Lori stared at herself in the mirror, fussing with her hair, adjusting her shirt. She could see why Rick was attracted to her—Michonne was walking around in shorts and one of Rick's shirts and somehow looked effortlessly stunning, with her stupid, pregnancy glow.

God, how she hated her.

Lori looked into her purse at the little Ziplock bag with white powder. She hated Michonne, but this? Philip was wrong. She didn't want Rick in jail, or Michonne. Teeth clenched, she emptied it into toilet.

She couldn't do that; Lori just couldn't.

"I still hate that bitch," she muttered to herself, flushing the contents and the bag away.

. . . . . .

Rick held his phone up toward the sky—still no bars. "Is it gonna be like this all weekend?" he asked Abraham.

"Think you can help us out first?" Abraham said, as he, Noah and Carl set the tent up in the clearing.

Rick sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Yeah. I'm coming. I just…"

"Wanted to check on her?" Abraham said with a smirk. "You've only been gone what, six hours?"

"I don't like being cut off, is all. Gotta have a signal."

Abraham stood, pointing down the hill. "When we go into town tonight for dinner, you'll have your signal."

"Dinner?" Rick asked.

"Dad and I always have our first meal at Theodore's," Noah said. "They have the best burgers and caramel cake."

"Tomorrow's dinner will be the fish we catch," Abraham added. "We can grill for lunch. But breakfast will be at the diner, too."

"So you mostly come out here to sleep then?" Carl asked. "Is this just a way to not pay for a hotel?"

Abraham looked at each other before looking at Carl.

"Pretty much."

"Yeah," they said in unison.

Rick smiled, going over to the tent to help.

"Besides," Abraham said, "the stars come out at night. Wouldn't want to miss it."

. . . . . .

"Leave," Michonne said, closing the door. She jumped back in surprise when Mike forced the door open with his open palm, making it slam against the wall behind it.

"I think we're overdue for a chat," he said, face set.

"How did you find out where I lived?" she asked, suspicious.

Mike sniffed. "Wasn't hard. We live in the age of technology, Michonne. Do you take me for a fool?"

Michonne shook her head. "You don't wanna know what I take you for, Mike. Seriously. Leave," she said, her voice low.

"Or what?" he asked, advancing on her.

Michonne stared at him, eyes unblinking, trying to figure out what it was he wanted.

"Just tell me why you're here," she demanded.

"Terry gave me your message. After all this time, you're just as cold as ever."

"Why shouldn't I be? What do you think I could possibly discuss with you, Mike? Huh?"

"We loved each other, once," he said quietly.

"That died with our son," Michonne said. "You have no right to be here."

"Sorry—it's not as easy for some of us to just move on and forget."

"I will never forget, and moving on was not easy."

"You shut me out, Michonne."

"We died with our little boy, Mike. When he gave his last breath, that was the end of us, right there. There's no going back from that," Michonne said fiercely.

Mike stared at her, baffled. "Is that all we had? Him?"

Michonne just stared at him, willing him to leave.

"You wouldn't even talk to me."

"Why would I? Our son didn't fall down the stairs or get hit by a car or die of cancer—it could have been prevented. You let him die. I think about him every day. It's all I can do—think about him."

"Oh really?" Mike asked, putting his hand into his coat pocket. Michonne's eyes widened when he pulled out a snub nose revolver. "Are you thinking about him now?"

Michonne froze, panicked, frightened.

"I'm ready to go now."

Michonne turned at Lori's voice. Mike was still behind her, but she was blocking his gun from view. "Lori," she said, her voice unnaturally high. She swallowed. "It was good to see you," she said slow, measured.

"Who is this?" Mike asked.

"An old friend," Michonne said.

Lori rolled her eyes. "That is a gross, over-estimation. My god, Michonne—"

"We had a little spat before you came, Mike," Michonne explained, cutting Lori off. "But we'll work things out later, I'm sure. She's leaving, now." Michonne turned to Mike, who had managed to put his gun behind his back. "She's leaving," Michonne stressed, conveying to him to let her go.

