This is my first stab at writing anything for The Walking Dead and as it's my fave show I figured it was about time. This is how I would have liked the seasonal finale to have ended.

I dedicate this to the crazy Dallas Roberts fans who've been reading this when I first uploaded it to tumblr. They know exactly who they are!

In the briefest of moments, Andrea hesitated; it was make or break before her eyes. As she watched, a diminutive flicker of something she couldn't understand lingered in the pit of her stomach; tearing her mind away from the event which was to pass right before her eyes in the flash of what would be only a second.

It was quick to occur, sickening to watch and unbelievable to the eye. But it happened.

...

Milton whirled around, knife in hand. Screaming at the sudden finish, Andrea grimaced while gritting her teeth at the sound of a sharp blade as it violently danced with flesh. Once was clearly not enough, her head was spinning, spirals formed what was left of what was already her hazed vision. Again and again, one after the other she listened to the horror which played out in front of her. Surviving this world was hard enough, growing accustomed to it was another thing entirely. Andrea had been witness to so much repugnance in this life already, however the brutal murder of a man taking place right in front of her so suddenly raised an impulse of repulsion and disgust. As the dying man fell against the wall and shrunk to the floor in a heavy heap she couldn't help but feel the weight of the vile burden she'd carried for so long dissolve into nothing but pure relief.

...

Sighing she laid back into the chair which was the only thing that now held her captive. Andrea stared at Milton, she watched him tentatively as he hung over Philip's lifeless body; his right hand still grasped firmly around the knife. She didn't think he could let it go. Unable to see his face, Andrea took a deep breath and decided to address their situation.

"Milton?" She spoke so softly, her words were all he could hear. Milton turned his head, though he still wasn't facing her. "Let go of the knife." Andrea said. The darkness covered the scene she sat in front of and it was proving hard to make out his expression. What Andrea could not see was his blood stained face, or his freshly blood stained shirt. His hands shook, though he held onto the knife perfectly. Light green eyes which had possessed such an innocence, such a kindness were opened wide, dark, vindictive and teary. In fact the pathetic light source that hung above her, enabled her to see the reflection of a single tear which had begun to slowly fall. With great ease it fell down past his cheek like a gentle flowing stream and it lingered for a moment at the end of his chin before it dropped, crashing silently onto his hand.

...

"Wha...wha...what have, have I done?" Breathing in and out, Milton's heart raced; complimenting his hands which shook even more fiercely than they had done before.

"Milton it's okay." Andrea started but when Milton suddenly turned around to face her, her words were torn up inside her mouth. Staring into the two cold eyes which glared at her from across the room, Andrea did not recognise their beholder. The man who sat in the pool of blood on the floor was not a man she knew. Nor was he a stranger either. The man who sat before her had suddenly tripped her up, causing her to lose sight of her tracks, her thoughts removed and replaced unasked for by what she could only surmise as mere confusion. She had no idea what to say next.

"He...he...he made me. Made me. He made me do it." Bottom lip quivering, Milton started to move. He shuffled backwards, dragging himself through Philip's blood. He didn't seem to notice. When he stopped, he laid his head and his back against the wall. Andrea watched in shear pity, clouds began to form in her eyes. Carelessly she blinked and blinked in hope to fight the tears. It was now she had to be stronger than ever, she knew full well she must not cry. For Milton's sake.

"He did." She said keeping her voice gentle, she could see his body quaking as he breathed in and out, every time a short, yet deep breath. It was like watching caged panic, it had nowhere to go, nothing to scream out, but the essence of desperation was still intact. "Listen to me Milton, you have to stop this. We don't have time anymore in this world to dwell on this kinda' stuff. You did what needed to be done. Now you have to forget it and move on." She tried her best to smile, but the tears in her eyes prevented any such thing. It was now that Andrea realised just how naïve Woodbury had made Milton, how brainwashed he'd been regarding this new, cruel world. He had no idea what was really out there. No idea of the sacrifices that had to be made if you wanted to survive. Nobody can turn the other way now, you have to make difficult decisions in order to live. This meant killing. No human left alive should have to be slaughtered. But it happened. It was the desperation to live that drove survivors to kill the living. Andrea couldn't do it...this is how we honour Dale. She'd tried to make the right choices, nobody should have to die. Not even Philip. Having the chance to end it that night came too fast and she hadn't been ready to commit to it. To bare a responsibility of being Philip's murderer, she could not have done. At first she'd felt that way, but what'd eventually unfolded in front of her had made her realise that she wasn't going to get out of here alive if Philip was still breathing.

