening to them chat —except Judith, of course— and eventually he began to shiver as the racing adrenaline wore off. His father noticed first, pushing his thick CRM jacket through the headrests and tucking it around Carl’s shoulders for him.
Carl thanked him and did the zip up, hugging himself, feeling better. The fabric smelled of Rick, comforting and familiar — bitterly, painfully nostalgic. It was made of black nylon with thick down insulation and fixings around the biceps and forearms to adjust the fitting.
Carl noticed the small patch on the lapel with the symbol of three interlocked rings, a dark orange colour instead of the usual white.
“Ah,” Rick said, reaching over the seat just as Carl glanced at him — his father carefully ripped the patch off by its stitched seams, leaving just the clean square of fabric beneath.
He placed the old symbol patch in his jeans pocket.
“There,” he said. “That’s better.”
Some minutes later, when Carl pushed his hands in his pockets, he felt something and pulled out an old smartphone and a recently printed newspaper.
On the phone screen was a drawing scratched into the black glass — of him.
He scoffed at it and showed it to Rick. “You can’t draw.”
The comment wasn’t meant to be as rude as it sounded. Carl had said it before he thought about it. What he meant to say was who had drawn the portrait, because it was good.
His father laughed. “Michonne had it made for me — as a gift,” he said. His smile faded slightly. “I had a few made before that, too, of Michonne and Judith, but… none of you. I tried, but I could never describe you to the artist properly. When I mentioned it to Michonne, she had that made.”
Carl handed him the phone. His father put it in his pocket with a brief little thumb stroke over Carl’s scratched-in face.
Carl could feel himself about to cry again. He could see the redness coming on in his father’s eyes, too. Quickly, he turned his attention to the newspaper in his other hand instead, reading the title:
CIVIC REPORT
On the front page was a photo taken from an aerial point of view, showing a destroyed military campsite filled with yellow smoke and shambling walkers. All of them, Carl noticed, were wearing the same CRM uniforms as his father’s, with the burned orange accents instead of white — the colour of their military ranking or something, he guessed.
Carl turned the page to read the main article:
Breaking News — Civic Republic Council Takes Charge:
Military Reform and Granting Free Civilian MovementFollowing the revelation of shocking misconduct within the Civic Republic Military's top ranks —including Major General Johnathan Beale— the Civic Republic Council has unanimously voted for emergency oversight of the remaining CRM forces.
It was found that lower-level infantry units were not involved in the atrocities, offering hope for immediate reform.
In a bold move, the CRC also voted unanimously to overturn CRM guidance, granting free movement within the CR. Citizens are now allowed to leave at will, and new arrivals are welcomed.
With military oversight now under the council's control, the CRM's focus has shifted to assisting survivors and communities encountered during their operations.
To Carl’s surprise, his father and Michonne were featured on the next page. There was a picture of Rick in uniform, clean shaven, with a serious, stoic expression on his face. On the other hand, they’d used a somewhat unflattering photograph of Michonne, looking dishevelled and meek — pulled from her file as a consignee several months ago, she explained.
“Consignee?” Carl asked.
“What the Civic Republic calls survivors awaiting citizenship.”
“Like the old reprocessing centre at the Commonwealth?”
She nodded.
Carl blew out through his cheeks. “Explains the picture.”
Michonne tutted.
Smiling, Carl read their article:
Married Duo Expose Beale’s Deception: Truth Revealed
An investigative report on the mysterious power couple, Rick and Michonne Grimes, and their role in uncovering Johnathan Beale’s treachery.
Their courageous actions have not only exposed the truth behind previous special force military operations but have also paved the way for a more transparent and accountable military structure, heralding a new era of integrity and justice within the Civic Republic.
Carl flipped through the rest of the paper, reading anything that caught his eye:
Civic Republic Unveils New Symbol: Ring of Unity — 🝆 to 〇
In a move aimed at emphasizing unity and cooperation, the Civic Republic has introduced a new symbol, a single ring replacing the previous three interlocked ring that formerly represented the Alliance of the Three between Philadelphia, the Oregon city Portland, and the late city Omaha, of which was the latest tragic victim two years ago of previous corrupt military genocide, headed by former MajGen. Beale.
This symbolic change reflects the CR's commitment to fostering solidarity among its associated allies and communities. The decision underscores the CR's belief in the power of collaboration and collective effort in pursuit of shared goals. By adopting a singular symbol, the CR seeks to convey a message of inclusivity and cohesion, signalling its dedication to standing together as one in the face of challenges and opportunities alike.
