A/N: So I updated this chapter to include Rick's part because we've already seen this in the show and I didn't feel my interpretation of Rick losing Lori warranted a full chapter. I jumped the gun a bit with posting this chapter. Too eager I suppose. Anyway, re-read this if you wish before proceeding to the next chapter! :)

Michonne

Haphazardly, her legs shuffled as she frantically searched through the tent once more, yelling his name. He had to be in there. She needed him to be in there. Pillows, blankets and clothes flew in every direction as her eyes scanned each corner and hidden place possible in the tiny space but the small toddler was nowhere to be found. Her hand gripped his tiny shoe as she fell to her knees, reaching for her cloak and backpack underneath the small cot before coming back onto her boot clad feet. Though the boots were thick and heavy, she managed to trample through the tent without incident, her focus on one task: to find her baby.

Just before she searched her own tent she went to a neighbor's, a young teenager named Susan whom Andre took a liking to immediately. She had a collection of origami papers and every morning at the foot of their tent she left Andre a little surprise. This morning it was a frog. Michonne inspected the tent high and low only to find small splatters of blood and one of her baby's shoes poking out from under the dingy cot.

Checking the bag of its contents, she rustled through, placing Andre's shoe inside and noting everything she needed was actually there before she proceeded to go back from where she came. Sweeping the bulky canvas up and out of her way with the edge of her katana, she carefully stepped out to again face the chaos she'd just escaped moments before.

How could they? What were they thinking? Why would he do that instead of watching their child? Her child. His tiny body formed in her mind. She wanted to hold him tight and never let go. She wanted to shield her boy from this world. Protect him from the evils. From the monsters. That was her life's meaning; To protect and to love her son. But she couldn't and she didn't because she wasn't there.

Michonne's body hardened as she braced herself to retreat to where she'd left them; their remains slain as the virus coursed through their veins, eating away at the life that once flourished. The world around her was a blur. All she saw as she trekked back to the base office of the camp were figures morphed into wavy lines. Maybe it was adrenaline. Maybe it was the burn of the tears forming in her eyes. All she knew was that at the moment she had one mission; get back to where Mike and Terry's bodies laid in convulsions and watch those two bastards turn.

A walker swiped her shoulder, nearly knocking her off her feet. She managed to keep her balance enough to spin around. With a quick swish of the long blade, half of the walker's head floated along the thick and muggy air. The stench of the decaying walking dead sat on the breadth of the atmosphere, nearly suffocating Michonne but she pushed forward. Mind over matter, her mother's words, embedded in her brain, came to the surface. You can get through anything, she heard her mother's voice reverberate throughout her thoughts as she continued her journey. Our stock; your stock endured much. You are from the strongest of the strong. You can make it. Put on your big girl panties and handle your business. Her mother was frank to a fault but Michonne was never offended. She knew her mother's expressions weren't for naught. Anytime she faced an issue, she'd pull out the words her mother spoke over her and her siblings and faced the problem head on but this time things were different. This time she didn't do what she was supposed to do and the consequences were unbearable. You can't get through anything.

Switching her thoughts to what was actually before her, she slowly approached an already turned Terry. His transformation into one of those monsters was quick; less than an hour. He pounced at her like a lion on the veldt attacking its prey. With ease she unleashed her katana and lunged it completely through Terry's body, fastening him against the wood siding of the base's office. He continued to reach for her, aimlessly grabbing at air as she moved in close, examining his face. His bleak eyes were bloodshot and drooping by the second, like a Salvador Dali painting. Dislodging the blade from his chest cavity she quickly and precisely hacked through both arms, just above the bend of the elbow. Walking around the stumbling corpse, Michonne kicked him down to the ground, where he landed on top of a large chunk of cement. Pressing her boot firmly on his back, she forced all of her weight down to pin him in place.

"You were always no good," she whispered as the corpse writhed and struggled to free itself from her hold. "And you knew Mike was weak minded. That's why he followed behind your sorry ass."

Her knee raised high, with purpose. She crushed the back of the corpse's head dislocating the jaw. She unsheathed the katana and swooped it over Terry's head, forcing the sharp blade into his mouth. With all of her might she rapidly leaned back and pulled the blade through flesh and bone, severing Terry's jaw from his face entirely.

The body lay on the ground, thrashing as she removed the chains from her backpack. She quickly placed the solid metal shackle around its neck. As she came to stand straight, she studied the figure a bit longer. There was no resemblance of a human being ever dwelling in that body. Though, she thought in reality, Terry never really was a human. Some of the stories he would tell Mike about his tryst with women was disgusting. He treated them like goods and had no remorse about it.

She felt like a fool. Why would she have left her child with those two idiots. Because she thought she and Mike were like minded. She thought Mike would guard their child with his very life. Her thoughts had never failed her more than in that single moment.

