Say Good-Bye To Everyone For Me
...\~/...
There had been a time when she and Andrea had been sitting in an abandoned house, Michonne taking the first watch while Andrea tried going to sleep. That had been the time when sickness started invading Andrea's body, fighting to sleep, but had found it difficult. Andrea had told her that when her sister had had problems sleeping, they would talk until they were too exhausted to talk and finally let sleep overcome them. That night, the seventh night they had been together after Michonne fought off a bunch of Walkers for a defenseless Andrea, Michonne found out five things about Andrea that she never forgot.
The first was that Andrea had felt, and forever would be, guilty about not being there for her little sister, Amy, enough. The blonde mentioned the calls Amy would make, exclaiming that Andrea was invited to her birthday party, and Andrea would make promises about showing up. Those promises, Andrea had said softly, were always broken when Amy's birthday would roll by. College and a busy work life had always gotten in the way, two parts of her life Andrea had wished she would've pushed off so she could attend her sister's parties. Michonne remembered the blonde telling her about Amy's crazy fantasies when it came to Andrea's love life. She had laughed when she started counting the traits of Amy's ideal husband for her: intelligent, charming, handsome, a lover, and a firefighter. Michonne remembered questioning her about the firefighter part, to which Andrea had replied with nothing but a laugh and a slight shrug of her shoulders. The African-American had to wonder what Amy thought of her sister's past relationship with the Governor. Hopefully, she had figured out the man was bad for Andrea, and had been telling her sister to get away from him before she got in too deep.
Her favorite band had been Journey, her favorite song from them having been Don't Stop Believin'. Andrea loved it because that was the song an old-timer named Dale had sung to them on their first day with him in his RV. He had been like a father to her after the world went to chaos, leaning on him when she was at her worst after Amy died. Pushing Dale away had been another thing Andrea had regretted, wishing that she had had the time to apologize before he disappeared from her world, bitten and put down just like her sister. Andrea had turned over, facing Michonne with tears clustering in the corners of her eyes.
"I wish I had been the one to put him out of his misery instead of Daryl."
The radio had worked in the old-timer's RV, a Journey CD being the only one he owned, but being able to hear music in a troubling time had been comforting and Journey had been one of those bands that everyone knew at the quarry camp, and that everyone liked.
"Hell, even the Dixon brothers liked Journey, and you would think they only liked bluegrass or something."
There was a lot of things Andrea regretted, and another thing she frowned upon was not having allowed herself leisure time. Before the outbreak, it had been work, work, and more work. She told Michonne that she had always dreamed of traveling around the world and meeting new people, but had never let herself escape her workaholic lifestyle. Europe was the place she'd wanted to explore most; tasting wine at a French vineyard, basking in the sunset as she rode on a gondola in Italy, taking part in La Tomatina in Spain, Andrea had wanted to do everything. She never did though, and wondered if Europe was suffering the same apocalyptic problems they were. Michonne had sat there silently; letting Andrea rant and rave about the things that she wanted to do and probably never would be able to do if Walkers roamed every part of the planet.
The fourth thing she had learned about Andrea was that she had once been envious of those that were geniuses. She was book-smart, but her people skills had been rough when she was in college. She'd been overly opinionated and shunned those that had thought different than her, causing her to not make many friends when she attended the university. The people that she'd wanted to spend her time with had been the ones she felt the worst around, people that had the ability to remember everything they read, people with the photographic memory that she had desired so badly. But now that she had reflected on the envy she felt for those people, she could only laugh at herself for being so stupid. All those people she had been jealous of were probably all dead, having had no common sense whatsoever, but something she had. Andrea had said that she'd pick common sense over a photographic memory any day.
And the fifth thing that Andrea had said was that she was scared to die and meet God.
"Michonne, I sit here and sometimes think I'm not worthy enough to meet him. I've done some terrible things in my life and I've been envious, one of the seven deadliest sins. Do you think he'd be willing to take my hand and accept me into his home? Do you think he's forgiven me for all the things I've done? Do you think...he meant to do this to us? To throw us into a world where the dead eat the living and the living kill in order to be on the top and not be eaten? If I had the power, I'd make the ability to reanimate the dead and put people through so much suffering and pain the eighth deadliest sin."
Michonne stabbed her shovel into the ground, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. The Georgia sun beat down on her, sweat seeming to pour off every part of her body. And the stink from Andrea's corpse was beginning to become unbearable, the heat making it ten times worse. She shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked out onto the quarry, admiring the view, and knowing that somewhere out in the forest, another person of the prison group was burying someone important to them. Daryl had made it his mission earlier to take his brother's body and bury it in a spot that Merle used to like to camp at before the outbreak. Michonne had to wonder if God had forgiven Merle for any sins he'd committed and allowed him to walk through Heaven's pearly gates. For some reason, she hoped God let him in because even though he was tough inside and out, Daryl Dixon needed someone to watch out for him, and having Merle watch him from a bird's-eye view was the best way to do it.
