Chapter One

Daryl looked at his ringing cellphone and didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?" he muttered.

"Is this David?" the woman asked. Her voice…

"No."

"Oh, I might have written the name down wrong. My name is Michonne, and I was given this number. Do you work on cars?"

"No."

"I'm. I apologize. I must've written everything down wrong. Thank you."

Michonne sat in her hotel room and looked at her son, cellphone in hand. Her son who was alive. "Well, Peanut, I guess we're on our own."

Andre smiled up at her and she almost cried.

Waking up two days ago to Andre alive, she'd freaked out. She'd thought it had been a bad, bad, bad dream. Mike had been worried and even volunteered to cancel his trip. As a compromise, she agreed to take some time off and spend it with Andre. The latest case had been eating up a lot of her time and she was stressed out. She'd seen him off to the airport, Andre in the car, and headed back to their apartment. They spent the rest of the day relaxing.

Michonne couldn't shake the feeling that it hadn't been a dream, which was ridiculous. Dead people coming back to life was straight out of a movie or a book. Maybe a TV show. A bad one. When she saw the article about a man in Wyoming, supposedly dying of an OD, she took notice. The article talked about a possible bad batch of drugs. She spent Andre's entire nap watching him sleep. Still, it could be a coincidence, she thought. When Mike called to check in, she assured him they were both fine and enjoying their time together.

If it hadn't been a dream, which she didn't believe, she needed to make plans. She found Hershel in a town not far from Atlanta and set out for the diner there, hoping he would eat out. If she didn't see him or he didn't recognize her…she'd make contingency plans. When he opened the door for her and her son and didn't…

They enjoyed their lunch and were on the way back to Atlanta. It. Maybe she was the only one. She knew she couldn't get in touch with Rick unless she went to King County. No thank you. She did find a picture of him on the King County Sheriff's page, but he wouldn't be listed in the phone book. She had no idea what town or city Carol lived in, and she didn't have to be listed anyway. Not that she wanted to get in touch with the woman so that left Daryl. She found Merle's record and called in a favor.

Which left her with Andre. Really, he's all she needed. Michonne smiled at her son while he colored then went back to her shopping. Damn, she was going to miss the internet.

Daryl stared at his cellphone. It felt…weird, which was stupid. He'd had one for years. The call from yesterday made him feel weird.

"Hello?" the woman's voice asked.

"Yeah. You called me yesterday about workin' on your car?"

"I'm sorry. I wrote everything down wrong," she said.

"Are you black?" he asked.

Silence. "Would that have made a difference?" she questioned.

He felt stupid but he was gonna ask anyway. "Do you carry a sword?"

More silence. "That's…a complicated answer," she said. Finally.

"Then unfuckingcomplicate it, lady," he snapped.

He'd been feelin' weird for the past three days. He'd been havin' weird dreams that didn't make a damn bit of sense. When she called, somethin' happened. The flashes he'd had last night…

"I'm busy right now, but I can meet you for lunch. There's a place in Atlanta called Zen. This is the address," and she gave it. "The cross streets," got her another grunt in response. "I'll be there around one-thirty. My treat."

"Whatever," he said and hung up. He didn't know Atlanta really well but he'd fuckin' figure it out. Since he was freaking the fuck out, he hadn't done any jobs for his neighbors. He didn't make a lot of money, but it kept a roof over his head. And he needed the roof over his head. Looking at his cellphone he figured if he left around noon, he'd make Atlanta then headed next door.

Michonne kept watch on the door to the restaurant, looking for Daryl. It wasn't…good he didn't remember. Hell, he might very well storm out of here. These few days she'd had, she'd indulged in a lot of soul searching. When Daryl walked in the door she froze. He looked so goddamn young. He looked around and when he saw her…he tentatively headed for the table. She smiled and moved to sit beside Andre.

He slid in the booth, looked around the place, then glanced at her before staring at Andre.

"You look so goddamn young," she couldn't help but say.

He frowned. "What?"

Before she could answer a young, white, dark-haired server appeared, her name tag read 'Donna', with a notepad in hand. "Can I get you something to drink?" she asked in her slight southern drawl.

Michonne beamed. She was going to miss having food brought to her table. "Yes. I'd like a large, sweet tea. My son would like a juice. Please."

"Jui," Andre cried happily.

The server smiled. "He's cute."

Andre grinned. So did she. "Thank you."

'Donna' looked at Daryl. "Large, sweet tea," he muttered as he glared at her. Nothing was going to ruin this lunch. Nothing.

'Donna' left the menus with a quick word she'd be back to get their orders.

Daryl glared at her. "You're so goddamn young," she whispered, before taking a paper out of her bag. "Read this," she requested.

The man looked like he was done with her shit, but she smiled at him anyway. He did look young. She'd forgotten his hair had been shorter. After a few minutes he pushed it away. "So? Some guy OD'd, someone thought. The guy wasn't dead. They revived him."

