»»—- —-««

Blank stare. Disrepair. There's a big black hole

Gonna eat me up someday

Someday fades away. Like a memory

Or a place that you'd rather be

Some place lost in space

Itch in my head, that's telling me somewhere

Somewhere, out there anywhere

I don't care, get me out of here

»»—- —-««

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Chapter 1: Welcome To Where You're Goin'

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Flashes of red and piercing screams, hands dug into flesh with a force unforgiving, masticating and tearing insides. The last thing she saw was the swarm of dead enclosing them in waves of ravenous growls over thrashing bodies as they came in insurmountable numbers. Panicked shots rang out at their last desperate attempts to spare their grisly fate, while instinct kicked in and adrenaline slid into her veins as Michonne began carving her way through.

Listening to what was left of her escorts being devoured, she found herself grimacing. She only wished she could've put them out of their misery. I'm sorry..

Eyes darting for an escape, forced to retreat until her feet were blistering raw, she sprinted out of the overhang and coverage of the woods towards a large, metallic structure that appeared to be a warehouse with the horde trailing right on her heel. Light burst through the collapsed ceiling and shattered window panes, highlighting various stages of mould surfaced on each wall and thick layers of dust.

At closer look outside, an emergency staircase had collapsed, its remnants rusted and unstable, leaving Michonne to use the dumpsters to scale the side of the building and climb through an empty window onto the second floor while the undead began piling inside below her. Giving herself limited time, she began lugging down a long, wide corridor, hearing the haunting travel of moans and groans coming closer. She thought of heading for the roof, but her only route was too perilous. The slightest movement of her added weight, and she was dead.

With no choice but to divert back into the loading bays, Michonne spots a security grill door and rolls it closed in haste to lock herself inside! A second to breathe, she tries the radio that was given to her. She tries again. Nothing but static.

"Dammit!.." Michonne cussed, gripping the walkie in a vice grip.

Trapped in the small darkened space, the onslaught found its prey as clambering hands and outstretched arms reach through the gaps and try forcing themselves in, enough to strip flesh from bone. Every rattle of the grill led anxiety creeping up her spine, but fiercely raising her katana, she thrust and swiped her blade, spurting sickly substance as bodies crumpled lifelessly at her feet.

Panting heavily, the exhaustion caught up along with a hit of nausea as Michonne steps back, peering down at her merlot-stained blade with disgust and protruding belly. Sadness lodged itself in her throat as she glided a gentle hand over her formed bump. She had the strength and stubbornness to keep going, she was not dying out here like this, isolated and alone… not again... as the samurai raised her weapon once more.

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Four Months Earlier

Alexandria's far-off future of a stabler life had suddenly become a commodity she feared wasn't within reach anymore. What she sought was an empty shell.

"Well. My, my..."

Damp earth soiled her knees, foreboding darkness surrounded and swallowed her group as the cold, bitterness of the air gnawed at her skin. Michonne breathed steadily, sturdy as steel on the outside, but inside the inescapable dread and panic of the situation lurched to her stomach. Glare from the truck's headlights focused on every single one of Rick's people like a spotlight, whilst their captor paced back and forth leisurely, examining. When his attention turned to address her next, she straightened instinctively, where their eyes met and clamped each other firmly. This man and his subordinates had disturbed their peace like a heavy stone tossed into calm, soothing waters. What felt like hours of nothing, the first sound came in the form of a deep southern voice.

"Now there's a whole lot of things I'd like to do to you.. and killing ya is at the absolute fucking bottom of that list." Negan continued with a sigh. "Still on it."

With a crunch of gravel beneath his boots, he said his peace and moved on - where things inevitably took a turn for the worse. The overbearing sight of her friends falling victim to each swing, laying limp in the dirt as though they had barely been alive. In a state of shock, Rick and the others grew silent as they trembled and wept. Like a house of glass, shattered shards fell from their eyes, forced to accept a new reality.

"You bunch of pussies… I'm just getting started."

...

