A/N: This is my first time writing a Richonne Christmas story and my first time writing a ZA story, so fingers crossed that My One Wish is a Christmas, ZA delight!


My One Wish

It had to have been over a decade since Michonne Grimes heard an actual Christmas song performed by an actual recording artist on an actual radio on Christmas day, so when the first notes of Mariah Carey's "O Holy Night" played from the speaker of her simply constructed FM receiver, she was left stupefied.

For ten years she believed the most mundane moments from Before—the time before the world went to apocalyptic hell—were forever lost, never to be experienced again. Without gourmet coffee shops, there was no inhaling the heavenly aroma of a cinnamon dolce latte. Without the Internet, there was no ordering a new pair of Louboutins with the click of a mouse. Without a radio, there was no listening to Christmas songs on the radio on Christmas day.

She tucked the memories of all her mundane moments away, deep and secure, because in a world where the dead walked, survival depended on a sharp and focused mind, not one that longed for what once was.

What was lost was lost.

She did, occasionally, allow herself to reminisce about Before, but she never reminisced with the hope of one day reliving those mundane moments. That was probably why she misinterpreted Eugene's request to the Council earlier in the week. He asked that a community-wide announcement be made encouraging Alexandrians to tune in to his radio show at 6PM on Christmas day when he'd be facilitating "a multi-community Christmas cornucopia for the aural exaltation of one and all." He also asked that the same message be communicated to leaders at Hilltop, Oceanside, and the Kingdom.

Michonne, who'd become quite adept at decoding Eugene-speak over the years, assumed he meant he was inviting the Kingdom's choir to his show to sing Christmas carols for all to enjoy. It never occurred to her that he meant he'd be playing an actual Christmas track.

"O holy night
The stars are brightly shining…"

When Mariah's voice belted out the first verse, Michonne went from stupefied to sponge-like, soaking up every lyric, note, and instrument she thought she'd never again hear.

"A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn…"

By the start of the second verse, Christmas memories from Before were actively blossoming from their tucked away spaces in her mind.

Making sugar cookies with her mom and her three sisters…

Performing in the Royale Ballet Dance Academy's year-end holiday recital…

Drinking candy cane martinis with her girlfriends on Christmas Eve…

Ice skating past the larger-than-life Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center…

Accepting Mike's marriage proposal on a Caribbean Christmas in the Caymans...

Holding a gurgling Andre on her hip while they made sugar cookies together for the first time…

Wearing her favorite emerald green ballgown to Mike's parents' annual Christmas party…

Memory after memory flickered through her mind until a memory from a different Before pushed all other memories away. It was a memory of Rick from the last Christmas they shared together before the bridge.

"'Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring… I don't mean on the phone, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney TONIIIIIIIIIIGHT'," Michonne sang while lathering her body with her new Wild Honeysuckle shower gel.

The shower gel was Rick's Christmas gift to her, which she adored. He told her he found it on a run a few weeks back when he and Aaron were searching houses for Christmas decorations. He felt bad that almost half the shower gel was missing, but Michonne didn't mind in the least. Smelling like something other than homemade sorghum soap was like a dream.

She had just started singing "Santa Baby" again when Rick flung the bathroom door open and stood in the doorway with a frenzied look on his face.

"Rick, what is it?" she asked in alarm, turning off the water and opening the glass shower door.

Rick had to bite back a smile at the sight of her wearing nothing but a purple shower cap.

"I thought I heard somethin'," he answered with a straight face.

Michonne listened intently to the sounds around her, but she didn't hear anything that stood out as problematic coming from inside or outside of the house.

"What was it you thought you heard?" she asked.

"Hard to say, but it sounded like an animal… Maybe a cat."

Rick had to bite back another smile at the confused expression on her face.

"A cat," she repeated slowly.

"Mmhmm. A wounded cat, screechin' like it was in the worst kinda pain," he said, opening the cabinet doors under the sink and pretending to look for the cat. "I heard the poor thang sufferin' from all the way in the kitchen."

It took a few seconds for Michonne to catch on, but when she did, she put her hand on her hip and tilted her head.

"Rick Grimes, are you trying to say something about my singing voice?"

"Who? Me?" he asked innocently, gesturing to himself. "Say somethin' about my wife's angelic voice? Never."