She yanked the corpse up by the chains and fastened it to a light post before making her way to Mike. Stooping to his level she glared at the bloody bite on his right forearm. He was unconscious and barely breathing. She'd wait. Wait until he took his last breath; watch him suffer to the bitter end.

As soon as she'd arrived to the chaos, Michonne immediately ran to the tent she shared with Mike and Andre. They were nowhere to be found. She then made her way through the mass of the living and dead in search of them. She happened across Terry being brutally torn apart, his flesh being ripped from his bones. Mike was holding off a walker a few feet away. Wincing, she stabbed the corpses attacking them both and drug the two into a corner near the base office.

"Where is Andre," she demanded, yanking Mike up by his collar. He howled in pain. Apparently he'd been bitten on his neck as well. The wound was gaping and gushing blood by the second.

"I – I don't know," he finally managed through gritted teeth. "Not like this. I didn't want to die like this."

"Where is Andre," Michonne repeated once more, holding up their child's shoe. Her voice was soft, as her eyes welled at the thought of her son being mangled by one of those monsters.

Mike forced out a response as he slowly began slightly foaming at the mouth, "Terry and I left him with Susan for a little while. We needed a break. We were stressed out and needed to loosen up."

"You don't get breaks when you're a father Mike," she hissed, her bottom lip quivering ever so slightly. "It's always stressful. It's never not going to be stressful. It's this damn world we're in. It's not going to get any less stressful Mike."

"Michonne," he murmured, "I'm so-"

The blade struck through Mike's heart before he could offer her his too late apology.

"I know," she gasped. "That's all you have ever been… Sorry."

She sat down by his side for a while, watching the corpses pillage their camp and suddenly the world around her slowed to a halt. Everything around her disappeared. It was just her and Mike.

"You know," she confessed. "I thought there was potential in you. I completely lowered my standards to be with you because I thought there was something there. But I guess I was wrong. That's what I get for settling. Sure you were fun and exciting. Sexy and charming but I knew." She stopped for a moment and glared at the almost lifeless body. "You hear me Mike? I knew you weren't the one."

She chuckled to herself. "When I told you I was pregnant you were scared. I thought you were gonna leave me honestly. And I was okay with that. We would have been okay without you. But you surprised me. You stayed. That's when I saw the potential. And I thought, wow, this man cares about me and this child and he is going to take care of us for the rest of his life."

She wiped away a fresh tear that slowly rolled down her cheek before continuing.

"How wrong was I," she chuckled. "If I'm honest with myself, you were never fully devoted even then. A part of you has always been checked out. It's as if you thought having a family would take away all your freedom or you'd lose a bit of yourself by fully committing."

"I loathe you," she growled, "And I hope you rot in there. And I hope you'll be trapped for as long as I want you to be trapped inside that forsaken, rotting body. I hope there's some part of you in there that knows what's happening to you and I hope you suffer for what you did. You put your own flesh and blood at stake to get high. Your son."

Her voice broke and another single tear trailed down her cheek. "My baby-" Her voice trailed off. "I hope he got away. I hope someone found him and kept him safe but I don't know that for sure now. Do I Mike? Huh?"

"Lady," a muffled sound broke its way into her ears, snapping her back to the present.

"What," Michonne questioned, unsheathing her katana. "do you want?"

The innocent bystander lifted his hands at the sight of the drawn sword. "It's not safe is all. You best get outta here soon."

A scowl covered her face as she stared at the man, under eyed and replied, "I'm gonna be just fine. Worry about yourself. I don't need saving."

The man swiftly left Michonne and Mike's body to their own devices. She looked over at him again as his body began to jerk and twitch involuntarily. His eyes shot open, shaded over and milky white as he began a slow, low snarl. She stood up and backed up against the wall, awaiting the assault from Mike's corpse. He jolted up from where he lay and stumbled toward her quickly, furiously. His growl growing as he approached.

"Uhn," she grunted as she spun around herself, slicing both arms in one plunge of the sword.

Just as she dislodged Terry's jaw, she did the same to Mike and shackled him before chaining the two together. She pulled out her cloak from her backpack, slowly and meticulously put it on and grabbed the two corpses' chains, treating them like the animals that they were.

Never again would she trust. Never again would she hope. It was just her now. Alone. Against the world.

"Mike. Terry," she called out. "You ready to go?"

A small smirk made its way to her mouth. "You're right," she laughed derisively. "You don't have a choice."

