Goodbye To All That

Rating: T

Pairing: Andrea/Michonne

Summary: There's got to be something better out there for them. A place without torture, sociopaths and autocratic leaders; somewhere without the constant threat of death looming over them. They just have to find it.

This story begins shortly after 3x14 "Prey" and will probably veer from canon after that. This is my take on how Andrea and Michonne should be reunited, though I plan on making this a multi-chapter after that. Let me know if you think it's worth continuing!

Milton stood in front of the door and smoothed down his jacket for the third time in as many minutes. His palms were sweaty, his hands shaky. He was a naturally nervous person, never quite at ease with others, and hoped his current anxiety would be mistaken for that. "You can do this, Milton," he encouraged himself, "no more standing by and pretending you didn't know." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for just a moment, before raising a trembling fist to knock against the metal door.

His knock rang loud and hollow through the corridor. Milton steeled himself, ignoring that part of him that suggested running was his best option. Footsteps sounded behind the door and it was pulled open with a loud creak. Milton stared into the hardened face of a man he had once considered a friend, fearing the rapid thundering of his heart would give him away momentarily. The Governor stepped into the doorway, blocking Milton from seeing the inside of the room. Milton's eyes immediately focused on the white rag the Governor was wiping his hands on; bloody hands, Milton noticed. He looked back up immediately, adjusting his glasses in a nervous habit.

"What is it, Milton? I asked not to be disturbed," said the Governor, his face calm yet Milton knew the danger lurking just beneath the surface.

"Martinez...he needed to see you." Milton suddenly had a hard time remembering the excuse he had planned to use, all sense of logic gone once he had looked into Philip's cold eyes.

The Governor scoffed and stuffed the now bloody rag into his pocket. "You take care of it, Milton. I'm rather busy at the moment."

Milton shook his head, trying to keep calm. "He said something about a security breach. A prisoner, I think. It's not really my area of expertise."

Philip sighed, clearly frustrated at the interruption. He stepped through the doorway and turned to pull the door shut, not allowing Milton a glimpse inside. The Governor did not wait for Milton to follow him, already too angry with Martinez or the security breach to worry over what his old friend might be up to. Milton watched him go, waited to hear the outside door shut and took another deep breath. He had a small window of opportunity and could not afford to waste any time now. Milton pushed open the heavy metal door just far enough for him to slip through, waiting anxiously to see if the loud noise had given him away.

The room was poorly lit, but well enough for him to see. The dental chair in the middle was empty save for some rags and Milton moved past it. He had only seen this room from up high, behind the air vent; it was decidedly creepier down here and the smell, too, was much worse. In a world where rotten corpses walked the streets Milton had gotten used to bad smells and gruesome sights, but this was different. It was different because the smell now assaulting his nostrils was the stench of blood, warm and live-giving, nothing like the congealed mess contained within the bodies of the dead and because the woman chained up in front of him was alive. Or he hoped she was, otherwise he had risked his own life for nothing.

Milton swallowed the bile rising in his throat and looked down at the person he had come to save. The blonde woman was on her knees, both arms outstretched, wrists chained to the posts she knelt between. She was slumped forward, blood dripping from her head onto the concrete floor below. There was blood everywhere, it seemed, sending Milton's stomach rolling, but he forced the nausea away. Blood was matting her blonde hair, it coated her arms and it had pooled on the concrete below her.

Milton swallowed, trying to clear his throat. "Andrea?" he said, voice quiet. She did not stir. He stepped closer, toe of his shoe nearly touching the puddle of blood. "Andrea," he tried again, a little louder this time, but she still did not move.

Time was running out. Milton knew he had to move quickly. As gently as possible he freed her right wrist from the chains, his fingers slick with her blood by the time he was done. As soon as he freed her left wrists she slumped forward and Milton barely managed to keep Andrea's head from cracking against the ground. There was no way he could carry her out of there, he knew, and, thankful for his foresight, Milton pulled an ammonia inhalant from his pocket. He knelt in front of Andrea, hoping desperately this would wake her up as he held the inhalant in front of her nose.

