This chapter takes place during Season 3 Episode 5, Say the Word. All things Walking Dead are borrowed - I own nothing.

She'd never had kids, but she imagined this was what it would have felt like when the principal called a parent in to report on misdeeds.

Andrea stood disbelieving in the Governor's makeshift office, trying her best to defend her wary friend.

"Why would you have captive biters?" She asked.

"There's a good reason," he began as he walked away, "and I don't wanna go into it right now."

There was something to that. Something in his practised gait as he paced away, something thickening in his drawl. Not a lie of course, but a concealment.

"Okay," she wanted to pursue the matter, but he quickly ran over her track of thought.

"Point is, I tried to talk to her about it and she pulled a sword on me. Held it to my throat." He paused and eyed her from toe to head. "Can't imagine that surprises you," he added with a little smile.

Andrea considered his comfortable posture. For someone who'd just had his life threatened – and if Michonne had one iota of intention behind her blade, he surely had – he seemed oddly at ease. Perhaps that was merely his way, to instill a sense of calm in those around him. It could be that was what had cemented his leadership role. But still, it wasn't right to be so serene.

It irked her a little. It was so different from the way her old friends had been. So different from the way Michonne always was. Of course, Michonne's personality swung the other way: ever-cautious, ever-painfully-on-edge. But at least that had kept them safe. She never felt like Michonne was lying to her. But both the Governor and her quiet friend had one thing in common: they each kept many things hidden away from sight. And how was she to trust either of them if they couldn't share the truth?

"She wouldn't do that unless she felt threatened." Andrea replied.

"She makes people uncomfortable." The Governor said.

She makes you uncomfortable. Andrea thought.

"Some people want her to leave and I don't want that. It's ugly out there and it's gettin' worse every day but," he hesitated. "She put my back against a wall here."

Andrea blinked.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, what works out there doesn't work in here. Ya know, we're not barbarians." He said as he wiped at his mouth.

She was feeling more and more uncomfortable as the conversation went on. She felt pulled between two points: her point of origin, Michonne, and this new point, this new place. It was funny to think of Michonne as something to do with her origin, but it felt true. The woman she'd come to Woodbury with was her only light post in the dim landscape of this new world. She was the marker by which Andrea had come to guide herself in the past months. She'd felt safer with this one woman than she ever had with anyone else.

At the same time, she ached for Woodbury's normality, its sense of the past. Being there felt like reaching into the life that came before, where she'd had friends and a job and a home and a sister. She'd long since let go of Amy, as much as she could anyway, but she still couldn't part with the idea that maybe everything could be a little more normal again.

But that wasn't the only thing that kept her in Woodbury. Besides the oddly charming Governor, Andrea was plainly curious. There was something about the town, perhaps several things, that were ferreted from view. There were inconsistencies: things she felt plucking at the edges of her senses but hadn't been drawn out into plain view.

So when she went to talk to Michonne about the little B&E adventure, she felt herself making excuses to stay.

"We gotta talk," She began, but Michonne was quickly overrunning her words.

"We gotta go." Michonne said firmly, springing out of her tightly coiled position as soon as Andrea was through the door. Michonne began stuffing things into a green canvas bag.

"The Governor told me what happened. Michonne, you can't do things like this. You're freaking people out," Andrea said. She wanted the tone to come off light, like a small joke. But her worry for her companion seeped into her voice. "You're freaking me out."

"The Northeast wall is guarded by some girl. We can escape there after dark." Michonne said as she unceremoniously thrust the canvas bag into Andrea's unwilling arms.

"We are not prisoners here." Andrea said firmly as she dropped the bag back onto the bed.

"No one who comes here leaves!" Michonne said. Her eyes were wild with what looked to Andrea like fear. She was more afraid of Woodbury and its inhabitants than she had ever shown in the face of any walker. It scared Andrea.

"What are you talking about?" Andrea said incredulously. "It's safe! There's food, there's shelter, there's people for god's sake."

Michonne was speaking before the blonde had even finished.

"That's what they show you. But you can't leave unless they make you!" She said desperately.

"You are not making any sense." Andrea replied. "Meesh, maybe you need to sit for a minute." She tried.

"You need to trust me." Michonne said, searching her friend's eyes for any sense of uncertainty, for any sense of the wrongness of this place. For something she could appeal to.

"And you need to give me more to go on." Andrea said. Because that was what it boiled down to. There was not enough evidence for the case Michonne was trying to make. If either of them were going to make any accusations or any rash plans to leave, Andrea needed more proof that it was the right decision. "We got a good thing going here."

Michonne narrowed her eyes in confusion.

"I thought this was temporary."

"And I think we need this. I want to give this place a real shot."

"I tried." Michonne said firmly.

