May 8th 2011

Location Unknown, DRC

Michonne was unable to close her eyes, let alone sleep.

She stared out the louvered windows at the sliver of moon in the sky. She was plagued with questions. She wondered at Ngangabouka, at how he could claim, with a straight face that he only planned to keep her for a few days. Given she now knew about Shane's complicity in his operations, she didn't understand how he really believed she would keep this all a secret? He didn't, he couldn't, and yet he promised her safety? Was he toying with her?

She still didn't grasp why he wanted to use her in the first place—although that was clearly what was going on. What particular value did she have that any other UN employee didn't? On Ngangabouka's end, she could be anyone, the resultant response from the UN would be roughly the same. The ransom insurance would pay out the same. But it had been her, especially, that he wanted. Though the reality was she didn't know anything of use about his little operation, she had been identified as a threat by Shane. Why? Unless she knew more than she thought she did. But what?

And based on Ariane and Oné's very elaborate and tenuous lie, despite his reassurances, she recognized her days had to be numbered. Meeting the man had reinforced in her a need to get away as quickly as possible. Ngangabouka was a violent man that operated on whim but believed in a so-called "code", which was fine while you were in his good graces. She realized that quickly, watching everyone around him walk on eggshells, trying constantly to curry favor by showing how brutal they could be. During dinner alone, she'd seen three fights break out that the Ngangabouka refused to adjudicate, preferring instead to "just see who won".

To Michonne's eyes, the camp was barely controlled chaos. Seeing how Ngangabouka treated liars, her stomach rolled at the prospect of being found out. If she remained any longer than the short time he promised, she would have placed herself in a very precarious position— with the other women right alongside her. She still wondered after Oné's motivation for helping. All that evening, the woman had seemed to be in lock-step with her son-in-law, his right-hand woman. Still, her assistance to Michonne, abetting her and Ariane, threw that performance into question. What did Oné want from her? What did any of these people want with her?

She sat up in frustration, restless.

Quietly, aware that someone was directly on the other side of her door, she slipped out of bed and went to the window. Michonne already knew the louvers were bolted into their slats so short of just smashing them to pieces there was little she could do with them. So instead her target was the old, rusted screws that kept those slats in place and allowed the hand crank to open and close them.

She'd pilfered a chicken bone from her dinner, stashing it in her underwear. Back in her room, she'd spent almost an hour sharpening it to a point. Now after another hour of digging the rust out of a single bolt she'd managed to free it. She'd be twenty months "pregnant" by the time she'd managed to do that to all the other bolts in the window. And lacking something to lubricate the nut, she was still unsure she could unscrew it fully, but she had to try something. She couldn't sit idly and wait for rescue that wasn't coming or an escape plan to fall into her lap. Michonne just didn't "do" helpless well. She had to formulate some plan, even if it was stupid or proved useless. She sighed in frustration but got back to work. She would cross the bridge of how to remove the bolts themselves when she got to it.

After yet another hour, Michonne heard words exchanged at the door. She stashed the bone and jumped back to the bed, in case someone chose to open her door then. In the end, the muffled conversation ended quickly and there was silence again. Without her watch, she had no idea of the time but looking up at the moon she guessed well after midnight.

"Hello?" She called out softly after a few minutes. François, for all his rough words and bad attitude, had quickly become a constant for her. Overnight, her jailer was someone else and she'd never glimpsed him before.

*Hello?* She tried again in her grade-school Swahili.

*Yes, Miss?* The voice, young and unexpectedly high, replied. It reminded Michonne yet again that not all of Ngangabouka's prisoners were locked behind doors, some guarded the doors themselves.

*May I use the bathroom?* She asked softly. She was hoping to lay eyes on the new person at the door.

*You have a -.*

Michonne didn't recognize the last word.

*A what?* She asked again coming to stand right on the other side of the door.

"Um, a chamber pot?" He clarified in hesitant but proficient English.

*I'd rather not use it for this.* Michonne said in French.

"Um, why not?"

She rolled her eyes, placing a hand lightly on the door and whispering through it. "Because it won't be emptied until morning. C'mon, can't I use the bathroom? I used it earlier."

There was a long silence and Michonne held her breath.

"Alright Miss, um, step back or I will have to shoot you."

Michonne stepped back quickly, stunned by how matter-of-fact that statement had been. She had no designs on trying to overpower whoever was on the other side but his calm warning made her feel doubly so. She moved to her bed across the room and sat there listening as the heavy lock flipped audibly. Slowly, the door opened.

Michonne didn't need an introduction to know who it was that stood on the other side. Looking like a tall, vaguely-masculine, exact replica of his sister was Ariane's twin brother Fabian. It was impossible to mistake. They had the same fine bone structure with high cheekbones and wide, almost almond-shaped eyes. But while Ariane was Michonne's height, the young man towered over her and if possible, he looked more gaunt than Ariane did. Skinny to the point of suggesting malnutrition, the boy was a walking skeleton.

"Please do not, um, try anything." He warned in the same flat tone he'd used to issue his last warning.

Michonne shook her head obediently.

"Come." He motioned with a rifle slung over his shoulder that was nearly his size.

