Michonne drove down the quiet streets of Stoney Creek, a small smile on her face as she sang along with the Delphonics, playing softly on the radio. Keeping her left hand on the steering wheel, she used her right to pick up her cell.

"Hey, Mags," she said. "Are you and Glenn still coming out tonight?"

"Definitely. Glenn got a little held up at the restaurant, but we'll be there. Need us to bring anything?"

"Just yourselves, and that adorable, little girl. Andre misses her."

"She misses him, too. See ya soon."

Michonne's smile widened as she hung up the phone, turning the corner. It quickly morphed into a frown, however, when she saw all of the flashing lights on her block. Michonne pulled closer until she got up to a haphazardly parked Sheriff's car, blocking the street. It took her a moment, but she realized they were in front of her house. She threw her car in park, and hopped out, leaving the car door ajar. She ran onto the sidewalk, and was immediately blocked by an officer.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. You can't go over there," he said.

"But it's my house," she said calmly. "I live here. What's happened?"

"Ma'am…"

Everything froze once Michonne saw the stretcher with the black body bag on top, a small, huddled mass underneath the plastic. She veered back, as if slapped, her mind not processing the scene before her.

"Andre?" she whispered.

With a strength she didn't know she possessed, she shoved the officer out of her way so forcibly that he fell backwards to the lawn. Michonne didn't stay long enough to see, as she was running, full speed, to that gurney.

'It can't be…it can't. No, no, no, no..'

She was several feet away when an arm shot out, hooking her around the waist, knocking the wind out of her.

"Ma'am, you don't wanna do that," he whispered, holding her to him. Michonne struggled in his grasp, but he wouldn't let go.

"What's happening?" she panted. "What happened!"

That's when she saw two more officers escorting Mike out of the house. His head was down, hands cuffed behind his back. Michonne felt ill.

"Are you Ms. Logan?" he asked her. His voice was quiet; gentle. "Hey…Are you Michonne Logan?"

Michonne's mouth was dry; her head was throbbing; her heart felt as if it might explode out of her chest. She gripped the man's–the Sheriff's–coat and badge in her fists as she yelled, "Mike!" She was still trapped in the Sheriff's steel-band arms–a hindrance and a comfort. "Where's Andre? Where is my son?"

Mike looked up at her, tears streaming down his face.

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Logan. I'm sorry to tell you that–"

Michonne cut him off with a deafening wail, collapsing. The Sheriff sank down to the ground with her, stilling holding on, mouth at her ear, whispering a litany of condolences.