Michonne cringed at the early hour and mentally shook the disturbed memory from her mind. There had been much truth to those words. Adjusted on the bed, she squinted at the sight of uncovered skin cast in waning moonlight beside her, admiring the curved build of his back. She traced along his spine with sunken eyes and leaned close to plant a soft, lingering kiss to Rick's shoulder that radiated welcoming warmth as she smiled lovingly. Carefully detangling from the covers, she rose from the bed with a creak and found her clothes. Michonne glanced back again as she fixed herself, taking in his peaceful expression while attempting to not disturb his slumber. He deserved an unbroken night. It killed her to watch how much Rick was struggling. How all of them were. Every day she would feel him fade that much more away.

As though another nightly escapade, she grabbed her displayed katana before slipping out of the bedroom without another thought. Michonne eased onto the landing, passed Carl and Judith's bedroom and descended the stairs with feathered footsteps through the darkened house.

The moment she entered the kitchen, from behind, a jaded voice called out in a hushed whisper.

"Michonne?..."

She pivoted on her heel, and swallowed the knot in her throat as she found the eldest Grimes peering down at her. Although it was too dark to see his face. "Carl, go back to sleep for me, okay?"

"Are you sneaking out again?" He inquired instead as he took a measured step closer.

Michonne paused and tilted her head in question.

"Look. I know you go outside.. and I know you don't want anyone to know." He shuffled his feet, almost coyly. "I get it. Out there, how things used to be, it made me feel better too..."

It wasn't surprising to find him so attuned to her state. "Yeah." It was half-truth. Meanwhile, motherly instinct allowed her to mull over apprehensively how long Carl had been roaming outside as well. But she caught herself, reminded that he wasn't a child anymore. He was smart, cautious and wouldn't have strayed too far. This state of affairs was suffocating everyone.

Carl wavered on the spot. "Can I go with you?" He asked, but already anticipated her answer.

"Not tonight. You need your rest more than I do."

Picking up on the need to keep the exchange brief, he reluctantly nodded. "Then. Your secret's safe with me." He poked lightly with familiar words.

"So's yours." She fired back a wayward smirk, her own slip of playfulness. Sometimes a little humour went a long way.

"Just, be careful.. This place can't lose you too. We can't.."

Offering a small parting smile, Michonne nodded as Carl turned to tread lightly back to his room. After he was long out of sight, her smile faded as she exhaled deeply, heavy on the sentiment. Michonne loathed lying to him more than anything, and discovered in the act, there was an added sense of urgency. She needn't waste anymore time.

Heedful of the watchtower, Michonne whipped through the silent streets and covered behind houses in shadow until she reached the steel walls. Chancing a glance around her, she hoisted herself up and over, landing onto the grassy mound below with a grunt before subsequently escaping into the grove. There she stumbled upon a tree with boundless roots strapping the ground like limbs gripping for life and pulled out a hunting rifle, along with a brown, petite bag from within its twisted bough. Relieved to find it all there and intact, Michonne slung the firearm over her shoulder with sword trained in hand and walked into the sombre night, leaving Alexandria behind.

Alone and lost to her thoughts out in the elements, cutting down the occasional walker in her wake, Michonne evoked how she'd relayed messages with her own creative flair in the beginning, warning the Saviours to stay away. But of course to no avail. When the indignation and stress proved too much to bare, she trained, sometimes for days - on the rare occasion with Sasha, who had an unmistakably, overhasty desire for vengeance. She had been gradually slipping off the deep end again, just like before after losing Bob and her brother. She certainly couldn't blame her. And now, Michonne felt somewhat awful intervening, by taking the opportunity away from her, knowing she would've especially undertook the same if it had been Rick. In a way, she still was. Negan may not have killed Rick so brutally with glee coating his face, but he had broken him, beyond what she'd seen before. As well as the others. Besides, something about the way Sasha spoke, informed her that she hadn't intended to make it out alive in her version of events. The thought alone further persuaded her to carry out the deed. Perhaps it was selfish, but they'd lost too much and too many.

The light twitter of birdsong and hooting calls was music to her ears as she ambled along the railroad tracks, as though being transported back in time, a time before the Saviors.. and even Alexandria. That playful round with Carl graced a smile she desperately needed to her face. At that precious moment, the three of them felt like a real family and despite their grim situation, Michonne held hope that they were going to make it and.. she certainly had not craved Big Cat bars since then, like some sugar junkie either.

