This is my first attempt at a Walking Dead fic (rated T for language and adult themes). I wanted to write something that addressed the events of finale because it broke my heart not only to see Andrea left behind like that, but to watch dark!Rick turn his back on her when she was still very much alive and in need of rescue. Thank God for Michonne! ;)
DEATH IN ABSENTIA
Rick stuck his head into the guard tower to find Andrea crouched beneath the open window, her back to him, squinting down her rifle into the darkness beyond the prison walls.
"Anything?" he asked her, setting the tray he was carrying down on the floor and pulling himself up through the trapdoor.
She shook her head wordlessly, shooting him a brief, disinterested glance before returning her attention to the viewfinder.
"Thought you could do with a break," he explained, even though she hadn't asked. She'd barely spoken to anyone except her new friend, Michonne, since the two of them had arrived at the prison gates, volunteering to take first watch that night rather than joining the rest of group in the dining hall. "You missed dinner."
He picked the tray up again and approached her warily, conscious of the gun in her hands. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she had pulled one on him.
"I'm not hungry," she told him pointedly when he set the steaming tray down beside her.
Based on the story she'd shared with the group upon her reappearance, she and Michonne had been wandering the landscape for days, searching for the prison, ever since they'd escaped the custody of a man known only as the 'Governor'.
"After what you've been through?" Rick teased her gently, trying to coax out a smile. "I find that hard to believe."
"I don't care what you believe," she retorted, her voice cool, her eyes still fixed firmly on the horizon, ignoring his offering.
He let his mind wander back to their encounter earlier that day when, while keeping watch from that very same tower, he had noticed two figures approaching the prison. It wasn't until they were close enough for him to make out their features that he realised he already knew one of them.
"Andrea?" he called, shielding his eyes to get a better view of her, stunned to discover that not only was she alive, but she was alive. Last he'd heard, she'd fallen victim to a group of walkers defending the farm, and yet here she was standing in front of him, apparently without so much as a scratch on her.
"Surprised to see me, Rick?" she called back, the bitter edge in her tone not lost on him. However she'd survived, it was no thanks to him or anyone else in their group.
"You know this man?" her companion – an imposing African American woman brandishing a sword like some kind of medieval crusader – asked her.
"Rick and I go back all the way to Atlanta," Andrea explained wryly, her blue eyes locked with his, forcing him to remember the last time he'd inadvertently drawn the attention of a herd of walkers and almost gotten her killed in the process. He was pretty sure she had never completely forgiven him for their first meeting, or for Amy, for that matter.
Recovering from his shock, he sprang into action, shouting down for Daryl and T-Dog to open the gates.
"Jesus, Andrea, I thought you were dead," he told her, looking her up and down in amazement once the two women were safely inside. At least he'd hoped she was, or else what he'd done to her was inexcusable. He couldn't even imagine what it must have been like for her to have to fight her way out of there alone, with no car and only a short supply of ammo.
"Is that why you drove off and left me?" she asked, catching him off guard.
"What…? What're you talking about?" He'd thought his only crime against her was talking the group out of going back to look for her.
"Back at the farm," she explained, folding her arms defensively. "You and Hershel. I called out to you but you just kept on going."
Rick was ashamed to admit that he'd been so focused on Carl and Lori that he hadn't paid much attention to anyone else's whereabouts until they regrouped on the highway, and by then, it was too late. Or so he'd told the others.
"The place was overrun. We had to get out of there or else we all would've died. We couldn't go back," he insisted, spouting the same logical argument he'd used to convince the rest of the group, only repeating it to her now, he found himself wondering if it were really true. Maybe they could have. He didn't know because he hadn't even tried. Wouldn't even open it up for discussion. Instead, he'd allowed himself to throw an innocent woman to the wolves, or rather, walkers, to prove a point to a dead man.
"I'm sorry it played out the way it did, but I had to do what was best for the group," he finished lamely, struggling to absolve himself of the guilt he felt on hearing that he'd let her cry for help go unanswered. As a cop, it was his job to protect people and yet he'd left her stranded in the dark with those ghouls, forced to fend for herself.
"You don't have to explain, Rick," she told him. "I get it. You were just trying to save your own ass, same as the rest of us."
"I didn't see you, Andrea," he assured her. "I didn't see you or else I would've stopped." He might have become harder out of necessity in the months since he'd taken over as leader of the group, but he wasn't a monster. He had no desire to watch any harm come to her or anyone else.
He could tell from the hard set of her jaw, the coolness in her eyes, that she was having trouble believing him. "We can talk about that later," she told him impatiently, brushing aside his feeble attempt at an apology. "I didn't come here to confront you, Rick. I came here to warn you."
That was first and only conversation Rick had had with her about what transpired that night on the farm. She had stuck around just long enough to deliver her message about the Governor and then withdrawn to the tower, determined to avoid him and everyone else, it seemed.
"I don't blame you for being angry with me, but you've still gotta eat," he tried again. Sure, they had food now, but who knew how long their stores would last? He didn't want her pride getting in the way of a rare chance for a decent meal.
"What difference does it make to you if I don't?" she challenged him, lowering her rifle and turning to face him for the first time since he'd entered the room. "You and I both know you don't give a shit about me, so why don't you do us both a favour and stop pretending that you do?"