Michonne rolled her eyes when his eyes swept down her wet, sudsy body.

"Uh uh, Rick," she laughed when he raised his eyes back up to hers with a devilish glint in them. "We don't have time. Judith will be home soon."

Their daughter had spent most of the day playing with Gracie, and Aaron was scheduled to drop her off in an hour.

"We have 'til suppertime," Rick winked, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the floor.

Michonne eyed his bare chest and briefly considered a quickie. As parents and as co-leaders of a community, they sometimes had no choice but to be fast and creative when they made love. But the shower was one of the places where Rick refused to rush their lovemaking. She'd still be pinned to the shower wall when Aaron knocked on the front door.

Rick saw the "no" on Michonne's face and could no longer contain his smile.

"Suppertime tomorrow," he grinned as he loosened the drawstring of his pajama pants. "I just talked to Aaron."

Michonne's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh, really?"

"Mmhmm. It's his day-after-Christmas Christmas gift to us. Twenty-four more hours of just you and me, Michonne."

She giggled at how quickly he shed the rest of his clothes and backed her against the shower wall.

"Just you and me," she said softly, smiling up at him.

"Just me in you."

He hoisted her up with one arm and moaned when she wrapped her body tightly around his.

"Sing for me, Mrs. Grimes," he whispered against her lips before capturing them in a slow, searing kiss.

As always, memories of Rick left Michonne's her heart riddled and heavy in her chest. She cherished the man and everything he'd given her, but at some point, thinking about him started to feel too much like reminiscing, and she just wasn't ready to think of Rick Grimes as being forever lost.

So, she stopped clinging to their memories and clung to her belief in him instead. Because she knew without a shadow of doubt that he was out there, somewhere, believing in her.

"Hello," Eugene said, speaking into his microphone once "O Holy Night" ended, "this is DJ Fun Guy."

The sound of Eugene's voice over the radio brought Michonne back to the present. Back to the couch she was sitting on in her living room with RJ snuggled into her left side and Judith snuggled into her right; back to the fresh smell of pine coming from their modest Christmas tree decorated with lights and handmade ornaments; back to listening to the first Christmas song to play on the radio in ten years.

Her memory of Rick and her memories of Before wilted into the depths of her mind, allowing the Christmas joy she'd been feeling all day to return.

"And that was pre-Walker Apocalypse songstress-slash-actress Mariah Carey with 'O Holy Night'," Eugene said with a disgusted eye roll. "Full and undiluted disclaimer, folks… Me and Mariah do not go back like babies and pacifiers. Me and Mariah go back like babies and poorly constructed furniture designed with hazardously sharp, protrusive edges. Edges that have yet to be, and in all probability never will be, sufficiently secured through the controversial albeit effective method known as babyproofing, inevitably causing aforementioned babies moderate to extreme physical, cognitive, psychological, and or emotional harm."

"Oh my God, Eugene," Michonne mumbled under her breath.

She mumbled those words often, whether she was conversing with Eugene face-to-face or listening to his DJ Fun Guy persona on the radio. She couldn't help it. His rambling always had that effect on her, although nowadays those words were mumbled, sighed, or groaned without any bite.

She'd grown to deeply respect Eugene over the years. His contributions to Alexandria, Hilltop, Oceanside, and the Kingdom were invaluable in creating strong, sustainable communities after their wars with the Saviors and the Whisperers. And when Eugene was able to do things like dismantle a fallen satellite and use its components to build FM radio receivers for homes in all the communities, it was impossible to be annoyed by anything he did. Plus, the kids adored him.

"Mama, who's Mariah Carey?" RJ asked.

Her Little Brave Man looked up at her with a megawatt, Rick Grimes-style smile.

"You liked that song?" she asked.

He nodded his head emphatically, making her laugh.

"Mariah Carey was one of your mama's favorite singers from Before," she grinned at him.

"She was?" RJ asked, his eyes wide with interest.

"She was," Michonne nodded. "I…" she hesitated before drawing on her Mariah Carey concert memories. "I went to every one of Mariah's concerts whenever she performed in my hometown," she shared. "If Mimi—that was her nickname, was performing, I was there. Front row and center."

