*Author's Note*

Hiya!

Only because a few of you were wondering about it. Carter is totally the guy from the show! As a general rule, if I use the name of a character from the show that we've seen (and ever had lines) then that's the face-claim for the character. Hopefully, if I do a decent job with characterization, they at least "resemble" the person too. With some people, like our not-so beloved Carter, I had to extrapolate from the little bit we were given during the show to fill him out. But the fact that you're all like, "What did Michonne ever see in this guy?" means that you identified with Rick there. Which is exactly what I wanted. He's the inexplicable ex in every person's mate's history that makes you say, "You dated him/her?" In Michonne's defense though, it was only three "magical" dates, LOL!

Continued love to each and every one of you for following along! XOXO

7/27/15 19:37 CAT

Medical Station Omicron, Rwanda

Michonne took a deep breath watching the young woman carefully.

Okay, go. She thought steeling herself.

"How long have they been gone? Is there a timeframe on this tête-à-tête? Do you know when it will be over? Do you know where the rest of my group is? Is there anything that you can actually tell me?" Michonne asked in rapid succession with clear irritation. She was aware that it was the pain of her wound and the sutures that helped put just the right sharp edge on her annoyance. She took a deep breath—at least as deep as she could bear. "If, for whatever reason, I've been excluded from this negotiation, I'd like to, at the very least, see my people."

Ariane's eyes narrowed briefly before the saccharine smile returned to her face. It had clearly been a while since anyone had spoken to her in that manner. "Surely Michonne, you don't think we're keeping them from you? You were in surgery and then recovery. We couldn't very well have them all leaning over you in the operating theater."

There was an irritation in the woman's explanation that she was only marginally better at hiding than Michonne had been.

"Well, I'm up now and I don't require a babysitter, if that's what you are supposed to be."

Ariane rose slowly with a nod, "Very well, this way." She put out an arm to guide the women back toward the door.

As Carol bent forward to release the wheel lock, she surreptitiously whispered in Michonne's ear. "Easy, girl."

She nodded very slightly to acknowledge that she'd heard Carol but her stern visage said without equivocation that she would not be taking that advice.

Michonne understood the reasoning behind the admonition but what Carol didn't grasp was that she and Denise had been right all along. Michonne did know these people. And she knew this was all they responded to, all they respected. She knew that if she didn't do this, in this way now, Ngangabouka's people would walk all over her and everyone in their group for the duration of their 'stay'. And even though Rick hardly needed to be told to assert himself ever, she worried that he might err on the side of caution to assure her safety. She had to be the one to play this role. It was a role reversal, her as the hellion, he as the peacemaker but it could work if they got on the same page.

Assuming of course, that he didn't have Ngangabouka's number the moment they met, assuming he did not completely understand that aggression was the only language Ngangabouka spoke. But that was a big if at this point. Particularly since it had taken even Michonne a minute before she pulled herself out of the odd Twilight Zone episode feeling this whole experience was giving her. But once Michonne recognized through Ariane's behavior that the girl had changed, bloomed under Ngangabouka's particular type of sunlight, she quickly figured out what she had to do. She needed to play rough.

Ariane led them silently through the corridors. Michonne made a note of all the turns as yet another wave of nauseating deja vu hit her. Visions of her previous captivity came back to her, the desperate grasping for orientation, the unsettling feeling of constant uncertainty, the general oddness of this turn of events, it was all almost overwhelmingly familiar. When they passed a small conference room with a few of Ngangbouka's men casually lounging and talking amongst themselves Michonne's stomach nearly flipped. It was the prison at the Outpost all over again.

"Don't you all have something you could be doing?" Ariane said then startling the men, who turned out to be boys, not much past sixteen to Michonne's guess. They bumbled around not unlike Keystone Kops for a moment before coming to the threshold of the door to present themselves. Ariane kept walking however not even looking back to be sure she'd been obeyed.

"Michonne, are you alright?" Denise asked softly of Michonne reaching down for her wrist as they walked on. "Your heart rate is a little elevated. I really think you should consider going back to your room."

Ariane swiped through another doorway and holding it open, turned to look at them. "I can always tell them to pay you a visit once they've adjourned?"