Rick knew she was upset with him, and with good cause, but he was taken aback by the hostility in her words and her expression. How could she say that? Of course he gave a shit. He cared about each and every member of their little band of misfits. Even if she was without a doubt the most confusing, infuriating woman he'd ever met.
"Damnit, Andrea, I said I was sorry," he reminded her, his jaw muscles clenching with annoyance. "What else do you want me to do?" He hadn't sought her out to pick a fight with her. He just needed her to know that he wasn't the callous bastard she thought he was, in spite of the fact that he could never seem to do right by her.
But as he'd come to expect from her, she held her ground, refusing to let him off the hook until she'd finished making her point. "You left me for dead, Rick," she reminded him, as though this were something he could ever forget. "A tray of prison slop doesn't even begin to cover it."
He wondered what, if anything would. It was Atlanta all over again. Why couldn't she ever just accept a simple apology?
"Would you quit being so goddamned stubborn and just take it?" he ground out, letting go of the tentative grip he had on his own temper. Clearly charm was getting him nowhere. "I'm trying to make amends here but I can't do that unless you're willing to meet me halfway."
He regretted his outburst when she just stared at him in silence, her blue eyes wide with surprise. Then to his relief, she cocked one eyebrow in amusement, the corner of her lips curling into a lopsided smile as she picked up the tray without another word.
Satisfied that they appeared to have reached a kind of truce, at least for the time being, he was about to leave her to it when she spoke again. "Merle, Rick?"
"Excuse me?" he said, pausing with both feet on the ladder.
"You and Glenn risked your lives going back to Atlanta for Merle, but you couldn't spare five minutes to look for me?" she asked teasingly, glancing up from the tray balanced on her thighs, but he could hear the hurt in her voice.
He climbed back into the tower. "Admittedly not one of my finest moments," he agreed, walking over to her. He slid down the wall so that he was sitting beside her, his legs stretched out in front of him, mirroring her posture. "But for once I'm glad I was wrong."
She nodded, flashing him a strained smile in return. He watched her push an indeterminate lump across her plate with her fork, waiting for her to say something else. "Shane is dead, isn't he?" she asked finally.
He released a heavy sigh, combing his fingers through his hair. "Yeah."
"How?"
He figured she would find out sooner or later. He might as well just tell her himself. "I killed him," he admitted, bracing himself for her anger.
She glanced over at him with a look of undisguised horror.
"It was him or me," he explained. "He didn't exactly give me much of a choice."
She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall while she processed this information. "Of course he didn't," she agreed tiredly.
He had expected more of a reaction from her. She seemed shocked by the news, but not all that surprised. "You two spent a lot of time together. He ever say anything to you about what he was planning?" he asked carefully, trying not to sound like he was accusing her of something.
"I knew he was thinking of staging a coup, but I figured he'd at least put it to a vote," she confessed. She opened her eyes, turning her head to meet his gaze head on, her expression grave. "Honestly, Rick, I had no idea. I told him he should try a less heavy-handed approach with the group. I guess he didn't listen."
Rick let out a soft, humourless chuckle. "Listening was never one of Shane's strong suits."
"Really?" she teased him. "I hadn't noticed."
He allowed himself a brief grin before he sobered again. "So this guy… This 'Governor'… How much of a threat is he, on a scale of one to ten?"
"I'd say a twelve," she answered seriously.
He didn't like the sound of that. "That bad, huh?"
She shuddered almost imperceptibly. "He's insane, Rick. Michonne and I were lucky to escape with our lives."
"Somehow I doubt that," he told her. He'd known she was a survivor the first time she shoved a gun in his face, but he'd never realised just how strong her will to live was until today. Not many people could have done what she did, himself included. Faced with a similar situation, he'd almost opted out. But she'd chosen to keep fighting. "If anyone was gonna make it out of there, it was you."
"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, frowning at him as she tried to decipher this statement.
"Just that you're stronger than you give yourself credit for," he explained, filled with admiration as he remembered how close she'd come to ending it all back at the CDC. She'd come a long way since then, from the sad shell of a woman crushed by the loss of her only remaining family, to the formidable warrior she was evolving into. He almost didn't recognise her. "I never should've underestimated you."
She ducked her head, embarrassed, but he could see that she was pleased with the compliment. "I never should've sided with Shane," she admitted. "I'm sorry you had to do what you did."
It wasn't as though she didn't have a good reason to mistrust his decisions. Whether or not Shane was right and the attack at the quarry was his fault, he would always regret the fact that hadn't done more to prevent it.
"I'm sorry about Amy," he said. "I never did tell you that." He couldn't remember if he'd ever even spoken to her sister. He thought he had all the time in the world to get to know everyone.
"No, you didn't," she agreed softly. "Thank you."
It was too late to change the past, but maybe they could have a more positive relationship going forward, without the weight of all that baggage stacked up between them.
"What do you say we put all that behind us? Start over?" he asked her. "If this Governor is as dangerous as you say, I could really use someone with your skill set in my corner."
She didn't answer, setting the tray aside and holding her hand out to him instead. "I'm Andrea," she told him.
He accepted it with a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Andrea."
Even though I am a Rick/Andrea shipper, I decided to keep things platonic between them for now since Lori is still in the picture, but I do have some ideas for a continuation or follow up if people are interested.