Chapter Text
A knock breaks the loud silence in Carls room.
“Come in.” He groans from his curled up position on his bed. Michonne walks in, a gentle smile on her face filled with sympathy.
“We found some things for you, pads, tampons and uh,” she makes a strange face holding up a menstrual cup, “this… Tara told me it was good and uh, reusable. You can ask her about it.” Michonne says, she slowly walks up to his bed and crouches by him.
“I know this time is hard for you. Well, I don’t know but I understand you’re in all kinds of pain. It’s not easy.” She places a hand on his side. “Try and keep your spirits up, okay? I’ve been saving you something.” She smiles at him, pulling out a bar of chocolate from her pocket. His eyes light up.
“Thanks, Michonne.” He grabs it and starts unwrapping immediately. She giggles.
“Of course, Carl. But you sit up now, okay? I don’t want you choking on that.” Michonne raises her eyebrows at him and he sits up, sighing. Carl takes a small bite of the chocolate and smiles.
“You’re the best, Michonne.” He says, she grins at him.
——
His cramps pang and he checks the hopefully correct clock on the stove, it’s 7 pm and it’s time to take his T. He feels like thanking god despite his atheist tendencies.
Scavenging for testosterone is.. Fucking amazingly difficult. (Hence why he’s on his period.) There was a decent amount in certain hospitals at the start, but places run out, hospitals and gender clinics are far out, and the majority they’ve found were in people’s homes.
Not to mention his ever changing methods of taking it and dosage. But it’s been good enough for him. He’s seen himself develop some peach fuzz, he’s even starting to notice an adams apple; he’s happy enough. So he races to the bathroom to take what is this time, T gel.
He’s not familiar whatsoever but it seems straightforward, put it on and rub. Boom. Man lotion. He eagerly takes his shirt off and the cap of the bottle, trying to squirt onto his arm— but his missing eye makes him awfully miss, and he’s just wasted some. He panics a little, trying again.. He misses. This shit smells strongly of alcohol and he’s starting to choke a little. He grabs a towel and frantically started drying the missed dose up.
A loud knock startles him. “Carl? What’re you doin’?” Ricks voice booms.
“Um.. Taking testosterone?” He says nervously. There’s a pause and the silence feels loud.
“You need help, son?” Rick asks. Carl opens the door.
“.. Yeah.” Carl says awkwardly looking at the floor and at the towel as he keeps his lips in a tight line. Rick steps into the bathroom with him, grabbing the bottle.
“Do I shake it or somethin’?” He says.
“No! No don’t do that.” Carl exclaims. “Just do four pumps of the dispenser. Two on each arm? And then rub it in.” He says. Four is a made up number by Carl, but he read the milligrams per pump and that’s closest to his last dose. Rick nods carefully lining up the bottle to Carls arm; he pumps it twice.
“Wow, this uh, this smells strongly. I thought you were doing some kinda science experiment in here.” Rick sighs. Carl chuckles and nods. Carl rubs it in once Rick guides his hand to his arm; he watches himself in the mirror. He wishes Rick could help him here but the cross contamination is real.
Carl turns for Rick to help him on his next arm, Rick squirts it, Carl rubs. Carl flails his hands to try and dry it faster.
“Hey, dad?” He looks at Rick with an uncertain expression.
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever.. Wish I wasn’t trans? Do you ever… Miss how it was?” He looks up at his father as he washes his hands. Rick takes it all in. He observes his sons eye, much like Lori’s. He sees his vulnerability, standing before him in the same binder he’s been absolutely abusing for far too long. Rick sees him. In his wholeness.
“No. I don’t think so. I think I get nostalgic sometimes.. Sure, having a daughter is cute. I loved those cute dresses we bought you and all. But you’re Carl. You’re my son.” Rick looks at him sincerely. “I’m so glad everyday that we found this medication, that we found out there was a solution for what you needed. Sure, it’s something to get used to; but I wouldn’t trade my children for a damn thing, you hear me?”
Carl feels tears prickle in his eyes. “Yeah.” His voice cracks. Rick starts chuckling. “… C’mon.”
“I can’t help it.” Rick says through chuckles. “You signed up for the voice cracks.” He shrugs. “You’re lucky Michonne isn’t here right now.” Carl tsks. He knows he is.
“But.. Carl I’m sorry if I’ve ever done you wrong with my behaviors or my thoughts in the past. I just needed— and still need, time to learn. This is new not just to you but to me. But Carl I’m inspired by you. And I think that’s what having kids is all about. They make you a better man. I needed that; I needed you and Judith to come through and show me my path in life. And you did. If I can handle this new way of life, I can handle having a teenage boy.. I think.” He sighs with a chuckle.
Carl slips his shirt back on, “Dad, can I have a hug?”
“What a ridiculous question. Of course.” Rick pulls him into a hug. And he feels Carl gently shake as he cries into his shoulder. Rick rubs his back and holds him closer. “You’ve got too much on your mind, kid, just relax with me.”
——
They walk slowly through the woods, Carl stops as Daryl places a hand on his chest.
“You’re walking loud as all shit.” Daryl whispers. Carl bites back a laugh. “Heel to toe little soldier.” Carl tries to follow his instructions and he assumes it works because they move on. Daryl had suggested early morning hunting that day; and somehow Rick agreed to let them.