Rally for Justice: Calls for Accountability in the Wake of CRM Exposé
Coverage of survivor-led movements demanding accountability for CRM’s actions and justice for victims. Exclusive interviews with teenage survivors Silas Plaskett and Elton Ortiz.
Beale’s Betrayal: Philadelphia Fallout Continues to Reverberate
Analysis of the aftermath of Beale’s betrayal and its ongoing impact on the communities affected by his actions.
Sister Survivors Speak Out: Omaha City and Campus Colony Genocide Exposed
Exclusive interviews with young survivors, Iris and Hope Bennett, exhibiting remarkable courage and resilience as they shed light on the atrocities committed at their late campus colony and neighbouring city, Omaha, Nebraska – formerly part of the Ao3.
“That’s the city Noah told us about,” Oliver said when Carl read out the last one. “He was right. The military was behind it.”
“Noah?” Rick asked.
Carl nodded to him. “About three years ago we ran into him in a village near the Commonwealth. He left when the three of us recognised him, scared to stay in one place too long in case the CRM came looking.”
“Maybe now he’ll come home again,” Enid said.
Rick sighed and rubbed his mouth, his mind somewhere else as he watched the rolling countryside go by through the window.
“We know it was Jadis who took you,” Carl said. “We know she took Noah and Heath, too. Noah warned us to stop looking for you. Michonne was already out there. I was gonna go after her, but…”
He glanced at his siblings. He knew now wasn’t the right time to mention the incident with Crake or the Variant or Carl almost dying from that gangrenous bite from the Feral Child.
Instead, he smiled at his father and said, simply, “We knew Michonne had it covered.”
His father grinned. After a second, it faded. He dipped his head and rubbed his short, grey beard. “I saw Jadis often over the last decade,” he revealed. “I knew her. She worked her way up the ranks some years before I did. Sargent Jadis Stokes.”
Carl frowned.
“Stokes?” Oliver asked from the front.
“Gabriel kept in contact with her over the years,” Rick said, and added quickly, “well, she kept in contact with him. They met in secret once a year by the coast. She never told him where she lived, what she’d done, or how to contact her. I think Gabe thought she came to see him ‘cause she missed him. Maybe she did, in part, but she was keeping tabs on Alexandria through him, too. It’s the reason I couldn’t come home. She blackmailed me for years against trying to escape again.”
The way Rick looked down at the space where his left hand used to be told the three of them all they needed to know, that he’d lost it during an early escape attempt.
“I can’t believe it,” Enid said. “Gabriel let her spy on us.”
Oliver clenched his teeth. “Lying piece of—”
“Easy,” Michonne said to him, “it wasn’t his fault. He cared for Jadis, for Anne. He didn’t know she took Rick. He was devastated when he heard about all this, especially when he found out what happened to her.”
“What happened to her?” Carl asked, and his father and Michonne looked at each other. Rick sighed, while Michonne grimaced.
“We did,” was all she said.
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER
⌘
It was easy to agree to follow his parents and siblings back to Alexandria.
They only planned to stay temporarily, but as the weeks went on the idea of going back to the Bricks went from being a goal to a vague suggestion, until the desire was gone entirely.
Maggie didn’t fight them on it. Like Carl, she was just trying to move on from what happened in Manhattan, putting as much focus as she could into helping Hershel recover.
As for Judith, while her pain went away eventually, her suffering did not. She woke up screaming most nights, was wetting the bed, and had started to become destructive — not only to the things around her but to herself, too.
One day she’d be doing homework at the dinner table like nothing was wrong at all and the next she’d be throwing her things out of her bedroom window or smashing furniture around the house in a fit of rage, and on one particularly bad evening, Michonne walked in on her cutting herself.
She, Rick, and Carl had been figuring out a way to get her more appropriate help. What she needed was beyond anything Alexandria’s doctors, Enid included, could give. They knew the Commonwealth had psychiatrists, though, so Carol was in the works of organising housing and other relevant aspects for them all to move there in the near future.
It would be a big change. Perhaps even more change than they had all gone through already, but it was necessary if it meant protecting Judith’s mental health.
For now, though, they found themselves in the middle of a good few days, with Oliver’s twenty-ninth birthday passing and the Fair of New Beginnings the day after, like always.
It was the festival’s tenth anniversary.