Lori stared at the two of them, confused. "Are you…are you seeing someone else?" Lori laughed. "Oh, this is rich."

Michonne shook her head. "It's not like—"

"You're seeing someone else?" Mike asked. He laughed mockingly. "Hard to move on, huh?"

"Yeah," Lori said, indignant. "She moved right on to my husband."

"Lori, get out of here," Michonne said from between her teeth. She looked at Mike and could see he was getting more agitated. "It's okay," she said to him. "She's going. Okay?"

"She's sleeping with your husband, huh?" Mike asked Lori, ignoring Michonne.

"Worse. She got pregnant by him."

That did it. Mike whipped the gun out, startling the living hell out of Lori as he pointed it at Michonne. "You couldn't come to me, but you go to some married man? Is that how it is, Michonne? Is that how it is, now?" he yelled.

"Oh my god," Lori cried, hands at her mouth.

Michonne's brow furrowed as she looked past Mike at the framed photo of her and Rick. He was carrying her on his back, at the beach, the water wetting his cuffed jeans. Maggie had taken the photo. Two weeks ago. Mike glanced behind him and stared for a moment. He looked at her.

"That Sheriff? Him?" Mike couldn't believe it.

"Let her leave, Mike," Michonne said, her voice resigned. "Let her go." She looked at Lori, who stared back at her in terror. Then Lori looked at Mike.

"Whatever you're thinking…don't," Lori said, voice trembling. "There's only one way out of this, and that's for you to go."

"I'm not leaving this apartment, and neither is she," he said, pointing the gun at Michonne.

Hot tears streamed down Lori's face. "But…she's pregnant. Please," she pleaded.

Michonne's eyes widened at that. She pulled Lori into a hug and whispered, "Give Rick my love. Tell him I'm sorry," she cried. Using herself to stand between Lori and Mike, she walked Lori to the door. "She's going, now," she said to Mike, shoving Lori out the door, closing it.

"Why'd you let her go?" Mike asked.

"She has a son," Michonne said, wiping at her face, palm flat on the door as she leaned against it. "She has a son."

. . . . . .

Lori fled down the hall, digging in her purse, fishing for her phone. She wanted to be as far away from there as humanly possible, in case that Mike changed his mind about her being able to leave.

"Shit!" she cursed to herself as she fumbled around in her seemingly endless bag with one hand, jamming her finger at the elevator button with the other. She stepped inside once the doors finally opened, staring worried down the hallway, waiting for Mike to emerge as the doors slowly closed. He didn't.

She found her keys while in the parking lot, got in, and sped off, leaving tire tracks behind her. She finally found her phone as she drove one handed. She called Rick, cursed at herself when he didn't answer, then cursed some more when she realized she needed to call the police first. The phone rang two times before Shane picked up his direct line.

"Stoney Creek Police Department."

"Shane!" Lori exclaimed, breathless. "It's Michonne. You have to—"

Lori dropped the phone as she slammed on the breaks, skidding the car out of control as she attempted to dodge a deer. She screamed as the car careened off the road down a ditch, slamming into a tree.

"Hello? Lori? LORI!" Shane yelled.

But all was quiet.

. . . . . .

"There's no fixing this," Mike said more to himself than her. "I can't go back." He looked at her, raising the gun eye level. Michonne took a step back.

"You don't have to do this," she said, voice trembling. "We can't go back, but…you can start over. Move. Start a whole new life."

"You were my life, Michonne. And our son is gone, dead, and you…You've moved on. Having a whole new family, aren't you?"

Michonne involuntarily placed her hands over her rounded belly. "Please. Don't do this," she whispered, tears rolling down the bridge of her nose.

"It's already done," he said his voice eerily quiet. "You said it yourself. We died with him, right?"

"Mike!"

The loud pop rang out as blood splattered onto the white walls, covering the smiling faces of Rick and Michonne.