AN: Here we go, another little chapter here.

Response/Explanation in the AN at the end for anyone who might be interested.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Michonne woke with her head feeling fuzzy from the small amount of deep sleep that she'd managed to get—it was the feeling of not even knowing how long she'd been asleep. It could have been moments or it could have been days.

But the sound of the door opening violently stirred her and she turned in the darkness of the room, wishing that her eyes adjusted more quickly to the dark.

"Mich! Mich! There's something going on," Andrea panted out, urgency and something else in her voice.

Michonne sat up and heard Andrea close the door, lock it, and put the chair she'd criticized so often into place. Michonne reached and found the switch to the lamp, lighting the room up. She wasn't prepared to see the terror on Andrea's face that was there.

"What's wrong?" Michonne asked, already getting out of bed. She didn't really need more information—if Andrea looked that terrified and she said there was something going on? Michonne was ready to go now.

Andrea stood there, holding in her hands the carryout food that she'd apparently stepped out to get. She seemed, for a second, frozen.

So Michonne did the only thing that she knew to do. She walked over and took the plates out of Andrea's hand. She rested them on the chair that was now holding the door back, locked safely, and she squeezed Andrea's shoulders. Michonne moved her face so that she was directly in front of Andrea and Andrea had no choice but to lock eyes with her.

"It's OK," Michonne assured her, even though it was an assurance that wasn't hers to give. "It's OK. Whatever it is? It's—it's just OK."

Andrea started shaking her head, but her muscles lost some of their tension. Michonne couldn't relieve her entirely of her concern, but she was doing a fair job of relaxing her a little at the moment.

"They brought in a truck," Andrea said. "After curfew? After dark? They brought in a truck…"

"Someone from a run?" Michonne asked.

She surprised herself. Even though she was as against this place as she could be, and even though she wanted nothing more than for Andrea to suggest that they grab their bags and flee the location immediately, she was willing to rationalize for the sake of Andrea—if that's what she had to do? Michonne could rationalize whatever she needed to…and it was an odd sensation for her.

Andrea shrugged and shook her head at the same time.

"I don't know," she said. "I know they took two people out of the truck—two bodies—and it looked like they were wrapped up. The Governor? He and some others came. He shot one of them."

Michonne furrowed her brow.

"Shot them? How?" She asked.

Andrea's eyes went wide like saucers.

"Shot them, Michonne!" Andrea said, a little louder than before. She looked around suddenly and Michonne realized that she was paranoid. She was paranoid that someone was going to hear her and that they would know what she knew.

She really was afraid. Whatever she'd seen? Whether or not it had a perfectly rational explanation behind it? It was enough to trip whatever lever needed to be tripped in Andrea to make her see what Michonne had been feeling since their arrival in the place.

Michonne squeezed the blonde's muscles under her hands and then rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

She leaned closer to Andrea, catching her eyes once more.

"He shot the person?" Michonne asked, drawing Andrea back. "Then what?"

Andrea shook her head.

"They carried them away, I guess," Andrea said. "I don't know—Mich? I don't know what happened. I wasn't supposed to be out there. I wasn't supposed to see it. I ran into the Governor when I left to come back here."

Michonne felt her blood run icy in her veins at the thought of that. The Governor, a man that she didn't trust at all, had run into Andrea moments after she witnessed something like his shooting someone? That didn't bode well. Not for Andrea—and if he got close to her? Not for the Governor.

"What'd he do?" Michonne asked. "What'd he say to you?"

Andrea shook her head.

"Nothing, really," Andrea said. "I don't think he knew that I knew."

Michonne sucked in a breath and let go of Andrea's shoulders. She walked over to the bed and sat down on it. She rubbed her own palms against the rough fabric of her pants and considered the moment.

This was what she wanted. It was what she'd been waiting for. In this very room she'd finally told Andrea—the first time she'd ever spoken the words out loud—what had happened to her. For Michonne? It was official. She'd crossed a threshold with the woman that she could never cross with anyone else, and one that she would never want to cross with anyone else again.

In a world filled with death, Andrea was her life.

No matter where they went or what they did? It wouldn't matter. As long as they were together? Michonne would live in a meat locker packed to the brim with maggot infested rotting meat and would believe it to be Buckingham Palace.

As long as they were together.

And more than anything, she wanted to leave this place with Andrea. She didn't know if they'd survive long out there—it was really a gamble for anyone—but she felt oddly that she could keep her safe out there. At least, she felt more secure with the dead. The dead were predictable, to a degree, and were far more predictable these days than the living.

But she also knew that if she pushed too hard? Andrea would balk and they'd end up back where they were. In many ways, for this to work, it had to feel like Andrea's decision—at least to Andrea.

"You—do you think it's safe here?" Michonne asked. "Still? Do you trust this—this—Pleasantville façade?"

Andrea walked over and sat down beside Michonne. She slumped down next to her, her full weight dropping heavily and shaking the creaking bed.

"Andrea?" Michonne asked, putting an arm around Andrea's shoulder. "Do you think you're safe? If he knows you saw what you saw?"

"What if I didn't see what I saw?" Andrea asked, almost to the universe as much as she was asking it to Michonne. "What if—I didn't see it right?"

"I trust your eyes over his words," Michonne said. "Even if you had them closed. I'd trust your eyes over anything he could show me."

Andrea leaned into Michonne, resting her head against Michonne's shoulder and in response Michonne rubbed her arm.

"Do you think it's safe here?" Michonne asked.

Andrea sighed.