"Atlanta. Right, mom?" Judith asked. "Capital of the Peach State. Originally founded as a terminus of a railroad but incorporated in 1847 as the city of Atlanta, also known as the ATL."

"That's right. That's my hometown," Michonne grinned at her babygirl.

"Mama, you mean a concert like when Luke and Alden came to Alexandria?" RJ asked.

"Not quite," she replied with a small laugh.

She appreciated Luke and Alden's passion for music, but their two-man band barely pulled an audience of twenty the last time they performed in Alexandria.

"The last Mariah concert I went to was in an arena packed with twelve thousand other people. There were smoke machines, and flashing lights, and backup singers, and dancers. There were costume changes, and props on stage, and even a wind machine," she laughed. "It was a production."

RJ had so many questions, but one thing stood out the most. "Twelve thousand other people?" he gasped. "Like a horde?"

"No, not like a horde, RJ," Judith answered. "Mom's talking about Before. There were no hordes Before because there were no walkers only people."

RJ rolled his eyes at his sister and groaned. She could be such a know-it-all sometimes.

Judith stuck her tongue out at her brother for groaning and rolling his eyes at her. He could be such a baby sometimes.

"Judith Lorelai Grimes, do not stick your tongue out at your brother. Richard Carlile Grimes, Jr., do not roll your eyes at your sister. It's Christmas. Play nice," Michonne warned.

RJ and Judith quickly looked at each other and silently agreed to apologize. When their full names were used with that tone of voice, they knew they better act right real fast.

"Sorry, mom," Judith apologized in a quiet voice. "Sorry, RJ."

"Sorry, mama," RJ apologized. "Sorry, Jude."

Michonne hoped the two would grow out of their bickering stage soon, but she was a realist. They were 7-year-old and 11-year-old siblings. Bickering was part of their terrain now and would be for years to come.

"Apologies accepted," she said, giving Judith a kiss on top of her head and then giving RJ a kiss on top of his. "And you're both right. I was talking about Before when there were no walkers," she told Judith, "but people who went to concerts had a very horde-like mentality," she told RJ.

She smirked thinking about concertgoers swaying in unison for hours, slowly trudging forward while waiting in long lines, and mindlessly shelling out ridiculous amounts of money for onsite merchandise.

"Will you tell us all about it one day?" Judith asked, hopefully.

"Will you, mama?" RJ asked with pleading brown eyes.

They loved hearing stories about Before. Their Uncle Jesus always had stories to tell, but they liked hearing stories straight from their mother the most. They wanted to know everything about who she was and how she lived back then, even though she didn't like to talk about Before.

"Please, please, please, please, please!" RJ and Judith both begged.

Michonne looked from the freckled face of one child she couldn't deny to the chubby-cheeked face of the other child she couldn't deny and knew resistance was futile.

"I will," she agreed. "One day soon."

RJ and Judith looked at each other and smiled.

"…FYI, the number of bones I had to pick with Ms. Carey was a perfectly rounded zero until 10:19 in the AM on the sixth day of December in the year of 2007," Eugene went on. "At stated time on stated date, the pop star-slash-R&B diva became one of my top ten sworn enemies in life after her vehicle of transport, a 45-foot behemoth of a bus, kicked the proverbial bucket on State Highway 151. Ordinarily, the comings and goings of celebrity types wouldn't have skimmed the surface of my attention. The firing of my neurons was, and continues to be, reserved for persons and situations pertinent to my advancement on both the intellectual and survival fronts. However, yours truly just so happened to be traveling on the very same State Highway as the behemoth of a bus. I also had the extremely unfortunate and grave misfortune of trailing its tailend—with a perfectly timed three-second cushion between us, I might add—right as it transitioned on to the bus depot in the sky. My destination before I was stuck like a bug in a rug on the 151? A once-in-a-lifetime conference of life-defining potentiality on the Human Genome Project featuring guest speaker T. Brooks Ellis, a former director of the Human Genome Project and my personal hero. Light refreshments were also to be served..."

"Mama, what's 'life-defining po… potion—'"

"Puh-ten-shee-al-it-eee," Judith sounded out for RJ. "Life-defining potentiality. That's when you're faced with a moment so big it could change everything about your life."

RJ stared at his sister. "I asked mama," he deadpanned.