Melting at the memory, the first speck of light finally peeked through heavy clouds, as she turned off to shortcut through a sprawling grassy field.

She hoped to keep that spirit. They would come back from this. She'd be damned if she was broken too.

The slam of a door up ahead startled her! Five or more figures suddenly appeared in her peripheral vision beside a large, dingy pickup parked on the side of the road. How they were equipped, she could only assume they belonged to the Sanctuary.

"Shit!" Michonne hissed quietly, dropped into the grass and froze.

From the flick of a glance she'd gotten, they were huddled, seemingly conversing with each other. It was barely daybreak. What could they be doing, far out here? She laid down her rifle, gripped the tsuka of her blade tightly and waited.

Laid flat on her front, the overgrowth danced in gentle breeze that swept through her locks, obstructing her vision. She was a sitting duck!

Seconds passed. A minute.

In unsettling silence, the samurai waited with bated breath. All she could hear was the thumping of her own heart. Until stirring sounds came stepping out into the clearing near her right. The rustling grew louder and edged closer, irregular footsteps became heavier… It didn't sound as though it spotted her but she dared not move to alert her position as it stalked her way. Creeping closer. Frantically battling with what to do, she braced herself like a snake in the grass, ready to strike -

But before Michonne could act, a booming shot rang out with a violent spray of blood above her as the lone walker collapsed with a thud. Matter seeped out through its gaping skull as lifeless eyes as black as coal stared back at her. A commotion of yelling from up ahead tore her attention away but she couldn't make anything of it, followed by an aggressive slam and rev of a motor. Hearing tires burn against the asphalt as they departed and grew distant, Michonne breathed a sigh of relief, though she stayed put in her spot. She was grateful they felt the need to waste a bullet.

.

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Quelling her hammering chest, Michonne carefully loaded her rifle and brought up the scope. The encounter with the group assured she was headed the right direction, as she spotted the array of tracks left behind that brought her right to the gates. She'd climbed the farthest tree and situated amongst dense leaves as she hid behind its broad trunk, viewing the first look at Negan's domain up close. Zoomed in on stirring activity inside, she searched. Above and below. It was as though time froze. With slow and controlled breaths, Michonne awaited a sign. A flash of leather, a twirl of a bat or the sound of his penetrating voice that always travelled.. when a sudden resounding click came from below.

Snapping her attention, her eyes flicked for the source and revealed a group stood eerily still at the root of the tree, various firearms aimed up in her direction.

In the centre appeared a rugged, dark haired man with a thick mustache above his lips and hands situated in his pockets. His dark, sinister orbs sized her up as she scanned between their faces. Michonne recognised him as someone vaguely familiar from that night and tried to put a name to his face. She knew what this mission entailed, she knew the risks. Perhaps she'd been spotted earlier and people were alerted, perhaps she was unsuspectingly lured. She'd never know.

Cautiously reaching for her sword on instinct, the man - Simon, she barely recalled - tilted his head and warned tonelessly. "I wouldn't make a twitch, 'less you wanna lose your head."

The threat was enough to rethink her proceeding actions, reminded of the people she was dealt with.

"Easy does it. Why don't you come join us on the ground here and get those hands up."

No telling what would happen if she retaliated now, she obeyed rigidly. Then again, she could fight. Surveying the group, she knew she had her chances, having tackled a similar ambush like this before, but something in her gut told her it was the wrong move. Michonne landed on her feet the rest of the way, slowly lowered her katana to the ground and raised both hands above her head in surrender.

"Better turn around." Simon ordered with the same stoic expression, casually placing a hand on his belt holster.

One of the armed men kicked the sword aside, sending it careening as she reluctantly complied. Within an instant, hands shot out and patted down her form thoroughly. Michonne scowled and flinched when one Saviour had been weasley in being thorough with rough, wandering hands that she recoiled from her captors as soon as they were deemed satisfied. Retrieving a single pocket knife, their leader continued to stare suspiciously.

