Almost eight months ago, Michonne rescued Andrea from a forest that was overflowing with relentless, starved geeks and automatically became her guardian angel – whether Michonne liked it or not.

Almost four months ago, Michonne and Andrea were high from exhaustion and revealed their pasts to each other in hopes to remember and restore the modicum of humanity they still possessed.

Almost two months ago, Michonne and Andrea drank way too much aged wine in front of the fire place of an abandoned house surrounded by nothing but endless fields, and did something really stupid that they didn't dare recall while recovering from their horrific hangovers the next morning.

Almost a month ago, Andrea struggled to muster up the courage to discuss the really stupid events with Michonne. She planned the speech in her head – making sure to emphasize the fact that she didn't regret it – that yes, it was foolish, but no, she wasn't humiliated. When the opportunity arose, Andrea choked on her words and decided it was best to keep her tongue bitten.

Almost three and a half weeks ago, Michonne realized how much she enjoyed Andrea's company – how the something really stupid was the complete opposite – and how the loneliness that ate away at her for so long had been eradicated by Andrea's presence, by Andrea's touch. Michonne decided it was best to keep her thoughts to herself.

Almost a week ago, Andrea woke up with a severe cold, and Michonne raided every store within a fifteen mile radius. She collected each pack of Benadryl, each can of soup, each bottle of water, and each blanket she could salvage and brought it back to Andrea, whose ailment grew worse with each passing hour. Unable to speak without coughing up the soft tissue that lined the inside of her throat, Andrea thanked Michonne for her efforts, and urged her to find food and blankets for herself. Michonne agreed, but continued to put the needs of her companion before her own.

Almost an hour ago, despite Andrea's severe shivering and rib-bruising cough, Michonne insisted that they had to leave and get to unfamiliar ground. She had taken everything worth the effort from the scant amount of shops near their current base – they wouldn't last much longer if they remained stationary.

Almost fifteen minutes ago, Andrea began to argue with Michonne, "We have way too much stuff, Michonne. You take half and you go. I have enough bullets to get me through the next month or two if I'm careful. I'll be fine."

Michonne's eyebrows pinched together in frustration, "no. You're leaving with me. That's final."

"It's not worth it," Andrea sighed with her words and shook her head, "our supplies are too heavy. Between the both of us, it's much more than we can possibly handle. There's no way we'll be able to pull it off."

"I said no, Andrea. We'll put the cans and the water on the-" she paused for a second as she tried to determine what to call the jawless, armless geeks that she used as camouflage. Pets was oddly too demeaning, boys was oddly too human, "two I have – we can carry the blankets and the medicine. We'll be fine."

"Michonne," at this point, Andrea was almost pleading with her, "I can barely stand up – I'm way too spent. I'm nothing but collateral damage to you. Dragging me along isn't worth the trouble."

"Stop it, Andrea," Michonne pointed her index finger in the face of the hard-headed blonde, "enough arguing. We are leaving – you and me – and we are leaving now. We can take breaks, we can camp out, but I'll be damned if I'm going to abandon you."

Andrea, exasperated, rubbed both of her temples with her index and middle fingers, "don't be stupid. We won't make it far enough to take a break, or to set up camp. I am not leaving, Michonne, I'm not putting you in that much danger. I can handle myself – you know that – you witnessed it almost eight months ago."

"No, what I witnessed was you almost getting killed eight months ago," she wasn't thinking as she acted – it was peculiar, especially for a woman who was always so aware of what she was doing, who knew her next five moves before she took one step forward. It was a sensation that she associated with an out-of-body experience, but before she had enough sense to stop herself, she reached out to Andrea and placed one hand on the back of her head, while the other was on her cheek – as a sign of reassurance, and to simultaneously analyze her fever. "I'm not going to let that happen for real. You and I have made it this far, you are not going to give up – not now."

Andrea didn't know how to react. This was a side of Michonne that she had only seen once – an action both of them could blame – and did blame – on intoxication. This was a sudden gesture of uncompromised affection that Andrea wanted to cherish. It had been so long since she felt someone's fingers through her hair – since she felt Michonne's fingers running through her hair – and there was absolutely no use in attempting to stifle the smile that was forcing its way onto her countenance. Under the influence of encouragement and a sense of happiness that she hadn't experienced in far too long, she pressed the tip of her nose against Michonne's and gathered what was left of her voice to prove that she had surrendered to the stubbornness of her brutal counterpart, "we don't have enough sun left to waste, so let's go. We're almost close to a place we can call home."