I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters.

"Why did you let this crazy bitch come with us?"

Michonne sits in the back of the truck with the men whose names she has learned are Daryl, Rick, T-Dog, and Glenn, who is driving. Her newly returned sword rests across her lap in its sheath, a mirror image of Daryl's crossbow resting across his. The truck bumps and sways as they go; traffic rules are a thing of the past. Daryl is unaffected by the rough cadence of the ride, instead staring at her with an expression that clearly says that he does not think she should have been given her sword back. She glares back at him, choosing to ignore his choice of language in favor of keeping peace with the rest of the group.

Rick gives him a look just as icy as her own and also ignores him, turning to look at Michonne instead. She had no choice but to tell them her name since they are allowing her to go along on this little trip. She didn't like doing it, being that the only reason she is going along is so they will trust her enough to leave. The less they know about her the better, and vice versa. She remains in denial to herself that she actually cares. She doesn't care. She can't. If she cares about these people, the mothers, the children, Jacqui, the pair of sisters, all waiting for their safe return back at the camp, then she knows she won't want to leave. Her heart is already trying to tell her to stay while her head is telling her to leave and not look back.

"So what did you do before the shit hit the fan?" The man named Rick asks, breaking her train of thought. She turns her steely gaze on him. She doesn't answer, but his gaze doesn't falter. He watches her with interest. She is used to people getting uncomfortable under her cold stare, but his man shows no signs of discomfort.

"I work alone," she says, hoping he will get the picture that she does not want this subject broached. "All I'm asking is for your group to let me leave in peace."

Rick continues to stare even after she has so obviously closed the subject and it makes her very uncomfortable. She refuses to drop her gaze, though if she were the type to turn red under scrutiny she knows she would. She feels like he is reading her and she has to concentrate on not squirming. She refuses to show any weakness, and slowly her body stiffens more and more and she isn't able to relax until he gives an almost imperceivable nod and his focus shifts to Daryl. He gives the man a 'leave it alone' look and the redneck rolls his eyes and crawls into the passenger seat beside Glenn.

She knows that Rick has only just joined the group himself (in fact, she has been there longer than he has), but already his connection runs deep and he radiates such a level of authority that she wonders if Shane is in danger of being replaced. She wouldn't mind; she likes Rick much better than Shane.

Not that it will effect her once she leaves anyway.

They remain in silence until suddenly the truck bumps to a stop and they hear Glenn's voice telling that they are going to have to walk from here. She doesn't question his judgment—the young man seems to have an extensive knowledge of the city and she can't even begin to guess how he acquired it.

He leaves the driver's seat and they hear him walking around the side of the truck. He slides the back open and light floods in, momentarily dazzling them. Michonne blinks away the stars in her vision and clambers out after Rick and T-Dog.

She takes a moment to observe her surroundings. It's sad really, the way the city looks now. She never considered herself to be sentimental about her home, and she certainly wouldn't let this group know that she has a single sentimental bone in her body. But looking at the wasteland it has turned into now makes her take a deep breath and look to her group instead. (Her group? No, they are not her group.)

The men are all busy with sorting out their weapons before entering the city. She sees guns being passed around and inwardly cringes at the idea of the loud sound they would make. She hopes they don't get into such a situation, because she knows a sound like that would attract all the walkers in the city and there would be no chance of getting out alive.

She straps her katana in its sheath across her back, reveling in the feel of the weight around her shoulders again. It's a feeling of security that she has missed more than she realized. She feels eyes on her again and looks up to see Daryl watching her. His eyes drift to the sword strapped to her back and she glares at him again. She is sick of this man acting like she is some sort of threat when he has done more wrong to her than she to him. With a sneer she turns and joins Rick and Glenn instead. They are standing a little separated from the group with their heads together talking about which way they should go.

"Which is closer?" Rick is asking. He is pouring over a map that he thought to bring, but Glenn isn't paying any attention to the map. He is turning in a slow circle, seeming to be trying to get his bearings. "Merle or the guns?"

"We ain't even having this conversation," Daryl bursts out, shoving past T-Dog to get to Rick. T-Dog looks like he wants to hit Daryl but refrains. "Merle first."