She let out a breath before continuing. "He probably did die. And he came back to life on his own."

Daryl scoffed. "That's not possible. Are you fuckin' high?"

Donna chose that moment to return with their drinks. "Have you had a chance to look at the menu yet?" she asked.

Michonne turned to her with a smile. "Yes. I'd like a grilled chicken Cesar salad. Can I have the dressing on the side?" After the server gave a nod, she continued. "My son would like some applesauce." She turned to Andre. "Right, Peanut?"

"Yeah," he shouted.

"He is cute," Donna repeated. "For you, sir?" she asked Daryl.

The man looked at the menu. "Yeah. I wanna bur…a burger's fifteen dollars?" he practically shouted.

"My treat," she reminded him.

"Fifteen dollars for a fuckin' burger?" he gaped at her. "A burger."

"How would you like it cooked?" Donna asked coolly.

"Medium. Fries," Daryl ended sourly.

She smiled at Michonne and took the menus. "I'll put your order in," she said pleasantly then left their table.

"I will miss having food delivered to my table," she sighed. Daryl stared at Andre and Michonne tried to decide the best way to handle this. "No, I'm not high." She paused. "You're going to need a little context."

"Context?" he asked sarcastically.

She nodded her head. "Context. Hmm, we're all infected. If we die, we turn into walkers."

Daryl reared back as much as he could. "I don't have some damn disease," he growled at her.

"You do. We all do," she returned with a smile. "I forgot your hair was short. Daryl," she added deliberately.

"You knew who I was when you called," he stated angrily.

"Yes."

"How?"

"I pulled Merle's record." Daryl gaped at her. "And I had someone that owed me a favor." She shrugged. "I called it in."

"What the hell is goin' on here, lady?" He leaned against the table threateningly.

"We're re-living this."

His mouth fell open. "What the fuck?"

"We lived this once before."

"You are fuckin' high," he scoffed.

Michonne knew if or when she finally saw Daryl, he might not believe her. Hell, she could hardly believe it. No one was acting any differently. If she hadn't seen Hershel, saw more articles about people going to the hospital, she might've thought the experience of last time had been a nightmare. It was but one she wasn't going to re-live the exact same way.

When she called Daryl, she didn't really have a plan. Tell him what Andrea told her? She sighed. "Five days from now the state of Georgia will send all of their residents to FEMA camps."

"FEMA camps?" he asked.

"Federal Emergency Management Agency. It's a division of the government." She pointed to the article he'd put on the table. "We call them 'walkers." At his blank look she continued. "Dead people coming back to life and trying to eat living people and animals. I would say living things, but I've never seen a walker eat a blade of grass," she snorted.

"Right," he drawled.

She looked at him. He'd either believe or he wouldn't. Andre was her priority.

"What I'm about to tell you is hearsay."

"Hearsay? You sound like a damn lawyer," he snarled at her.

"That's because I am a damn lawyer," she said. "I'm civil not criminal," she explained at his glare. "As I said, what I'm about to tell you is hearsay. You and Merle didn't end up in a FEMA camp in Atlanta. You and Merle showed up at a different camp; one outside Atlanta. There were people already there. Jim. He was some weird guy with a shovel. Jacqui, an older black woman. T-Dog, a young black guy. George Morales and his family. Dale Horvath, he drove an RV. Amy and Andrea, sisters, blond. A deputy sheriff by the name of Shane Walsh. A mother and son, Lori and Carl Grimes. Glenn Rhee."

Daryl whispered 'Chinaman'.

"Glenn's Korean, actually. A woman by the name of Carol Peletier. Her daughter, Sophia and her husband, Ed."

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows. "Gray hair," he whispered again.

"Yes, Carol has gray hair," she continued. She did note Daryl's face screwed up at Carl's name. "And a few others. I never got good descriptions."

"Here are your lunches," Donna interrupted. She placed the plates on the table, giving her Andre's applesauce.

She smiled at the soon to be dead or walker server and decided to give her a good tip. It wasn't like she was going to have to pay her credit card bill. Maybe Donna would make it, but Michonne had good instincts and knew the young woman wouldn't.

She took the plastic spoon she had in her purse and gave it to Andre. He'd end up wearing more than eating, but she didn't give a shit. Her son was alive, and she'd make sure he stayed that way.

She took a bite of her salad and groaned with pleasure. This would never get old. Fresh food delivered to her table. Although she was looking forward to growing her own food again. Now that she'd had time to learn how to do it. Downloaded stuff. She looked up at Daryl and he was staring at her in confusion. She shrugged and continued her story, giving side glances to her son to make sure he was eating some of it.

"Merle invited himself on a run."

"A run?" Daryl asked with his mouth full.

