ANDREA:
Only when Merle nudged her with his unarmed handicap did Andrea realize that she had run out of things to say to him. He had risked everything good he had going for him to get her and Michonne out of Woodbury and bring them here with supplies. The Governor would know what Merle had done on their behalf and there was no telling what sort of hell Merle would be walking back into if he left. Why would he do that? Andrea knew enough of the man to know that even though the two of them had played up the roommate scenario, Merle wanted her, though to what degree she couldn't tell. He lived for himself and didn't give a rat's ass about anyone except perhaps Daryl, but what were the chances of the two reuniting after eight months of uncertainty?
Andrea perched on the edge of the passenger seat with one foot on the ground and the other still nestled under the dashboard. If she stepped out of the car and the keys were still in the ignition, she was as good as signing his death warrant herself. Death by walkers or death by humans. The Governor's men were unforgiving, but walkers were mindless. The dead were not the real monsters here; they had no awareness of what they were doing. But the Woodbury troops—they were very much aware of their actions and what's more, Andrea had a suspicion that they enjoyed playing with their food before they killed it.
She may not care for Merle like how he cared for her (if his lusting could be called that) but she wouldn't let his death weigh on her conscience that already bore the guilt of Amy and Dale. There would not be a third weight.
"I ain't gonna say it again, woman; get outta my car or I won't hesitate t'shove your ass straight out into the dirt."
"So do it," Andrea challenged, planting her other foot back inside the car while Michonne unloaded the supplies from the trunk.
She called his bluff and she knew it as he turned off the car and twisted in his seat, resting his head against the back of his seat to stare out the window and avoid her gaze. He drummed his fingers on the wheel, buying himself time to speak but Andrea beat him to the cut while she had the chance.
"You're not going back there. I know enough about you to determine that, Merle Dixon, and you wouldn't risk going back unless you were certain that the Governor would blow this whole ordeal over. That means that you were planning on hitting the road on your own."
"Damn straight," said Michonne conveniently. "He's got a couple bags in the trunk for himself. He ain't going back to Woodbury."
Andrea couldn't help the smile from spreading across her face. She looked to him expectantly, waiting for an answer, but when he gave her none she punched him lightly in the arm. "Well?" she prompted.
"Whad'ya want me t'say, huh?" asked Merle still not looking at her. "You should be grateful for all I've done for ya, yet y'sit there thinkin' I owe you." Now there was a contemptuous tone in his voice and Andrea saw a smirk on his reflection in the window. He sat in the shadow of the car as the sun rose on her side and cast a brilliant golden glow on her.
"I didn't say you owe me anything," Andrea snapped. "I'm saying that you'd be better off staying with us than going off on your own. We both have a common goal; we want to find Daryl, so why not save ourselves some time and make it a team effort?"
"Yeah, 'cause choosin' your side the first time helped me out a lot," said Merle gruffly.
"That was your choice in an environment we weren't familiar with. And as it turned out, your little setup was just an illusion after all, otherwise you wouldn't be here. Woodbury's not for you, but neither is going solo. That's not an option for you in your condition. I'm asking if you want to stay and try things out, at least for a while. Then, if things don't work out, you can always be on your way, but I don't think you want to leave half as bad as you act like you do."
"What's that mean?" Merle demanded, turning back towards her with a frown.
"It means you have a shitty poker face." Andrea held his gaze for a few tense seconds and then when she was certain that she had his undivided attention, added softly, "Maybe it's not me that didn't work out the first time; maybe solitary confinement was where you went wrong. There are alternatives to the lonely road, you know."
Hoping that she had penetrated that rock-hard skull of his, she climbed out of the car with her axe in hand and followed Michonne up the pathway to the door that was thankfully still intact. Michonne set their supplies under the window on the right and then unsheathed her katana while Andrea made a few practice swings with her axe. Both of them knew better than to assume that the house was unoccupied. Andrea pulled the screen towards her, cursing the rusted hinges and held it open with her foot as she reached for the second. Then it hit her.
The others had left the house in a rush, sprinting for the cars while walkers surrounded them on all sides. No one would have had time or even entertained the notion of shutting the main door. Yet here it was, staring her in the face.
It could have been the wind. Or maybe it swung shut on its own. Maybe they came back to look for me and took supplies from the house. Someone might have closed it then.
"What's wrong?" asked Michonne when Andrea didn't move, fingers still outstretched to grasp the knob.
"I think someone's in there," said Andrea quietly. "This door was open when everyone bailed."
"Eight months unoccupied—probably just shut on its own," said Michonne dismissively. "C'mon, I'll go first."
"No, if there are live people in there, you could be walking straight into a sawed off shotgun. Let me go." She pulled out her pistol and licked her lips apprehensively.
"Aw, hell, both've you outta the way," griped Merle from behind as he mounted the steps with his M19 aimed and his hand attachment in place. He nodded to Michonne who twisted the doorknob and pushed it open before darting out of sight of the doorway. Merle took her place, resting his gun hand on his attachment. He made a noise in his throat that instructed Andrea and Michonne to follow in his wake which they did ever so cautiously, checking each room as they made their way down the hall. Michonne wordlessly volunteered to check upstairs and proceeded up the staircase much quieter than Andrea could have done. Andrea followed behind Merle, eyes peeled on the right as he took the left.
