ANDREA

She let Merle guide her through the woods as the hours dragged on without any real conviction to stop him as she replayed Milton's last sacrificial act in her head. He had to have known from the moment he decided to go back to Woodbury that he would die there and even with what Phillip had done to him, he had made it far enough to give Andrea and Merle those precious few seconds that helped them get away.

As if that made it any easier to let him go…

Hearing him scream through the thin metallic walls as Phillip performed heinous experiments on him had been enough to make her tip over the chair she was tied to and start bashing it against the wall to somehow get to Milton. What made it worse was hearing him call her name as she cried out to him in unison and she knew Phillip was thriving off of that power to control them both by using the other. So when Phillip came for her, Milton had resorted to calling Phillip all manner of foul things before he started chanting Andrea's name in a tortured, rhythmic pattern. As Phillip exploited her, she tried to reassure Milton that she was alright and that what was being done to her wasn't as painful as it sounded, for Phillip kept up an intense soundtrack to taunt Milton.

By the time Merle arrived, Milton had gone quiet (Andrea assumed from passing out or losing his voice and she hoped not dying). A flurry of emotions had passed over Merle's face in the split seconds before Phillip spoke and Andrea hated all of them because it meant that Phillip had also succeeded in crushing Merle's protective walls, the walls that made him Merle, that made him indestructible. She saw the man on the Atlanta roof in his rage, the passive look of confusion that he'd had after she kissed him at the prison, and then she saw fear coupled with sorrow, but it wasn't solely because of what he was seeing in front of him. What he had seen in the other room had jostled him and thrown him off guard and his mind was still focused on Milton when he barged into Andrea's containment room.

Even as her body ached from Phillip's assault and she tried to think of a future where she could live with what had been done to her, she recognized Merle's actions as ones of devotion and dumb bravery, not purpose and prize. He came back for her because he wanted to, not because anyone told him to and she regretted more than ever the shot she had taken at his face.

But those feelings of enlightenment gave way to grief as he continued to carry her through the woods and she could only think of Milton who had quite literally given his body to protect her. So many times she tried to tell Merle—no, insist—that they had to go back for him even though she knew they'd be going back for a dead body and besides, Phillip knew they wouldn't make the same mistake twice. With their small numbers, there was no way they could take back Woodbury and as much as it pained her, Andrea knew that its people were now out of her reach.

She wanted to suffer for Milton, somehow make her body endure what he had had to endure and she didn't deserve the medical help that Hershel could give her.

Merle tried to help her over a log, but she pulled back so that he almost tripped over it.

"We don't got a lotta time here; let's keep movin'," Merle prompted.

How was she supposed to tell Merle that despite all he had risked for her and the gamble he took with his own life, she didn't want to be rescued by him? The desire to meet Milton in the afterlife and apologize for not being the friend he had needed at the end was stronger than her desire to stay here, even for a man she admitted to herself that she loved.

"Andrea, come—on."

"I'm done," said Andrea. "I'm not going any further."

"Oh, you're not, are ya? Whatchoo think the Governor's gonna do t'you once he catches up t'you?"

"I don't give a shit what he did to me or what he may still do; he can't change me because of that. But what he did to Milton because of me…Merle, he didn't deserve it. He was still such a child in so many ways and in the end, I just wanted to protect him."

"Lookit me," said Merle, grabbing her face and shaking her forcibly, but not without a note of gentleness. "You're shootin' 'im two middle fingers if you lay down an' die right now, hear me? He fuckin' paid for your life with his, so you're gonna keep walkin', an' if y'won't, I'll carry you. What he did may not mean shit t'you, but I understand why he did it an' I wouldda done the same. I understand him now; I get 'im, an' I owe it t'him t'getchoo as far away from Woodbury as I can."

If there was one thing that Andrea thought was more humiliating and soul-breaking than being assaulted by one man as the one she loved had to watch, it was breaking down in tears to the latter, but the tears came and she tried to wipe them away with the heel of her hand. She had to keep it together; she couldn't afford for Merle to see her so weak when she needed him to accept her decision to stay behind.

"You said he didn't break you; prove it," Merle challenged. "You've fought this hard for this long t'stay alive an' now you're just gonna throw in the towel because you're feelin' guilty that you survived? Well, lemme tell y'somethin', sweetheart, that guilt never goes away. You've gotta choose t'live with it if you're a fighter, or die with it because you're feelin' fuckin' sentimental. I admired you for the type've woman you are, but if y'wanna die right here, then tell me that the hell I've just been through, the fact that a chunk've my face is missin'—was all for nothin'. Tell me that Woodbury's not gonna survive another two weeks 'cause you gave up. Tell me all've your people and Milton just died 'cause you ain't got the motherfuckin' guts t'keep pushin'. Say the damn words t'my face."

