"Carol was right! You are a fucking fuck of a fuck!"

Everybody froze. Michonne had barely finished her tirade before she started in again, spewing epithets that made nearly everyone blush. No one had ever seen her temper before but there it was – launched and in full force. And it was all directed at Rick Grimes.

"Calm down." Rick patiently said.

Michonne lost it! "The hell I will!" That's when she reached for her katana. Rick went for his gun. And gasps filled the room.

"Just…" Rick stammered. "Just hold on. Hold on, Michonne."

"Michonne?" Herschel calmly asked. "Please. What's wrong?"

She glanced at him, keenly aware of his threat to her. "You still gonna kick me out?!"

"Not at the moment."

She returned her attention to the cop. "I remember you, you son of a bitch!" She dropped her hand from her sword. She venomously added, "And I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you live for very much longer."

Everyone was now on high alert. Most of the men stood up but the women seemed to encircle the embattled warrior. Carl cowered away and she didn't even notice.

"Michonne," Andrea began, "what is going on?"

"I'll tell you what is going on!" She said. Firmly, she planted her feet on the floor and glared holes into Rick's skull. "You! You killed my son!"

One-by-one, eyes fell on Rick and he simply seemed shocked. "I don't even know you! I don't even-!"

"Yes, you do!" she screamed. "Yes, you fucking do! I remember who you are! You killed my son!" The first of the tears threatened her chestnut eyes but she forced them back. "You were in Atlanta!"

Rick thought for a second and hesitantly said, "Yeah?"

"And you were on Decatur Street!"

Again, Rick rifled through his memory banks and repeated, "Yeah?"

"You was on that fucking horse!"

"That's right."

"And you ran into that tank!"

Rick shook his head. "Michonne, what are you-?"

"What did you do after that?!"

Now, in that moment, none of the group wanted to remember the past. But as aggressive and interrogative as Michonne was, Rick didn't have a choice. So, he had to remember. The tank… The walker inside… The escape with Glenn… Meeting Andrea… The manic chase from the department store… The walker child who reached for him and tried-

His eyes widened.

"Yeah!" Michonne screamed. "Yeah, you fucker! You killed my son!"

"I killed a walker!"

"He was only two years old!"

"I had no choice! There's no cure!"

"You didn't know that then! That's what you were told at the fucking CDC!"

Michonne finally pulled her sword from her scabbard. She held it as a chorus of oohs! and ahhs! filled the room. Not only had Michonne threatened him, but the idea that there was no cure rocked everyone there. Rick reached for his trusty .357 Magnum and Michonne noticed.

Abruptly, Michonne went quiet. "And that was the gun you used…"

Rick swallowed. "I had no choice. It could crawl and kill one of us."

"He was just a child!"

"He was a walker!"

"He was my baaaaabyyyyy!"

Her lips quivered. Her arms shook. And her martial arts father would've been very disappointed with her when she dropped her katana. Unable or unwilling to do anything else with the fight, Michonne fled the room and ran to the front porch.

There, she marched to the end of the porch and came to a complete standstill. A weird numbness filled her body and a sharp, piercing sound could be heard in her mind. The sound of fury and sadness that only parents who have experienced terrible loss or horror can truly understand. She stared in a stupor into the nighttime sky, hating everything about it – the fact that the sky at night never changed. The rest of the world did. And there was no going back.

The walking dead had taken over.

Still though, she stood there, frozen in a world that was so unfair, so cold. That's when she took a deep breath, stared at the well they saved Glenn from, took another deep breath…and collapsed in a broken heap.

The tears waterfalled. Heavy, heaving, helpless cries escaped her throat and all of the anguish that welled deep, deep inside her crushed out of her. She choked and swallowed and breathed and choked and folded her arms and choked some more. In the recesses of her hearing, she heard the screen door open and close and didn't pay it any attention. Sitting down, her knees were hiked up and her elbows rested on them. She sat there like a lost three-year-old at the mall and cried and cried.

"Here."

She looked up. Presented to her was a cup of what was probably mint tea. Michonne took it and looked up into the kind eyes of Andrea. Behind her was Maggie, Beth, and Lori. Within a second, Michonne heard soft footsteps and in just a few seconds, the women had cocooned Michonne. They sat around her as if there was a campfire in the middle. Beth and Maggie took the lower steps, Lori was to Michonne's right, and Andrea to her left.

The crying didn't exactly stop. The cup shook in her hand. Andrea removed it and set it down. The women all sat in silence and simply waited. There was nothing they could do and like all supportive people should, they just watched and hung around. No one wants to see suffering, but when you can't do anything to stop it, just being present can speak volumes for support. And survival.

"Better?" Andrea softly asked.

Michonne sniffed. "Y-yeah."

Lori shifted a little towards her. "I remember when I first met Rick."

Michonne didn't respond. So, Lori continued.

"I was an arrogant elementary school teacher." Lori began. "I was single and I was dating this…lowlife jerk. He was abusive, you know? I don't know why I stuck with him. I just did. Well, one time, this jerk…his name was Merle…was bein' real nasty one day at the Summer Beer Festival."

