April 30th, 2011

Kisangani, DRC

Michonne felt like an idiot.

This was not her.

She was not a paranoid person by nature. She didn't know what she was doing. Only a crazy person would stand in the middle of the Protection Coordination Unit's offices trying to jimmy open the top drawer of a desk with a letter opener. Still, that was surely what she was attempting. She didn't know what had come over her recently but as the days passed she'd become more and more convinced something was wrong with Shane. She'd been unable to shake a growing suspicion of him.

It wasn't, precisely, in anything he was doing, more in things he was not. Office-work and job responsibilities that kept Shane in any way desk-bound used to be anathema to him. Michonne remembered Rick at past Missions having to keep after him, hectoring like an old fishwife to get him to get any of his paperwork submitted. Shane loved to be, as Michonne's mother might have put it, in the street. But in the past few weeks, there had hardly been a day when Michonne had passed by their offices and not seen him sitting behind a pile of papers.

Maggie had called it finishing up and closing out his UN business. Michonne had begun to wonder if it wasn't more like covering his tracks. Not that she had any solid proof of that but it still nagged at her. In all honesty, she'd also found it inconvenient since it had prevented her from doing the very thing she wanted to...snoop. Finding a time when the office was open but empty would have been a trick anyway but it became particularly complicated because of Shane's new-found fastidiousness about his work.

Still, when the coast was at long-last clear, there had been nothing to find. Not on his desk's surface anyway —not that she had any idea what she was looking for, precisely. Funnily enough, of all the invectives Michonne could and did often lob at him: Peter Pan, cad, rascal, the one thing she could never ever call Shane Walsh was a slob. He had always kept a meticulously clean workspace.

Michonne had always attributed that surprising quirk to a childhood spent being raised by an old woman. That and Shane's aforementioned general aversion to paperwork or desk work of any sort, kept his desk virtually empty at all times. As a result, there had been precious little on top of his desk to see in the first place. Michonne had known that might be the case when she decided to embark on this ill-advised mission. So she had always known what had to be done —she would need to break into his desk.

If there was going to be anything at all damning to be found, it would have to be in there. Still, as she did it, Michonne wasn't entirely certain she hadn't lost her mind. She'd allowed a nagging sense of foreboding to get the better of her. Following their intense stare-down at his farewell party, it dogged her. As insistent as an approaching freight train barreling down the tracks, the feeling had bedeviled her. Something awful was about happen and she grew dreadfully certain that Shane would be at its center.

"Yes!" She muttered as the catch on the ancient desk flipped up opening the top desk drawer easily.

Unfortunately, the desk yielded very little. She looked through the items in it quickly. Cataloguing the knick-knacks from pens and pencils to peppermint candies and a matchbook, Michonne vacillated between irritation and relief. The truth was Michonne didn't really want to find anything. She wanted to believe that in three months Maggie would be ending her assignment in the DRC and heading home to embark on the next phase of her life with a man worthy of her trust.

Michonne fiddled with an inner latch that released the side drawers and after a brief glance to the office entrance, slipped the bottom drawer open. It was empty except for an old catcher's mitt, a softball and an ancient phone book. Michonne picked the book up curiously. Like the phone books at home, it was a great big yellow and white paper doorstopper. And oddly, it had to be at least five or ten years old. She thumbed through the pages. But other than for a couple missing pages and a few businesses circled in black marker, it was hardly of note.

Throwing it back down in the desk, she moved on to the next drawer, it was empty apart from a well loved menu. She rested her head onto her hand propped up on the desk in frustration. Of course, Shane wasn't going to make this easy.

"What are you doing?" The voice came from somewhere off to the side and behind, startling her.

Michonne had forgotten that some of the offices were adjoined in the rear. In case of emergency, the Belgians who previously used the building as a colonial administrative seat, had seen fit to link the offices together in the back. That way, during a protest or time of unrest, they could simply close the main doors of each office and still move from office to office as freely as they needed to. It was quite ingenious Michonne had always thought. Colonizers frequently were.

She slowly kneed the drawer closed as quietly as she could, pulling a peppermint out of the top drawer as she turned around.

Of course it was Shane.

"I'm waiting for Rick," She said casually, trying not to sound as caught as she felt.

"He and Aarav are escorting Francine to Kindu. She didn't tell you?" Shane frowned.

Michonne shook her head, no. She did.

"But why are you sitting at my desk?"

Michonne unwrapped the peppermint candy she'd swiped at the last second and popped it into her mouth before answering. "You've got the candy."

She forced a smile waiting to see if Shane accepted that explanation.

"My desk wasn't open," He said walking over to her.

"Sure it was." She said getting up and easing by him as he closed in.

"No, it wasn't," He insisted, standing in front of his desk and examining the drawer. He looked at it suspiciously before looking up at her.

Michonne backed away and sat on the edge of Samir's desk opposite his. For some reason, she wanted to put a little distance between them.

"Then how could I have gotten this?" She answered easily, pointing at her bulging jaw.

Shane looked at her as if confounded by the question. He tried the desk again, opening and closing it. He reached in and took out something quickly, sticking it in the back pocket of his jeans before looking at her again askance.