"A run; going somewhere and taking what you need," she explained.

He looked up. "Stealin'?"

"Stealing. Money won't mean much. You'll be able to wipe your ass with it. Or use it to start a fire." She took another bite and checked on Andre. After giving him a quick kiss on his head she turned back to Daryl. "As I was saying, Merle invited himself on a run to Atlanta with Glenn, Andrea, Jacqui, George Morales and T-Dog."

"T-Dog? He some kinda gangbanger?"

She shrugged. "I don't think so." She savored her salad and smiled at her son's applesauce covered face. "Walkers are attracted to sound. And life. And blood. Merle started shooting walkers from the roof of the store they were in."

"He was shootin' people?" Daryl asked incredulously.

"They're dead, Daryl. Yeah, he was shooting them and drawing attention to everyone. Glenn left; I don't know why. While he was gone T-Dog and the others objected to what Merle was doing. Merle and T-Dog ended up in a fight. When Glenn came back, he had another man with him. A sheriff's deputy, Rick Grimes. Rick knocked Merle out and handcuffed him to some pipes on the roof."

"Brown hair," was whispered.

"Yes, Rick has brown hair." So, he did remember or more importantly, and what she suspected, didn't want to remember what happened. Not that Michonne blamed him. Last time…nightmare didn't begin to cover what happened. "Walkers were converging on the store. Glenn and Rick had to wear walker guts to get out of there. They found some cars, or a truck."

"They cut people open?" he interrupted with wide eyes. He looked kind of sick.

"They're dead, Daryl. Yes, they cut the walkers open and wore their insides. Walkers…they smelled like walkers. When they got back to the camp you were out hunting. You and Rick got into an argument because they left Merle on the roof of the store."

"They left Merle?" he ground out. "What the hell? Ain't that guy a cop or somethin'? What the hell?"

"I guess T-Dog dropped the keys to the cuffs," she said.

"Right," he sneered.

"Continuing on," she drawled. She really shouldn't be so cavalier about it. Daryl didn't believe a damn thing she was saying and if she was on the other end of this, she'd think they were crazy. "You, Rick, Glenn and T-Dog went back to Atlanta."

"Where the hell were you?" he demanded.

Andre looked up at Daryl then at her. "It's okay, Peanut," she comforted him before shooting a glare at Daryl. The man looked like he didn't give a shit. "I was…around," she sighed and wiped Andre's face a little. "How's the applesauce?"

"Goo," he replied and Michonne smiled. She'd missed her son. So, so much. She'd never gotten over losing him.

"Andrea didn't know what happened but all of you came back the next day around dusk. Walkers were attacking the camp." She took another bite of the food that had been delivered to the table. "How's the burger?"

"Fine," he grumbled.

"The next morning everyone went to the CDC."

"Ain't that in Atlanta?"

"Yes."

"Then why the fuck did we go there? Weren't those…things there?"

"Yes, and I don't know why. Andrea. She'd lost her sister Amy in the attack. She…didn't pay much attention." Or give a shit, Michonne knew. "Dr. Jenner was the last researcher there. The next morning Jenner was going to blow up the CDC with everyone in there."

"What the hell?" he shouted.

She looked around and saw the people left glance in their direction and Andre looked up again. "Please keep it down. We don't want to attract attention."

"You're shittin' me, lady," he scoffed.

"No, I'm not. Andrea, she wanted to stay."

"What?" he whisper-yelled.

"She'd lost her only family, Daryl. Her parents were old and lived in Florida. She didn't have confidence they made it. Amy was it. She didn't want to live anymore. Dale, the man who drove the RV, emotionally blackmailed her into leaving."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Hell if I know. Andrea didn't tell me why, only she'd been pissed at him because he was going to stay if she was. I guess someone talked him; Jenner, into letting everyone leave. Rick, I think. It's been years since I remembered any of this. I had to wrack my brain."

Daryl scoffed again and didn't look like he believed her. Daryl had been her friend and she was going to warn him as much as she could. She wasn't under any illusions if this had been reversed, he would've done the same for her. "Everyone left the CDC but Jacqui. She stayed."

"Why?" he asked again.

"Hell if I know. She probably didn't want to be a walker. The closest country to a cure had been France, but they ran out of gas. No cure and no one was working on one. Everyone left Atlanta and ran into a herd."

"What's a herd?"

"A herd is a large group of walkers." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Walkers on their own can be dangerous. A group? Even more dangerous."

"Everything alright?" Donna interrupted out of nowhere.

Michonne turned to her with a smile. "The salad's good. And my peanut," she gazed fondly at his applesauce covered face. "He likes the applesauce." She held up her glass. "Can I have a re-fill? And more juice for my son?"

Donna smiled. "Sure." She frowned when she looked at Daryl. "For you, sir?"

"Yeah, yeah. More tea," he muttered.