"I knew the answer," she retorted with a smirk.

RJ thought about risking it all and rolling his eyes at his sister again. Luckily, a voice crackled over the walkie-talkie and saved him from whatever punishment would surely have come his way.

"'Chonne, pick up. Over."

"Uncle Daryl!" RJ excitedly shouted.

He jumped up from the couch and ran to the kitchen table to retrieve the walkie-talkie for his mama. Only after he'd snuggled back into her side did he hand the walkie-talkie to her.

"Thanks, baby," she grinned, giving him a squeeze. "Daryl, is every—"

"Hi, Uncle Daryl!" the kids shouted.

"Daryl, is everything ok?" Michonne asked, ready to spring into action if Baby Dixon had decided to make his or her arrival. "Over."

"Hi, Lil Asskicker. Hi, Squirt," Daryl chuckled. "Everything's good over here. It's just… holy shit, 'Chonne! Over."

RJ and Judith looked at each other and giggled at their favorite uncle's potty mouth.

"You must be listening to DJ Fun Guy," Michonne surmised. "Over."

She imagined that his "holy shit!" was how everyone who lived in the Before was feeling right about now after hearing Mariah.

"Mmmm," Daryl grunted to confirm he was listening to the radio. "And DJ Fun Guy, my ass. More like DJ Diarrhea Mouth," he grumbled.

RJ and Judith giggled again.

"I'm just hopin' he plays some real Christmas music. Over."

"Explain yourself, Dixon. What exactly do you mean by real Christmas music? Over."

"I mean real Christmas music, 'Chonne. All that shriekin' we just heard ain't music. The only thing a real singer needs is a smooth, steady voice and a guitar," he told her. "Tobey Keith singin' 'Silent Night'? That right there is a Christmas classic. Over."

Michonne wondered how in the world at the end of the world Daryl Dixon was one of her closest friends. At least she could rely on Siddiq and Rosita and Jesus and Aaron to have good taste in music.

"Don't you have a pregnant wife you should be tending to?" she deadpanned. "Over."

Daryl chuckled at her response. "Connie fell asleep eatin' from that big ass popcorn tin Aaron found on his Christmas run."

RJ and Judith giggled harder.

"It's just sittin' on her stomach, but I'm scared to move it. I don't wanna wake her up. Over."

Michonne gently ran her fingers through RJ's curls remembering how hungry and exhausted she always was in her final days of pregnancy with him.

"You two come any closer to deciding on a name?" she asked. "You know you can't call the baby 'Baby'. Over."

"Very funny," Daryl replied. "We're still workin' on it. Over."

"What do you think?" Michonne asked Judith and RJ. "Any new ideas for Uncle Daryl and Aunt Connie?"

"Shoto is a good name, Uncle Daryl!" Judith suggested.

"Or Mimi!" RJ chimed in.

"I still like Donnie or DJ," Michonne offered. "Over."

"I'm gonna add those names to the short list," Daryl smiled. "Hey, thanks for havin' me and Connie over today, 'Chonne. Connie already ate all the plates you loaded us up with, which is somethin' else since it ain't even been two hours since we left," he laughed. "Over."

"Of course, Daryl," Michonne grinned. "You both are always welcome. And when Baby Dixon gets here, my door is always open to him or her, too. Over."

It had taken years for Michonne and Daryl to repair a friendship fractured by the anger and hurt over what happened to Rick and by the anger and hurt over what happened to Carol, but those divisive feelings no longer dwelled within them. Daryl was her brother. They were family.

"Appreciate it, 'Chonne. Me and Connie both," Daryl said, clearing the emotion from his throat. "I guess I'll get back to listenin' to DJ Fun Guy. Maybe he'll stop talkin' and play another song," he grumbled. "Merry Christmas, 'Chonne. Merry Christmas, Lil Asskicker! Merry Christmas, Squirt! Over."

"Merry Christmas, Uncle Daryl!" the kids shouted with glee.

"Merry Christmas, D," Michonne smiled. "Over and out."

She made a mental note to stop by the Dixon house with more food when she was out dropping off food at Siddiq and Rosita's later. Those two had their hands full with Coco, who'd been battling a bad cold the last few days, and were too tired to come over for Christmas dinner.

