Michonne had stopped being afraid of walkers after she strung the chains around her boyfriend and friend's necks and lost herself in gore and the stench of death. There was nothing that could be taken from her after Andre, after them. She stuck to the woods, her demons trailing behind her, only venturing out to find food or safer shelter for the night. But she didn't stay long in the places that normal people would. No, because normal people these days were all killers and monsters too. They couldn't be trusted. Before, when men held open doors and tipped their hats at you as you passed them by, when women invited her to galleries to discuss the finer points of art and whether or not what they were looking at could even be called that, was gone.

There was only now. Where being caught by the wrong group meant certain death or some other heinous torture. There was enough misery in her past that she wasn't keen on inviting more by hoping to find the right someone. And even if she had, would she belong? The walkers, they brushed up against her but none of them attacked her. She had been bewildered at first but now she was only resigned to the fact that even they knew the truth. She was one of them. Her meat may not have decayed around her bones at present but her soul was a dark and dangerous thing. It devoured the things she'd longed to keep safe. It was why she was alone now, without Andre, without Mike, without anyone.

Andrea wasn't the first to be saved by her katana. She thrust and swung her sword because the living shouldn't have to become like her, rotting from the inside out. But there was something in Andrea's eyes when she'd woken to find Michonne sitting stoically by the fire that stopped her from leaving, that made her wait until her body had recovered from running for her life, that had her nursing her back to health. And suddenly, one day, Andrea had said something or other and Michonne had felt her heart restart. She began to recognize that curious feeling that had overtaken her in her presence as the stirrings of affection, of friendship.

And Michonne learned to be afraid again.

xx

She'd known the prison wouldn't last. Any fool could see that nothing as good as the community they'd built could survive in this world. People died. People turned. Children lost their innocence. The world turned. Nothing for it, she told herself. Nothing she could do to stop it but she found herself leaving their tight-knit group to search for the Governor anyhow. He was out there, biding his time, waiting for his moment to strike and take revenge. That was the truth. The others might tell themselves something different – he'd tucked tail and let it go after he murdered his people; they were safe – but Michonne knew better. She'd looked into his eyes and seen him for what he was. So she'd searched even when the trail went cold and there was nothing to follow, nothing to guide her but conjectures. She hadn't stopped looking but he came for them in his own time and destroyed the idyllic life they'd set aside for themselves in this mess. He'd taken down their fence and he'd killed Hershel.

There was no way for her to know how many escaped or survived the fight that followed. She tried to go back to what she'd been before, to be that emotionless, festering monster she'd been. She trapped herself new pets. She didn't bother trying to track down the people she knew. They were lost to her. And she was lost to herself.

But that couldn't last. A soul, once reawakened, could not simply lie down to die again without a fight. It would not let her be. The pain, the heavy weight of isolation did not relent even in her dreams until she forced herself to own that she could not become that solitary creature again. Her family was scattered and possibly all dead but she could not give up. It wasn't a wise choice but it was an unconscious one so she'd forgive herself for building those bonds in the first place. It was no matter now. They were formed. Her spirit wouldn't lie until she tried. So she did.

xx

Sometimes, things worked themselves out like a ball of Christmas lights unraveling with one tug. She had to collect herself when she eyed them through the window, side by side on the floor. If she had had a mind to hope to find anyone in particular, it would have been them. All those months she spent searching for the Governor, every run, they were never far from her thoughts. But she hadn't let herself acknowledge the need to find them specifically because there'd been enough disappointment these last few days. But there they were. They were alive and mostly well and Michonne hadn't been able to stop the relieved sob. That was all she gave herself though.

Tears had a way of releasing every moment of joy and pain at once, and she knew if she let herself give in to them, she wouldn't stop as easy as she started. She'd cry for all her friends' lives she didn't know the ending of and there wasn't time for that. She took several breaths before she knocked. As she waited, she could hear them scrambling to grab their weapons. There was silence and then she could hear Rick's softly laughing, "It's for you."

Carl still had his gun in hand when the door opened, eyes wary but curious. His eyes landed on her and the gun dropped to the ground in his haste to get to her. He stopped inches in front of her, grin lighting up his face.

"You're here," he breathed.

"I'm here."