Milton stood outside of Philip's apartment; he wanted to see how his friend was doing. The past three days there hasn't been any sign of him, not since he had lost his eye and the town had been under attack. It worried him that he hadn't made a single appearance since the pit with the two Dixon brothers. Philip always had a plan and was almost always ready even if he had to just wing it, he didn't just hide. The weight of what had happened three days ago had forced him into his apartment, doing nothing.
Milton sucked in a small breath as he knocked on the door; it was silent for a few seconds till there was the sound of heavy footsteps making their way to the door. He almost started to regret coming, what if Philip would just get mad, maybe it was best to let him be till he decided to come out again. He thought of darting out before the door opened but the thought of his friend being in whatever condition made him stay. He needed to.
The door opened and there stood Philip, the same pants and shirt from three days ago accompanied by a glass of whiskey in his other hand. The dirty bandages around his head that covered his eye really made it all clear. All he did was look down at his advisor with a glazed eye. Milton shifted awkwardly; he didn't know what to say to him, his words just couldn't for right. Philip simply turned back into his place; he followed him inside and shut the door.
He took a quick look around the room, it was a complete disaster. There were bottles of different brands of alcohol on various surfaces, some empty or nearing empty. The stench of his place told him he really hadn't showered or changed, other things were scattered. Milton had never seen Philip's place get dirty, a bit unorganized but not like this. Everything around him was completely off and he knew his friend really was in trouble.
The place reeked of booze, B.O and something else unrecognizable. He couldn't place his finger on it, but it seemed to be coming from the room in the far back of Philip's home.
Philip staggered into his kitchen; he grabbed another glass trying to pour one for Milton. He wasn't fond of drinking all too much, but he took it none the less when Philip offered it to him. Looking down at the liquid, his nose crinkled in distaste as he spun in around in his glass gently. Philip cleared his throat before he spoke; his voice was low and border line cracking, nothing like his usual loud and confident voice that carried its usual southern charm in it.
"What are you doin' here? Something you need or-"
"No, I-I just wanted to see how you were doing…" Milton's voice was just as low, Philip wasn't even looking at him, and he kept his gaze on his glass the entire time. He heard Philip snort and downed the rest of his glass, "Oh I'm just fine, and I mean I just feel fantastic. Everything couldn't get any better!" The sarcasm carried in his voice as he turned to go pour another for himself, he almost fell over on his way.
Milton watched him struggle to walk over to the counter, and couldn't even get a proper grip on anything. He was hitting his limit. Milton didn't think before he did it, but he put down his own glass and was over by his side in just a few seconds, he put his hand on the bottle in Philip's hands and took it.
"I think you've had enough, maybe you should go sit down." His grasp tightened on the bottle as Philip tried to grab it back, his protest and shouts for him to go fuck off came out as nothing but a drunken slur. Milton finally got the bottle out of his hand and Philip only shoved him aside to walk over to the cabinet where there were only more bottles of the same whiskey.
"Philip! You don't need anymore!" He ran to stand right in front of the man, "Just stop for five minutes and thin-"
"What's there to think about? I have nothing to think about! There is nothing! So let me drink in fucking peace!"
Philip was in Milton's face, the smell of alcohol on his breath flooded his nose, and he cringed and backed away from him. He glared straight up at him, he was genuinely concerned but how did one go about this when your friend can't stop drowning himself at the bottom of a bottle.
He knew his friend was going through a bad time, he lost his eye, witnessed his daughter's death for a second time, and the town being attacked. But he really needed to stop sulking, he needed to get over things and move on, he had a whole town to run and no one had a damn clue as to what was going on. The riots at the gate to get out where getting ridiculous, people going on about how it wasn't safe here anymore, and Philip just slinking away into his home wasn't helping.
Everything was a mess and they needed their leader, their governor.
"Stop sulking, just stop. You have a town to run and whining in your apartment isn't helping anything Philip. What's going on?" Milton stood up straight and looked at Philip, and he still wasn't looking at him. His gaze was everywhere else but him. Was he even listening anymore?
"I… I don't… I don't know." What happened, next truly shocked Milton; it was so sudden, he had never seen Philip do this ever. Philip had slumped to the floor, his head in his hands and his whole body was quivering. Philip never did this, was he crying? He didn't seem like a crying type. Maybe it was just the alcohol? He just went to screaming like a mad man to… this. What was going on? He had been through this stuff before.
Nothing made sense, Milton ran it through his head several times, in all his time he knew Philip he had never once done this. Philip just wasn't a crier. He stood over him and just stared, he didn't know what to do, he wasn't a great comforter, his sympathy and empathy skills lacked in these moments.
He lowered himself slowly in front of Philip; he heard a silent sob from him. Placing one hand on his shoulder, Milton said his name in a low whisper trying to grab his attention. The man tensed from the touch but never looked up.
"Philip…" He sighed when his hand he had on his shoulder was swatted away, "Philip, look at me." Philip's hands dropped from his face as he looked up to stare at Milton. His eyes were red and puffy, face solemn.
Milton finally took in his friends face. He was unshaven, small splotches of dirt were still on his face, the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. His whole complexion was pale and sickly, which meant he hadn't even bothered to see the doctor about his eye or changed the bandages. It was the face of the man who had reached his limit.
Mix this all in with straight liquor for 3 days and you get this. Philip's eyes shut and he let out a small breath. Milton's hand went up to his face, When Philip reopened his eyes and stared at him, he almost regretted the action. But he didn't do anything, for the first time since he arrived here he truly looked Milton in the eyes. He didn't say anything this time, just stared.