Michonne gritted her teeth, she was beginning to feel the drag on her. She did need to rest, her entire body ached though it was really only her side that was injured. It wouldn't be long before she hit the wall, but she could not allow that to happen before she spoke with Rick. Not before she saw her people. It was funny how the small, scrappy group had so quickly become that to her. Hers, her people. Even Sasha, Rosita and Jesus, who she'd only just met when she'd regained consciousness, they were all her people now. And she had to know they were okay, had to see it with her own eyes before she could rest. No one moreso than Rick, however.

"That won't be necessary," Michonne insisted. "Dr. Denise is concerned needlessly."

She watched Ariane eye her carefully, as one might inspect something for flaws or imperfections, before following them through the doorway.

Unlike the entries to previous corridors, this door required a swipe and a key code punched into a pad before they went through the other side stood in stark contrast to the rest of the facility she had seen. Warm light peach walls, wainscoting, and a tawny brown carpet were the first differences, ornate sconces that threw a soft white light put Michonne immediately in mind of the hallways in some of the nicer hotels she'd ever stayed at. They passed an armed guard standing at the door silently.

"These are the temporary living quarters," Denise explained. "For staff."

Michonne nodded. It made sense. A group of international scientists living openly in a small rural village in the southwest of the country would undoubtedly draw unnecessary attention. They would have had to be lodged somewhere within the facility during the times they were here working in order to assure the secrecy of the project.

"Where do you guys actually live?" She asked Denise.

"Well, I share, um, shared an apartment in Nairobi with my girlfriend," Dr. Cloyd explained struggling to clear a sudden thickness in her throat. "Because she's Kenyan. But most of the medical staff lived in Brazzaville. We did have some locals though." There was something in Denise's face when she said that that Michonne didn't understand.

Surprisingly, Carol reached out and placed a comforting hand on Denise's arm.

"Some came all the way from the States and stayed here for three or four months at a time." She walked on wiping stray tears from the bottom rim of her eyeglasses before taking them off completely to clean on her coat. "I couldn't do it. I stayed for the requisite six-week stints before heading home…. This was my week four. You really think it's all gone?"

Michonne noticed that though she had her back to them, leading the other women through a well-appointed communal living area containing multiple televisions, lounge chairs, and a large pool table, Ariane was still following their conversation. Her head turned ever so slightly as Denise waited for their response.

"Denise, I don't know exactly but from my security briefing, I know Johannesburg and Lagos are gone. It seems the larger cities of the world were hit hardest." Michonne answered grimly.

"New York, Paris, London...all gone," Carol confirmed.

"I supposed I should be grateful that I was here then when this happened but all I keep thinking about is Dalila at home, all alone. She must have been so frightened. My girlfriend, see she's an artist, a sculptor, she wouldn't know what to do…" Denise trailed off.

"So you have no contact with the outside world once you're in the facility?" Michonne asked abruptly, wanting to gain a better understanding of how the place worked.

She didn't want to seem callous, on the contrary, she understood completely. Her own grief about it all still overtook her in waves. In fact, she'd discovered that the thought of all the people and places that were no doubt gone was almost too painful to contemplate. So for the most part, Michonne had chosen to put it all out of her mind. She focused instead on the task in front of her. Still, witnessing Denise's fresh grief brought it all back. She cleared her throat and blinked back the water in her own eyes, intent on moving on before the emotion of it overwhelmed her.

"Usually, we can call out, email, we had TVs as you can see. We were isolated but not cloistered. We used to joke that it was like being posted to Antarctica but with marginally better weather." Denise struggled to bring back a measure of levity to her voice, although even Michonne couldn't understand why. The desperation of their current situation, Michonne was certain, would have made her morose if she didn't have anything else to occupy her mind. If she wasn't already working on their exit strategy.

"Dr. Denise, stop speaking now," Ariane instructed firmly. "We'll let DaDa tell them what he wants them to know."

She stopped at the door that led out of the large "recreation" room and peered through the small window in the door. Then she placed a hand on one hip and turned to face them.