"You made the right call. We'll take your weapons, probably won't be needing 'em where you're going - "

"Take me to Negan." Michonne raised brusquely.

A knowing silence rang out before his eyes widened. "I'd take another, long gander at where you are, before making those demands. I know you're eager to finish what you were hoping to, but uh.. unfortunately there's a problem with that."

The man's angle rubbed her the wrong way and she knew he could read it on her twisted face. She hadn't come all the way out here, to be least of all patronised.

"Only reason we're talking is 'cause we know who the hell you are. Stunt like this though, your cohorts might not be in much of a cohorting state real soon, in this whole base of operation."

Twitching a sneer, she refused to lose a shred of her nerve. "Not for as long as you think."

"Takes more than a few guns to shake you up, huh? Jesus! Guys like me rally around dealing with whiners and beggars that ain't got null for nerve. No offence to Gregory over there. And now you're gonna get what you want! But just, incidentally…" Simon began lively, whilst the others retrieved her belongings and inched her towards the premises. "Whether you clip the big man or not, there's always gonna be somebody else, that brings all of everythin' back."

Michonne frowned. Something she noticed immediately was the way Negan's second man spoke, double-edged and schemeful. There was just something wily in his voice. Her days of occupation as a lawyer were long past, but the sharp, analytical mind probing deep for answers was something she failed to switch off sometimes. Michonne felt it had gotten her this far. Deciding to tread warily around him, thoughts scattered as the barrel of a gun thrust into her back and blinked her back into awareness. It finally dawned that it was happening. She was being brought further into enemy territory.

"Open her on up!" Simon yelled as he smacked the solid gate.

Large doors scraped open, where she was escorted in by Simon and his group, immediately met with an intimidating, industrial structure, surrounded by sturdy link fences and wrapped barbed wire. What diverted her attention was the writhing undead impaled and displayed at the entrance like something straight out of historical past. The sight sent a flutter of uneasiness as she began receiving a clearer image of who the communities were up against. Subconsciously placing the faces of her friends on the walkers, she averted her eyes in horror. How many other communities had been trounced?

Through the winding corridors, with unwanted awareness along with kleaking chatter, Michonne hadn't known what to expect inside the Sanctuary, but it certainly reflected a lot of a rundown factory. Dull, grey, restricted. A dire opposite to Alexandria in every possible way. The boot fit. She was eventually transported lower to a block where the light didn't touch and glared upon every person in passing. It didn't make much shred of difference, the entire compound felt like a prison and she'd barely set foot inside. Without her gun, now without her sword, she was completely vulnerable as the door pulled open to her selected cell.

Dark and alone, passing time was the hardest, hemmed in by grimey walls. She daydreamed about being perched upon the porch of her sheltered home, absorbing the morning sun while sharpening her sword. Rick's embrace from behind comforting and consoling with Judith cooing happily in his arms.. She soon found herself reverting back into an old routine. Push ups, sit ups, crunches and repeat, giving her a soft glow as audible footsteps echoed in the cramped space and halted right on the other side of the solid door. As it screeched open, she otherwise ignored her newfound audience that stood in the threshold and continued the workout, grunting lightly.

Michonne felt the leering gaze before he breathed a word.

"What do we got here? ~"

The samurai refused to look at him as he sauntered in, dragging Lucille settled comfortably in his grip along the hard floor as he did. Michonne tensed. In the corner of her eye stood a burly man pointing a gun but Negan's striding footsteps was all she focused on within the cell as the impish man stood in front of her, desiring a view up close.

He cast over her like a shadow.

"Look at this. Now this sure is somethin'." He gestured with the bat. "Points for that giant nutsack on you, I'll tell you that, showin' up here. And I am sorry for my men humbling the hell out of you like that. I did not like that shit. You'd think they ain't seen a chick 'round here before..." Negan snorted, before he turned his head to regard her confiscated rifle beyond the door, as if toyingly. "This here meant for me? Jesus. You were serious, weren't you?"

Biting her tongue, Michonne remained silent but finally lifted her heavy head to meet his half-lidded stare. The same energy she felt upon their first meeting hissed through her body as his chest deflated to give off a husky sigh.

