AN: Here we go, another chapter.

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

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They'd woken to the phone ringing and Michonne had reached theirs first. Milton was awake and having coffee in the living room when she'd picked up the receiver. She might have asked him why he hadn't answered it himself, but she already knew how Milton operated. More than likely he knew what the call was about before it came through. The voice on the line was an automated one. The call, Michonne imagined, went out to every house in the community—Woodbury—and it requested that every resident turn on their television sets in fifteen minutes for a special announcement that would be made. Michonne had roused Andrea, forced some dry toast down her throat to try to catch and quell her morning sickness before it got started well, and she'd allowed her a glass of juice while they settled on the couch.

Milton sat in his chair and watched the announcement, but he watched it with little interest. It wasn't news to him. And there wasn't really that much information at any rate.

Samirah gave the announcement on their television screens and it was, like most everything that Michonne had heard these days, full of holes. This day and the next, no one would report to their work posts. They would remain in their homes and meals would be delivered to them as Woodbury underwent some organizational changes. In a short period of time, everyone would be expected to go out on their porches. During that time, they would see the arrival of the newest inmates that were coming to Woodbury. Those inmates, the announcement warned, were from high security prisons and were considered absolute Wilds. They were either untamed or, theoretically, untamable. They would be housed in the newest-built portion of the community and all current residents were urged to avoid nearing the fence line once regular activities were under way again.

Though Michonne didn't believe in wild or non-wild, she had to admit that, by the time the announcement went off, the way it had been delivered almost made her afraid of the people that were coming to their community. She could understand, almost instantly, how it was that the government could have made people fear all of them with the right tone of voice and deliverance of a possibly terrifying message.

Once the message was over, Milton got up from his seat and went to open the door. Michonne caught Andrea's hand and they followed after him. He stepped out on their porch first and Michonne stepped out and to the other side to put some space between them. In the street there were already guards that Michonne didn't recognize and they were dressed, head to toe, in something just short of full armor.

"Is that riot gear?" Michonne asked. "Milton?" He nodded his head, but he offered her no spoken response. He was staring down at the guards just the same as she was, but he was relaxed enough to make it clear that none of this was surprising to him in the slightest. "Is that really necessary?"

"They wear riot gear at all times in the high security prisons," Milton said blankly. He looked at Andrea as she eased her way out of the door. "You should stay inside."

"Everyone is supposed to be outside," Andrea protested.

"In the doorway," Milton said, turning back to survey the street again. "It's safer there. Guards from high security prisons are not accustomed to dealing with tamed Wilds. They're not as accommodating as our guards. Were something to happen, being inside would be safest."

Michonne glanced at Andrea and nodded.

"I'm with Milton on this one," Michonne said. "Step back into the doorway, please?"

"If something happens, then something happens," Andrea responded.

"If something happens," Michonne said, more accustomed to dealing with Andrea when she felt the need to prove herself than Milton was, "I'm going to shove your ass back inside the house whether you're in the doorway or out here. If you're in the doorway, it buys both of us time to get inside too."

Andrea took Michonne's comment for what it was worth and did step back into the doorway. She hung out far enough that she could see what was happening and Michonne leaned over the railings a little to be able to see down the street at some short distance.

Samirah came through first, speaking through a loudspeaker that she held to her mouth so that her words came out somewhat muffled, and she repeated some of the message that had been delivered to them inside. They'd be passing through every street in Woodbury with the inmates. Afterwards, everyone was asked to stay in their homes while Woodbury underwent some organizational changes. No one would leave their homes for any reason short of an emergency, and if they should have an emergency they would phone for assistance. They were then informed that they should neither heckle, catcall, nor otherwise try to get the attention of the inmates as they passed through. If they were involved in inciting any kind of trouble, they would be punished accordingly and as equally guilty for the problem as any other Wild involved.

Michonne ignored the involuntary shiver that ran up her spine as the woman walked, repeating her message, out of sight.

Before she saw the inmates whose arrival had been announced, she heard them. Surrounded on both sides and in the front and back by the heavily protected guards, there came a line of five women. Their feet were shackled with enough chain between them to allow them only short steps. Their hands were cuffed behind their backs. Around their necks they wore metal collars that connected each of them to the one before and after them with a chain. The metallic hiss of the chains as they moved rang in Michonne's ears and she closed her eyes for a moment to the pain that the vision in the street caused her.

The women—apparently animals unlike any animal ever imagined—were humans. Three of the five looked like they were almost starved to the point of barely being able to carry the weight of their own chains. They were dirty and bruised, some limping even like they were injured, and led along like dogs.

The only thing that Michonne found remarkable about them was that, despite their poor condition, none of them walked with their heads ducked. All of them walked, heads up and shoulders back as much as could be managed, with some sense of determination and maybe even pride.

They were not broken.

And maybe that's what made them so dangerous. Maybe that's what made them so feared. Maybe that's what made them so Wild.

Michonne heard Andrea mutter some kind of muffled declaration of shock and horror behind her and she swallowed down her own feelings. She watched as the slow procession moved forward and past them.

"Why are they marching them through the streets?" Andrea asked, her voice barely audible even from such a short distance.

"To shame them," Michonne said. "To make a show of them. To show all of us what could happen to us."

"Your file said that you were considered for high security, Andrea," Milton said, seemingly unmoved by what he saw. Maybe he'd simply seen it enough that he was numb to the horror.