There was a snap behind her and Michonne immediately had her katana out, whipping around and expecting a Walker, but calmed down when she saw a rabbit sitting in some brush. As she slid her sword back into its sheathe, she could almost hear Andrea laughing at her for being so serious. Michonne fixed her gaze on the tablecloth-wrapped body, face softening when she realized she never hear that laugh again. Andrea, despite all the pain she'd been put through all her life, always had the ability to laugh at things. In this world, laughter was powerful, but it always seemed to disappear.
"I remember when me and Amy would laugh about everything when we should've been sleeping. Those moments were the ones that kept me going, especially since I shared them with Amy. But after she died, there were times when I would ask myself if there was even a reason for me to get up. Amy had been my life source, and ever since she died, I find it hard to find reasons for living."
"You were my best friend," Michonne said in a low voice, hoping that her words would float into Heaven and make her friend smile. "I just hope you know that."
Michonne bent over the corpse, grabbing the cloth so she could drag the body into the newly dug grave. She remembered Andrea talking about the quarry being her sister's burial site; Michonne only found it fitting that she be buried beside her family. The woman winced when Andrea's dead body made a loud thud when it hit the bottom of the grave, but thankful that it had been Andrea's feet that hit hard and not her head. Just the thought of her only friend being gone made her want to cry, and Michonne fought back the tears, pausing to dab at her eyes with the back of her wrist.
"I hope everyone else warms up to me like you did, Andrea. 'Cause it will be real awkward if they don't."
She was an asset to the group; her ability to expertly wield a katana and her hand-to-hand combat skills were treasured, that was a fact, but it always felt like she was an outcast. Rick had told her that Carl said she was part of the "family", that she was "one of them", but ever since Merle's death, the boy's mood had grown darker. She had to wonder if Carl still looked at her the same way.
Michonne stood before the grave, leaning on her shovel, staring down at the tablecloth-wrapped body. She couldn't believe that Andrea was gone; her only friend was dead. Andrea was a good person, having tried to make peace between Woodbury and the Prison, even if her love life was a little bit...weird. Michonne wiped at her eyes again, trying hard to not break down like she did at Woodbury when she found Andrea with a huge bite wound in shoulder. Rick had asked if she wanted to bury Milton alongside Andrea; she pointed out that it was Milton who caused her friend to die.
To keep herself from crying, Michonne finally buried the body, covering Andrea with dirt, thanking God that she hadn't found her best friend as a Walker.
"Michonne," a voice said softly. Michonne looked up to see Andrea herself, smiling at her as she stood at the head of the grave. This wasn't the first time she'd hallucinated, she did so with her brother and boyfriend. "I just wanted to thank you for everything you did." With a shake of her head, Andrea added, "And I'm sorry for not being there for you. I did choose a warm bed over a friend, and I shouldn't have done that."
"It's fine," Michonne said, her voice almost a growl. Andrea's smile didn't falter, knowing that the sword-bearing woman meant no ill-will.
"No, it's not. I chose Woodbury and Phillip over you. You saved my ass I don't know how many times, and I...walked away from you." Michonne watched as a tear slipped down Andrea's cheek. "I am so, so sorry."
"No, it's-" And before she could answer a weeping Andrea, another voice said loudly, "I think it's real amusin' how screwed up your priorities were, blondie. You chose a pretty-boy fuck buddy over someone important." Michonne wasn't surprised when she saw Merle appear from behind, the only person she knew that owned a raspy voice like that. But she was surprised that she was hallucinating about him, too. She remembered how he apologized for his behavior towards her, that he had only been following orders, but she'd never said she forgave him. Maybe her conscience did since he was standing beside her.
"Shut up, Merle," Andrea spat, crossing her arms. Now, Merle had approached Andrea, standing at her side. Michonne noticed how he had both hands and Andrea didn't have that gaping wound in her shoulder. "You're no better than I am. Remember how you almost attacked your brother due to orders?"
"An' I ended up goin' with Daryl, didn' I?" he asked. "I gave my life for him and that fuckin' group of his!"
Andrea just rolled her eyes, looking forward at Michonne. "See what I have to deal with? Since he doesn't know anybody up there, he thinks we're automatically Heaven roommates."
"Hey, anyone up there would be willin' to get with this, rug-muncher," Merle joked, gesturing towards himself.
