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When Lori and Rick decided to share custody of Carl once their divorce was finalized, they believed it was in Carl's best interest; having both parents in his life, a privilege every child should have. Rick figured it would be the easiest option for their family.
He would quickly discover that he was sorely mistaken.
Unfortunately, Rick and Lori didn’t see eye to eye on much regarding Carl’s life, making the custody arrangement a struggle. While Lori wished for Carl to be the child she dreamt about throughout her pregnancy, Rick just wanted his son to be loved. As long as Carl was happy and safe, that was all that mattered to him.
The prior night, Lori had called Rick to ask if she could drop Carl off later the next evening rather than the morning, explaining how her parents were in town and wished to have dinner with her and Carl. Knowing he had a long workday ahead of him, Rick obliged, swallowing the guilt pooling in his stomach. He knew how much Carl hated staying with Lori, and he knew that being made to spend time with her parents would only send him further into a negative spiral.
So, when Lori arrived to complete the custody swap, Rick did his best to maintain a stoic facade. With his occupation, Rick had seen tragedies and heartbreaks galore, but nothing tore his soul apart much like the sight of Carl stepping out of Lori’s car with his long hair curled and wearing a yellow, flowered sundress that flowed down to his ankles, matching earrings to pull the ensemble together.
The further Carl and Lori came up the driveway, the better Rick could see the anguish plastered on his son’s expression. He could tell Lori had not allowed him to bind for the evening, which certainly would not help the dysphoria already torturing his boy. Knowing Carl was hurting made Rick feel like he was tearing at the seams.
Burying his whirlwind of racing feelings, he greeted Lori with a civil smile as she stepped up to his porch, her hand resting on Carl’s back and the other carrying an unmarked envelope and a takeout container.
“Here’s what I owe you for those concert tickets for her and me, thank you again,” Lori said as Rick took the envelope from her grasp, “and these are her leftovers from tonight. She said she’d eat them for breakfast, if she doesn’t that’s fine. Just so she has them,”
Rick nodded, not processing anything his ex-wife was saying. He was simply focused on Carl, trying to decipher what was going through his mind during the interaction. The father watched as Lori turned towards her daughter son to press her lips quickly onto his temple.
“Alright, be good, sweetheart. I love you, Charlotte,”
Carl’s response was half-hearted and mumbled, afraid that attempting anything audible would create a tsunami of tears to send crashing down.
It was another moment until Lori finally descended the steps and settled into her car, leaving the father and son standing outside with a heavy, uncomfortable silence hanging over them. Without a word, Rick swept Carl into his arms and hugged his son close to his chest. His fingernails ran over Carl’s scalp, scratching his head before placing a kiss on the very same spot.
The embrace didn’t last long, but it was enough to ground Carl back to reality and ease his racing mind. He watched Rick throw a gentle smile his way as he transferred the sheriff’s hat to his head. “Clothes are waitin’ for you upstairs. I’ll be up in a few minutes to help you with your shot,” Carl simply nodded and untangled from Rick’s arms, steadying his gaze to the floor and making his way into the house, fleeing to the comfort of his bedroom.
Rick watched his son run off to his hideaway, and there was no hiding the weight that settled on his chest after the encounter.
Lori and Rick had announced their divorce when Carl was thirteen, and amongst the messiness of it all, Carl was a teenager trying to find himself. He would find that came in the form of learning he was not Charlotte Grimes, Rick and Lori’s beautiful little girl, but rather Carl Grimes: their young man, honored with the name of Rick’s father. Though Carl struggled to accept what he learned about himself, it didn’t take long to sit his parents down and explain what he was feeling. He didn’t necessarily await glitter canons and a lavish party, but he expected the two to attempt to understand his identity and support him with his transition. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
The night he told them he remembered shaking, crying so hard he could barely process his father’s attempt at any comfort and encouragement. Once Carl had finally come out, Rick wasted no time assuring his son that he loved him regardless and he would be glad to go along with anything he needed to feel comfortable as himself.
Lori on the other hand was not as… open-minded. She instead denied Carl’s statement, claiming he was simply confused and influenced by the media nowadays. She determined he was only trying to fit in with the trend of being transgender and made every effort to remind him that God made Carl a girl for a reason, and you couldn’t just change your gender and go against God’s creation.