"So was it something I could help you with?" He asked her then.

"What?" Michonne said caught off guard.

"You needed something, right? I wanted to know if it was something I could help you with instead...I mean since Rick's not here," He watched her closely as he spoke.

Michonne stood up then, feeling called out. If Shane had just openly said he didn't believe her story the message couldn't have been transmitted any clearer. Over the years, their relationship had always been more playfully antagonistic than anything but in the past few weeks, it had become much more like a cold war than Michonne cared to admit.

"No, no, nothing you could do, um, Security Director business, but thanks anyway," She said with an easy fake smile, hoping it would shut him down. From his face, though, it seemed as if she'd stuck a knife in him and twisted it. Shane's equally forced smile faltered briefly. His mouth became a tight line.

Though it had only ever been a Mission rumor, his behavior right then helped confirm it for Michonne. Clara had once told her that after the death of the previous security director, Shane had thought himself the assumed interim successor. As far as anyone was concerned including Shane, Rick had been entirely disinterested in the position. The scuttlebutt was, if Rick didn't want it, Shane as next in line in order of seniority and experience would be a shoe-in.

Still, somehow the job had gone to Rick anyway. Clara swore that development pained Shane, although she never explained how she knew that. But, Michonne hadn't considered it, never having seen any evidence that confirmed it was true. However, this was the first moment Michonne witnessed anything suggesting that the way it all panned out bothered Shane in the slightest.

"Well, I suppose you gotta wait until he gets back then."

"I suppose so." She nodded in agreement.

There was a pregnant pause that hung between them before Shane spoke again. "'Chonne, I know what you think and I think it's time we had it out. Don't go."

He sat down heavily in his chair. As he did, Michonne paused in her glacial slide toward the door, holding her breath. She rested against another desk without actually sitting on it. She seriously doubted he had any idea what she was thinking. She also didn't want to be taken in by Shane and his slick words but she couldn't deny he looked sincere. She struggled between granting his simple request and not wanting to still be standing there when and if he realized she really had popped the lock on his drawers.

"How's that?" She still found herself saying despite her weariness.

"I know you and I have very different opinions about things but I'd like to think there's a couple places where we agree?"

She plastered the most beatific smile she could muster onto her face waiting for him to continue.

"We both love Maggie and we both think that I should spend the rest of my life proving how much," Shane said with a self-deprecating smile. "And I will. I'll never hurt Maggie."

"I think we both know that's not true," She replied honestly. "You promised me you wouldn't hurt Andrea too."

"No, I didn't." He held up a finger in objection. "I promised to never deliberately hurt Andrea."

"Well, then you failed on both counts," She retorted annoyed with his semantics.

Shane struggled to keep smiling. It seemed like they were both doing that.

"Well, Andrea was a rattlesnake when she got upset. There was no keeping a civil tongue with her. I know you know that too."

Despite her irritation with Shane on her friend's behalf, she did know that Andrea was her own kind of acquired taste. Her personality was strong like her opinions, neither of which she spared the people around her. Still, Shane had treated her shabbily after initially sweeping her off her feet.

After having seen him with prior and subsequent girlfriends Michonne was positive, being with Andrea had brought out the worst in him. It was true they brought out the worst in each other, really. So Andrea was perhaps not the best example of Shane as boyfriend material, but it didn't matter, she was the one that had been Michonne's friend. And if what happened with her was what awaited Maggie, Michonne could not truly give her blessing.

"Maggie's young and being impetuous and you are old enough to know better than to take advantage."

"Advantage?" Shane said seeming genuinely insulted. "First of all, that is not true. You've known her longer than me, when have you ever known Maggie to make an impulsive decision? And second, don't act like Maggie's a child. She's an adult who has been making decisions for herself for a few years now and has excellent judgement."

Michonne was stunned by how much of what Shane had just said was absolutely true. Suddenly, she felt like the one on the defensive.

"Do you think that I didn't have to have a very good argument for why we should get married and a plan before she would say yes?" Shane smiled sincerely at the recollection.

Knowing how much time, consideration and energy had gone into just the decision of which college to attend, Michonne already knew the answer. She smiled at the thought of how much convincing Shane had probably had to do. "I suppose."

"So if you can't give me the benefit of the doubt, at least give it to Maggie," Shane said simply.

Well, what the hell could she say to that?

Michonne fretted suddenly that she'd been making an ass of herself, with her suspicions and her passive-aggressive hostility. Had that been what Rick was trying to gently tell her at the party? The prospect of that made her feel ill. She itched to get out of the room and regroup alone with her thoughts.

She nodded conceding Shane the point. He exhaled heavily as if Michonne's opinion had really been of worry to him.

"That's all I'm asking, gimme a chance to prove you wrong. If I don't, you can put one right here," He said laughing and putting his finger to his temple.

Michonne rolled her eyes.

"Listen, I gotta run," Michonne said feeling an unexpected twinge of guilt as she turned to leave. "I guess I'll catch you around, Frack."

"Seeya, Pretty Lady."