Here, Lori paused. A few in the group had heard of this festival and politely smiled. The Atlanta Beer Festival is a fun time for all, until alcohol can take things too far.

"Anyway," Lori continued, "this handsome police officer was helping a little ol' lady across the street."

Andrea snickered. "Really? That's so cliché!"

"I know, right? Anyway, he was really doin' that, like what you'd see in Andy Griffith or somethin'." And then, Lori's voice softened. "But he was so kind, so protective. I watched him like…like…" She looked Michonne dead in the eye. "Like he was the breath of fresh air that I needed. He almost tripped on the sidewalk when he got her to the other side, but there it was."

"There what was?" Michonne whispered, wiping the last of her tears away.

"Proof positive that there are good men in this world. Rick is a good man. He doesn't do things without thinkin' about them first. And Atlanta got bad. I mean, real bad…"

Michonne didn't have to ask for clarification about that. She clearly remembered the dead surrounding her city, then her suburb, then her neighborhood, and then, her very own front door.

"I just can't picture it." Andrea muttered.

"What?" Maggie asked, plucking a weed from the steps and playing with it.

"Rick doing that."

"Why not?" Lori asked with just a hint of defensiveness in her voice.

"Oh, not like that." Andrea reassuringly said. "I mean, what I've seen that man do and accomplish with us…" she shook her head. "I haven't seen that side of him before. I guess I just never thought I ever would."

"Well, nowaways," Lori said, "you probably won't. There won't be very many old ladies crossing streets anymore."

"That's for sure." Maggie said. Then, she turned her attention to Michonne. "Rick must've done what he did when he had no choice. Lori's right. Rick's a good man. He doesn't want harm. Only good."

Only good. That phrase is a double-edged nightmare. There have been many times in history when things were done for the greater good, but defining what that is, isn't easy. And it can be manipulated. And devastating. Or wonderful.

Andrea pushed the cup over to Michonne. "Drink it. It'll help the nerves."

Michonne glanced at it. She could see Andrea's fingers as she held the cup. At one time, Andrea probably had them manicured and painted. There was a softness to them, replaced by cuts and little worklines that showed how much the world changed. Andrea noticed she was staring at her fingers and chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess I don't have to wear nail polish anymore."

Michonne then whispered, "Girls' night out."

Everyone appreciatively laughed. And Michonne almost smiled. Almost.

"Tomorrow, why don't we do somethin'!" Beth said. Leave it to the youngest in the group to think of entertainment rather than necessary work. Nevertheless, the idea had an appeal and everyone stared at her. Beth noticed. "Well, Michonne said it! Girls' night out! What about a day?"

"Ya know what?" Maggie said. "That's not a bad idea."

"Yeah!" Beth enthusiastically said. And then she whispered, "I could get daddy's keys to the car and we can go cruising!"

"We could find some bourbon somewhere for mint juleps." Andrea supplied.

"Drug stores might have some painkillers." Lori said. Everyone was surprised by that and stared at her. "What? I'm in pain!" The girls just giggled.

"We can find some walkers and do some target practice." Maggie said.

"Hell, let's find a lot of those things and get us some shootin' time!" Beth added.

"I like where this is headed!"

"What time tomorrow?"

"What should we bring?"

"Don't tell the boys! No boys allowed!"

"I've never been in a bar. Let's find one!"

"I want some new clothes!"

Soon, the conversation centered solely on the chatter of the fun-filled "shopping" day the next day would bring. Michonne sat there, taking it all in. She was surrounded by women who wanted to bring happiness into their lives, even if it was considered petty theft in the old days. She looked around, noting Beth's girlish grin, Andrea's fun devilishness, Maggie's boisterous laugh, and even Lori's odd mixture of responsibility and playfulness. And a girls' day did sound fun. She never thought she'd experience it again, after Atlanta fell. After everything fell. And especially after her son Andre fell ill and was shot by Rick.

As the women clamored on, the screen door could be heard opening and closing. But the girls were too preoccupied about planning their adventure (Andrea deemed it the Estrogen Fair) to really notice. But Michonne did.

She looked up. Rick had appeared and momentarily stared at her. And then, silently, he dropped his head and strolled towards the other end of the house. And without a word, Michonne realized what she had to do. So as the women planned the Estrogen Fair, she slowly got up, excused herself with a polite smile, and followed the leader of their group.

She found him on the other side of the porch. Shrouded in darkness, she could see the outline of his body – tight, firm and confident. She didn't hide the fact that she was there and he knew she was. Michonne slowly walked up and stood beside him. Rick stared off into the nighttime sky, studying the Big Dipper and possibly Sirius. Michonne followed his line of sight and watched as well. So, there they were – two warriors, fishing in the nighttime sky without a real lure to speak of.

"I'm sorry." Rick whispered.

Michonne looked down and noticed that his hands were shaking a little. He gripped the side of the porch like a life preserver and he couldn't really let go. That's when, with only a half a smile on her face, she gently touched his pinkie.

"I know… I know…" she said.

.