So, disagreements between Rick and Lori only increased. Rick supplied Carl with a binder, a therapist, a haircut, and eventually, weekly testosterone shots, while Lori supplied Carl with nice dresses and reminders of how he would always be her daughter. Every Wednesday when Lori dropped Carl off, it killed the sheriff to be greeted by his son’s sullen expression, to see how he was dressed as someone he had buried years ago. Rick loved every inch of his son, and born that way or not, Carl was his boy.
A few minutes passed and Rick finally made his way up to Carl’s room, knocking on the closed door. “You’re good,” Carl’s voice called, and when he stepped in, he took note of how the air surrounding Carl seemed lighter now that he had thrown on a flannel, sweatpants, and his binder. The grin that graced his lips made Rick feel he could breathe a bit easier.
Rick wasted no time grabbing everything for Carl’s testosterone shot. He crouched at the edge of the bed, waiting as Carl swung his legs over the side before wiping his upper thigh with an alcohol wipe, filling the syringe with testosterone and slowly injecting the needle. Once finished, he quickly disposed of the needle and turned to Carl’s dresser to grab a band-aid– today’s was decorated with jellyfish and coral; a mark of bravery for the teenager.
As he pressed the bandage along the injection site, Rick happened to glance up for a moment when he saw Carl’s eyes turn glossy. The father felt a panic bubble in his throat. What did he do wrong? “Shit, did that hurt? Did I put the needle too far in? Are you–”
“I’m fine…”
Despite his words, the way he chewed on his fingernails claimed otherwise. Gradually, Rick began to understand what was going on; he moved from the rug onto the bed next to Carl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders gently. Rick held him close with one hand and planted a small kiss on Carl’s temple, the other hand combing through the hair poking out from underneath the sheriff’s hat.
When he felt the quiet touch of his father, Carl broke. A sob ripped from his throat and without another thought, Rick enveloped him in the tightest hug he could manage. He rocked from side to side, cradling the back of Carl’s head as his thumb rubbed circles against his scalp. “In an’ out, baby, nice and slow. Just breathe, in an’ out,'' He cooed, breathing deeply in hopes Carl would feel the pattern and follow suit.
The two stayed like that for a good while, Rick never moving as tears soaked his uniform and the boy’s grip grew stronger with every passing moment. Carl clung to his father as if the sheriff were a buoy in a raging storm, his shallow and ragged breaths piercing Rick’s heart. Of course, he understood what had brought this on, and he was desperate to stop himself from marching to Lori’s door and berating her for what she put their son through day after day. Instead, he chose a different route.
“Your grandfather would be so proud of the man you’ve become.”
Such a simple handful of words, yet it meant everything to Carl. He had chosen his name to honor the man who came before him, the man he knew loved him but couldn’t remember the sound of him saying it. Maybe his grandfather wouldn’t approve of his life, he would never get to know, but hearing those words gave Carl everything he never knew he needed.
It took time, but eventually, Carl’s breathing had evened out and what were once sobs melted into sniffles and hiccups. A comfortable silence rested over them, Rick just continuing to hold Carl, attempting anything to soothe him. “Why can’t Mom be like you?” Carl mumbled into the crook of his neck.
A lump formed in Rick’s throat, his voice growing strained. “I… I don’t know, Carl.” It was something he never got: how could you bring life into this world just to try and clip its wings? “I don’t know why, and I’m sorry she is the way she is. I promise you, though, I am never going to stop fighting for you. You’re the light of my life, Carl,”
The words seemed to get stuck as his eyes grew misty. Wiping any feelings away with his palm before Carl could notice, Rick pulled away and cupped Carl’s cheek, giving a weak chuckle. “I mean, I guess that’s why you’re my son, ”
“Jesus, Dad,”
It felt like a beam of joy blasted Rick when Carl laughed; he had never been more grateful to see his son smile. He shifted so they were once again in a side-hug situation, Carl leaning his head on his father’s shoulder, feeling the hat come off his head and his curls get ruffled.
“Come on, all guys need a few good dad jokes up their sleeves! Listen and learn, son,”
There was a sense of peace in the air as Carl fully relaxed, a giggle slipping out despite the loud eye roll he gave Rick. He realized the dysphoria that destroyed him was not easy for his father to get a proper grasp on, but he loved the way Rick handled it; controlled, calm, supportive. He always managed to say the right thing, even during times when Carl wasn’t sure what he needed to hear.
“I love you,”
It was soft, just barely reaching Rick’s ears, but he heard it. Of course he heard it. “I love you too, Carl,” He squeezed his shoulder, the truest sign of father-son love in a man’s dictionary.
“You’re the best damn son I could have ever asked for.”