Negan drew closer and crouched down to her level, propping Lucile at his side as the former amusement left his face. "Rick's idea to set this up?"

"No." Michonne at last cut in firmly, determined not to let anyone but herself be held responsible. "Rick had nothing to do with this."

Studying her face intently, his umber eyes were piercing, a blanket over something darker hidden beneath, before he rose to stand. With a signal of his fingers, he compelled her to follow, apparently satisfied with her answer. Michonne's brow bunched in a frown.

"We ain't talking here." He insisted.

Looking at her expectantly, he stepped aside. She was reluctant but straightened up slowly, adopting a cautious expression leaving the darkened cell to where they intended.

Caught off guard, Michonne's jaw rooted and peered observantly around Negan's luxuriously furnished loft as he strolled over to a lounge area. She spotted empty glasses on a coffee table, the cut-glass pattern fulgurating in the light. A sleigh bed of mocha hickory wood and crisp, gunmetal sheets filled most of the room that even included a small simple kitchen. Three tall and oddly pristine windows bestowed a beautiful view of the gleaming sun, framed by draping curtains. She could definitely agree it was his abode. His many possessions exuded a taste for trophies as animal heads hung high on the wall and various statuettes perched on a large shelf.

"Well, let's get down to brass nuts, huh?" Negan announced as he spun on his heel to face her. "I figure you'd be more persuaded to talk in here."

Michonne narrowed her burning stare and lifted her chin defiantly.

"Now, I get it. Bashed your dead friends' domes in, made our rounds, took back our guns, hell, got Rick all permanently bitch-faced - Goddamn, who wouldn't wanna stick me, right? 'Course you hate my guts enough to swing by with a gun on my front porch."

Negan's tongue darted out to lick his lips as he advanced closer with casual sway.

"Much as I respect why… something's gotta happen."

As he hovered in her personal space, he raised Lucille pointedly up to her cheek. A test was it? Plan of intimidation? She mocked inwardly. Michonne didn't flinch as sudden snapshots of caved in flesh and mangled skin dangling off its end trapped in the recoiling wire, invaded her mind. What pulled her out was Negan's deep chuckle and hazel eyes boring straight into her own.

"Heyyy Simon, I like this broad." He grinned with a haughty slur and nodded to the other man watching the scene, gloved fingertips tapped gingerly on his bat. "You another one of them hard cases, huh?" He addressed Michonne again.

"Want us to take her outside?" Simon cut in from behind.

"No… not yet."

Michonne stood grim faced, lapped in what uncertainty there was to her fate between the two men.

"You know, my guys scouting out the brake, the roads, they done found decomposing freaks all carved out, snapped up and arranged. Warnings. All signed to us. That was you, wasn't it?"

Her silence was enough as he chortled, impressed.

"Hot damn! And here you are. You've really had your hands full. Does bearded bitchass know you're here? We outta let him know, huh? It'd be remiss of us not to." He scoffed mildly, rolling his eyes. "Jesus Christ, am I talking to myself here? I know I'm saying all this shit out loud."

Michonne's words finally seeped through in retort. "This ends. All of it."

Negan arched a brow. "Leave us." He commanded his men promptly, transfixed on the audacious woman. It was like pulling teeth trying to get her to talk.

With just the two in the spacious room, the air seemed much heavier that it weighed on her lungs. Meanwhile her mind was screeching and whirling, like a buzzsaw.

To her disgust, Negan raked her form with crude interest, a dark presence keen to consume her as his throaty voice filled her ears. "What's your name?"

She delayed an answer. "Michonne."

He nodded as a deep noise rolled in his chest. "Know what's gonna happen, Michonne?"

Lips pressed into a thin line, they pulled back from her teeth. "I can think of a few things." She said resolutely.

"This is just a little hitch in the business. Everyone has 'em. And where there are hitches, I am on it. Management by example! So, lemme make this clear, you are dignified as shit. But, I warned Rick about banding everybody together, keeping 'em all in line and co-operating. We're gonna get back on course, make our do, but somebody's gotta die. One. Two.. maybe even stretch to three."

