AN: This scene was inspired by the Tumblr prompt for Carol, Michonne, and Andrea as partners in crime.
As always, I own nothing from the Walking Dead.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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In this line of work? Every minute counted. Every second counted. One wrong move put you in danger. It put the whole TRINITY in danger.
They'd had more than one close call over the years, but they hadn't been caught yet. Time and technology made things more daunting than they used to be, but still they hadn't been caught yet. The "yet" was always important to keep in mind. If they forgot it? If they started to feel invincible? That's when things could really get bad.
That's how things had gone wrong for so many others.
It was dark, a quarter of an hour until midnight when Carol checked her watch last, and Carol's night was finally done. She'd handled her job well, she thought. She'd gotten in cleanly, thanks to the information she'd been provided with, and she'd gotten out just as well. She hadn't been seen. She was sure of that. The information she'd been given on the security cameras—the information on how to disable them before her entrance—was good. It always was. The TRINITY usually didn't even move until their information had been thoroughly checked out.
They weren't fools. You didn't survive this long in the business by acting rashly, no matter the payoff.
Carol hadn't been seen. To date? She'd never been seen. Not even the fat asshole—sitting in such an expensive chair with his sweaty, naked ass rubbing all over it, no less—had seen her. At least, he hadn't seen her until she'd called his attention, reminded him of why she was there, and squeezed the trigger to put the bullet through his brain.
She didn't kill because she liked killing. She didn't kill because she had a taste for blood and a love of the fear in people's eyes. She wasn't a cold-blooded killer. She never had been.
That wasn't what the TRINITY was about. They'd never been about that. Any job that was presented to them, if it fell under those categories? Killing for sport? Killing for some stupid argument or for a ridiculous monetary debt? They turned it down.
They had turned so many down, over the years, that they were hardly even contacted for such things.
That wasn't what they were about. It wasn't why they did what they did. They weren't interested in the petty crime and the dirty dealings of lesser organizations like the mob. Sure, they accepted money, but it was only because they had to. Even if, in some ways, they were suspected to be super-human, the truth was that they weren't. They had bills to pay. They needed to eat. And their work with the TRINITY necessarily kept them from working regular jobs beyond the part time ones they used as covers for themselves. They had to accept the money, but it wasn't about the money.
It wasn't about the money, and it wasn't about the thrill of the kill. But it was about having a bone to pick, and it was about a debt to society.
They killed those that needed to be punished. They killed those that slipped through the cracks. They killed those that the government turned a blind eye to and those that didn't deserve to wander the Earth with regular, decent people. They killed those that needed to be killed because there was nobody else that was taking care of the job.
And maybe, one day, they'd pay for what they did—either here or in the hereafter—but for the time being? They did what they felt they had to do.
Carol slept fine at night.
Her first murder had been with the support of the TRINITY. At the time, though, they hadn't been the TRINITY. At the time? She'd done things wrong. She'd been messy. She'd run the risk of getting caught. But she'd been compelled to do it. It was the only victim whose name she remembered. It was the only victim whose name was burned into her mind.
Ed Peletier had cost her much of her self-worth and self-respect. He'd inflicted physical and emotional wounds on her that still weren't healed. Worse than that, though? He'd cost her the one thing that had meant more to her than her very life.
And for that? He had to die. The TRINITY had been there for her. They'd helped her clean things up when she needed it. They'd used connections to wipe away the mess that she'd made when she'd made a mess of Ed Peletier.
At least, their leader had helped. Because, at the time of Carol's first murder, the TRINITY hadn't existed.
But Carol couldn't call the woman the leader. She hated the term. She hated any such term. In the TRINITY, they were all equal. In the TRINITY, it was all for one and one for all. In the TRINITY, nobody could feel themselves superior to anyone else. They were all equal. They were all there for each other in every sense imaginable. They were all in this together. They were separate, but united.
They truly were the TRINITY.
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Michonne clucked her tongue and read the newspaper by the stand where she'd purchased it, a cup of coffee, and a chocolate bar. She hummed to herself, shook her head, and pretended to be as horrified by the bold print in the paper as everyone else who was stopping around her to read the headline before they decided whether or not to read the paper.
Raymond Jennings, 64, Found Dead In Home Three Days after Shocking Child-Trafficking Case
It really was a shame. Jennings had been declared innocent. He'd been released from prison. He'd been allowed to go free. He was going to start the rest of what was left his life living as a rich, fat, smug man in a ridiculous home that the average person couldn't afford. The average lawyer, the profession he claimed to have, certainly couldn't afford it.
Michonne would know.
She'd finished law school just one year before she joined the TRINITY. Law was her cover job. It was also one of the biggest points of "assistance" that she had for the TRINITY.
Her introduction to the TRINITY had been accidental. At the time, though, it hadn't been a trinity at all. At the time? It had only been one woman who came to Michonne's rescue. She'd pulled strings—to this day Michonne still didn't know what strings she'd had to pull, it wasn't her place to pry—and she'd gotten it swept under the rug.
Michonne's first murder had been accidental. At least, it had sort of been accidental.
A law professor that she thought was a friend, and maybe that's what made it worse, had been her first victim. He had a reputation for taking advantage of the women that passed through his office. The legends on campus suggested he'd taken advantage of hundreds of young women—maybe more. Michonne had scoffed at such rumors when she was young and foolish. She'd defended him to the others she knew that suggested he had made inappropriate comments to them. She'd turned a deaf ear to anyone who claimed to have been his victim. Maybe that's what made it worse.
He didn't know that she carried a concealed weapon. He didn't know that she'd carried one since her father had taken her, two months before she went off to college, to be trained and certified to carry it. She kept it with her, always. It was a small handgun. Dainty even. Small enough to fit in her hand, in her purse—even in a clutch.
