AN: Here we go, another chapter.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Michonne knew that something was up when she was pulled off of her work duty by a guard. That knowledge was even more concrete, in her mind, when she saw that another guard had pulled T-Dog off his job. She was good at maintaining her composure—and she always had been—on the outside, but inside she was tied up in knots over what it might mean.
What had they done? What were they in trouble for? What had happened? Was some kind of punishment coming because she hadn't even had a single pregnancy "scare" since their arrival?
Her brain ticked off about a hundred possibilities in the short amount of time that it took them, both walking in silence and trying not to look at one another, to cross part of the community to the spot where the guards were taking them. Once they got there, meeting under some of the few trees that were still growing in the area that had mostly been cleared to build Woodbury, Michonne could see that Dr. Walker was standing and waiting, her arms crossed across her chest.
"I'll take it from here, guys," she said to the guards. "Thanks for your help."
"Alone?" One of the guards asked.
"I think I can handle it," Dr. Walker said. "I've got my radio. Things get out of hand? I'll call someone."
"We'll stay close by," the same guard said, looking at Michonne like he was threatening her with his eyes. "You just yell if you need help. We'll hear you."
Dr. Walker accepted the man's offer with some frustration. She seemed agitated and Michonne wasn't certain if her demeanor was in response to the guards or something else entirely. The guards left and walked out of sight, though Michonne wasn't sure exactly how far they went, and she looked to the doctor for some kind of explanation.
"OK," Dr. Walker said, looking back and forth between T-Dog and Michonne, "I need some truth here. What do I need to know about Andrea? Because I know you two are the only two on the visitation list and I know that Milton...well...he'd do anything he had to do for this project."
Michonne looked at T-Dog and he stared at her, head tipped slightly to the side, and scratched at the back of his neck. He looked guilty of something, that much was sure, but there wasn't any way of knowing what, exactly, he was guilty of. Michonne looked at the doctor.
"Nobody wants to get in trouble here," Michonne said.
"And nobody will," Dr. Walker assured her. "I'm not here to get anybody in trouble. I'm here to fix things. This project means a lot to me. And whether or not you know it, it's a case of life or death for all of you. So what do I need to know to make things easier on me?"
"What's hard on you?" Michonne challenged. "And maybe we can fix it."
The doctor narrowed her eyes at Michonne, but the corners of her mouth turned up.
"You were together?" She asked. "Out there? Before you were taken to Region Thirty Three?"
Michonne nodded.
"Together, together? Or just travelling through?" Dr. Walker asked.
"As together as we could be," Michonne said.
Dr. Walker nodded her head.
"The baby?" Dr. Walker is asked.
"Which one?" Michonne asked.
Dr. Walker stared at her. She dropped her eyes, a moment, toward the ground but they didn't stay there. She brought them back up to meet Michonne's eyes again.
"I'd like to know what happened out there," Dr. Walker admitted. "But—I'm not going to dig into that. The past is the past. This baby—what do I need to know? How did it get here? How are you involved—both of you—if you are?"
Michonne looked at T-Dog, but he was trying very hard to pretend that he wasn't part of the conversation at all. Despite the look of guilt painted all over his features, he seemed to think that he might get out of this without confessing that he had anything to do with anything. Michonne licked her lips and considered the woman in front her.
"The baby is Milton's, of course," Michonne said. "He just had a little help making it happen."
Dr. Walker nodded her head. She looked at T-Dog then.
"And you?" She asked. "What's your—role? In all of this?"
T-Dog looked at Michonne. He narrowed his eyes at her and furrowed his brow. He took on, for just a second, the appearance of a brooding toddler.
"Unfortunate bystander," T-Dog said. "Overly-compassionate and unfortunate bystander. I wasn't going to let Michonne get stuck with just anyone when they split her and Andrea."
"Better someone sympathetic," Dr. Walker said. T-Dog nodded at her. "But you're not trying to get pregnant?" She asked, redirecting her attention to Michonne.
"Haven't ovulated yet," Michonne said. "At least not according to your tests. The plan was simple. When I was ovulating? We'd go back, together, and we'd do it again. Andrea would have Milton's baby. I'd have T-Dog's. But having a baby doesn't have to mean..." She shrugged her shoulders to finish and Dr. Walker nodded and waved her hand at her.