Andrea jerked and her eyes snapped open, staring up at him in such abject fear Milton's stomach clenched. No one had ever looked at him like he was a monster before. Milton reached out to touch her arm in reassurance, but the gesture only earned him a pained hiss. He could tell from the misshapen way her shoulder looked that it was probably dislocated, but there was no time to fix that now. He held up his hands in front of him, palms facing out to show her he was harmless.

"Andrea, it's me, Milton. We have to get you out of here and we don't have much time," he said, hoping she knew what he was saying. Her eyes were wide with fear or pain, or both, and Milton hoped she'd even be able to move. He scanned her body for any significant injures that would prevent her from walking, noticing for the first time she was barefoot. Philip had stripped her down to a tanktop, but thankfully left her jeans on. It was cold outside, too cold for her to be barefoot, underdressed, and drenched in blood, but Milton had nothing to cover her with.

"Can you walk?" asked Milton, throwing worried glances towards the door. Andrea followed his gaze.

"Philip?" she rasped out, her voice hoarse.

Milton shook his head and offered her a hand. "He'll be back soon. We have to hurry."

He didn't have to tell her how precarious their situation was, but Milton wanted to appear as calm as possible. Andrea grasped his hand with her left to pull herself up, grimacing against the pain. Milton had been impressed with her determination before, but it was nothing compared to seeing her practically will herself up in spite of the pain. He knew if it were him on that floor he would already have given up.

Milton wrapped his arm around her waist to lend support, but as soon as Andrea stood her knees buckled and he had to hold her up. She tried again, managing two steps before she doubled over and threw up. Milton's nausea came back fivefold and he tightened his hold on her despite her groans of pain, pulling her with him towards the door. He had no idea how long it had taken him to get them this far and Milton was starting to panic. The Governor would have seen through his distraction quickly and would certainly be on his way to finish what he had started with Andrea. Milton shuddered thinking about him in that room, chained up and bloodied. He walked faster.

Despite the cooling temperature the sun was bright as they stepped outside. Milton almost breathed a sigh of relief, but they were not home free, yet. Andrea had managed to support most of her own weight during their short trek out of the building, but her energy was fading quickly and Milton felt her trembling against his side.

"I hid a car, right over there. We just need to get out of here and I will take you back to your friends. To the prison."

As if his words had given her a renewed surge of energy Andrea clung to him a little tighter and together they slowly made their way to the hidden sedan. Milton was drenched in sweat by the time he opened the backseat. His right side was covered in her blood, but as disgusted as he was now was not the time to change clothes. Milton helped Andrea into the backseat and covered her head to toe with blankets, hoping enough of them would hide her completely from the prying eyes of the sentries. He got into the driver's seat, took a deep breath and started the car. Now he just had to get them out of Woodbury.

...

They watched the car approach from a distance, various weapons already trained on the vehicle. Rick crouched behind an overturned table closest to the gate, using the scope on his rifle to follow the vehicle, but unable to make out any occupants. They were all silent, but the tension was palpable, no one knowing whether they were about to be attacked again. The car entered the yard that had been unsecured since the Governor's attack and drove all the way to their gate, stopping just short of it. Some of the walkers still in the yard started towards the car, drawn by the noise and activity.

Rick held up a hand, signaling to his team to stay where they were at. The driver had yet to turn off the engine, but Rick noticed two hands held out through the driver side window to show the person was unarmed. He kept his rifle trained on the car.

"Get out of the car and show yourself or we will shoot!" he yelled, not willing to take any chances.

"Okay, okay, don't shoot. I'm not armed," yelled the driver, his voice shaky. He opened the car door and slowly got out, throwing a wary glance at the walkers coming closer.

Rick recognized the Governor's assistant and threw a worried glance at Daryl, who was crouched behind a barrier to his right. Daryl shrugged, equally at a loss as to what this guy was doing here. Rick gave a curt nod before standing up, knowing Daryl would cover him, and walked closer to the gate, weapon trained on the stranger.