She couldn't. Of course, she couldn't say the words, because Merle was wrong and right. Why had she survived and Amy hadn't? And Dale hadn't? She didn't go down easily, fueled by the need to prove that she deserved another chance. After Amy, Dale had helped her realize that as Merle now was in the wake of Milton's death. But taking that next step, putting one foot in front of the other, seemed impossible at this point.

A thunderclap made her jump and she squinted up at the sky as she felt the first chilling droplets of rain sprinkle down onto her face. A tremble ran down her spine, for she had no extra padding to warm herself with.

Merle stood by, waiting for her to react. She reached up to trace the line of flesh her bullet had carved out on his face, but dropped her hand down to his belt, grabbed his pistol, and aimed it over his shoulder instead. It was a mark of how alert her senses still were that she managed to hold off her shot at the last second when she saw a crossbow and flashlight proceed their owner into view.

Behind Daryl was Guerrero and as both of them got a good look at Andrea and Merle, they let out a low whistle in harmony.

"The hell happened to you?" Guerrero asked Merle.

"How'd you find us?" Andrea asked Daryl.

"Dumb luck," said Guerrero. "We weren't looking; we just…found you."

"Then you can divide up her weight an' start carryin' her," said Merle, taking back his pistol from Andrea as he made up her decision for her. He draped his overshirt across her shoulders.

A bullet hit Merle in the left knee and he just had time to let out a stream of swearwords before a second bullet hit his right shin. He collapsed, unable to support the weight of his body on wounded legs, and without thinking, Andrea threw herself over him. She saw floodlights hit Merle's mutilated face and then someone grabbed her ponytail and gave a forceful yank that hauled her up onto her knees so that she could see what was unmistakably Phillip's silhouette looming over her.

She could almost feel the metal nozzle placed at the back of her head, daring her to make a move. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Daryl and Guerrero being disarmed and forced to their knees while ahead, the floodlight shifted ever so slightly in the truckbed as someone was lifted out, lugged across the muddy ground, and lined up between Daryl and Guerrero.

The hood was pulled off of the captive's face and Andrea let out a strangled sob as she saw Milton's face catch the light. The bruises, swelling, and blood coating and caking every inch of his body was evident enough that he was beyond pain; he was dying. And what's more, when he saw Andrea, he realized all of his suffering had been for naught.

I'm so sorry, Andrea tried to tell him, but with how traumatized his face was, she wasn't even sure that he could read her lips at this point, even if he knew she was there because her profile was so distinguishable.

Ten feet or so away, Benson had his foot on Merle's chest to prevent him from getting up as Merle lay in agony, still swearing as the blood from his leg wounds started to mix with the mud.

Phillip came to the forefront and had to project a little to be heard over Merle's curses, but all else in the woods was still, so he didn't need to be very loud at all.

"We're missin' a few people, but for now, we'll make do. I'll make this short and simple 'cause I believe in equal opportunity. I'm a man've honor; I keep my word and I pay my debts, just like you, Merle," said Phillip, rounding on Merle who instantly went quiet. "I saved your life; you saved mine, or at least spared mine—four times, so I'm gonna return the favor. I won't kill you; you have my word about that, so that brings our tally up t'two for me and four for you. I can't decide t'kill you and then not multiple times; that's cheatin'. Instead, I'm gonna give you a chance to finally make the decisions about who lives and who dies for yourself. You get to play God today, Merle, but only after you prove that you're worthy."

Phillip checked the bullets in his revolver and flicked the barrel back into place. "Keep 'im covered," he told his soldiers, and then showed Merle his weapon. "Y'got two bullets in here and four people kneelin' in front've you. Pick and choose. Two live; two don't. Whoever you don't shoot goes free, but that's assumin' that you can do this first part. Here's the deal: if you can stand on your own two feet, I'll leave the whole decision up to you. If you can't do that, I'll shoot one've 'em right here, then all you gotta do is shoot one and the other two live. If you think about it in the right way, I'm savin' you a lotta turmoil here, but I'll hold back on askin' for thank-you's about that."

Andrea had nothing left to feel or think as she watched the dribbling pattern of blood swirl into a pool of muck beside Merle.

Phillip motioned with his revolver. "So, up you get, Merle. You've got one minute."