Her hands twitched as she blanched at the notion! A brief flicker of hot white panic melded with anger. "No! We are just trying to survive. All of us! And you have no right to game with people's lives."

"Frankly, I do!" Negan bounced back. "You all called the plays and got knee deep in shit you weren't prepared for. Now I'm busting my balls giving your people a way out. The only way they got."

Feeling like it was just to torment her, he twisted the subject and retrieved something behind him.

"See I never pegged you people as the type to kill poor bastards in their sleep by looking at ya.. but this.." Unsuspectingly, the man took out a familiar device and flipped open a jutted screen. It was the camcorder that was stolen from Alexandria! What flashed up was all of their arranged interviews. With Deanna. Her chest panged with sorrow.. and only festered when she'd spotted Glenn and Abraham. Negan swept through them until he landed on Rick's and her own. Rick's had been a mild warning and informed Deanna she should've proceeded with more caution. Then Michonne watched as her past self countered his words and referred to being ready to settle into a real community again. How they needed an out of being in the thick of the wilderness. She saw what it was doing to them. "Why this, paints a whole damn picture doesn't it? Looking mighty downcast there, doll and ol man bush seemed to think it was a mistake bringing you guys in, and now, why he's up and leading the place. What assholes did you have to kill, or not have to? I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious about how the hell y'all ended up there - "

Against her better judgement, she barked out. "Stop."

With an irritable sigh, he paused and snapped the screen back in place. "Listen, we all got our shit. I ain't a judge on the screwed up things you had to do to survive out there. I don't give a fuck." Negan shrugged indifferently.

Michonne huffed and brushed off his words. What was his damn point? Negan undoubtedly thought of himself as someone omniscient. He could do a lot more thinking in his grave.

Nevertheless, he swept it aside, apparently fed up with arguing as he rubbed at his salty beard and pondered. "Screw it. Hey Simon!.." Negan suddenly called, continuing when he and his men re-entered the room to attention. "Keep on her like a hawk, would you? I'm gonna have me a little chit-chat. Wouldn't wanna give her any ideas."

Whistling a tune cheerfully with a twirl of Lucille, he flashed a sly, coquettish smile her way as he left the room in stride.

Wandering onto the iron landing, he overlooked the many walkers of previous victims guarding the entrance to the Sanctuary. There was plenty time to make room for fresh bodies before this was all over. Seeing how far this place had come swarmed him with pride. Curled forward against the railing, watching his men work, he pulled out a walkie and brought the speaker to his upturned lips, knowing exactly who would receive on the other side.

"Mornin', prick!" Negan greeted after a sharp crackle of static. "Now, I don't know if your eyes are going at your age, but you outta keep better tabs on the Mrs. Rolled on all up here on my doorstep like it was hunting season, but I got an itch in my nutsack telling me you might know something about that. You know what that means, right? I'll bet you do. And she's safe and sound like the upstanding guy I am. Think I'll keep an eye on her for you, 'til something checks out."

With a conceited smirk, he ended the one-sided conversation, picturing his pale, rattled face as he stowed the walkie back into his belt. He glanced over momentarily to catch one of his black trucks paving through the gates onto the road. With a hum, he headed back inside the building. Ohh, he was gonna have some fun with this.

He all but burst back into the room with new vigour and immediately his glinted eyes searched for Michonne who stood with her muscular arms folded.

"Good news darlin'! Your fine ass belongs to this fine ass place for the foreseeable future. However long that'll be. Hey, fetch my man, Dwight, take her back to the cell block for now. Now, boy am I feeling thirsty." Negan laughed suggestively, giving Michonne another greedy once over. "Brand new day, dreads! Can't say the same for the poor bastards that'll take the punishment for this. Rules are rules."

Immersed in her own head as she watched him closely, Michonne smouldered at a daring thought. It was a shot in the dark but perhaps it would work out in her favour. It wasn't originally her plan to infiltrate, but if you wish to ruin, ruin from inside the system.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: What if Michonne decided to follow through with her assassination attempt? This is a long ongoing fic that I planned for a while. Song rec for the story is Deep by Nine Inch Nails, for those who love a little mood music ~ Disclaimer. I don't own anything in this fic!