"Breaking into houses?" Andrea said. Michonne turned her back to the woman. "That is not trying. That is sabotaging!" Andrea finished.

Michonne turned back around, exhaling deeply as she tried to control her anger. She wanted so badly to make Andrea see reason but she could not force down the bubbling of feeling inside her. She needed an outlet. The walkers earlier that day had been a satisfying release of tension, but it was not enough. Not for the amount of strain she felt in this place.

She met Andrea's eyes again and put her hands out calmly.

"This place is not what they say it is." She said slowly. She hoped that if her words didn't communicate her depth of feeling, her eyes would translate some of it to the blonde. It seemed to work for a moment. Andrea's eyes connected – really connected – and she thought she saw a flicker of understanding there. The moment passed.

Michonne put her hands on her hips and dropped her eyes to the floor. She did not like giving up. It felt like a loss when she couldn't make Andrea comprehend.

"Can't you at least trust me on that?" Michonne asked, defeated.

The sadness in Michonne's voice stung Andrea. When they first met, she hadn't believed anything could hurt this woman. She seemed impenetrable, unrelenting, completely ferocious in her ability, but she had never been particularly sensitive or open.

Andrea often wondered if she'd always been that way or if she'd been someone else entirely before the walkers came. She tried with great difficulty to imagine her dark-skinned companion completely at ease, laughing and relaxed, free and uninhibited.

She thought maybe that was part of the reason she wanted to stay in Woodbury too. Part of why she wanted so badly for Michonne to embrace the new arrangement.

It was because she wanted to see Michonne happy, truly happy, and truly at peace. She didn't think that was possible if they fled out into the wilderness again.

She reached out a hand and put it under Michonne's chin, lifting her gaze to meet her own.

"Of course I can." Andrea soothed. Her eyes dropped to Michonne's lips for a moment. She brushed the pad of her thumb lightly over the bottom lip. Michonne inhaled slightly and the sensation of the air pulled Andrea out of her distraction. She dropped her hand and found Michonne's eyes again, giving her a soft smile.

Michonne's gaze was hard, though mere moments before, when Andrea hadn't been looking, those eyes had been soft, even a little dreamy.

"I worry about you, Meesh. That's all." Andrea said.

Michonne had felt something shift between them in the past few months, but she hadn't been able to pin it down yet. She'd let herself care about this woman, really give a damn about her, and once she had, it was easy to fall for her, to want her more than she reasonably should.

Of course Andrea had spilled her brain to Michonne early on about every bad relationship she'd been in before and since the collapse. But Michonne had said little, afraid to bring up her history of loving both women and men. She didn't need Andrea reading more closely into her careful movements, her slightly too-long touches, or her loss of words when she caught glimpses of Andrea's bare body.

She was pretty sure Andrea had picked up on it anyway. The blonde had worn even warmer smiles as time went on. She'd spotted Michonne checking her out a couple times and given her an eyeful. On purpose. And as much as Michonne tried to ignore it at first, it had built and built.

And then they'd found Woodbury. Or rather, it had found them. And so had the Governor. Michonne had darkened immediately when she'd sensed the falseness of the place, but she'd been doubly irked when the Governor flirted with Andrea.

At this moment, standing in their bedroom in this strange place, this counterfeit oasis, Michonne wanted to kiss her. But the warrior could not let her defenses down too long. If she kept her guard, she may get herself and Andrea out of this mess yet.

"Then let's go. We can put a few miles behind us before nightfall." Michonne said.

Andrea avoided making eye contact with Merle on the way down the street, but he noticed them anyway.

"Hey, hey, hey, girls! Where y'all off to in such a hurry? Huh?" He asked frantically.

Now, why would he care? Andrea thought as she slowed to a halt and turned around. Michonne stopped too and grabbed Andrea's shoulder, spinning her back towards the exit. The warrior felt she was already losing her hard-won ground.

"Come on now, y'all are breakin' my heart runnin' away like that." Merle called out as he caught up to them. The fading sun gleamed off of his metal arm. Michonne's hand itched to slice off the stump a little higher.

"We're leaving." She said, controlling her voice as much as she could.

"It's almost curfew; I'd have to arrange an escort." Merle offered. "I mean, the party's still goin' on!"

Andrea stiffened. Michonne raised her chin expectantly at him.

"All right," he said after considering their expressions. "Wait here a sec." Then he ambled over to the gated wall.

Michonne didn't tell her friend, "I told you so," but watched her approach the wall for answers.

"The Governor told us we were free to come and go whenever we liked." Andrea said.

"Sweetheart, nothin' personal here, but you're gonna have to step back." Merle replied.

Andrea retreated reluctantly.

"See? There's always a reason why we can't leave yet." Michonne spoke low out of Merle's earshot. Andrea's mind began to race. She hated the thought of being on the run again, of trying to escape someplace.