Milton's hand dropped from his face to his shoulder, "Look, I know I can't even begin to understand what has happened to you. Losing your eye, your daughter…" Milton waited a moment to make sure he wasn't stepping anywhere he shouldn't be.
"But, you are our leader, the town needs you. I need you; you're my best friend Philip. Almost like my brother. I've known you long enough, I don't want to see you like this, and I promise I will do anything to help. But you need to stop this. Nothing has ever stopped you before, what's stopping you now?"
Milton sighed when he finished speaking. Philip muttered something under his breath; Milton was close enough to just hear it. Penny…
His voice remained low as he kept saying penny. It hit Milton as he finally understood that Penny's death never really left him. He always relied on Milton to find a cure one day and bring back his little girl. Now that was gone. He closed his eyes, of course. How could he be so stupid, he forgot that her death has eaten him from the inside since the start. The fear he had.
Philip was showing a side of him he hadn't seen since he lost her. The human side of him was fading as time went by and Milton had been so blind as to not see it.
Milton wrapped his arms around Philip, he didn't care about the consequence for touching Philip in an intimate way he hated. But in this moment, it didn't matter. His friend, a man he has known for years, a man he considered to be family was crumbling in front of him. He felt Philip's whole body tense against him. He was waiting for a 'fuck off' or 'don't touch me'. But when he felt him relax and return the gesture made Milton feel a bit better.
Both of them sat in the middle of the kitchen floor, as stupid as it was to be doing this in there. But it didn't matter, he was comforting family. He was so oblivious to his suffering, and now it was taking a toll on him. Milton couldn't help but feel like a complete idiot. He would do anything to see that Philip was ok. But he had failed to see what was really happening to him. He was changing, he wasn't himself anymore.
It was quiet as they held their position, and the only thing that was heard was a single whisper from Milton's mouth.
"I'm such an idiot…"
The day in his apartment played back in his mind as he drove back to Woodbury. Philip cringed at the memory; he had let Milton see a vulnerable part of him… A part of him he hated. It was a weakness. He had let himself get swallowed in his own self-pity. On that day he thought Milton's loyalties truly lied with him, that the man wouldn't betray him in such a way. He now left him and Andrea for dead in a closed room. He smiled, they had it coming, and he did what he had to.
After arriving to the town, and seeing that everyone was gone was when he lost if for the second time today. Martinez and Shumpert stood by the truck, too afraid to approach the man, they had already witnessed him murder everyone from earlier. No warning signs. He was truly on a role today, the madness was taking him. He wasn't doing anything to stop it, he was still falling apart, and instead he embraced it and was now stopping at nothing till he got what he wanted.
When Philip had finally composed himself he headed over to Milton's lab, walking through all the hallways that led to the room he had left them in. Before opening he looked at the blood that had pooled around the entrance. Not giving it another thought he simply just opened the door and walked through it.
Philip was surprised to see that Andrea had gotten out of the chair he that he had her chained to this morning. Scanning the room for her he looked down beside himself. Her slumped form on the floor, taking a closer look, there he noticed was a bullet shot in her skull. A slight hum came from his throat. He didn't feel a thing.
His gaze went from Andrea along the floor to see a pair of pliers and another body; Milton's. He clicked the pieces together as to what happened in here. He walked over to him and simply looked down at the motionless body. His job was done, whatever happened in here happened. In the end they were both dead and out of his hair, both traitors gone.
Philip wanted to feel like this was a job well done, but the feeling of being sick washed over him. He felt nauseous; and sick to his very core as he looked down at Milton.
His… Best friend.
He knew he didn't care about Andrea, he had once felt something for her but she had become an annoyance, a threat. But Milton was something else. He knew that Milton had betrayed him that he had lied and told things he shouldn't have. Maybe just the beating could have sufficed? No! He became a threat to, it had to be done!
Philip started to shake; he was beginning to instantly regret what he had done. He deserved the beating right? This was the right thing to do, right? He mentally questions himself as his eyes scanned Milton's face. The ghoulish complexion from his reanimation mixed with the bruises and blood all over his form makes Philip even sicker. He had done this to him.
He knelt down beside Milton's body, just as the door opened behind him. Martinez called his name, he was telling him about something they had found near one of the gates. Philip didn't hear half of what he was saying; the inner fight inside his head was too loud. Not for one second did his eyes leave his friends body as he pulled his gun from his holster and pointed it at Martinez.
"Get. Out." Philip gritted out between his teeth. He wasn't going to have another person see him like this. He was letting himself go. As soon as the door clicked shut he dropped the gun to the floor and fell apart above Milton's body.
Why was he crying? He didn't cry, he was Philip Blake, the governor. He had gone this far as to do this to the only person who actually cared, the one person who came to his apartment and told him to move forward, and stuck by him. He killed him. His best friend, his brother.
"Why'd you go and do such a stupid thing! None of this would have happened if you just done what you were told! For god sakes Milton!" He was shouting at a corpse, he wasn't sure if he was mad at Milton or himself. He shouldn't care, what was done was done. He brought this on himself, and the governor did what he had to. Philip kept trying to convince himself of that. But they were empty words, it wasn't true.
The truth was he had let himself fall, he ruined everything, and the core of his being was shattered. Philip Blake was lost.
Philip shifted Milton's body into his arms and brought him up. Once again in the middle of the floor sat two friends, Philip held Milton in his arms, he gripped his bloodied shirt and just stayed there. He knew he was just holding a biter, a corpse. But it once was a friend and this was the last time he'd ever see him.
And like the day back in the apartment, a single whisper came in the empty room;
"I'm such an idiot…"