"How can it ever be that easy?" Milton swallowed before continuing to keep up with his heavy breathing. There was no pattern to his breathing, no rhythm at all. Just hurried breaths. He glanced up at her crying. Andrea noticed the knife again, he still had it firm within his grasp. She shook her head.

"It can't. But you have to try." And at that Andrea began to cry, hanging her head low she bit her lip. There was a moment of silence.

The light started to flicker above them, Philip's blood continued to run and the pair of them kept still and quiet before Andrea sighed. "Milton." She said, her voice quivered as she spoke. "I need you to get me out of here. He's going to turn and we both need to get out."

Milton finally looked up as he took in the meaning of her words, his eyes still wide and his hands still shaking. Nodding once he shifted himself up, his blood stained clothes stuck to his skin and he stumbled, knife in hand, towards her. "Try those." Andrea whispered tilting her head towards the tray of torture weapons that Philip had had Milton pick up earlier. "There's got to be something in there."

Milton searched eagerly through the tray, the constant sound of clanging and clanking felt like an individual stab to the head each time. The noises were unwanted by the silence of the room but they had to ring out. Andrea watched his petrified hands as he picked up the pieces of metal, violently they shook and several times she noticed him pick things up and accidentally drop them into the tray before picking them back up again for examination.

"Have you found anything?" She asked persistently, knowing she'd be free from that room brought with it a longing in her. It wasn't quite excitement, but maybe it was with a mixture of relief. Every second Milton spent hunting through the tray of tools caused the walls to grow closer and closer around her. Soon they'd swallow her up if he didn't hurry. Then he paused, lifting a pair of pliers up to view. He turned to her.

"Th...this..iss, sh, sh, should work...right?" He questioned practically dragging himself towards her. Andrea grinned, nodding repeatedly until he approached her. Milton looked down at her. Staring back up at him she smiled weakly. "I'm s...s...so, uh...sorry." He muttered. Andrea blinked.

"What for?"

"B...b...back when you went...t...t...to the...the prison and you t...t...told me." Milton breathed out heavily, at the same time he fell against the chair for support and attempted to pace his breathing. His beaten body was getting the better of him. Andrea cast him a look of concern.

"Milton?"

"T...t...told me not to tell...the...g...g...g...governor. I...did tell h...him. I...I...I'm so...s...s...sorry An-dre-a." Shaking his head he pronounced her name in syllables, it was the best he could do. The best he could give her. Andrea simply nodded meekly.

"It doesn't matter." She whispered. Milton gulped and proceeded to free her from the hand cuffs which strapped her to the chair. It felt like a lifetime before she was able to get out, but the feeling was gratifying. Relieved to be able to move again she slipped out of the chair and turned to face Milton who stood to the side of her. The pliers fell from his grasp onto the stone floor. Jumping at the unexpected noise Andrea examined her bloody and bruised, aching wrists. They throbbed painfully and it was only having them freed that she realised the pain she was actually in. Her hands shook but she was determined to outstretch them both. As she did so in silence she carefully took both of Milton's trembling hands and brought them together; subtly removing the knife which he still had hold of. Once she had the knife she placed it through her belt and turned her attention back to Milton who seemed to be completely unaware of what she'd just done. Again, she placed her hands in his before she started to silently sob. With complexity Andrea drew closer towards him, she didn't care that he was covered in Philip's blood and she simply placed her forehead against his chest. She felt his chest heave in and out as he breathed, for some reason it became a sort of comfort.