A squirrel freezes on a tree, Daryl shoots an arrow through it. He plucks the arrow and grabs the carcass, “that’s how it’s done.” He smirks at Carl who gives a teasing shrug. “Not impressed?” He furrows his brows at Carl and Carl nods. Daryl gives a firm hum before they continue on.
“Oo, shit. Get this one, Carl.” Daryl whispers and points at a rabbit eating. Carl quickly pulls his gun, silenced, and points. He looks at Daryl and he gets the message; Daryl grabs the gun along with his him and helps him line it up. Carl pulls the trigger and watches the rabbit topple. He looks at Daryl, Daryl nods. They quietly speed walk to its body; Carl lifts it up victoriously. He cheers silently pretending to yell and Daryl chuckles. He slaps his back affectionately.
“Good one, Carl. That’s a great catch.” He smiles. Carl gives a giant grin feeling so accomplished. Doing hunting like this as stereotypical as it is made him feel so strong and so masculine. It reminded him of Daryl; and god if he said Daryl didn’t give him gender envy he’d be lying.
“Let’s get back and show your parents.” Daryl starts to retrace their steps.
As they arrive at the home Carl holds up his rabbit with pride (it was a pretty massive one) and Rick looks amazed.
“Carl you caught this?” He looks at him with pride. Carl nods. “That’s my boy!” He grabs the rabbit and starts talking to Daryl about how to prepare and cook it. Michonne walks by and grimaces.
“Why is there a dead rabbit on my kitchen counter?” She puts a hand on her hip, half angry.
“I caught it.” Carl grins at her. She pauses before smirking at him. She walks up to him and holds her hand up for a high five. He smacks it with way too much force and she waves her hand in pain.
“Phew! You are getting much too strong, Carl.” She chuckles. And he feels euphoric.
——
He spams the controller and groans, dying once again in the stupid video game. Enid giggles.
“Will you finally accept that you lost?” She says raising an eyebrow at him.
“I never lose.” He presses the rematch button.
“Good god.” She rolls her eyes and starts playing with him. Clicks and clacks fill the room and Carl channels his stress into the video game. He gets close to winning; before a critical hit knocks him down. And he’s lost again. He loudly groans and slumps.
“You’re cheating.” He says sarcastically; he checks his watch absentmindedly but it makes him realize it’s time for him to change his tampon. His freezes.
“What’s up? Does Rick want you home by now?” She looks at him curiously.
“No, no.. I uh, it’s the, I gotta change my products, for you know what.” He sighs not meeting her eyes.
“Shark week.” She says simply.
“Shark week?”
“Yeah. That’s a good name right?” She asks.
“It’s.. Kinda cool, actually.” He grins at her.
“Thought so. Now hurry up.” She lightly shoves him and he gets to it.
Washing his hands he anxiously prepares himself mentally for walking back to her room again. He finds himself trying to read her mind. Does she think he’s weird? Could she really ever like a boy like Carl? He paces around the bathroom for minute. He’s making himself sick and he knows it but he can’t stop.
He tries to stop and breathe. He just barley does. But to ensure Enid doesn’t get suspicious or think too much about his very present situation, he trails back down the hall, only slightly uneasy.
Almost silently, they start up a different game. Clicks and clacks and clicks and clacks, this time he wins. And yet, when Enid looks at him he only has a slight smile on his face. No cheering, no rubbing it in; it’s so unlike him.
“You okay, Carl?” She looks at him compassion. He pauses at chews on his lip.
“Yeah.. Just, you know, the uh, shark week,” he gestures with his hands in the air, “it stresses me out. And it just reminds me that I’m.. Not like other boys our age.” He sighs looking back at her. She places a hand around his shoulders and pulls him into a side hug.
“I mean, like, especially when I’m with you I wonder if.. You actually like being near me. Like could you ever really want a boy like me?” He scoffs.
She looks almost confused. “Carl, why would you think that? I don’t care about.. That. I like you. You’re kind. You take care of me and your family and even the people you don’t really know here. You’re funny, you do cool shit like crash a car for me.” She chuckles. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
He laughs. “My dad was pretty pissed about that one.” He leans his head against her shoulder and lets her cuddle him tightly.
——
Holding Judith, Carl sits on the porch, hat draped over his eye as he tries to rest. It was a peaceful sunset; the warmth on his skin. A breeze calming him. A few birds would sing; it would never be the same amount of birds as before all this, but when they did sing, it was a blessing. He almost drifts off until he feels something. He groans and shifts his hat, looking down he sees Judith is hugging his arm. And he smiles.
“Hi, Judith.” He says calmly with a tired rasp.
“Hi.” She says in her soft voice. She grew so fast. Carl uncontrollably lets out a squeaky ‘aw’. He doesn’t care. She just recently turned one, they think, and she’s been able to say a couple of words.
“Who am I?” He tries to test her. She babbles a little. “You know this one.” He smiles at her.
“Brother.” She says. It’s not what he expected after so many sessions of just saying his name in front of her and pointing like a mad man. But this works. It hits him in a new way he’s never experienced. This is his sister. And nothing can change that. And nothing can change who she is. Or who he is.