"Your friends should be in here. I don't know where they could have gotten to." Ariane pushed the door open and spoke in Swahili to a man waiting just out of sight on the other side. While the door was open, Michonne looked through and down the plush corridor lined with doors.

"What?" She asked under her breath to Denise gesturing with her head in that direction while Ariane was distracted.

"Bedrooms, more like suites," Denise replied quickly and quietly.

Michonne looked back at Carol, who shrugged. Clearly, Michonne's guess was as good as hers. Apparently, it was her first time on this side of the facility too. Carol looked around at the facilities with interest.

Ariane turned back to them then, "Apparently they're all in the kitchen. Come, it's this way."

They followed her through another doorway. The place was a maze, Michonne noted with a mixture of dismay and annoyance.

They could all hear the talking and spurts of laughter before they actually got to the double swinging doors of the kitchen. They had just walked through a mid-sized dining room that both Michonne and Carol marveled at. With its soft lighting, frosted gold sconces, round elegant dining tables and linen-skirted buffet tables lining the walls, it wasn't a cafeteria as much as it was a private dining room. Empty chafing dishes and serving ware sat waiting for the next mealtime like they were in an exclusive executive club.

Denise and Ariane pushed through the double doors into what was a modestly-sized industrial kitchen with bright stainless steel countertops and cabinetry. Immediately, they saw Rosita relaxed on top of a long counter, with a large bag of potato chips sitting between her legs. Glenn stood nearby helping himself to the contents while Jesus stood opposite them clearly regaling them with a story. Daryl sat on another countertop perpendicular to them all, silently feeding slices of apple into his mouth with a paring knife. Two people, that Michonne assumed were from the facility's group given their scrubs, leaned against adjacent counters a row behind listening.

"...As the mom begins to smile, the kid adds, 'And for those of you who are pissed off about the TWO HOUR delay, please see the bitch in the kitchen!'" Jesus finished to the amusement of the small group. Everyone laughed. Even a corner of Daryl's mouth hitched up briefly although his head stayed down, with eyes intent on his apple.

The laughter died quickly when they noticed Ariane enter. However, Rosita and Glenn perked up again upon seeing Michonne in her chair roll in behind the woman.

"There she is!" Jesus intoned enthusiastically, even whooping and clapping as if Michonne had accomplished some unknown feat. Soon, everyone was at it, even the USAMRIID staff she was unfamiliar with. Daryl put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and let loose with a whistle that added to the commotion and resounded in the room.

Michonne was thoroughly confused by this reception. Besides the fact that it was excessive in its fervor, given she hadn't done anything but not die, it was incongruous with their circumstances. In fact, the whole scene was. It was as if they were guests instead of prisoners.

"Ms. Philippe, I mean, Michonne, we're happy to see you up," Glenn said politely after the applause died down. He spoke with decidedly less cheer given her face.

"Thank you, Pvt. Rhee," Michonne replied warily. Since she woke up everything had seemed out of whack. From Rick's absence at her bedside to Ariane's presence to this reception, she felt like she'd awoken to opposites day. "What's going on? Where's Captain Grimes?"

Jesus spoke up first. "He's upstairs with Negan—"

Michonne cut him off harshly. "If anyone of you says the words 'setting terms', I swear to God..."

Daryl chuckled from his place at the side. A real laugh that surprised nearly everyone in the room. Ariane even seemed to get a kick out of it, putting on her first genuine smile. But after a moment Michonne suspected it was more her own exasperation that delighted the young woman, than anything else. So, she took a moment to gather herself.

"Can anyone tell me what exactly that means?" She asked and then sighed.

Glenn cleared his throat and started. "Well, um, Negan, uh, Mr. Ngangabouka proposed an arrangement with the Captain."

"An arrangement? What does that mean? What sort of arrangement?"

They all exchanged looks she couldn't read.

Rosita spoke up then, "We don't know the specific details yet. Rick said he'd, ahh, discuss the terms with Negan and then come back to tell us. Apparently, they have a scientist here that's been in pretty steady communication with a WHO facility in Scotland somewhere—"

"Near Aberdeen." Glenn supplied.