"What do you want?" shouted Rick, eyeing the man who looked utterly intimidated. The guy might not look like much of a threat, but Rick would not trust anyone from Woodbury.

The man held up his hands, clearly nervous, and his voice still shook as he spoke, "Andrea."

Rick nearly lowered his weapon in confusion, but did not move. "She's in Woodbury. We got nothing to do with her."

The man shook his head as if frustrated. "No, I mean, yes...I know. I brought her...here...in the car."

"Tell her to get out and we'll talk," said Rick, gesturing at the car with his weapon.

"She can't," said the man, something akin to panic in his voice now, but he quickly continued noticing the frustration on Rick's face, "she tried to come here, to warn you, but he...the Governor caught her. She's hurt."

Rick didn't lower his weapon, but he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. The newest member of his group was already moving towards the gate, all caution seemingly thrown to the wind at the mention of her friend. Rick cursed silently; that woman was a liability.

"How can we trust anything you're saying?" asked Rick, worried they were about to let a Trojan horse into their midst.

The man scoffed, clearly frustrated now on top of his panic. "I wouldn't lie about this. He chained her up and tortured her! Please, just let us in...they're almost on top of us!"

Rick glanced at the walkers closing in on the car. He still wasn't sure whether the man could be trusted, but before he could make a decision someone was already opening the gate and walking outside.

"Michonne!" hissed Rick, hating her constant disregard for his orders and everyone else's safety.

She ignored him entirely, unsheathing her katana to slice the heads off two walkers that had gotten too close to the car. The man just watched her warily and pointed at the backseat upon receiving a glare from her. Michonne returned her katana to its sheath and yanked open the car door. She turned back around after several moments, carrying Andrea in her arms as she made her way back towards the gate. The look on Michonne's face was darker than Rick had ever seen and as she came closer they could all see why.

Despite the blanket haphazardly wrapped around Andrea they all noticed the state she was in, the blood on her skin, the listless way she hung in Michonne's arms. Rick finally lowered his weapon, shaken. He motioned at the rest of the team and then towards the man still waiting outside. "Let him in, keep him under watch."

Michonne walked past Rick, her movements steady so as not to jostle Andrea, eyes focused on the door to the cellblock and nowhere else. Daryl stepped up to her. "Here, let me help."

"I got it," she snapped, not even looking at him as she walked past.

Rick sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. He looked up at the group, all staring at him as if he had any answers. "Herschel, can you...?" he asked, not needing to explain before the old man nodded and moved to follow Michonne. Most of the others left, as well, until Rick was left with the man who had brought Andrea to them, Daryl, and Merle. As much as he wanted to check on his former friend, first he wanted to know exactly what the hell was going on.

...

Michonne could not remember the last time she had felt such rage, wasn't even sure this feeling could compare to anything she had experienced before. The only thing keeping her from going off in a homicidal rage at this point was that she still held Andrea in her arms and had to make absolutely sure the blonde was going to be alright. By the time Michonne laid Andrea on one of the bunk beds, trying to be as gentle as possible, she was blaming herself for leaving her friend in Woodbury when she had known all along the Governor was a sociopath.

She knelt next to the bunk, staring at Andrea's bruised and bloodied face. One eye was swollen, her lip split, some cuts across her forehead, but worst of all was a long gash running across her cheek from one ear to the corner of her mouth that someone had stitched up haphazardly. Michonne reached out a hand, lightly trailing her fingertips along Andrea's jaw. Andrea gasped, eyes snapping open and Michonne almost withdrew her hand. She wanted to smile, to reassure her friend, but it was taking all her strength just to stay this calm, so instead she took Andrea's hand in hers. Michonne looked intently into her friend's eyes, making absolutely sure Andrea saw her, and tried to make her voice sound as normal as possible. "You're safe now. And I will never let him hurt you again."

Andrea held Michonne's gaze with teary eyes, squeezing the hand holding hers. "I'm sorry...I should have listened to you...I'm so sorry."