"Yeah...yeah...resourceful and clever," Dr. Walker said. "And—in my opinion? Absolutely not against the rules. We don't care who is in a relationship with who. Not really. Not more than society has—has ever cared. But for the project? We have to have confirmed pregnancies."
"And that's what you're getting," Michonne said.
Dr. Walker nodded her head.
"But we need successful ones too," Dr. Walker said. "So—walk with me. Both of you. And give me a little insight into Andrea. Has she ever seemed unstable before?"
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Michonne was nearly going crazy to get to Andrea. She could talk to her. She could rationalize with her. She could handle this—whatever it was—if only they'd let her handle it. But before she could get in there and make all the promises that she needed to make, and before she could soothe everything over, they had to get Milton to sign off on things. And, while Michonne might have thought that simply bullying him into what she wanted was best, the rational side of her recognized that Dr. Walker's approach of talking it over with him was clearly going to work more in their favor.
"You asked me to tell you when it went too far," Dr. Walker said to the man. "You told me you wanted my opinion and you needed my input. I'm telling you that you have to pull back. It's gone too far."
"I'm following the model that I have and it's too early," Milton said. "It's not the right time."
"It's the only time," Dr. Walker said. "I don't know the model. I never saw it and I didn't read—the same things you did. I read the book. I heard a couple of the speeches. But I never read the full model. You know that. But from what I read? I can give you what you need to know. The solitary confinement will drive her to madness if it hasn't already. And it's not necessary. Not anymore. We know what it'll do. You can go in there right now and see—what it's doing. We can draw any number of assumptions from that—sound ones. We don't have to see it play out."
"There are no weapons in the house," Milton said blankly. "I removed all of them."
"Really?" Dr. Walker responded. "Because I can count three just from where I'm standing."
Michonne glanced around the room. Weapons. Sometimes people didn't understand that there were weapons and there were weapons. If she had to kill someone? She could count at least twenty things that she could use to do it—and that was without turning her head.
"If I may?" Michonne said, feeling her stomach churn even at taking the chance to speak up. She got the attention, though, of both Milton and Dr. Walker and neither one reproached her. "Andrea isn't violent. She never has been. Out there? She was a hell of a partner when it came to dealing with the Dead. But people?" Michonne shook her head. "A lot of things would've gone differently for both of us if she'd been stronger against people. She doesn't want to hurt anyone. Not even if they absolutely deserve it."
Dr. Walker nodded.
"And there you have it," Dr. Walker said. "That's a pretty strong piece of information. How many people did she kill, Michonne? That you know of?"
"She took the rap for me," Michonne said. "When a guard was killed during our capture? She took the blame for it. But it was me who killed him. I've never seen her kill someone who wasn't one of the Dead or as good as dead. She'd kill out of compassion—but that was always different."
"Don't change it entirely," Dr. Walker said, turning her attention back to Milton. "Take the data you've got so far and change it a little. Let Michonne move in here. T-Dog if he wants to or we can work that out. Andrea will still be alone when everyone's at work, but it isn't absolute solitude." Milton looked uncomfortable with her suggestion. It was clear that he didn't like it. He didn't like the implications of it, maybe, but Michonne wasn't sure the exact source of his discomfort. "She kills herself," Dr. Walker added, "and we lose so much. Possibly everything. We have to start again—and that's only if it gets approved."
The last bit of nudging seemed to do it and Milton finally nodded, even though he didn't look exactly gleeful about the change.
"I don't have a choice," he said.
"No," Dr. Walker said, "you don't. Because if she wants to find a way? She'll find it."
"I know," Milton responded. "Believe me—I know."
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"I'm going to make this really simple for you," Dr. Walker said. "We're going to get you up and you're going to—sit on the porch and enjoy the breeze. OK? Get some of that fresh air you've been wanting. And we're going to get you some fluids and something to eat."
Milton had held out on her. He'd held out on all of them, from what Michonne could tell. He thought it was, possibly, a normal effect of pregnancy. Maybe it was a normal part of morning sickness. He'd assumed that it would pass and Andrea's threats were nothing more than a toddler style tantrum. But, from the quick and mostly hidden glance that she got before she was pushed away entirely, Andrea looked worse than Michonne had seen her look in a long time—and she'd seen her at some pretty low points. Sick from the pregnancy, miserable from everything else, and possibly terrified of the outcome of everything, she'd decided that starvation and thirst were her best way out of it all and she was almost two days into the process of demonstrating that she had enough willpower to let it happen.