Michonne looked over when she heard someone sigh out of disgust. An African-American women with short black hair and a narrow face stood on the left side of the grave, her arms crossed down near her waist. There were two other people standing beside the short-haired woman: an elderly man with a beard, dark eyebrows, and a fishing hat, and a long-haired, brunette woman with creamy skin and a kind smile on her face. Why were all these people appearing? She didn't know the three, only knew Andrea and Merle.
Wait, the woman with the long hair...that was Carl's mother. Michonne remembered seeing her in a picture that Carl had gone to get.
The African-American woman must've been the one that died at the CDC, though the woman's name escaped her.
And the man with the fishing hat...Dale...the man that saved Andrea and Amy.
These were all people that had been part of Andrea's group before they were taken to Woodbury.
"What are you all doing here?" Michonne asked lowly, her eyes narrowed.
"We just wanted to let you know that Andrea's in good hands," the African-American woman answered, giving a smile to Michonne. "We'll take care of her, so don't worry too much about her."
Michonne nodded once, letting the woman know that she had been heard. "Where's Amy?" Michonne asked quietly, staring directly at Andrea.
The blonde woman smiled, "Right behind you."
The swords-woman turned halfway, her dark eyes meeting the light blue ones of Amy herself. She looked to be in her teens, long blonde hair and a soft facial structure. Andrea had said that her sister had been bitten on the shoulder and arm, but there were no wounds to be found. A sudden feeling of dread settled on Michonne, mourning for the loss of someone so young, and thinking that a young woman like Amy shouldn't have died the way she did. In a way, Andrea was right, reanimating the dead and putting people through so much suffering should be the eighth deadliest sin.
"Hi, Michonne," Amy said with a wide smile. She looked like a softer version of Andrea, a version that hadn't quite been affected by the hardships of the apocalypse. Amy walked up to Michonne, grabbing her hand between both of hers. A sudden warmth spread throughout Michonne, a peaceful feeling that she hadn't felt in a long time. "I wanted to thank you for everything you did, keeping my sister safe and all that. I know she can be difficult..."
Andrea faked an offended look. "Excuse me? I'm the difficult one?"
"Well, you did have a relationship with Shane and Phillip," Dale said pointedly. "Andrea, I have to say that your taste in men could be proven to be quite difficult."
"But I-"
"The Governor was sort of handsome..." the African-American woman standing beside Dale said under her breath.
"Jacqui!" Andrea hissed.
So that's what the woman's name was: Jacqui.
Amy shook her head, squeezing Michonne's hand. "Ignore them," she said, capturing Michonne's attention. "But I'm just really, really happy that you found her, and that you took care of her. I just wish she would've listened to you about that bastard and she wouldn't be with us, but with you. Andrea's never had that many friends."
"She...she...I tried..." Michonne whispered shakily, fighting off tears. "I was too late..."
"Michonne, there was nothing you could do." Amy knelt down when Michonne fell to her knees, lifting her hands to her face to hide the wet streams on her dark cheeks. Amy wrapped her arms around the woman's shoulders, shushing her softly. It wasn't long until Andrea approached the two, wrapping her friend in a warm embrace. Jacqui and the long-haired brunette joined in too, remembering how it used to be before CDC when someone would lose a significant other or family member. Merle and Dale were the only ones to stand away from the group, towering over the huddle of women who were comforting Michonne.
"You've helped so many people without knowing it," Andrea said, cupping Michonne's face in her hands. "You saved me from those Walkers and made sure I was safe."
"You helped Merle realize how much of an ass he was making himself," Dale added.
"Shut the hell up, old man!" the older Dixon spat, turning on the elderly man.
"I'm just sayin'..." Dale mumbled under his breath.
"And you helped my family, and I'm forever grateful for that." Michonne looked up at the brunette through tearful eyes, her mind switching to the time when Carl had retrieved a family picture from a bar in their hometown. "You helped my son, you brought food for my baby, and you've helped my husband on many occasions. Thank you, thank you so much."
"You're Lori..." Michonne whispered.
Lori nodded, her lips quivering and eyes watering. "Tell Rick and my kids I love them."
"An' tell my baby brother I miss 'im," Merle added.
Michonne nodded quickly. "Yes, yes I will. He's...burying your body today," she informed the ex-Marine.
She didn't think it was possible, but she watched Merle's face soften slightly. "I know; I was watchin' 'im earlier." For some reason, she wanted to see Merle Dixon cry, to assure her that the man wasn't completely heartless as he made himself out to be. Risking his life for the group had showed his loyalty to his brother and his need to protect him, but she just wanted to see someone that was equally as cold and distant break done. But much to her disappointment, Merle kept a straight face, though his expression was forlorn.