She'd never fired the gun off the course—not until that night.
But when he'd invited her over for dinner—a little something to celebrate her accomplishments? Things hadn't gone well.
He drank a little too much. And when he drank too much? Like many men, he started to brag. When he began to brag, though, it wasn't about his impressive career. It was about women. And it wasn't even about being a womanizer that has way with a number of beautiful women in consensual relationships. His bragging was about taking advantage of women. His bragging was about forcing them into submitting to him. His bragging was about always getting what he wanted—always.
And he'd tried to take what he wanted from Michonne, deciding she was something he had a taste for that night.
He didn't know about the handgun, but she carried it with her—always.
Out of fear for what was to come, she'd turned to the woman she regarded as a best friend. She'd turned to the woman who held the TRINITY together. She turned to the woman who, for as well as she knew her, was still very much a mystery to her.
And somehow? She'd made it go away.
But there were others, just like that professor. Wiping him away? It didn't get rid of every person who took advantage of people. Wiping him away? It didn't mean that such inhumane treatment of others was done. It only meant that he would never do it again. One man who would have forever gone unpunished for his actions—for he'd never been punished before—had paid. He'd been untouchable—except to Michonne.
No one was untouchable to the TRINITY.
And there was always someone, out there, that needed to pay because nobody else would ever make them pay. The TRINITY would make them pay.
Michonne clucked her tongue. She hummed. It was such a shame...such a shame...she made sure to mutter the words a little before she tucked the paper under her arm and started down the street with her hot coffee and candybar.
Carol had done well. But then, she always did. Congratulations were in order. The man may have built his life in a disgusting career, and the government may have let those young women down by turning him free, but he had paid.
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Andrea held her hand up when the door opened to request silence. Michonne slipped into the door and closed it behind her, but she didn't say anything. She stood to the side, waiting, while Andrea finished the call in code—always in code—and jotted down the notes that she needed to make in her notebook.
To anyone who was to read it? It looked like an order for a wedding. "Beautiful Blossoms" delivered to very nearly anything that you wanted—weddings, parties, luncheons—if you wanted flowers? Andrea could deliver. She ignored, entirely, the suggestion of Carol and Michonne that her business would have better been called "Pushing Up Daisies".
The TRINITY was her main job, of course, but she loved her side job more.
With the TRINITY? Her job was to destroy life. At least, in some ways, her job was to destroy life. In the TRINITY? Her job was to help eradicate the weeds of the world. It was pest control for society. But just like weeding and controlling bugs meant the death of undesirables, it also meant a new lease on life for the delicate flowers that she was trying to protect. It meant more room to grow, more freedom to grown, and more of a chance of becoming the most beautiful living thing that any plant could be.
Andrea wasn't heartless, though, and none of them in the TRINITY got the chance, very often, to see the positive side of their jobs. The news lost interest and stopped reporting on any one event or the other before they ever even touched on the good that the removal of such a pest had brought about. That wasn't news worthy. People weren't interested in that. Society didn't care about the positives.
Society fed on the negatives.
Andrea's side job let her see some good. It let her nurture life and it let her create beautiful things. At first? People hadn't been sure about receiving "living arrangements"—flowers for any occasion that came in pots and ready to transfer to gardens or window pots—but her business had taken off well after a while.
Now? It brought in more than enough to cover the money she was slipped by some well-meaning philanthropist of sorts that wanted some problem person taken out.
Andrea barely had time to hang the phone up, put her gloves back on, and come around the counter to where Michonne was waiting for her before Carol eased in the door. She was already in scrubs. She must have a shift at the hospital, where she worked in the nursery, but she looked rested—despite her long night.
Michonne extended her hand and offered Andrea a candy bar. Andrea smiled and took the treat.
"Sweets for the sweet," Michonne said.
She extended the other hand and offered Andrea the newspaper. Andrea tipped her head toward Carol. It was her accomplishment. It went in her scrapbook of achievement.
Michonne passed the paper to Carol instead.
"I read the news over coffee," Andrea said. "Such a shame—he was so close to being free."
Michonne hummed in the normal way that she did about anything that surfaced in the news.
"Even your own home," Carol said, "doesn't seem safe these days."
Andrea hummed and nodded.
"It's hard to be safe when you do things—like that," Andrea said. "You do so much bad in the world? You just—invite it into your life. You invite it right into your own home. Sooner or later? It's bound to catch up with you."
There was some light laughter among her friends. Her best friends.
Once upon a time? She'd thought that Michonne was the yin to her yang. She'd thought they were two halves to a whole. There wasn't room for anyone else in their lives. They were—everything—to each other. But then? Then the TRINITY had been born. And, even if nobody would ever understand the bond between the three of them? It was the most wonderful thing ever.
Andrea's whole life was the TRINITY. All their lives were part of it. Separate, but united.
The TRINITY, after all was really more about life than death—even if the same government that let loose scum into the world might not have seen it that way. The TRINITY wasn't about ending lives, it was about letting them really begin. It was about making lives better.
"Who was on the phone?" Michonne asked.
Andrea lowered her eyebrows and shook her head gently back and forth.
"An order?" Carol asked.
Andrea smiled.
"A small one," she said. "Go to work. Kiss a baby for me? Someone cute? I've got a few things to take care of today. I'll be in and out."
"Dinner tonight?" Michonne asked. "I was thinking—I'd make roasted chicken?"
Andrea glanced at Carol and Carol nodded.
"I'm off by six," Carol declared.
Andrea smiled.
"I might be late," she said. "Errands. But—I'll make it. And I'll pick up a cheesecake."
Both looked satisfied. Both looked happy. That was important. Neither asked any questions—they knew better. They were told what they needed to know, when they needed to know it.
That was just how it worked in the TRINITY.