A/N: So now that my job has finally released the death grip it had on my life, I'm slowly but surely getting caught up on everyone's stories. You guys are so immensely talented, it's inspiring. (Also intimidating, but that's cool, lol.) I'm just so glad there are so many people contributing to this ship. It gives me solace, knowing that even if the show doesn't go where we want it to, at least we have each other!

Anyway, I'll let you get on to the update. I'm glad Rick is back in some of your good graces, haha. Siancore, you're way too good to me, girl. I really do appreciate the compliment, more than I can even say. And literaturechick, I loved the way you juxtaposed Rick and Michonne. She's cool and calculating, and he's completely out of his mind when he needs to be. (Usually, anyway.) You are 100% correct that Dawn has no idea what she's in for! As she will soon see... Enjoy!

13 - Screaming, Crying

Michonne was in Joan's room again, having spent most of the night with the young woman to keep her at ease. They talked for some of that time, but mostly just kept one another company. Joan spoke of her old life, back in New Orleans, where she lost her mom and boyfriend on the same night, before they really knew what was going on. She explained that she came to Atlanta early on, looking for refuge. She'd been holed up at Philips Arena for a while before things got bad. Really bad. And then she'd spent the past year wandering around downtown Atlanta before the officers found her.

Michonne was trying to be a good listener, as that's what she usually was. But the stories had become old hat by then. Everyone had one, and they were all so sad. Always some version of, I lost everyone I loved until I ended up here. She had been there several times over. The bottom line – the apocalypse sucked.

Still, she was going to tell Joan about how she ended up there, until Gorman came, interrupting their conversation with his usual grimy antics. He stood in Joan's doorway with a clipboard in his hand, giving Michonne a long glance before he spoke. "You still plannin' on gettin' outta here this mornin'?"

She frowned, knowing he was likely about to say some bullshit, but answered him anyway. "Yeah…"

"Well then you better come on then."

She looked over to Joan, who was obviously avoiding everything about the man's presence, and then turned back to him. She had just punched their leader in the face just a few hours earlier. Her still being allowed to leave on her terms seemed like a long shot. "Where's Dawn?" she wondered out loud.

"Probably in her office," he shrugged, a knowing smirk on his face as he dropped his clipboard. "I'm s'posed to walk you on out, but you can stay if you want to."

Michonne rose from her spot, not wanting to lose her chance if this was really it. But she remained wary as she squeezed Joan's hand and headed out of the room.

"It's pretty quiet out there right now," he noted as he led her down the hallway. He was referring to the walkers in the streets, but the hospital was also silent as a grave in the early morning. The sun hadn't even come up yet, and it was obvious. The sound of their footsteps was the only sound there was. "You oughta be all right gettin' outta here."

She didn't respond, but kept her eyes on the creepy officer. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, and she wasn't going to be thrown by all his jabbering.

"You need to stop by your room for anything?" he asked, turning back to her.

"No," was all she said in reply. She had everything she came in with, which was nothing.

He eyed her just long enough to feel threatening, then turned abruptly for the door to the staircase. "After you, Grimes."

Michonne reached her hand over her shoulder, expecting to find her katana in her hands. She kept forgetting that she didn't have it. It was like a phantom limb, tricking her into thinking it was still by her side. She decided to go on by anyway, not at all surprised when Gorman's hand managed to graze her ass. She glared back at him, even more incensed when he pretended that it was an accident.

"Sorry, darlin'."

She almost pulled out the scalpel she'd stolen, to give his face a good swipe, but she didn't want to do anything to divert her escape from that godforsaken place.

"I don't know what Joan told you," he went on, following her down the steps. "But I ain't all that bad."

Joan hadn't told her anything, really, beyond warning her to be careful. She could guess what it meant, but he was giving himself away. She began to quicken her pace, just a little.

"You ain't gotta walk so fast. I'm not gonna bite."

She did need to slow down. She was hungry, and therefore weaker for it. She knew she would stumble if she wasn't careful.

Gorman grabbed her arm now, smiling at her as she turned back at him. "Slow down."