She walked around him, giving him a wide berth as she exited the room toward the bathroom. Since she already knew where it was, she walked down the hall and straight for it but paused before entering.

"Can I?" She asked and he nodded.

Michonne entered and closed the door silently behind her. She leaned against the door for a minute before carrying on with her plan. Standing on the toilet seat, she'd discovered earlier that she could, on her toes, see outside a high window in the bathroom. Unfortunately, though, the window itself was still too small to get through. She'd done the math and even if she managed to shimmy her shoulders through, her hips and bottom would be stuck. The discovery of that sort of failed escape attempt was too ridiculous to contemplate. Still, she looked out seeking further clues to her location and the best means to flee, if the opportunity presented itself.

She inhaled the fresh air again and looked around. This vantage point was different than the one from her prison cell. She could tell from the trees and the location of the perimeter lights. She oriented herself again. Based on the moon and stars, she was facing westerly now. This side of the fence was also covered in old tire rubber but unlike the other side which was made of flattened, stripped tires, on this side some of the tires were still intact. Additionally, of the number of old, rusting car husks that were abandoned there, one seemed situated close enough to the perimeter fence to make a good jumping off point, if she planned to scale it.

After contemplating it for a while, Michonne realized the fencing must be electrified, which would account for why the inside of it was covered in rubber as grounding to keep people and camp animals from accidentally electrocuting themselves. But without safety precautions, one could probably still not walk straight up to the fence and climb it without risk of injury. So identifying a car she could conceivably leap from onto the fence cut her chance of electrocution drastically.

Michonne exhaled audibly, she'd just found a viable point of egress.

"Miss?" Fabian called from behind the door, startling her.

Michonne slipped down from the window, pulled the chain on the ancient toilet to flush it and answered in French. *One moment, please.*

As she stepped out of the bathroom something on the floor caught her eye. As she bent to pick it up in the dim light of the hall she realized it was a playing card —a three of hearts. Standing up, Michonne flipped it back to him with a flourish she'd learned from her UN colleague Aaron. She made it vanish for a moment behind her hand before it appeared again before his eyes. Michonne still had no idea why she'd even learned to do it...except it looked cool.

Aaron always carried a deck with him and used card tricks as a means to impress the children while disarming their parents. In the camps they visited, it had proven a good icebreaker for him but Michonne had never used that approach. Still, at some point, she'd just begun letting him teach her anyway. She was nowhere near as good as he was but over the years she'd known him, through a variety of UN Missions, she'd gotten decent at that one trick and a couple others.

Amazingly, Fabian was as wide-eyed as one of Aaron's refugee children. Michonne asked for another card with her other hand, which he eagerly gave to her. She did a simple snap change that flipped the card she was holding from the three of hearts she had originally to the Queen of Spades he handed her. To the layperson, it looked liked she had flicked the card with her index finger and thumb and with a snap, it had instantly turned into a new card. It was just a simple sleight-of-hand trick that Aaron used to confound and delight children. But to her surprise, this boy was no different, his eyes lit up with amazement. She smiled at him before handing both cards back to him.

*Can you teach me?* He asked eagerly.

*No.* She said to which his face fell. *But I can teach you something else. May I?*

Michonne reached for the whole deck in his hand, taking it gently from him. She cut the deck in two in one hand with her long nimble fingers. She then shuffled it rapidly in an arch created between her two hands. She ended the trick with a flourish that spat the cards from one hand to the other through the air like she was opening an accordion. Rick had always joked that that move made her look like a really shady customer, the kind he could lose his clothes, car keys and the deed for his house to in just one hand of cards. Whenever she did all three moves in one fluid motion, like she had just then, it was impressive... She'd worked long and hard to make it so. It was also the extent of her knowledge.

*I can teach you that. The other part, though, is...magic.* Michonne admitted conspiratorially.

By rights, Fabian was too old to have been taken in by that, Michonne thought, but it was clear he was. She wondered at how that was possible. He smiled, taking the cards back from her and palming them as if they'd reveal the secrets of her tricks by themselves.

*My name is Michonne. What's yours?*

The teenager looked up bashfully before his eyes returned to the deck in his hands. *Fabian* He answered, confirming her suspicions.

*Fabian, after you walk me back to my room, I'll show you the first trick.*

He looked back at her wearily. *I can't enter your room. It's not allowed.*

Michonne stopped smiling. "Of course not, no. I'll sit on the floor on my side of the door and you sit on yours and I'll show it to you. I promise you'll be able to do the riffle shuffle by morning." She arched her hands together again to illustrate the part of the trick she meant.

"Truly?"

"I promise," Michonne said walking slowly by the young man's side down the hall back to her room. "You don't even have to say who taught you. It'll be our secret."

Kisangani, DRC

Rick left his clandestine meeting with Carter no more substantially informed than he had been prior but the Colonel had promised to keep him in the loop and offered any aid or resources he might need. And whether or not Rick wanted to admit it, Carter's considerable resources could come in handy.