"Leave me alone," she said from her position wedged between the toilet and the bathtub.
Dr. Walker laughed ironically.
"This hardheadedness is great," Dr. Walker said. "This strength? It's great—but use your powers for good and not for evil. Think of your baby and let's get you out of here."
"I'll take him with me," Andrea responded. "This way? I'll take him with me."
Michonne paced a short circle around the floor. She was being forced to wait out of sight. Dr. Walker was trying to negotiate with Andrea first—to see if she could get her to come around on her own. As far as Michonne knew, Andrea hadn't noticed her and wasn't aware of her presence. Michonne would wait on the doctor to let her in there because the woman told her to wait, but she was losing her patience.
"Listen—you won't win this," Dr. Walker said. "Not this way. Because if I have to? I'll have you restrained and sedated. I'll have a feeding tube inserted into your body in less than fifteen minutes and you'll lose complete control of everything until the baby's born. Then? They're going to rule that you're unfit because of this. That's the hard way. That's not how I want this to go down. The easy way? You let me help you. I'll report this as nothing more than a severe case of morning sickness that accidentally resulted in dehydration and malnutrition for a couple of days. It got away from you. Things get away from us. We get you healthy. We make sure the baby's healthy. You and Michonne keep your baby."
"Mich?" Andrea asked.
Michonne heard her name and nearly plowed into the doctor. She apologized when she bumped the woman, trying to look into the bathroom door that was blocked by the doctor's body and Milton's.
"Surprise?" Dr. Walker offered. "Milton's agreed to let her stay here. To move in with you. Everything else stays the same, but she can stay."
"Mich?" Andrea repeated.
Dr. Walker moved to let Michonne in and Michonne crawled quickly into the bathtub and got her arms around Andrea from that direction since it was the easiest way to reach her.
"You don't get to do this," Michonne said, cradling Andrea as best she could in the tight space. "You don't get to take the easy way out and leave me here. So—get up or I'll get you up. I've gotten your ass out of the dirt too many times to let you die next to a toilet."
Andrea laughed at her. It was a weak laugh, but it sounded better than her voice had even when she'd been arguing with the doctor.
"It could be a trick, Mich," Andrea said. "You told me—you can't trust anyone."
"You can trust me," Dr. Walker said quickly. "You can trust me and you can trust Milton. You have to trust us."
Michonne knew what they were saying were true. Whether or not they wanted to trust them? They had to. There was no other choice—unless it was choosing to take some horrible way out like Andrea was willing to try if she had to.
"I'm here," Michonne said. "And they're going to let me stay. For good. And we're going to work this out. And—I trust them."
She looked at the doctor. She narrowed her eyes at her. She tried, with everything inside her, to transfer the message to her that she was thinking—she would tell Andrea that she trusted her, and she would trust her, but if she made her regret that? She'd take the bullet they had to offer her just to make sure she took as many of them out as was possible before they killed her. She would do it for Andrea—if she had to. She'd do it to get some kind of revenge.
Maybe the doctor understood, or maybe she was confirming what Michonne had actually said, because she nodded her head at her.
"We've got a lot to do," Dr. Walker said. "Because I've got to get you taken care of and T-Dog and Michonne have to go and get her things. Can I help you?"
Andrea looked at Michonne and Michonne forced a smile and nodded at her. Andrea offered a soft but sincere smile back and made the first moves to get out the position that must have been at least a little bit painful. Dr. Walker quickly held a hand out to her.
"Don't get up," she said quickly. "You'll probably just black out and I don't want to add possible concussion to my list. Stay down. I'll get T-Dog for backup and we'll get you."
Michonne waited until the doctor had scrambled out of the room and she looked at Andrea, still keeping her hands on her.
"You were really going to do this?" Michonne asked. "Just—let me get the news off the fucking weather channel?"
"I'd have told you in person," Andrea said. "But I didn't think I was going to see you again. I've sent for you—two dozen times. But—you never came. I thought Milton lied. Nobody was ever coming back here. I didn't think they'd ever let you come again."
Michonne swallowed and nodded. She rested her face against Andrea's head.
"I'm here now," she said. "And I'm not leaving." She sucked in a breath when she felt Andrea's fingers find her arm and touch it gently. "But if you ever try this again? With me here?"
"I won't," Andrea said quickly, cutting off Michonne's threat before she could even think of what it might actually be. "I promise. We'll do it together."