"Let go of me," she demanded, trying to snatch her arm back. When he didn't lose his grip, she knew exactly what this was. She took a deep breath and swallowed visibly, unsure of whether she could take him. He was a fairly large piece of shit. "Let me go," she repeated.

He moved down to the step she was on, effectively trapping her against the wall; the banister was digging into her back. "There's nothin' to be afraid of, darlin'. It's just a transaction between two people."

Her one good hand gripped the railing tightly, trying to hold onto her balance, along with her sanity, but she was shaking, and she couldn't stop. He was so close to her, she could feel his erection against her thigh, and the mere thought made her want to throw up in his face. "Get off of me." She was so calm when she said it, there was no way he could have any idea how much rage was bubbling underneath the surface.

He did quite the opposite. His hands went up her sides, squeezing her breasts as he licked his lips. "Everything around here costs somethin'," he said. He then went underneath her shirt, feeling her skin and the simultaneous hardness and softness of her taut stomach.

She nodded, knowing what she would have to do. "What am I paying for?"

He roughly unbuttoned her pants and began to pull them down while she tried to fight him off. "You're payin' for your safety," he said as if he were reminding her that they had some prearranged agreement to this.

"Get the fuck off of me," Michonne began to shriek through gritted teeth, trying to stop him. She wanted to stay composed, and simply think her way out of the situation, but she couldn't. It was all happening so fast. She could feel his hands on her skin, inside her underwear, and she was absolutely sick. Hot tears rolled down her face when she couldn't stop him.

"Don't fight it," he said, beginning to unbutton his own pants.

That was her chance. A tiny moment of distraction would have to be his undoing. She wasn't going to let him win. As he fumbled with his zipper, she leaned into his neck, allowing him to think she was giving in. But she took a page from Rick and sunk her teeth into his throat, pulling out as big a chunk as she could. She immediately spit it out and blindly went for another bite, before he could realize what was happening. Just in case one wasn't enough. It was much more difficult than she expected it to be, but she needed this to work.

She furiously wiped at her tears as she watched him grab his neck and look at her in shock. Blood was everywhere, and he tried to speak, probably to call her some misogynist name, she figured, but he couldn't. He just collapsed to the floor. She did the same, wanting to cry, wanting to scream in frustration and fear.

She gave herself a minute, and then stood back up on her feet. She had no time to waste feeling sorry for herself. She needed a plan. She needed to go. She pulled out her lowly scalpel and stabbed Gorman in the head several times to keep him from reanimating, and then started down the staircase quietly. She knew each of the lower floors were guarded, but if no one came when they heard her scream, she hoped maybe no one was up yet. Or maybe they were just used to the screams.

"Fuck," she mumbled to herself, spitting blood with every step she took. She wiped her face with her arm and tried to shake away her nerves. She didn't know how Rick was so calm after doing that. That was a gruesome way to kill someone.

As she reached the following floor, she was immediately proven wrong about the guards. She could tell from her spot above them that there were at least three before she would make it to the ground floor. And being covered in blood, she wouldn't even be able to talk her way past them. Was there no way out of that place? Would she have to just wait for Rick to find her? She knew he would, but she wasn't sure if she could stand it. She wanted to cry again, but she stopped herself.

"God, I wish you were here, Grimes," she whispered sadly. She felt invincible next to him.

But the fact was, Michonne Dillard was pretty invincible without him, too. She would take down that hospital on her own, if she had to.

Michonne had made her way up to the kids' wing of the hospital, looking for Noah's room. It was still early, so she was lucky to find the halls still empty, but it made it much more difficult to find him. She hesitantly glanced into window after window until she finally found the young man, preparing to start his day. She lightly knocked on his door, and then barged her way in once he answered. She couldn't be in that hallway too long. It was all so risky.

Noah looked at her with horror in his eyes, seeing her covered in blood. "What happened to you?"

"I'm fine," she answered, dismissing his concern. "This isn't my blood."

"Whose is it?" he frowned, his big brown eyes still wide.

"Can I trust you?" she asked pressingly, her eyes pleading with him to say yes.

"You can," he promised, understanding the seriousness of the situation. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew, in just one conversation, that Michonne was one of the good ones. "You can."