"Why?" Andrea asked, the word coming out stammered.

"You killed a guard," Milton responded. "That's how many of them ended up there. In the end, though, your file says that they decided you weren't a high level risk once contained."

Michonne glanced at Andrea. Her face showed that she was disturbed by the vision of what might have become of her—something that made even their experiences look pleasant—and Michonne swallowed. She'd killed the guard. Andrea had taken the fall for it. If Andrea had gone there, it would be Michonne who had been responsible for putting her there.

But if they'd tried to take Andrea, Michonne would have killed again.

"You said you needed someone close to wild to be Wild A," Andrea said. "To fill my position. Why me? Why not one of them, if they're so wild?"

Milton hummed.

"Because I knew that I would have to live with you," Milton said. "I would have to work with you, live with you, and produce children with you. Some level of taming was desirable. I doubt that I could have lived with any of them. They would have tried to kill me and, in turn, they would have been killed."

Just as the sound of the women's chains was fading out in Michonne's right ear, the sound of chains started up again in her left. The noise stopped the conversation, if it wasn't finished anyway, in its tracks. Milton added nothing else to his response and Andrea didn't ask any more questions. Michonne stared straight ahead at nothing to set herself before she turned to see what was coming next. Five men came, in similar fashion to the women, from the same direction. Their shackles, although similar, were clearly made of heavier chain and they sounded like five Jacob Marleys chained together to carry, for all of eternity, the weight of their mortal sins together.

The men moved faster than the women had, but their physical appearance showed no fewer signs of abuse or malnourishment. Like the women, though, each of them walked with a certain air of ill-fitting pride surrounding them.

Michonne watched in silence as they passed and then she stood, waiting for a sign that it was time to go back inside, gripping the railing of the porch.

"There are only five pairs," Milton said to himself as much as he said it to Michonne or Andrea. "Originally I asked for twenty five pairs. That number has been reduced until there are only five remaining."

"What happened to them?" Andrea asked.

Milton didn't look at her, but he responded to her.

"It was reported to me that they killed each other. Or that they killed themselves," Milton said.

"But you don't believe it," Michonne challenged.

Milton glanced at her, but he didn't respond. He didn't believe it. Michonne didn't believe it either. It was possible that they killed themselves, they certainly had enough reason to do so, and it was possible that they killed each other. It was equally possible, however, that they died from the poor treatment they received or were simply executed by the heavily protected guards that were, no doubt, practically gun shy when it came to the people they were supposed to be guarding.

"Will they be free?" Andrea asked. "One day?"

"Perhaps," Milton said. "I guess it depends."

"They were brought here to be part of the project?" Michonne asked. Milton hummed in response. "They'll be increasing the population too?" He didn't respond. He didn't have to. Living with the man, Michonne was starting to understand Milton's silence almost as well as she understood any words that he said. "Even locked up," Michonne offered, "they'll be better off here than they were."

"When you're allowed to go out," Milton said, seeming to ignore Michonne's statement, "you'll avoid the guards that came with them. Both of you."

"Why?" Andrea asked. "Aren't they hired by the government to be part of the project too?"

"You'll do best to avoid them," Milton repeated, not adding explanation to his statement.

"Is it safe to assume that they might be the type that believes that no one is ever truly not-Wild?" Michonne asked. "And that all Wilds are dangerous, scourges to society?" Milton didn't respond, but she'd expected that. It confirmed, for her, that her suspicions were correct.

"We'll go back inside," Milton said. "You can entertain yourselves. I won't be leaving for work, but I'll be working upstairs. I expect that you can keep things quiet?"

"You want me to let you know when breakfast gets here?" Andrea asked, still blocking the doorway as Milton approached her to go inside. He stopped and nodded. "Nothing happened," she said. "I didn't have to be in the doorway."

"It was a preventive measure," Milton responded. "And would have proved beneficial had something occurred. It was fortunate for all of us that it wasn't really necessary."

"You would care, wouldn't you, Milton?" Andrea asked, still blocking the doorway. "If I got hurt. Would you care?"

Milton wasn't looking at her—at least not directly. Instead he was looking just off to the side of her at the doorframe. Michonne watched his features to see if he might grow frustrated with Andrea—a dance that the two of them seemed to do a good deal—or if he might simply answer her to gain the entry to the house that he wanted.

Michonne, too, was curious as to what Milton might respond to Andrea's question. It was complicated, she knew that, but they both wondered if Milton's growing dedication to the both of them was something that was wholly related to the project—his commitment to science being above everything—or if he might actually be developing some kind of feelings for either of them or for both of them.

Did Milton only care about the project and the ramifications of it, or did he actually care for the people involved?

It was a question that he might never answer—at least not in words.

"Your safety, and the safety of the child, is of the upmost importance to the project," Milton said finally.

"And if there wasn't a project?" Andrea asked.

"There is a project," Milton said. "There's no reason to waste time or energy with hypotheticals. It's time to go inside, Andrea." Finally she backed up, allowed Milton and Michonne to pass back into the house, and Michonne stood beside Andrea while Milton locked the door and checked the lock with three quick twists of the knob. He glanced over both of them with a sweeping motion of his head and then walked toward the stairs, tossing his final words to them back over his shoulder. "I'll need quiet for the morning," he said. "You'll let me know when breakfast arrives."