The putrid smell wafting from the kitchen was stronger in the hall and Andrea had to swallow hard to keep from gagging. Merle turned into the sitting room, gave it a quick scope over and then flipped up his thumb to her. Andrea's arms fell to her sides and she let out a relieved sigh.
She saw the shadow stir in the corner but wasn't quick enough to raise her gun a second time before the silhouette became a man and hollered at her, demanding that she and Merle drop their weapons. Merle moved in front of her but not so much that she couldn't see their opponent's outline. Both men were shouting, refusing to lower their weapons and Andrea found herself moving between them to try and prevent bloodshed as she added her voice to the din, pleading with the man to assure him that they meant no harm.
"I used to live here!" she bellowed as Merle tried to push her out of the way.
The sunlight had not yet hit the back of the house and so none of them could see each others' faces, but then a light fell upon Andrea from the hall and she heard an audible gasp from the unseen man followed by the most unique string of swearwords she had ever heard. In the second doorway Michonne was shining a flashlight on the man whose face was half hidden behind a weathered crossbow.
"Andrea," said Daryl, his eyes not believing what he saw before him. "Son've a bitch, you are Andrea!"
She had a reply ready, but it never found its way out of her emotion-filled throat as she heard the sound of a crash behind her. Whirling around, she watched Merle knock over the couchside glass table which shattered on impact against the floor. He sank down onto the couch's armrest, unsteady and looking sick to his stomach. The hand that held his pistol went to his head and he kneaded his temple with the nozzle. He kept his head down so that Andrea couldn't see his eyes, but his shoulders were shaking slightly and when she moved to touch his arm, she found the skin cold.
"Holy shit," she heard him say and then the younger brother repeated it as he recognized the man before him.
"Merle…"
It was the reunion Andrea knew Daryl had given up on having, but the one that deep down he still wanted. Now that he had it, however, both he and Merle were at a loss as to how they should react. Neither of them made a move to approach each other, and Andrea stood in no man's land, looking from one to the other and back again until Michonne, blessed Michonne intervened.
"You know him?" she asked Andrea, jerking her head at Daryl.
"Obviously, otherwise she wouldda shot me," said Daryl. He had not changed in the slightest.
"He was in my group," Andrea explained. She glanced at Daryl for confirmation on the rest of the group and he gave her a swift, almost nonexistent nod. Still alive.
"Introductions, then?" Michonne pressed.
"Oh, right…"
Introductions seemed to be such a trivial thing…
Andrea waved a hand at Merle and then Daryl. "This is Merle's younger brother Daryl. Daryl, this is-,"
"Y'almost shot me," said Merle in a guttural voice, finally looking up as the sun peeked in through the window behind Daryl.
"I didn't know who y'were. For all I knew, y'couldda been mercenaries or walkers-,"
"What the hell're y'doin' here anyway?"
"Well, if you'd shut up, I could get in a word-,"
"Everyone shut up now!" hissed Michonne, eyes trailing towards the hall. She ducked out of the room only to reappear moments later looking like she had aged ten years. Her eyes were wide as dinner plates and focused on Andrea.
"What?" asked Merle, watching her closely as he stood up.
"Michonne, what's wrong?" asked Andrea.
"They're coming up the road."
"Who?" Daryl inquired, but Andrea exchanged a look of dread with Merle and the two of them joined together in pushing Daryl into the hall as they bombarded him with a crash-course explanation.
"Y'all get to the car and take off," Merle instructed. "Daryl, take 'em back t'this hideout y'got!"
Andrea could see three cars racing down the dirt road towards the house and her heart performed a series of acrobatic dances in her chest. She felt Merle pushing at the small of her back and shoved her out the door. At the bottom of the steps she realized she had forgotten her axe in the sitting room. Michonne dove into the driver seat of Merle's car and Daryl was wrenching open the passenger door when the first bullet struck the window, raining glass shards down on him as he dropped and pulled out a pistol from his belt.
Merle grabbed Andrea around the back of her neck and forced her down as something rang in her ears. She could see Daryl spewing out instructions to Michonne and then the car was moving, picking up speed, shooting away from the farm. Andrea lurched to her feet and opened fire on the front car, allowing Daryl time to scramble back and make a run for the rear end of the house. She emptied her clip and then took off after him as the sounds of battle came back in full and exploded in her ears. By the time she caught up with Daryl she noticed that there was no one to catch up to her. Clutching at a stitch forming in her side, she leaned against the side of the house while Daryl reloaded.
"Where's Merle?" he demanded, shoving a fresh clip into his pistol.
He was right behind me, thought Andrea in growing dread. But she realized that she never saw him get up from when he had pulled her down. Comprehension dawned on her and it must have shown on her face, for when Daryl looked at her, he went whiter than the paint on the wall behind him.