Banners were hung. Alexandria was packed more than ever, most likely due to Rick and Michonne’s return even if they refused to believe it. The pair were practically celebrities. People stopped them on the sidewalk, paid for their food and drinks, or handed out flowers, or toys to the kids, or tossed Dog a scrap of hide or antler, as they explored the fair booths together.
Carl struggled to fully enjoy himself — even though he’d imagined this moment for years: showing his father around the fair for the first time. But it was tainted now.
It helped that his siblings were never too far away to take his hand.
In the evening, the family joined the rest of the village in the mess hall to watch a movie.
His father stepped out midway through, whispering that he was going to get some air. After a few minutes, Carl went after him, leaving Michonne, Oliver, and Enid with the kids.
Outside, the smell of popcorn and candy faded from his nose as he took in the fresh night air. It had rained recently, so petrichor hung thickly in the breeze.
Memories of the Fair Massacre six years ago leaked persistently into his mind as he went off in search of his father, but he knew that his thumping heartbeat was only a result of the trauma, not a warning that anything was actually wrong this time.
Still, he took a breath of relief when he spotted Rick at the stables, standing outside Cauliflower’s stall. The horse nuzzled at Rick’s palm affectionately.
“Yeah,” Rick told her, “I remember you, too, girl.”
Carl smiled, then frowned. “That day,” he said, “there was blood all over her — what happened to you?”
“I fell,” his father answered. “Landed on some old construction. This steel pipe — went right through me.”
He pointed to the left side of his abdomen. Carl knew most of his father’s scars, or he had several years ago. But now there were new additions, like the thick, circular scar he was pointing to now.
Carl had spotted it before when his father would pass him on the landing from his morning shower, but had never asked about it. It was the same way his father had never asked him about his new scars either, like the one that ran right across Carl’s collarbones, shoulder to shoulder, where Beta had tried to cut his head clean off, or where he’d been stabbed in the thigh by Mitchell, or in the shoulder by Keith. Carl deliberately hid the cross scars on his back, though, and the small bite-mark on his ribcage. They both brought up too many painful memories to talk about.
Not all of his scars did, though. Carl actually liked to tell the story about his burned hands and arms, considering how much they reminded him of his grandfather, and the thick scar across his socket where the Reaper caught him usually brought on silly jokes about how well it complimented his eyepatch.
“Jadis,” his father said after a short pause, “she found me, called the chopper — saved me, really.”
Carl let out a bittersweet huff. “Yeah. Kidnap has its benefits, I guess.”
“Yeah, well.”
They stood quietly for a moment, petting the horse.
“You ever fly one?” Carl asked curiously.
“A helicopter? No. I was up in ‘em a lot, though.”
“Cool.”
Carl’s father cocked an amused eyebrow. “Cool?”
“Yeah. Helicopters,” Carl said. “Think I’d like to fly one, one day.”
“You wanna fly helicopters?”
Carl shrugged. He was certainly fascinated by how they worked and he’d become pretty good with mechanical stuff over the years while working at the Bricks’ smithey. One time he even helped build a whole tractor engine from scratch to replace the one that died out in the fields.
Engineering was one of the job roles that Carol suggested Carl apply for when they all moved to the city. Surely, if he could be trained how to build something like a helicopter, he could be trained to fly one, too.
“I can imagine it,” Carl answered after a second, a sly smirk on his face. “‘Specially with the talk you’ve been mentioning about the Republic's future plans with Ohio.”
Rick nodded in approval, grinning. And then he just watched his son for a while, shaking his head, until finally he just said, “Look at you…”
“What?”
“Nothing. Nothing, it’s just… surreal, standing here with you, talking about the future, after everything, after how much we almost lost.”
Carl smiled faintly, his chest panging slightly. “Yeah, it is.”
Rick rubbed his beard, eyes glassy. “I mean…. you’re my boy.”
Carl closed his eye and almost pouted. He loved it when his father called him that, even more so as a grown man than he ever did as a boy. He loved the way that he would always be his father’s son, his father’s boy.
“My boy,” Rick repeated, choking up now, “grown, married to your best friends, your whole life ahead of you. I can’t believe it’s real.”
Carl stepped over and pulled him into his arms.
“You made it real, Dad,” he told him. “You did that.”
Rick squeezed him tightly and began to sob into his shoulder.
“Love you, Dad.”
“I love you, Carl. I love you so much.”
They stayed outside the stables for a long time after that, talking softly into the night about nothing in particular, man to man, father to son — happy, and finally home.