The Northeast exit – that was what Michonne had said. They could play content until it was dark and then they could get away if–

The guard at the top of the wall cut her off.

"Clear!" He called.

They turned towards the gate.

"Now if I was y'all, I'd find some shelter before nightfall." Merle added.

Andrea sighed in relief. Another of Michonne's assumptions with no proof. And she'd almost believed it this time. As much as she trusted the woman, she was beginning to tire of the excuses and conspiracy theories.

"They knew we were coming." Michonne growled as she shook her head. "This was all for show."

"Do you hear yourself? How would they know that and why would they bother?" Andrea asked. She wanted to shake the woman, make her see reason. But she was afraid if she touched her, she would end up kissing the woman in the middle of the street. Out of fear, out of spite, out of anger, out of any attempt to make her stay. To keep her at her side.

"Ladies," Merle called out behind her.

"Close the gates," Andrea called back.

"No!" Michonne protested.

Andrea whirled around, her anger renewed.

"I practically begged the Governor to let you stay." She said in disbelief.

"I didn't ask for that." Michonne replied breathlessly.

"You didn't have to. That's what friends do for each other."

"It goes both ways."

"So you want to run around out there, with walkers on chains, eating twigs? I mean, is that right?" Andrea wanted, needed Michonne to hear how ridiculous it sounded, how futile.

"We held our own."

And that was all it took. Andrea couldn't hold back the frantic thoughts she'd been keeping from Michonne for days.

"8 months! 8 months on the road, moving place to place, scavenging, living in a meat locker. That was no life." She searched for some sign in the big brown eyes boring into hers. "I'm tired. I'm tired; I don't have another 8 months in me, not like that. And you… I…" Andrea felt herself breaking. She was trying hard to swallow the lump in her throat.

Michonne looked harder into the soft, pale face. Then she dropped her eyes to the ground. It always came to this. No one could stand to be with her, not really. This was just another person to be attached to and then to let go. It was just as painful as before, perhaps more so now that there were so few left in the world.

"What about me," Michonne said darkly.

"I'm afraid you're gonna disappear." Andrea replied in a weaker voice. "We always talked about this place didn't we? A refuge? That idea's what kept us going." Andrea sighed and searched those eyes again; the strong lines of Michonne's face, the stone expression. She grasped the woman's arm for a moment, needing some physical reminder that her friend was still here.

Michonne, for her part, felt herself melt slightly under the blonde's scrutiny. She wanted to stay together, but she couldn't remain in a place she knew was bad at the core.

She needed to shake Andrea from her comfortable tree boughs and see that the lightning was about to strike.

"Are you coming or not."

Andrea's face fell further.

"Don't do this. Don't give me an ultimatum." Don't break my heart. Andrea thought. "Not after everything." She didn't want to live without her. The thought that she cared for someone, anyone, that much, was a miracle within itself. And it was something she desperately wanted to hold on to.

"Are you coming, or not." Michonne repeated. If she had been a woman who cried, Michonne would have cried then, watching and listening to Andrea deny her again, abandon her, after all of the running, the waiting, after taking care of each other, after trusting each other. After it all, it amounted only to this.

Hurt now, or hurt later. She thought dimly. It doesn't matter.

She took one last look at Andrea, into those stone-blue eyes offering no answer, and then stepped around her, towards the gate.

"You just slow me down anyway," Michonne said as she passed.

Her words knocked the wind out of Andrea. She couldn't breathe properly. Or think. Or move.

"Michonne!" She called out, unable to believe what was happening.

The warrior did not turn.

Andrea watched her walk into the distance through the gap in the gate.

That night in bed, after the fighting in the circle of walkers was over, Andrea felt cold even under the covers.

Her friend had been right. Maybe there wasn't some larger conspiracy, maybe there was, but the crux of the matter was that Woodbury was fundamentally wrong, no matter how right it seemed. And now Andrea was left to face it alone.

She wished Michonne was still here to share the creaking bed with. She knew her companion hadn't slept much since being here, but having her body close by had given Andrea the best sleep of her life. They'd slept close before, for heat and safety, but never in an honest-to-god bed in an honest-to-god town (or an honestly godless town, as the evidence was beginning to show). The pair of them had always hidden away somewhere with adequate cover but without much comfort.

She grabbed the pillow Michonne had rested her head on just a night before and pulled it in close to her body. She caught a whiff of the woman's dreadlocks in the fabric; not an altogether pleasant smell, but a good one because it was hers. And it was all she had left now.

She closed her eyes and imagined she was holding her protector, her friend, the one who'd stayed with her even when she'd been sick and useless. Even when she'd slowed her down. She wanted to hold her like she never had, as more than a friend. And as more than two women lost in the wilderness.

She wanted to hold her like they belonged to each other.

The way she'd never be able to.