Glenn snaps out of his thoughts and turns back to the group. He eyes Daryl in a way that plainly says he doesn't want to agree with him but must. "Merle is closer. Going for the guns would mean doubling back. Merle first."

Rick nods, his brow furrowed. "You heard him," he says. "Let's move."

It's a tense trip back to the shopping center that the group had been trapped in when Rick joined them. All but Michonne and Daryl are remembering what it felt like to be closed in with walkers on all sides. Their baser instincts tell them to turn and run in the opposite direction, but their consciences prove stronger than their fear and they force themselves to keep going.

Michonne herself is remembering what it was like trying to get out of the city when the plague first struck. Being on these familiar streets again brings back memories of the night of her family's escape and the following events that landed her here helping to protect these people she barely knows. She blocks the memories before they can manifest themselves fully. She can't afford to be distracted by images of the past now. It is much too important for her to be alert for both the group's safety and her own.

As they approach the heart of the city, Rick holds a finger to his lips and points down the street ahead of them. They all move in single file and peer down the main street at the front of the shopping center. There is a group of walkers milling around the entrance, having either gathered after Glenn drew the others away with the car alarm or returned to the location, drawn by the faint memory of a human smell. Michonne tenses, itching to draw her sword and feel the weight of it in her hands and the rush of killing walkers again. It has only been a day since the weapon was last in her possession, but her arm aches from the absence of it.

"Is there another way we can get in?" T-Dog asks, looking at Rick who in turn looks at Glenn.

"What about that alleyway you took me down to save me from the tank?" Rick asks, and Glenn peers around the corner worriedly. He draws back quickly when the walkers shift, beginning to catch their scent on the breeze. Michonne would find the look on the young man's face almost endearing if they weren't in such a dangerous situation and she weren't trying so hard not to become attached to these people.

"We could try, but it wouldn't be easy," Glenn begins, pressing his back against the brick wall and drawing a shaky breath. "There are a lot more of us this time and they're starting to catch on that we're here—"

"Screw y'all pussies!" Daryl says loudly, cutting Glenn off. He draws his crossbow and leaps around the corner, taking several shots. The walkers turn at the sudden noise and begin moving in a clump down the street toward the group. They stumble over the fallen, keeping a steady progression toward the smell of live meat.

"Oh shit," Rick says. He draws his gun but Michonne grabs his wrist. This is exactly what she was afraid of. One shot from that gun and the number of walkers will double in a matter of seconds. She shakes her head and draws her sword, silently hoping that the man won't choose this moment to be stubborn.

Rick looks at her for a moment before nodding and lowering the gun. She hopes his train of thought is following hers as he lowers the gun but doesn't put it away. She is glad that he is at least listening to her for the moment.

She steps up beside Daryl and braces herself, putting enough space between them that neither will be injured by the other's weapon (as much as she would love to take a swing at him and call it an accident). She knows that he can only move so fast with his crossbow. Despite the efficiency of the weapon he has to stop and recollect his arrows at frequent intervals. Not only does this slow him down, but it also makes him vulnerable.

Most of this will fall to her.

The walkers are slow, but in a group Michonne knows that their speed is deceiving. Once they close in you're very likely dead no matter how slow they move. As the dead approach she swings her sword, trying to keep them at bay before they can get too close. In the back of her mind she is concerned about Rick and his gun, worried that he will get alarmed and shoot despite her warning. She wants to keep the walkers far enough away that no one gets hurt and no one does anything stupid either.

Daryl's weapon is so much slower than hers, and she wonders if he realizes how screwed he would be if he were alone in this situation. Probably not. She knows his type. He doesn't like to admit that he needs help, especially help from a woman.

There are only a few walkers left in the crowd when a sudden biting pain cuts across her shoulder and she freezes, eyes wide with shock. A walker brushes against her as it falls to the ground, one of Daryl's arrows lodged into its skull. When she looks down at herself her heart jumps at the unexpected amount of blood that is running down her arm from her shoulder. She didn't see the walker get close enough to bite her, but though they are not clever they are very good at catching one off guard.