And one by one, after everyone gave their condolences, they left to stand at the head of the grave one by one, leaving Michonne with Andrea.
"I'll be watching over you, making sure you stay alive and protect you from everything wicked," Andrea said softly, cradling Michonne's head in her hands. "I've regretted a lot of things in my life, but I regret leaving you to stay at Woodbury the most. You saved me, and that's how I repaid you? It just doesn't seem fair."
"I forgive you."
Andrea smiled, wiping away Michonne's tears with the pad of her thumb. "And even though I let you walk away, you still came and sat with me in my final hours."
"Do you wish I had killed him that day? When I stabbed his eye?"
The blonde went quiet, her expression thoughtful.
"I don't. I'm just sorry he came between us."
Michonne watched as Andrea stood up and walked over to join the others- Merle, Dale, Jacqui, Amy, and Lori- people had tried to survive in this nasty world, some who had tried to bring light into this world by bringing new life, and some that had sacrificed themselves to even the odds for a group of strangers.
"Don't forget to tell Daryl," Merle reminded, giving her a smirk. Despite what he did, she still wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.
She shook her head. "I won't. I promise."
Andrea gave a smile and a wave, but her attention turned away when a twig snapped and a Southern drawl of a voice called out, "Hey, Last Samurai, where you at?" Michonne looked over to see Daryl Dixon himself trudging over the uneven ground, crossbow slung across his back. Sweat poured of his skin, slightly burnt from the hot Georgia sun. Dressed in ragged clothing, she would have never thought he and Merle were related. Daryl looked like a true backwoods boy while Merle looked like a hardened Marine veteran who would go to all costs to survive. Michonne looked back at the grave, sadness dropping onto her shoulders like a ten ton weight when she saw that the ghosts were gone. Andrea was gone... "There you are. Been lookin' ev'rywhere for you."
He stopped beside her, staring at the grave. Something in his expression softened, eyes watering.
"You, uh...finished burying her?" he asked, pointing towards the grave. It was obvious she had, but Daryl was looking to make small talk.
"Yeah," she replied, "one of the hardest things I've ever done."
The man went still, then nodded once. He would understand; she knew he would. "I buried Merle near this creek he liked camping at when things would get to hard at home. He'd take me with him. Ya know, he was the one that taught me how to hunt." Daryl bent his arm back to touch his crossbow lightly. "He...he was the one that got me this crossbow." She noticed how it was his old one and not the new weapon Rick had taken from Morgan back in his hometown. She had to wonder if Daryl would ever use the newer crossbow ever again or if he would stick with the one Merle gave him as a way to respect the few good things his older brother did for him.
"An' tell my baby brother I miss 'im."
"He misses you," Michonne said quietly, lowly."He loves you. He told me to tell you that."
He didn't even ask her how she knew that. Daryl just nodded again, wiping away the sweat and tears from his eyes.
"I...miss him, too. Love him..."
"I lost my brother, too." Michonne whispered.
And that was it, Daryl broke down right in front of her. He dropped to his knees, sitting back to cover his face with his hands. Andrea had told her once that Daryl was the sweeter, more sensitive one of the two infamous Dixon brothers. He always fought to keep his cool, to keep his guard up, but when it came to family and kids, Daryl wasn't afraid to show his emotions. He searched endlessly for Carol's little girl when she went missing and immediately became attached to Judith, who he nicknamed "Little Ass Kicker". It was no wonder Carol found him attractive: Daryl was tough enough to protect, but soft enough to love.
"He was never there, he left me with dad, that bastard." She didn't know who he was calling bastard - Merle or his dad. "When Merle was there, he always looked out for me, always made sure the old man didn't get to me. I believe him now when he said he didn't know dad was beatin' on me. I already miss him so much."
That was the last thing he said. Michonne glanced over at the grave, hoping to see Merle standing there crying like she wanted him to, but he wasn't there.
"Come on, let's head back to the prison," Michonne mumbled, standing up. She offered a hand to Daryl, which he stared at for a moment before taking her smooth one in his rough, calloused one.
Before they started heading back to the vehicles they arrived in, Michonne stole one last look back at Andrea's grave.
The blonde was sitting at the foot of the grave, cross-legged, staring at her grave marker- a cross with her name written across it in white paint.
Andrea looked over at Michonne, smiling.
And they waved to each other, a sort of last good-bye for the both of them. For some reason, that was just enough for Michonne, a little bit of reassurance that Andrea was going to be with her, dead or alive.
"Say good-bye to everyone for me."