"…Do I hold Mariah Carey solely responsible for the decimation of one of the best days of my life? That is an affirmative, but that is also a story to be told in its full and abundant entirety at a later date in time because you are listening to a very special Christmas edition broadcast of DJ Fun Guy. And in honor of the most wonderful time of the year—a debatable superlative that I will overlook in the spirit of the holly jolly, I have three hours of Christmas tunes cued up courtesy of the late Spencer Monroe. His secret stash number seven was discovered last month at Alexandria's groundbreaking ceremony for the Monroe Civic Center. In addition to the standard booty of alcohol and canned food, an iPod Nano, fifth generation, was recovered that just so happens to include songs of the season.

"I would personally like to dedicate this next diddy to a bad mamma-jamma whose testicular fortitude of a female variation is wholly and duly appreciated. She is the reason why day after day we all have one more day with a chance. I hope The Jackson Five will do. Merry Christmas, Michonne Grimes."

"Mom, that's you!" Judith screamed. "You're the bad mamma-jamma!"

RJ cheered wildly for his mama and then asked, "What's a bad mamma-jamma, Jude?"

"It means… it means mom kicks butt and is the best mom ever!"

Michonne did not disagree. She held her babies tighter and grinned as "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" played.

RJ grinned, too. He was happy that his mama was happy because sometimes she was so sad. That made him sad. Hearing her cry in her room at night made him even sadder. But on those nights, Jude would always come to his room, hold his hand, and take him downstairs to their secret spot in the pantry. He'd munch on the cookies Uncle Aaron found called Oreos while Jude told him stories about the Brave Man or read comic books to him.

RJ burrowed into his mama's side and giggled to himself because after today she would always smile, and sing, and be so happy. They all would be so happy because Santa was going to make his one wish come true! RJ was only a little bit worried that it was getting so late, but Santa was probably just saving the best gift for last!

"Why are you giggling?" Michonne chuckled, always amused by the sound or her children's laughter.

RJ hid his smiling face against her shoulder without answering.

Michonne looked at Judith questioningly, but Judith could only shrug in response. She had no idea what her little brother was hiding. Before she or her mom could start asking him questions, they heard three loud knocks at the front door.

"I'LL GET IT!" RJ shouted.

Santa!

It had to be Santa!

His one wish wouldn't fit down the chimney. Santa must have left it on the porch!

He ran to the front door and opened it with the biggest smile on his face.

"Well, Merry Christmas to you too, bud," Aaron laughed after seeing RJ's bright smile sink into a frown.

"Merry Christmas, Uncle Aaron. Merry Christmas, Uncle Jesus. Merry Christmas, Gracie," RJ mumbled as he stepped aside to let them in the house.

Santa hadn't left his one wish on the porch after all.

"Gracie!" Judith squealed, rushing to her best friend.

The girls hugged and ran up the stairs to Judith's room, excitedly chattering over each.

"Gracie, take those snow boots off!" Aaron shouted as he closed the front door.

"Ok, dad!" Gracie shouted back.

"I guess we'll tell Michonne you said hi!" Jesus shouted.

"Ok, dad!" Gracie shouted back.

"And that's the last we'll see of those two until it's time for us to leave," Aaron chuckled, taking off his scarf.

"We don't need no stinkin' girls to listen to music and have fun, do we?" Jesus joked, pinching RJ's cheek. "Where's Mama Michonne?"

"Living room," RJ mumbled, looking down at his feet.

Jesus and Aaron exchanged worried glances.

"Everything ok, Squirt?" Jesus asked.

"Yes, Uncle Jesus," RJ replied quietly, eyes still cast down.

"I got it," Aaron mouthed to Jesus.

Jesus smiled at his husband and gave RJ a big hug and a kiss on top of his head.

"Michonne, did you hear Mariah?" he shouted as he unbuttoned his coat and headed to the living room. "I swear to God I nearly shit myself!"

RJ didn't even giggle when his Uncle Jesus said "shit".

"You sure you're ok?" Aaron asked RJ, squatting down so that they were eye level.

RJ nodded slowly but kept his gaze glued to the floor.

"I heard you got some pretty kickass gifts today! Do you like your new go-kart?" Aaron asked, trying to determine if RJ was sad because he didn't get what he wanted for Christmas.