Michonne hated to get ahead of herself, but she imagined that the sigh was the sound of Andrea realizing that all the hopes and dreams she'd packed into this place during their short stay were just that—dreams. This place wasn't what she wanted it to be. It wasn't what they were looking for. It was like a mirage, just like Michonne had thought it was, and they hadn't yet reached their destination, whatever that might be.

"I think he'll kill me, Mich," Andrea said. "I think—he'd kill anyone, maybe? But if that person was…"

Michonne hummed.

"He won't kill you," Michonne said. "I won't let him. But—we have to go, you know that, right? We have to go."

Andrea was quiet for a moment and Michonne felt her stomach flip. Maybe she'd already done it. Maybe she'd already pushed too hard. She'd shown all her cards now—at least she'd shown every one that she knew she had. Maybe that was too much for Andrea. Maybe she'd pushed too hard and Andrea was backing away again.

Andrea said that Michonne wasn't open enough. Michonne felt that she'd been as open as she could be.

Michonne echoed Andrea's earlier sigh. It was time, if there were any left, to lay the final cards on the table.

"Andrea," Michonne said. "I don't want us to stay here. I want—you to be happy. If you want electricity and—hot food not cooked over a fire—and a warm bed? I want you to have those things. I do. More than—more than I want things for myself. And—I can't promise that I'll find them for you, but I can promise that I won't stop looking for them. But, I don't want us to stay here. I want us to go. I want us to find something better—not the island. If you don't want to go to an island? We won't go. The mountains? Somewhere? Wherever you want us to go. And—I'll keep looking to give you what you want. Whatever it is that you need…but it isn't here."

Andrea sat up rather abruptly and looked at Michonne. Michonne watched her throat move when she swallowed. Out of instinct, or simply with some kind of knee jerk movement, Michonne reached up and brushed her fingertips against Andrea's cheek.

Andrea caught her hand and moved it, kissing her knuckles gently before she moved her hand to hold it in her own.

"Where do we go, Mich?" Andrea asked.

Michonne shrugged.

"I can't answer that for you," Michonne said.

"What if there's—nothing out there?" Andrea asked.

Michonne swallowed.

"There's something out there," she said. "I don't know what, but I know there's something out there. This place? It isn't the only place like this. It can't be. And—if it's people you want? If you have to have that? I'll learn to deal with it. Just not these people."

Andrea frowned deeply.

"What if there are no good people left?" She asked.

Michonne didn't expect her heart to feel like it was breaking with the loss of the strange sort of hope and optimism that Andrea had carried with her. Michonne had wished it away more than once, but now she realized that she didn't want it gone. It was part of Andrea. It was part of what made her who she was, what made her human, and it was part of what drove her own.

Michonne wanted her to keep that hope.

"There are good people left," Michonne said. "I know it."

She smiled at Andrea.

"I didn't think there were," Michonne said. "But—then I found you. We'll find what we're looking for. But—we have to go."

Andrea nodded her head slightly and leaned, surprising Michonne by capturing her lips in a kiss. Michonne moved to deepen it, tangling her fingers in Andrea's hair.

The dream of this place—though Michonne had never been wrapped up in its magic—was a hard one to lose. The dream of finding somewhere safe? Warm? Where they could be together without constantly looking over their shoulders?

Michonne tried to clear her thoughts. This place wasn't the home of that dream. It wasn't the center of that dream. And that dream wouldn't die when they left here. It would be that dream, maybe, and the dream of a simpler life, that would drive them on together.

Michonne pulled out of the kiss.

"Let's get the bags," Michonne said. "Pack whatever we can. The sooner we leave? The better. If we can get over the wall before they know we're gone? Even better."

"They've said before we could leave when we wanted," Andrea said.

Michonne almost smiled at the flicker of what she'd feared was gone from the blonde returning.

Michonne shook her head gently.

"I don't think they're going to let us leave," Michonne said. "Not—not that simply. I think it might just be a Hotel California situation."

Andrea hummed in question and Michonne smiled.

"Check out any time you want," Michonne said. "But you can never leave."

Andrea got up at that. She looked considerably calmer than she had. The decision had been made and it had been fully accepted. She was behind the idea of them leaving. Whatever she'd seen had spooked her enough that she didn't want to see more. Michonne was going to take full advantage of that to get them out of there before Andrea lost her resolve.

Michonne took to her feet too and immediately started packing anything that they had and anything else that they could carry that might help them along the way.

With any luck, they'd be out of Woodbury and on the road within an hour.

And if Michonne had her way, they were never looking back.

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AN: I understand that there are a lot of people who read stories almost solely for the sexual encounters between their favorite pairs. I think that's great. If it's your thing and that's what you're looking for in a story, then I'm sure that there are plenty of writers out there willing to give you as much smut as you might like.

I must apologize, however, because that's not my interest. I like writing stories. That means stories with plots (beyond just the couple's interactions and sexual dalliances) and with other characters as well. In almost every one of my stories you'll find sexual encounters, and some have more than others, but it's not the central focus of what I write. So I have to apologize if you read anything by me (this story included) and that's what you're looking for. There's character interaction, and there's a relationship, but it's a relationship on a number of levels, not just a "smut" or sexual level.

So if that's what you're expecting, I sincerely apologize for that. You likely won't find satisfaction in the stories that I write. I do hope, however, that you're able to enjoy them for what they are—stories about relationships and human emotions, experiences, and interactions.

I have another, entirely different, Michandrea fic planned to start soon, and I will let you know ahead of time, should you choose to read it, that it will be about their committed relationship to one another, and there will be some sexual encounters between them that are written, but that will not be the whole and complete focus of the story.