Michonne scoffed at the nickname, as she walked out feeling no more satisfied than when she'd entered but a lot more conflicted.

"I was surprised, he didn't have the stroke I thought he would," Maggie said sorting through clothes in the laundromat.

The place was empty and relatively quiet at this time of afternoon. That was why they liked to do their laundry at that time. Still, Maggie and Michonne spoke in hushed tones as if her father might come in at any moment and overhear them. More like, Maggie worried one of his surrogates at the Mission, like the people who told him she was dating Shane months before she told him herself, might be listening.

Michonne sat to the side watching her own load spin around and around in the wash machine. "I've always thought you guys don't give Hershel enough credit. He's overprotective yes, but he's no throwback."

Maggie stopped and turned to Michonne. "We're still talking about my daddy, right?"

Michonne laughed. "Didn't you just say he didn't get upset?"

"No, I said he didn't have an aneurysm. He's plenty upset alright. He wants Shane to present himself for inspection first thing when he gets back to the States. As if Shane hadn't already set up a dinner date on his calendar. As if Shane now has to pass muster. I tried to tell him we're in the twenty-first century. I don't have to get permission to accept a marriage proposal and Shane sure as shit doesn't need permission to ask."

"So how did that go over?" Michonne asked already feeling like she knew the answer. She watched the side of Maggie's face contort with irritation.

"That bad?" She laughed.

Maggie was silent for a moment at the folding table. From her seat Michonne, could only see her profile. "I said, 'That bad'?" Michonne repeated.

Maggie turned on her friend then, holding something up between her index and middle fingers.

"What's that?"

Maggie tossed it to her and Michonne caught it in surprise. It was a matchbook.

"Where'd you get this?"

Maggie held up a pair of Shane's jeans.

"What is it?" Michonne said not understanding.

"Open it," Maggie directed her.

Michonne did obediently and saw scribbled across the back a series of numbers and a name. "Who's Lausanne?"

"That's a question, isn't it?" Maggie said her mouth pursed in displeasure. "That's not even his handwriting."

Michonne flipped the matchbook over in her hands. The cover advertised a club with its address and phone number and a scantily clad woman spread across it. It wasn't new though. There were even a few matches missing. "There's no telling when this is from, Mag."

Michonne couldn't believe she was playing Devil's Advocate, but if she was honest, of Shane's myriad foibles, being a cheater wasn't really one of them. He was serially monogamous, he just ran through the women like tissue paper. But if he was still with Maggie then he was still with her and Michonne said as much.

"Honestly, every man has a roving eye, the world is fifty percent women, do we really expect them to walk through life with their eyes closed? I know I don't," Michonne reasoned absently. "It's all in whether they do anything about it."

She got up then and walked over to the folding tables next to Maggie, still staring at the matchbook and the writing inside.

"Rick's eyes don't wander," Maggie rebutted. "He only has eyes for one person."

Michonne nodded in agreement turning the object in question over again and again in her fingers. There was something about it that lay at the tip of her tongue, right outside of her reach. "True. And Lori's a very lucky woman, I've always said so."

Maggie sucked her teeth and pulled the matches out of Michonne's hand.

"What?" Michonne asked looking up at her in surprise.

"You're not paying attention. I'm worried, Mich."

"No, you're paranoid."

"I know you can't blame me. You're the one who's convinced he's gonna break my heart."

"Do not put words in my mouth, Maggie Greene."

"Hasn't that been your complaint since we started dating?"

"Yes, but not like this," Michonne said snatching the matchbook back from her, determined to keep it to prevent Maggie from spinning out. Her level of sudden preoccupation with this small thing reiterated for Michonne how much Maggie cared for Shane. "Forget about this. I'm not sure how but those matches are familiar to me."

"Was this somewhere you went with him?" Maggie said hopefully.

Michonne shook her head looking at it again, that she was certain of. Club Moto was, according to the address on the backside, in Goma nearly 500 kilometers away and more importantly, out of bounds.

"So you really don't think this is anything?" Maggie asked pulling the jeans to her chest.

"Nope. Whoever Lausanne is she's in his past…"

"I'm tempted to call the number."

Michonne shook her head. "Don't be that girl."

She looked between the front cover and the inscription for the tenth time, when something came to her. "Plus, this isn't a phone number."

"What?" Maggie said surprised. "How do you know?"

Michonne leaned forward and flipped the cover back and forth for Maggie as she had been a minute earlier. "There are too many digits, see? There are 11 digits not nine and the first one is a 'B' not an eight. So it can't even be international," She pointed out.

Maggie took a deep breath and cracked a relieved smile. "I guess Shane's off the hook for now."

Michonne handed the book of matches back to Maggie and watched her slip it into her back pocket before returning to her sorting.

That's when it came to Michonne. That was where she'd seen the matchbook before.

It was one of the odds and ends she'd found in Shane's desk drawer at work. He'd taken it out in front of her and stuck it in his back pocket before she could see what it was. Suddenly, Michonne was more curious than Maggie about Lausanne.

Who the hell was Lausanne and what the hell did she have to do with Shane?