Michonne furrowed her brow, confused and angry. Someone touched her shoulder and she just barely managed not to take Carol's head off. The woman gave her a sympathetic glance and nodded towards the entrance of the cell, where Hershel stood, waiting. He made his way into the cell and stopped next to the bunk.

"It may be best if you waited outside," said Herschel as he lowered himself onto the bunk next to Andrea.

Michonne narrowed her eyes. "I'm not leaving her."

He shook his head. "You're of no use to her all riled up like this. Go outside, smash something if you must, but don't come back until you are calm."

She wanted to tell him to mind his own business, that he didn't know what he was talking about, but Michonne knew he was right. And anyway, she still had to talk to Milton. She stood, conveying to Andrea with a look that she would be back and left the cell. The rest of the group was gathered by the entrance around the tables, interrogating Milton. They all looked at her when she entered and she answered their silent questions with a curt shake of her head.

Milton looked at Michonne as if he could expect help from her, more nervous than she had seen him before. He turned back to Rick, his voice imploring. "Please, you all have to leave. The Governor will not hesitate to burn this whole place down with you in it, especially now that he has lost Andrea."

"How long?" asked Michonne.

Milton looked at her as she walked closer, confused. "How long?"

She crossed her arms, her face belying the fire burning just beneath. "How long did he torture her before you decided to grow a pair?"

Milton grew even more nervous, fumbling with his glasses as he looked at each of them in turn. "I...I don't know, exactly. Two days...maybe three. I didn't know."

Michonne scoffed. "Right," she walked right up in front of him, eyes menacing, "I need you to get me into Woodbury."

"What...why? You can't go back there."

"I'm going to kill him."

Rick put a hand on her shoulder as if to restrain her and she shrugged him off. He heaved a sigh, forcing her to look at him. "You cannot go off half-cocked again! We need you here to defend this place."

Michonne rounded on him, anger bubbling to the surface. "He tortured Andrea!"

"I get that! I do. But you running off on a revenge mission won't help anyone, least of all Andrea," said Rick forcefully, though his voice was a lot calmer than Michonne's.

"If I may say something..." Milton interjected and both Rick and Michonne turned to him, anger clear on their faces. Milton held up his hands and adjusted his glasses again. "You all need to leave this place. You don't stand a chance against the Governor. He will kill you all, women and children and he will make you watch as he tortures those you love. You should leave."

Rick scoffed and shook his head. "Did he send you here to us to leave?"

"No," said Milton, confused.

"Let you take Andrea so we'd believe you?"

Milton frowned at Rick. "The Governor will kill me for taking Andrea. I know I don't have a chance, but you all do. You should leave, as soon as possible."

"Maybe he's right," said Maggie, who stood with Glenn farther off to the right. Suddenly everyone wanted to share their opinion and the room erupted in a cacophony of voices.

"Everyone, quiet!" shouted Rick, looking like he wanted to strangle Milton for making such a suggestion in the first place. Before he got a chance, however, Herschel made his way back into the room, drawing everyone's attention. When he didn't speak right away Rick gave him a questioning look. "How is she?"

Herschel sighed, making his way further into the room. He looked at Michonne briefly, before turning to everyone. "Hard to say. Without the proper equipment I can't be sure there are no internal injuries and judging by the external ones it's very likely there are. Some broken bones, lacerations, and bruises, but I'm mostly concerned by the blood loss, dehydration and concussion. I'll keep a close eye on her."

Michonne frowned, a renewed surge of anger running through her. But, she told herself, there was no time for anger; both Herschel and Milton had been right, she decided. Andrea needed her rational and calm and Michonne needed to get them both out of the deathtrap the prison was about to become. She turned to look at Herschel. "When can she leave?"

"Leave?" Herschel looked at her in confusion.

"This place isn't safe. I'm taking Andrea away from here," she said, staring Rick down as if daring him to say something.

Rick held up a hand, frustration showing. "Hey, no one is taking anyone else away. We are in this together and we are going to stay and fight."

Michonne scoffed, annoyed. "Try and stop me."

She turned with one last glare at Rick and stalked off, knowing she would have to pack quickly so they could leave before things started going to hell.

to be continued