RJ smiled just a little when he heard "kickass".

"I like it," he mumbled.

He liked all of his gifts, but there was one gift he'd like even more.

"And your mom told me you ate three whole plates of food!" Aaron exclaimed, lightly poking RJ in his tummy.

RJ giggled but just a little.

"I did. Mama put her foot her in it," he mumbled. "That's what Aunt Connie signed when dinner was over."

Aaron would have to ask Michonne what "put her foot in it" meant, but he was so proud of RJ, and Gracie and Judith, for learning sign language.

"So, what's wrong, buddy?"

Aaron waited patiently for an answer, ignoring the offkey singing of "Feliz Navidad" coming from the living room.

RJ knew it was wrong to fib, but he couldn't tell Uncle Aaron why he was upset. He didn't want to ruin the surprise when Santa made his one wish come true.

"I wanted you to be Santa," RJ said truthfully, looking up into his uncle's eyes. "Cuz I want to thank Santa… for all my gifts he left under the tree," RJ fibbed.

Aaron smiled at how thoughtful of a child RJ was. He really was the best of both Michonne and Rick.

"That's a nice a thing to want to do, RJ, but I don't think Santa's stopping by anymore houses today."

"He's not?" RJ gasped.

Aaron shook his head. "Santa makes all his deliveries on Christmas Eve, so if I had to bet, I'd say he's back at the North Pole resting from all his hard work last night."

"He is?" RJ gasped.

Aaron nodded. "You'll have to try to catch him next year."

RJ tilted his head to the side and studied his uncle's face to make sure he wasn't joking around. Uncle Aaron's nose always flared when he was joking around.

RJ gasped again when his Uncle Aaron's nose didn't flare.

"If you're a good boy next year and stay off the naughty list, you might be able to meet Santa next Christmas," Aaron smiled. "But maybe you can write him a letter to let him know how thankful you are. I can help you with it tomorrow if you want, but trust me, Santa already knows how great of a kid you are."

Convinced that RJ was fine, Aaron ruffled his hair and stood. "I'm gonna go say hi to your mom, ok?"

RJ's mouth fell open when his uncle walked to the living room.

He did everything he was supposed to do for his one wish to come true. He ate all his vegetables at dinner and always asked for extra tomatoes. He stopped pulling Judith's braid when she made him mad. He made his bed every morning. He brushed his teeth twice a day. He only sometimes stayed up late reading comic books after his mama told him to go to bed.

Why didn't Santa make his one wish come true?

RJ wiped his eye with the back of his hand and sniffled. He wasn't gonna cry because he wasn't a baby anymore. He was a big kid. But boy did he feel like crying.

He sat at the foot of the stairs with his elbows on his thigh and his hands cuppings his face trying to figure out what to do. Michonne found him in his little thinking man position when she came to check on him a few minutes later.

"RJ, baby? Are you ok?" she asked, sitting down next to him.

Aaron told her about their conversation. She didn't believe that RJ being melancholy had anything to do with not being able to thank Santa.

"I'm trying to think like a big kid," RJ told her.

"Oh, yeah? Do you need some help with that?" she asked.

"Mama," RJ giggled, "you're not a big kid."

"I'm not?" she asked in dramatic bewilderment.

"No, you're my mama!"

Michonne grinned and wrapped her arms around her giggling Little Brave Man, squeezing him tight.

"RJ," Michonne said after his giggles died down, "if you need your mama for anything or need to tell your mama anything, you just have to let me know, ok?"

"Yes, mama," he whispered.

But he couldn't tell his mama his one wish, not yet.

Michonne rubbed RJ's back affectionately before she rose from the step. She was going to leave him alone with his thoughts for now, but she'd speak with him again later.

"And when you're done thinking like a big kid, come back to the living room," Michonne smiled. "We miss you, and you're missing a lot of fun Christmas songs!"

RJ watched his mama and knew what he had to do to keep that big smile on her face.

Since Santa was at home in the North Pole, he would make a trip to the North Pole to see Santa! He was going to get his one wish, and it was going to be the bestest Christmas ever!


A/N: The second part of the story will pick up with RJ and his super secret journey to the North Pole!

Thank you for reading!