She looks up at the others, eyes begging a silent question. They are too focused on Daryl, who is pulling his arrows out ofthe fallen walkers' heads, to pay her much mind. Their expressions range from shock to fury as he slips the last arrow back into its sheath. When he looks up to see their eyes on him his gaze drifts to Michonne and her bleeding shoulder and wide eyes.

"Woman, would you chill?" he says with a sneer on his face. He adjusts his sheath on his back. "You ain't bit. You were in my way and my arrow grazed you." He shoves past her. "Watch it next time, would ya?"

Michonne glares at his retreating back, wishing that she had taken that swing and called it an accident after all. Rick approaches her and gently grabs her arm, having taken it upon himself to inspect the wound. She almost pulls away from him; she isn't a fan of physical contact. But a bolt of pain shoots through her arm and she hisses. It's not a deep wound, but it's not clean and needs disinfecting as soon as they can manage.

"Lucky thing that arrow was clean," he says, and Michonne catches on to what he is saying immediately. Lucky there was no walker blood on it or our group would be one down. She draws a deep breath, trying to calm her heart from racing at the thought. Rick pulls a clean handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wraps it around the wound to staunch the flow of blood.

"Can't have you fainting on us," he says quietly, and she would be angry at the comment if she couldn't tell that he does not intend to degrade her. She thinks maybe he is beginning to realize what an asset she can be to them, though she doesn't want to encourage that conclusion. Being an asset will only lead to tempting invitations to stay with the group, and she doesn't think she could stand that. Not when she is already struggling with herself about whether or not she should stay.

She meets his eye and almost allows a small smile to make an appearance. But before any real connection is made Glenn is telling them that they should really move on while there are no walkers. Michonne drops her eyes and follows Glenn, stepping carefully over the bodies of the fallen walkers. After a slight pause she hears Rick follow and vows not to let any more moments such as that one occur. She can't afford to get attached.

The sight of the severed hand is gruesome enough to make one feel sick all on its own, but when the group stumbles across the iron Merle used to cauterize the wound Michonne has to fight to keep what little she ate for breakfast that morning. She doesn't usually have a weak stomach. In fact, she is one of the most unwavering people she has ever known. But the sight of the charred flesh still clinging to the metal along with the smell that still permeates the room and the wound on her shoulder having left her reeling is almost enough to do her in. She fights not to show any outward signs of weakness and as far as she can tell no one else in the group notices a difference. She does catch an expression on Glenn's face that mirrors how she is feeling and feels a small pang of sympathy for the young man. But she stops herself, reminding herself that sympathy leads to attachment and attachment will lead to her staying at the camp.

She notices vaguely that Rick and Daryl seem to be having yet another argument. She doesn't pay attention, choosing instead to lean against the wall and allow her eyes to slip shut for just a moment. Daryl has been on the verge of mutiny since they discovered Merle was gone and Michonne knows that she is not the only person in the group who is just about at the end of their rope. She listens to their angry voices as she struggles to get her bearings without looking the part. The wave of nausea slowly passes and she is more than relieved to see it go.

"Are you alright?" comes a voice from her right and she flinches away from the sound. T-Dog is looking at her with concern in his eyes and she finds that she doesn't appreciate the look. She nods curtly, her jaw clenched. He looks as though he is going to say something more but they both find themselves distracted when Glenn's voice cuts into the argument still going on to their left.

"This is what we need to do," he says, and she approaches as he begins mapping out an elaborate map of the city and showing them the route they need to take to find the guns. He talks for a while, moving little nick nacks that symbolize each of them along his makeshift map. His plan is good and Michonne finds herself surprised when he reveals that he delivered pizzas before the apocalypse started.

He catches her off guard when he looks straight up at her and asks, "Will you come with me and watch my back?" He indicates the point on the map where they two of them will be stationed. "Your sword is the quietest weapon we have. And the fastest. You took that pack of walkers down almost single-handedly." Daryl makes an indignant noise from somewhere behind her, but Rick shoots him a glare and he unexpectedly shuts up. Michonne nods and stands up, her hands automatically going to the handle of her sword. She doesn't know why, but she trusts this kid. She doesn't usually trust people so quickly but something about the innocence in the young man's face pulls at her heart. He doesn't deserve a life like this one. None of these people do, but especially not someone with so much youth still in his eyes.