Rick

Everything was off the rails and on a collision course straight to hell. He didn't know his left from his right; up from down and at any given moment he would lapse back to that terrifying mindset. It was equivalent to being trapped in your own nightmarish mind; tortured by anger, fear, hurt and disappointment all at once. The shallow moments of clarity came and went like the blowing of the wind but the crazed state remained longer than he wanted, longer than he ever imagined. After he came to for a while, Hershel mentioned that he'd jacked Glenn up after the young man's attempt to comfort and empathize with Rick. He had no recollection of even seeing Glenn in the tombs. He had been completely absent from his body when he initially went on his tirade. Much of it was nothing more than a haze.

He felt alone and betrayed and it was all his own fault. Had he extended a bit more grace, maybe Lori would still be there. Had he been the bigger person and forgiven her after she discarded him when he approached her, seeking solace and peace when admitting to killing Shane, maybe she would still be there. If he hadn't listened to her and dealt with Shane, maybe she would still be there and he would be gone in her place.

Night came and he stayed in the room with the dead walker that consumed Lori, pleading with his body to sleep but it violently rejected the need to rest. The phone continued to ring and the babies cries grew louder and more distorted. He walked to the phone several times and just stared at it. He knew it couldn't possibly be working. Logic told him his mind was playing tricks but his reality proved otherwise. There were actually multiple people on the other side of the call. They appeared to be in a safe place and he wanted nothing more than to get his people to a safe place. He begged and pleaded. Answering tough questions about how many people he had killed and having to explain that the living that he annihilated were in fact a real threat to the livelihood of the people he swore to protect.

Like a fixated stalker, he stayed close to the room, all day, waiting on the phone calls. He'd spoken with two women and one man and all that transpired from those conversations was nothing. He still remained in the prison. His group was still not secure and safe and he was still as lost as he had been after they were forced to flee from the farm.

Later that day Rick received one last call. The voice on the other side was so familiar, so second nature to him but he knew it just couldn't be. Rick squeezed the bridge of his nose as pain radiated from his brain. This isn't real. This isn't Lori. But it was. It was her. But how could she?

His mind reeling, Rick began to sob as he poured out his heart to Lori. He couldn't fix it. Couldn't fix them. He wanted to but he just couldn't. Static overshadowed her voice as Rick placed the phone back on the receiver. She told him what she wanted him to do and now it was time for him to do it.

He'd completely lost it in front of the group. When that guy, Tyreese, and his group asked to stay, Lori presented herself to him. But why then? He was their leader. There was no room for distractions and there was certainly no room for him to appear to be a loose cannon, though he was. He fled the scene, shortly after his outburst, to rest a spell. He couldn't look weak in front of the group. He just couldn't. He had to keep it together. That was the only way.

That evening, Rick tossed and turned in his bed, thoughts of Lori plaguing his sleep. He closed his eyes, wishing her away but yet she remained, standing before him wearing that silky white gown from their fifth wedding anniversary.

Feeling someone's presence, Rick fought the urge to turn towards the entrance to his cell. Thinking it could be Carl or Beth with Judith, he coerced his body to oblige and twisted his torso to face the cell opening.

"No," his voice boomed. "No, no, no, no. Why can't you leave me alone?"

Lori slowly began to walk towards him.

"I said no," he breathed, as she came to sit next to him on the small bed. "Wh- why won't you leave me be?"

Her soft hand came to caress his face as he began to sob. "I l-loved you," he gasped as he stuttered the words. "I thought I had more time. I thought I could work it out over time. I needed some more time to make it right. To get us back. There's never enough time. Ther- there's never enough ti-," his voice broke.

Lori looked lovingly at Rick, a small smile creeping across her face as she continued to rub his cheek.

"But now I need you to go. I- I need you to go. Tell me what you want but then go. I- I need you to go."

He brought his hand to cover hers and slid up from where he lay. As he came to sit up, her hand left his cheek and he felt a chill rush through his body. He stared into Lori's eyes, longing for her touch once more.

"Why are you here," he whispered? "I need to know. What are you trying to tell me? What do I need to do?"

No words formed on her lips. No sound escaped from her mouth. She only gazed, her eyes travelling over every inch of his face grieving face. He felt her staring at his hurt, at his shame, at his weakness. He began to feel uneasy at her glares, so he leapt up from the bed, taking two large strides to the cell entrance.

"You get out," he hollered. "Now! I said you get out!"

Walking backwards out of the cell, Rick closed his eyes and began to apply pressure to his temples.

"Get out, get out, getout, getout, getou-," he mumbled as he backed away from the cell.

He opened his eyes and abruptly turned to his left. Michonne stood a few feet away, staring at him. Her look was not one of shock or even horror but of knowing concern. It was as if she knew what was going on, what he was currently experiencing.

"What," he barked. "You need something?"

She only shook her head in response. He walked away towards the showers, looking back only once. Michonne tipped passed his cell but she didn't look in as he assumed she would. Her gaze remained forward.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the updated version of this chapter. The guts of the story really starts in the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy! :)