"Okay. Then you have to trust me, too."

"I do."

"You wanna get outta here?"

He eyed her carefully, wondering what she could be talking about. She still hadn't answered why she was covered in blood, and now she was plotting some sort of escape. "What's goin' on?"

"This is your only shot," she explained quickly and quietly. "If you wanna go, if you're serious… I need you to get everything you wanna take with you, and follow me."

"I'm ready," he shot back immediately. He didn't need his old clothes or whatever trinkets he'd collected in the past year. Just a way out. He immediately threw on his Nikes and met Michonne back at his door. "Let's go."

The two of them swiftly snuck to the nearest staircase, and she led him down to the spot where she'd killed Gorman. The scene was brutal, looking back on it. A man surrounded by a pool of his own blood, and chunks of his flesh sitting beside him. The walls and railing were covered in her bloody handprints. It looked like a massacre had taken place.

"You did this?" Noah asked, obviously unnerved by the sight.

"Listen to me," she said, seeing his hesitation written all over his face. "This had to happen. I promise you."

He nodded nervously and stepped over Gorman so that he was standing beside Michonne. "So are we cleaning this up?"

"No." She grabbed the officer's gun, as he'd no longer be needing it, and gave it to Noah. "When you get out of here, you get as far away from here as you can, okay?"

"You're not coming?"

"I can't," she shook her head. "There's no way out for both of us."

"We can find a way…"

"We don't have time. I have to use this before someone finds him."

He looked down at the mess again, and she was right – she couldn't hide it for long. "Why are you doing this? Why me?"

She sighed heavily, wiping her face again. "Because… I dunno. If I had a son like you, I would want someone to help him." Images of Carl came up again, and she knew that that was definitely what she would want. "So you have to go."

"But… what are you gonna do?"

"My friends are coming," she nodded knowingly. If she didn't know anything else about Rick, she knew that. "In the meantime, I'm gonna fuck some shit up," she smiled at him sadly.

"You really are crazy," he smiled back. "No one is about to find you here."

"Rick is." She stooped down to Gorman's body to find a knife to give to the kid as well. "Rick woke up to this world after being in a coma for three weeks. His wife and son were gone, fifty miles away, here in Atlanta. But he found them." She gave him the knife and continued her quick story. "Two of his people were kidnapped by some random assholes he'd never heard of, but he went in, guns blazing, and he found them," she explained. "And when our home was taken, and we lost all our friends… we found them." She nodded as she convinced herself that she couldn't leave. Rick was coming for her. She'd wrestled with it all night, how long she would have before they came. Whether she should get out while she could, or wait for him. "He's coming," she assured Noah. "So don't you worry about me."

He looked at her hesitantly. She seemed to know what she was talking about, but he still couldn't help but think there was a way for both of them to get out. "You really are a troublemaker, Troublemaker."

"I know." She gave him a small grin, but she knew it was time for them to go. "As soon as I walk outta here, you go down and you wait for those guards to leave, all right? And then you move as fast as you can. And you shoot, or you run."

"I got it."

"I'm serious, Noah. You won't have a lot of time. I'll try to distract them as long as I can, but you have to go," she pleaded. "You shoot, or you run."

He nodded, assuring her that he wouldn't fail her. Her sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. He would run for his life. He watched her grab Gorman's leg, and gave her one last look of thanks. "Be careful?"

"You, too."

She took a deep breath and began her ascent up the steps and onto the floor where Dawn would be. Michonne was never one to make a ruckus, but she needed to in order to give Noah any chance at getting out of there.

She dragged Gorman's lifeless body down the hallway, his blood creating a morbid trail as she walked. "Dawn Lerner!" she yelled as loudly as her tired body would allow. "Where is Dawn Lerner!"

Soon, doors opened, and occupants came to witness the scene. There were few things that were shocking in this world anymore, but seeing a woman, with her face covered in blood, drag a corpse down a hospital corridor, screaming at the top of her lungs, was certainly one of those sights.

"Dawn!" she screeched and it was nearly bloodcurdling. Just as she expected, several officers and guards were at each end of the hallway before she knew it. She hoped Noah was gone. "Where's Dawn," she asked the officers ahead of her.

