This is an Andrea fic to fill a request. Hope you enjoy it.

If there was one thing the apocalypse was good for, it was her tan. She looked down at her toned brown arms and grinned. Taking guard duty on top the Winnebago certainly trumped doing the laundry with Lori and Carol. She looked over at the two other women, elbow deep in lukewarm water and she rolled her eyes. She was still reeling at Lori for her bullshit tirade about knowing her place as a woman...

Right.

Lori may be satisfied with cleaning pit stains out of Daryl Dixon's shirt, but she sure as hell wouldn't be. She wanted to do something that was actually useful for the group.

She rolled her eyes away from the gossiping women and sank lower into her seat, her sharpshooter resting on her lap.

She wondered how she'd ended up here, at the end of the world. Surrounded by people who couldn't even carry on a decent conversation. Two housewives, an ex mechanic… a pizza delivery boy and a Redneck. As an ex-lawyer she craved some real mental stimulation. It wasn't their fault- different strokes- but it was something she missed from her old life. She missed the thrill of a good debate, the challenge of finding the right loop-hole, creating the perfect alternative scenario that would drive her point home. She'd tried to play the devil's advocate within the current context of their situation, but it seemed to go over everyone else's head.

Rick was alright, she supposed, but he was lacking in… something. He needed to get his head on straight and realize that his old ways were going to get them all killed in this world. And Shane was bat-shit, but at least he didn't let himself become clouded by poor judgment and dead ideologies. Plus, he was a good fuck, so there was that. And God knew how much she needed that release these days.

Glancing around the camp again, Andrea spotted the ex-sheriff's deputy chopping firewood in the clearing, his muscles rippling as he raised the axe high over his head and then brought it down with a heavy whack. He certainly wasn't the type that she would have picked in her old life… she wasn't even sure she would pick him now, but she was game if he was. Maybe that's what they all needed, a little release.

Tensions had been running high in the group.

The sound of someone climbing the ladder pulled her attention to behind her and she spun around in her chair to see Dale's hat peek over the edge off the roof. The old man's entire body followed and he moved into the spot next to her.

"You can go hand off your clothes to Lori and Carol to wash," he offered. "I'll take over for a bit."

Andrea pushed herself to her feet. "Thank God," she grinned. "I can feel my skin crawling in this shirt; it's so grimy."

She handed to gun to the man who had become her pseudo-father (as reluctant as she was to accept it) in this messed up world. As much as she still resented him for the way he had pushed her, and the ultimatum he had offered at the CDC, she loved him. He'd never waivered in his devotion to her and his support.

"Thanks, Dale," she squeezed his arm and climbed down the ladder to make her way over to the other two women in their group.