"From near Aberdeen," Rosita nodded correcting herself. "Since basically the beginning. They think they might be onto something."

"A scientist in Scotland?" Michonne repeated as if she hadn't heard it correctly. Forty-five hundred miles away?

She opened her mouth to speak when all of a sudden as if they'd been summoned, Rick and Ngangabouka entered the kitchen with another man through doors on the opposite side. Rick wore a scowl that indicated he'd gladly have those hours of his life back if he could.

Everyone turned in unison, with Daryl turning the most as they were directly behind him. Michonne noted as all attention fell on the two men, that Daryl put the remnants of his apple down yet kept the small paring knife in his hand. With two nimble fingers, he slipped it up his palm until it disappeared near his wrist like a modest parlor trick. Michonne realized then whoever had been foolish enough to give the implement to him in the first place might find that they lived to regret it.

It also indicated that all was not as it seemed. Though the group was seemingly relaxed and sociable, they were likely all still on guard. A brief look exchanged between Rosita and Jesus seemed to indicate the same thing.

Michonne watched as Ngangabouka emerged from around the back cooking station and cabinetry with Rick and the other man following closely behind. He wore the same shit-eating grin he'd had the very last time she'd met him four years earlier as if nothing at all had changed in his world in the intervening time. He clapped his hands together one good time in satisfaction as if sealing a deal. The sound resounded, bouncing off all the stark metal and tile that lined the room. It cut through everything else that was happening in the room too, which is what Michonne suspected it was meant to do. He looked around amused at the scene. Daryl and Rosita slid off their respective countertops and those already standing rose to their full height as if they were about to salute, the casual air of a moment before, entirely lost.

His eyes fell on Michonne almost immediately as he joined the small group and his smile grew. At the same time, she looked to Rick who wore a grave expression. Whatever 'terms' had been set, Rick seemed to be the loser. Michonne figured she had something to do with that.

"Michonne, honey. You. look. like. shit!" Ngangabouka announced animatedly, the smile on his face growing. "But it's a huge improvement over how you looked when Rick here, brought you in."

Rick looked lost in his thoughts when his name was called, suddenly moving his eyes from where they rested on Michonne over to Ngangabouka on his immediate left.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling well enough to be out of bed." He looked at Ariane, who shrugged very subtly at him in response to the question in his expression. "Dr. Denise, kudos to you for that."

Denise nodded but otherwise didn't speak. Whether out of fear or humility, Michonne was unclear.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Both of you lost your voices? Denise, you didn't do anything with them during surgery, did you?"

"No." She spoke finally.

"No," Michonne answered then as well.

Ngangabouka just looked at them both expectantly as the entire room waited in silence. Even Rick seemed strangely silent, though Michonne watched as his jaw tensed, knowing it was with effort that he remained that way. It was so oddly similar to the time she'd spent in Ngangabouka's 'court' previously that she suddenly had yet another bout of deja vu.

"Thank you," She uttered finally, huskily, hearing the hoarseness in it from the intubation tube during her surgery...and her own reluctance. Ngangabouka's face eased back into the smile that had begun to wane. "For letting us take refuge with your group...and patching me up."

Michonne gritted her teeth and spoke through the small space in between. A day ago she would have said she'd rather cut off her arm than thank that particular man for anything, ever. A single day had changed a lot. Particularly, she noticed, the fact that Rick had continued to stand at his side rather than beat him to death with one of the pots or pans hanging strategically from the ceiling at various stations around the kitchen.

"It was my absolute pleasure, sweetheart. I know you won't believe it but you're still one of my very favorite people in the world," He said his voice filled with condescension, doffing an imaginary cap to her. "Which I imagine doesn't say a whole lot now that there are so few people left in it."

Rick's eyes squinted and his jaw tensed, as he no doubt gnashed his teeth. Which Michonne knew in Rick-speak meant that he was nearly apoplectic with rage.

"Speaking of which," Ngangabouka started as if he were beginning a general pronouncement to them all. "The Captain here and I have come to an agreement..."

Michonne propped her elbow up on the armrest of her chair and balanced her jaw on her fingertips waiting to hear, finally, what exactly that meant.