"I'll watch your back," she says, low so only he can hear her.

Michonne slowly takes in her surroundings. The sterile white of the room, the smell of medical supplies, the coughing of the enfeebled. This is something she never thought she would experience again in such a world as this. She doesn't let her wonder show on her face, but she can't help but find herself in awe that such a place still exists.

The smell reminds her of her childhood. Of visiting grandparents in nursing homes and knowing that visits will never happen in their own homes again. She hates the way these places feel. They are so final. They speak of death disguised as something positive.

Of course, the whole world speaks of death now.

Rick has disappeared with the "leader" of this dysfunctional little old people's home and she eyes some of the bigger men distrustfully. Sure, they take care of their old people, and sure they stayed when no one else would. But people do rash things in situations such as these, and she doesn't trust that they won't turn on her little group.

Dammit, there it is again. Her group.

Before her thoughts can stray any further down that dangerous path she feels a tugging on her shirt, oddly reminiscent of Carl just the night before. She looks down to see the little old woman who saved their skins staring up at her.

"Hurt," she says in her broken English, and at first Michonne doesn't know what she is talking about. "You are hurt." She gently places a hands on Michonne's shoulder where Rick's handkerchief is steadily turning redder and redder. She hadn't noticed that the wound was still bleeding, but she winces when the old woman touches it.

"Come," the woman says, turning and walking away in a manner that clearly states that she fully expects Michonne to follow her without question.

"I'm fine," Michonne mutters, buy the woman either doesn't hear her or plays deaf.

Michonne's newly cleaned and bandaged shoulder throbs as the group makes the long trek back to camp on foot. She almost couldn't believe that their truck had been stolen, but on the other hand she has to ask herself what else she could have possibly expected. With the world gone to hell everyone is scavenging. Hadn't she only just been thinking about this in the old people's home about an hour ago?

The group is silent as they shuffle along. At first they had all been on the alert, watching for walkers to come out of nowhere. But as the day wore on and camp began to feel further and further away they had begun losing their stamina until they watched their feet more than their surroundings. The only sounds coming from the group are heavy breathing and footfalls.

Michonne almost doesn't notice when Rick shuffles through the group until he is walking beside her. He keeps his voice low, almost as though he doesn't want to be heard. Michonne spares a glance up and sees that Daryl is once again watching her. She isn't surprised that whatever Rick wants to say he also doesn't want known by the rest of the group.

"I just wanted to let you know," he begins, trying to catch his breath around the words as they begin up a particularly steep incline. "That I trust you. We wouldn't have made it out of the city without you. You've proven yourself more than worthy, and you are more than welcome to stay with our group." He looks up and catches her eye. Her brow furrows, not expecting this from him and yet knowing that it was inevitable. "Just think about it. You don't have to make your decision right now. But you would be safer in a group and the group would be safer with you. Think about it."

Michonne is silent for a few minutes. They are almost back at the camp now. If she looks hard, she can see the faint glow of their campfires. Could she stay? It's a thought she has been fighting with all day long. She has convinced herself from the beginning of this whole fiasco that she works better alone, but does she really? How can she possibly know if she has never given a group a try?

She opens her mouth to answer Rick when suddenly the sound of screams reaches their ears. The group freezes as Michonne's wide eyes meet Rick's and they simultaneously break into a run. The screams are coming from the camp.

Guys, oh my gosh this chapter is finally done! I don't know why it gave me so much hell...probably because I really didn't like this episode in the series very much. But I hope you all like this chapter! Again, it was kind of filler, but hopefully this is the last filler one! I wanted to develop Michonne's character a little more, but if I had stuck with the whole storyline of that episode the chapter would have been an absolute mutant. It's long enough as it is. But I enjoyed writing her little interactions with each of the other characters.
And I'm sorry I'm writing Daryl as such an ass right now. I don't like it either. But honestly, when he first showed up in the show I feel like he was pretty much a total ass. I didn't like his character at all at first, but now I like him. So he's gonna grow as we go along too. :)
And don't worry, our ladies will have some interaction next chapter. :)
Anyway, enough from me. Reviews are always welcome! :)