Rick returned to his office intent on delving into the brain-numbing intricacies of the UN's supply chain. It was a job well outside his wheelhouse. The small amount of overlap his department had with the procurement process was mainly in making requests, vetting vendors and coordinating their transport security. It was a rubber-stamp affair he mainly left to Shane to handle. So it was his friend he looked for immediately upon entering the department.

Shane was deep into something when he walked up to his desk. Rick rapped on the edge of the desktop with his knuckles as he came to a stop in front of it.

"Hey," Rick said easily, though the last day or so between the two men had been less than ideal.

Shane didn't smile as he looked up from his work, just resting his forearms across the papers on his desk and leaning forward with a short nod.

Rick was baffled.

Nothing had changed. Shane just didn't seem to share his sense of urgency about Michonne's bizarre absence at all. It was as if he knew with absolute certainty that she was fine. It made no sense. But, of course it was hardly the first time that they had been at odds in their lives. Still this time, it felt strange, more remote. In his extracurriculars, Shane played harder than Rick did by a fair margin but he still took his job very seriously. And their jobs, fundamentally, entailed protecting the people of this Mission, whether individually or as a group. So by rights, Shane should, at the very least, have found Michonne's disappearance concerning professionally, if not personally.

Yet they could hardly even agree she was actually gone. It did not make sense as far as Rick was concerned. Shane should care, normally he did care. Despite their frequent mutual grumbling, Michonne, Shane and Rick were very much the three Musketeers at any Mission where they were all stationed together. Now, unlike with Lori, who genuinely loved Shane, Rick was under no misconception that he wasn't the glue that held their little trio together. Still, they were a trio nonetheless. So Shane's current appearance of indifference was all the more inexplicable.

"I, um, wanted to come by…" Rick hesitated as he stood at the desk. "Look—"

"C'mon, what's up, Bubba?" Shane revived an ancient nickname then cracked a small smile. "You need somethin'? A little help? Some advice? 'As long as it's a joke and not a dick, don't take it so hard.'" Shane winked at him.

Rick couldn't help a small smile as he shook his head looking down at the floor briefly. Shane was always a whole trip without buying a single plane ticket.

"Hilarious," He pronounced drily as Shane broke out in an actual chuckle. "Listen, I'm gonna have a look at the requisitions and procurement for the past year and a half or so. Any suggestions about that? Like, where to start?"

Shane sobered and sat up straight. "Sure, sure, start over there," He stuck his pen behind his ear and used his finger to point at a cabinet across the room. "That drawer there, overflows into the next one, down there."

Rick looked surprised. "That's a lot of paperwork."

"Yeah well, I think so too," Shane grumbled with a thinly-veiled attitude. He had always hated being saddled with that job.

"It's cross-referenced by vendor, region, assignment, employee, officer and/or case file," Shane said before reaching for his pen and returning to the papers in front of him. Rick cocked his head to the side and peered down at them while still trying not to obviously read over Shane's shoulder.

"Transfer" was the only word Rick made out before Shane looked up at him expectantly, covering it slightly with his large palms. "Anything else I can do you for, Chief?"

Rick stepped back on his heel, surprised to be so thoroughly dismissed and reflexively wiped a thumb under his eye like there was something there. "Uh, no. I'm, I'm good."

Shane went back to his work without another word. Rick headed over to the large file cabinets that lined one entire wall of the office. They were a shade of putrid green that somehow managed to compliment the wood grain paneling of the large open room and they were so tall they towered overhead. The metal behemoths were of the type that had to be bolted to the wall for fear of toppling over and actually crushing someone. Another remnant of the building's previous colonial tenants. Rick generally avoided them, leaving filing of that sort to the office assistant they shared with two other departments. It would be untrue to say he had never seen the inside of any of the drawers but it wouldn't be far from it.

He pulled at the silver handle of the drawer at eye-level labeled "Requisitions" but it wouldn't budge. He tried again, and then yet again slightly embarrassed he couldn't somehow accomplish something their four-foot-eleven secretary accomplished with seeming ease daily.

"One of the other shelves is probably open, Boss," Samir called from his desk. "We know it's been a while for you."

"It's okay to take it slow," Someone else called out behind him.

"No judgment. Give it a minute, it'll come back," Aarav contributed.

"It's like riding a bike. Muscle memory." Yet another announced from the peanut gallery.

Rick turned to see Samir, Aarav and a couple of his other guys watching, snickering. As he acknowledged them, the laughter grew, catching the attention of more and more of the staff. Rick's face reddened. He checked to make certain all the drawers were completely closed with one hand and then to his chagrin, the drawer he wanted slipped open with ease in the other. The onlookers cracked up, clapping for him.

It wasn't long ago he'd been one of them. He didn't seem to recall this much teasing of his predecessor, Caleb. Then just as quickly as he thought that, he remembered when Aarav and Jim deliberately left broccoli to rot in Caleb's office waste bin over a weekend and the time Shane nailed the door to Caleb's coat closet shut and when even Rick participated in covering his boss' office fan in glitter on a sweltering day. He realized then he'd actually been getting off pretty easy by comparison and laughed at the memory... and himself.

But in that moment of levity, Rick glanced over at Shane and noticed, his best friend was the only person in the whole room that was not laughing.