May 6th, 2011

Kisangani DRC

Michonne's head swam as she opened her eyes in the dark room. She sat up painfully touching a hand to the back of her neck. She could feel the swell of a knot and tenderness of the flesh at the base of her skull. She didn't know where she was but the intense quiet that surrounded her let her know she wasn't in Kisangani anymore. There was nowhere in the city that was this dark or quiet at anytime of day or night. She could hear crickets chirping and owls hooting in the distance. Looking at the one beam of light that shone high on the wall opposite her, she saw bars on the windows.

She was in some sort of cell. Her heart jumped, beating a frantic staccato in her chest at the realization. This wasn't a mistake and she hadn't suddenly fallen ill and been rushed to a hospital. She was a prisoner. She stood up realizing her bedding was in a corner on the floor and went to the high window. On her tiptoes, all she could make out was the night sky and the forest canopy. Flood lights shone at the corners and she could just make out the top of a chain link fence but nothing in the way of direction or landmarks revealed themselves. She was on a compound of some sort. Reaching up so that she could look at her watch face by the light that shone into her space, she saw it was three-fifty in the morning.

She'd been missing for hours, but during a time when not one of her friends would be any the wiser. She'd been snatched off a neighborhood street and taken somewhere but no one might realize until hours from now. These were the things that did happen to people, she tried to remind herself, had happened to UN employees in the course of their assignments. It was relatively commonplace in particularly war-torn regions. Michonne shuddered remembering what had become of an investigator during her brief time in Colombia. Her stomach turned violently recalling the reported condition of his body when it had been recovered. Suddenly, Rick's frequent admonitions discouraging her from her decision to live so far from the Mission came back to her, like a smack in the face. She'd been so foolish.

Rick.

For some reason, Michonne's mind strayed to him. Even as she feared for herself, she was saddened by the idea of how upset he would be when he found out. She'd always known, in her heart of hearts, that he would blame himself if anything ever happened to her. Instead of laying the blame where it belonged, with her and the hubris inherent in her decision to live miles away, he would think of all the ways he could have tried to do something. Just the idea of it upset Michonne enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Why hadn't she just listened to him?

For hours, Michonne sat in the darkness on straw bedding and tried to piece together what happened until the first lights of dawn began to replace the artificial ones. She didn't even know who would have wanted to take her. In this part of the world, professional ransom operations were rare to nonexistent. Whoever had taken the time to kidnap her must have had a personal stake in harming her. The idea of that made her predicament even more frightening. Still, she had no clues to whom that might be. She couldn't even really retrace her steps directly preceding it. She remembered leaving Maggie's house, a little more tipsy than usual, and walking toward the bus station but that was as far as her recollections would carry her. Something had happened along the way, but what? The ache in her head suggested some things but the fact that her clothing was entirely intact refuted others.

At eight by her watch, the door to her cell finally opened and Ariane ducked in with a makeshift wooden tray. Michonne was startled.

"Ariane?" She said still trying to piece things together in her mind. "What are —"

The girl balanced the tray in one arm and used the other hand to bring a finger to her lips.

Michonne closed her mouth immediately, watching as Ariane entered and placed the tray at her feet.

Kneeling down, she dipped a rag into a small bowl and then wrung it out.

"Shhh," she said as she brought the rag to Michonne's forehead. It was unexpectedly cool and smelled comfortingly of fragrant herbs. Michonne closed her eyes drawing comfort from the young girl's delicate touch.

"DaDa's men brought you here," She whispered into Michonne's ear as she leaned forward to move the rag to the knot on the back of her head.

"What!" Michonne was certain she didn't understand what she had just been told.

"Shhh!" Ariane said again insistently. "You must pretend you do not know what is going on."

"But I don't," Michonne whispered, near tears. If she had been baffled before she was badly flummoxed now.

"DaDa thinks that you know about his business about where his money is hidden. That you were going to tell them everything and that DaDa's arrangement with the soldiers would soon be discovered."