"She's on her way," the officer known as Lamson told her calmly. "Just stay with us."

"You can tell her I'm not going anywhere," Michonne replied just as coolly. "I suggest you don't get too close to me."

"It's okay, Michonne," he said, inching towards her. "No one's gonna hurt you."

"Shut the fuck up," she snapped, turning back to make sure no one was sneaking up behind her. The trail of blood she saw was pretty horrific. But what else was she supposed to do? She wasn't going to let him win. "You people and your fucking greater good."

A door slammed, and Dawn was on the scene, walking through her bevy of officers to see what was going on. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she came face to face with what her ward had done. "You're insane," she marveled, staring at where Michonne had obviously stabbed the man in the face several times. "Why would you do this?"

"Me?" She held back tears as she walked up to the leader. The supposed leader, anyway. She hocked up a wad of saliva, mixed with Gorman's blood, and made no hesitation of spitting it in Dawn's face. She no longer cared what they did to her. "Fuck you."

Several hours later, Michonne awoke in a very similar fashion to the way she had the day before. In a bed, in pain, unsure of where she was. It took her much less time to gather her surroundings, but her head was pounding. Her face hurt. And when she tried to touch what she believed to be bruises, she realized that she was tied down.

"I thought we understood each other, Michonne," she heard a voice declare. Dawn's voice. "I thought it was clear that if I stayed out of your way, you would stay out of mine."

She looked to her left to find the woman sitting in a chair near the door, staring back at her intently. She wanted nothing more than to spit in her face again, but that obviously wasn't going to happen, so she just turned towards her window.

"What am I supposed to do with you now? How do I let you live?"

"How do you live with yourself," Michonne shot back quietly.

"I am doing my best here," Dawn maintained. She really seemed to believe that, and it was driving everyone around her crazy.

"Your best is letting these women get raped?" She turned back to the officer, challenging her to contend that she really believed the nonsense she was spinning. "You're enslaving teenagers, making them think they have no way out? Fuck you, Dawn." She looked up to the ceiling as she tried to rein in her emotions. These people didn't deserve them. "You may as well kill me now, because I'm never gonna accept this. I'm never going to forgive you for sending that man after me. After Joan."

"Michonne…" Dawn sighed, feeling genuine empathy for these women, and what she'd allowed herself to deem acceptable. She understood why they were angry. But the system was so fragile. It was going to topple over, and no one seemed to understand that. She went over to Michonne and released the grips on her arms. "We can fix this place," she whispered, letting her know that she was still willing to trust her. "You and me… we can."

Michonne frowned at her, unsure of what the hell she was talking about. She was about to say as much, but the room was interrupted by Dawn's radio.

"Dawn. We've got a 10-57 on Noah. Hasn't been seen all morning. We also can't get a hold of Andrews."

Dawn quickly walked away from Michonne with a look of concern on her face. Noah was her best and brightest ward, but she couldn't have another one of her officers go missing. O'Donnell and Shepherd went out one day and never came back. She couldn't let that happen again. She held her radio, but kept her eye on Michonne as she spoke. "We can't take any chances since O'Donnell and Shepherd," she reminded her officer. "Find Andrews first, and then look for Noah."

Michonne had to contain a smile at the fact that Noah had gotten out. She was so happy for him. Relieved.

"I have to go," Dawn announced, heading for the door. "We'll continue this later."

She was so glad to watch that delusional woman leave, she didn't care that she had locked her in the room. That was no surprise. But until she returned, she could take solace in the fact that Noah would never have to deal with that crazy place again. He was free.

She went to her door, staring out of her window to see the uproar she'd caused. Officers running back and forth. The wards were all so confused. She loved it. She couldn't keep the small smile off of her face. This place was going down.

But then, her world came crashing down as she watched a gurney come rolling down the hall. At first glance, she wasn't sure, thought maybe she was seeing things, confusing things. She was tired, after all. But as the stretcher moved past her door, there was no mistaking the teenager lying on it. It was Carl.

Her heart began to race as she fell to the floor. This time, she didn't hold back any of her tears.