"We," Rick started, speaking over him before stopping abruptly. Ngangabouka paused, clearly surprised to be interrupted. But then he nodded and Rick continued. "We agreed, that I should be the one to tell them."

"That we did, Captain. My mistake," Ngangabouka said deferentially ceding the floor to him. "Please continue."

He calmly leaned against the counter behind him, near Daryl and let Rick stand at the center of the dozen eyes that followed him. For Michonne, this situation had officially gone from Twilight Zone odd to Invasion of the Body-Snatchers scary.

"There's a WHO facility that's still up and running. They've been exchanging data with this site since the beginning and now they think they might be onto something."

"I thought these guys weren't in contact with any other organizations? Which is it? Are you or aren't you?" Carol asked.

"Well ma'am, you are absolutely correct. The established protocol of our organization prohibits interagency fraternization but as we are now figuratively moving like our avian friends without the benefit of the proverbial aerial safety devices, it has been crucial if not, I'd say imperative, to modify or entirely contravene said governmental directive. Basically, flip the script." The silent man on the other side of Ngangabouka finally spoke.

"Hmm?" Daryl grunted.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Philippe meet Dr. Porter." Ngangabouka rolled his eyes and sighed, his voice deadpan. "Every time this motherfucker opens his mouth, I literally get a headache but he's the smartest person in 1000 kilometers so I can't shoot him in the face...as much as I'd sometimes like to."

Rosita and Jesus both snorted before looking around innocently as if searching for the culprit. Despite the various responses to him, the doctor himself seemed entirely impervious to this criticism, looking at Michonne blankly.

"Hello, Doctor."

"Hello," He replied as she looked over the portly man in the lab coat. Michonne had no idea what to make of him, sporting an absurd mullet that almost distracted her from what he'd been saying.

"You were saying?" She tore her eyes away from the doctor to look at Rick again.

"As I understand it, in layman's terms, a swap is needed."

"A swap? As in an actual physical exchange of materials?" Michonne didn't think she followed what he was saying. "Materials like what?"

"Apparently, they need our, um, specimens and tech for synthesizing more serums and we need some of their research for analysis," He said looking at her cautiously.

He was not saying something.

"And how could we possibly accompl—" Michonne trailed off as understanding came over her.

The entire room was silent. Though purportedly he was reporting this to everyone, it was only her he was speaking to. Even Ngangabouka watched their verbal volley, hanging on every word.

This was the reason for all the vagueness. The reason no one could look her in the eye and explain what the hell was going on. This was what all the negotiation was about.

It was about who would be left here as collateral while Rick went across the fucking planet running errands for Ngangabouka.

Her face burned suddenly with frustration and anger. She looked from Rick to Ngangabouka and back like they were in league with each other against her. There was a small part of her that felt almost as if they were. She pondered seriously how much of her very limited physical reserve would be expended if she were to suddenly launch herself out of the wheelchair and tear Ngangabouka's throat out with her teeth.

Impressively, he seemed to read that in her face and startle briefly. "Why, um, why don't we, uh, give these two lovebirds a moment to discuss this? Shall we?"

Ngangabouka held a hand out toward the door encouraging the small group out of the kitchens the way Michonne and her group had entered. They all seemed eager to bolt as if they might have whether or not it had been suggested to them.

"You're okay here, honey?" Carol asked over-solicitously placing a hand on Michonne's shoulder.

She nodded, too afraid to actually speak. At that moment she wanted to breathe fire. Carol seemed to understand, merely giving her a squeeze before walking out.

"I've been dying to play some pool and none of the idiots in here know how. Young man, you look like you could be a pool shark. Do you play?" He placed a heavy hand on Glenn's shoulder as they walked out.

"Um, a bit," Glenn answered flustered as Rosita held the double doors for them.

Ngangabouka turned and spoke over his shoulder as the doors swung closed behind him. "Talk amongst yourselves."

The remnants of his laughter hung between Rick and Michonne as they both turned their attention back from the retreating group to each other. They were only five feet away from one another but for the first time since they'd met, Michonne felt like they might as well already be a continent apart.