...

"A...Andrea." Milton gently pulled her away from himself, at the sudden movement Andrea followed his fixed gaze. Her heart sank. She watched as Philip's hands started to twitch; his body still lying in a pool of his own blood. After five seconds, his head began to move from side to side and his black lips parted revealing an open mouth which started to form a noise that sent a chill down both their spines. It was a cold, harsh sound, not quite a sigh or a mumble, more like he was breathing a smoky last breath. But Philip had breathed his last breath. This was his first breath as his body entered it's reanimated form. Andrea grimaced, her hand caressed her own hip, her fingers scrambling for the knife in her belt. Philip's reanimated body started to persist in its movements becoming more vigil. It started to gargle, foaming at the mouth almost, its eyes a pale yellow which contrasted against its pasty dead cheeks. A quick decision was made. She was going to do it now before the walker stood upright.

Her left hand pushed Milton out of the way while her legs flew forwards one after the other as she skidded to ground. A scream erupted from her lungs as she halted in front of the walker on the floor. Her free hand making a swift snatch at his shirt, clenching both her fists and eyes tightly shut, ignoring its snapping jaw, Andrea pulled back her right hand and in one quick movement struck the corpse in the forehead. The knife was pushed straight in, blood splattering against her cheeks, her mouth twisting in rage as she pulled back with such force that her own effort pushed her backwards. The knife exited Philip's skull as swiftly as it'd entered and she scampered across the floor, moving herself as far away from the body as she could. Throwing the knife to the side, it scraped against the stone floor. The noise it made was enough to make you flinch.

"Come on. We're getting out of here." Andrea heaved herself from off the cold floor, turned to Milton who only nodded. He hadn't ushered a single word since Philip's corpse had awoken.

"What about Martinez?" Milton questioned as he staggered after Andrea who made for the door. "The Gov...Governor was pl...planning a war...against your friends. They're out there...n..n..now." Milton placed a hand on her arm, she halted deep in thought. They needed a strategy, they had to get out of Woodbury as soon as possible. Sooner or later the people would start to question their Governor's whereabouts. Realising it was crucial they leave now, Andrea knew she had to form a plan, and fast.

"Are they out there now?" She asked him.

"I'd...I'd ex...expect they're...wait...waiting for him." Milton responded, his breath still pacey and tired. A moment passed as Andrea mulled over what was left of their only possible options. As far as she could see, there really weren't many. If the people of Woodbury were all waiting outside now, chances were they'd get caught. However...Andrea's eyes flickered upwards towards Milton.

"Nobody's going to see us unless we go out onto the street. We'll go round the back way and sneak in through a window."

"A window where?" Milton asked out of confusion. He let out a heavy deep breath, Andrea grew concerned of his condition. He'd been beaten badly, not to mention she was a hundred per cent sure he'd gone into some sort of shock. She could see where his face had been battered by Philip; dark circles were already forming around his eyes and the many cuts on his face were either still bleeding or covered in dried blood. It pained her to see him this way. He didn't deserve any of this. Then again...did anyone who was still left in this world?

"To the Governor's room. We'll grab the guns, stock-up and get you cleaned up quickly. I need you to do something for us though." Andrea hesitated answering his question. She was unaware if Milton was capable of doing anything in his condition. But this...she figured, was their last standing option. Milton shook his head, fear already glazed over his eyes. "We're gonna' get you out of those clothes and you're gonna go convince Martinez to send everyone back inside."

"Wait...w...w...wait...I...can't." Intercepting her midway through sentence Milton started to panic. Andrea tried to not reveal impatience so she gently placed a hand on his shoulder and hushed him softly making sure not to break eye contact.

"Milton, Milton look at me. Look at me Milton. You can do this, you're gonna have to do this because I can't. We're gonna get out of here. I'm gonna get us both out of here, but I'm gonna need your help."