This was news to Michonne; she knew of no money.

"Ariane, I don't know what you're talking about," Michonne maintained, further distressed.

Ariane looked surprised but recovered quickly. "Then we must figure out how to do something...and for that we need time."

"Do you have a phone?" Michonne whispered. To which Ariane shook her head.

"Can you get a message to the Mission?"

"They watch too close now. I rarely get out of the camp anymore."

"Could you get a message out?" Michonne found herself nearly begging.

"I can try. But to do that I need time. You don't have any time," Ariane said gravely.

Tears sprang to Michonne's eyes. So she wasn't mistaken about why she was here. She was to be like her colleague in Colombia. Just a body that eventually washed up, perhaps on the shores of the Tshopo right near her own home. Her eyes pleaded with the young girl even though she imagined there was little she could do.

"You've got to help me. I can't die here."

"I will try," Ariane whispered patting her shoulder.

Taking one glance behind her, Ariane pushed Michonne back, placing her hand firmly in her chest and encouraging her to lie back on the bedding. After a brief silence where Ariane seemed to contemplate Michonne's words, she spoke again but now in French.

*You must be ill.*

Michonne's face must have been a question mark even as she allowed Ariane to position her back in bed. The girl shot her an intent look, beseeching Michonne to play along. She deliberately spoke loudly enough to be overheard by whoever waited for her in the hall.

*When was the last time you had the curse?*

Michonne was completely lost. Ariane seemed to understand Michonne's confusion but continued on undeterred. She picked the plate of food up off the tray and tried to spoon feed her. At first, Michonne resisted. Clamping her mouth shut until Ariane frowned, gesturing with her head and eyes toward the door. Someone was watching.

*Are you sure? I will have Mama Oné come and visit you, to make sure you are alright then.* Ariane said in answer to nothing.

Michonne remained silent and watched as Ariane seemed to carry on both sides of a conversation alone.

"Shhh, shhh." She coaxed Michonne's mouth open and shoveled food in as she hummed. *Nevermind, don't worry.*

Ariane fed Michonne for a bit longer before packing up her tray. Michonne watched the girl carefully, curious to why she was being nursed in that way. Rubbing a comforting hand down Michonne's face as if they had suddenly transposed ages, Ariane bend forward as if to kiss Michonne's cheek. Bringing her lips instead to Michonne's ears, she whispered.

"I hope you have had your menstruation recently or we are both going to be in trouble." She said cryptically.

Michonne's eyes widened in shock as Ariane stared back at her. It was then that she saw it. There was a steadiness there that Michonne had not seen the first time they met on the Mission steps. In the three months since she'd seen the girl last something had calcified and hardened in her. Whether or not DaDa had had his way with her as he had threatened, Ariane was no longer a girl but a woman. Michonne couldn't help the wave of both respect and pity that realization brought on. She could only imagine the horrors she'd endured in that time. Michonne yet again found herself near tears and about to say something. But again Ariane put her finger to her lips and hushed her.

Pulling herself off her knees, Ariane rose. A slight smile played at her lips entreating Michonne both to trust her and follow her lead. As she reached the door with her tray in hand, she turned back to Michonne and spoke gravely in French.

*DaDa would never allow anything to happen to your child. He loves all children.*

Michonne gasped finally understanding Ariane's plan and her words. Inadvertently, she clutched at her stomach stricken, just as the guard who was letting Ariane out looked in on her. It made for a fairly convincing tableau, whether or not she'd intended it to. Ariane had bought her some time, while at the same time, illuminating why she was there. She was there to die at DaDa's hand, a casualty of someone's attempt to tie up loose ends. But, with Ariane's quick thinking she'd just been granted a small stay.

...Still, if she was correct, and she could generally set a watch by her period, her reprieve amounted to little more than eight additional days. Short of a miracle, Michonne was unsure what could be achieved by then. But the world had supposedly been created in seven, she reminded herself, suddenly hoping for something only a little short of divine intervention.