AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

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

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It didn't take long to discover that what they'd first learned about Andrew hadn't been true. When he'd come to the house in Alice's care, he'd come with a folder that had been passed over to them that documented some information about his life from the time of capture until the time that he'd been, essentially, released into the care of Milton and the project.

Andrew had not spent the time since his capture living peacefully with a family as they'd first been led to believe. In actuality, he'd been with three different families and he'd been in several government "homes" where he was held in between placements.

Michonne and Andrea had learned that, as a wild-born child, every "problem" that anyone identified for Andrew seemed to be attributed to the fact that he was considered to be a Wild. Because of that, he had complaints against him about his "wild" behavior and, in particular, about his inability to be quiet or still. It seemed that, rather than assume that his behavior might be caused because he was a young boy that had been passed from place to place, it was much more common for Andrew's so-called adoptive parents to assume that he was simply too wild when he failed to behave like a porcelain doll. Michonne had nearly cried when she'd read that one of the reasons that Andrew had been returned to the authorities for placement elsewhere was something as simple as the fact that he'd, apparently, been slower to potty train than his "parents" had felt was acceptable.

They'd been told that Andrew had retained his name throughout his life, but he didn't seem to respond to it when he'd first arrived at their home. At first, he hadn't seemed to respond to anything except the promise of things that he seemed to desire.

Andrew was very interested in food, various beverages, and nearly anything that looked like it could be played with or manipulated.

He didn't seem at all interested in speaking and, instead, he chose to communicate with them mostly by screeching at them. Some screeches were happier screeches than others. That was the only way that they'd had to gauge what he might be trying to communicate to them. Andrew was also very poorly potty trained for his age and he seemed almost terrified of water. He'd only succumbed to a bath if he could stand in the tub holding onto someone while someone else bathed him.

Michonne had actually called Alice to demand an explanation for what they were dealing with. Where was the child that she'd told them about? What had really happened to Andrew? The report that Michonne got back from the brunette was that she assumed that Andrew would be fine once he was settled. He would benefit from being with them and he would blossom, but she hadn't thought it was a good idea to slap Andrea in the face with the news that her son was being returned to her, physically four years older than she remembered him being, but that there was a chance that his development was little beyond what she recalled. Alice had been given a report on the boy and, though her own findings were not what she'd been told by the government employee who had filled out the report, she had hoped that it was her who hadn't quite seen Andrew the way that he normally was.

Andrew had thrived in the wild with them. It was only bringing him into captivity that had made life so difficult for him. They would have their work cut out for them simply trying to play catch up with their son. But they could do it, Michonne was sure of that.

Though Milton didn't care for Andrew's screeching, he was tolerating the boy on every other level and he actually seemed to be warming a little to having him there. Of particular interest to Milton was the effect that the child had been having on Andrea for the past three days since he'd come into her arms again. Andrea hadn't missed a beat in returning to her role as Andrew's mother. She mourned the years she'd lost with him, but she wasn't pushing Andrew away at all. On the contrary, she was nurturing him with just as much dedication as though she'd never lost him.

"OK," Michonne said, carrying Andrew into the bedroom with Andrea just behind them. "Now it's time for some pajamas." She put Andrew's feet on the bed and let him stand there while Andrea replaced her. Andrea dried him off and the young boy clung to her while Michonne went through the pajamas that he had and chose a set for him to wear.

It was impossible to tell what Andrew understood about their situation. It was impossible to tell if he understood them when they told him that they were his parents. Michonne didn't even know if he really knew what words like "parent" meant. What he clearly did understand, though, was intention. He understood that they were kind to him and he was responding to that. When she turned around to see Andrea standing there holding him while his feet rested on the bed, Michonne couldn't help but smile to herself. Andrew held onto Andrea and he rested his head against her shoulder. Either he was tired or he simply found her arms a soothing place to be, because his eyelids were sagging and he kept blinking slower and slower like he'd eventually simply stop.

"We'll get our pajamas on," Michonne said, coming back toward the bed, "and then we can read a story. We got a new one today—one about bugs, I think."

Andrew screeched the moment that Michonne reached him. He knew that her intention was to dress him and getting him to wear clothes was not nearly as easy as it was to get him to shed his clothing.

"Shhh..." Andrea soothed, rubbing his back. "Milton doesn't like it when you scream. Remember? We have to be quiet because it's quiet time."

Andrew stopped screeching long enough to look at Andrea like she had just said the most wonderful thing in the world and then he turned and screeched at Michonne when she had the audacity to touch his arm to try to trick him into letting her dress him while he was distracted by Andrea's soft and wise words.

Michonne laughed to herself.

"You're putting these pajamas on one way or another," Michonne informed him. "You're not going to like me whether I do this the easy way or the hard way, so I'm fine with doing it however it needs to be done. You want to help me get these on so we can enjoy our story, or do you want me to make you put them on?"

Andrew narrowed his eyes at Michonne.

Alice had been right about one thing. Andrew was smart. He might not understand every word that Michonne or Andrea said to him. He might not fully understand that there were consequences for his actions. But Andrew understood intent. Right now he understood that Michonne intended to put his pajamas on for him and he could decide how they went about doing that.

Michonne raised her eyebrows at his expression.

"Well? Which way do you want it?" Michonne asked. Andrew glanced at Andrea. If Michonne didn't take control of things, Andrew could manipulate Andrea entirely with just a flash of his green eyes. He had her wrapped around every finger he had. "She's not going to save you," Michonne said. "The pajamas are between you and me."

To test her, Andrew looked back at Andrea. Andrea had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at him, but she shook her head.

"Don't look at me," she said. "Mimi is going to put your pajamas on."

Michonne held her arms out to Andrew when he looked back at her and he let go of Andrea to sink into Michonne's arms. He understood that he was losing this battle. Michonne sat down with him, shifting him to sit across her legs, and she helped him get into his pajamas.

"And after this," she said, trying to make everything sound joyful and exciting for his benefit, "we'll read our new story before we go to sleep. How would you like that? Reading a new story before we go to sleep?"

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Andrew was supposed to sleep in a bed that had been brought in especially for him. He usually only slept a few hours a night in that bed, though. He didn't sleep well and Andrew seemed to hate being left alone for any stretch of time. If they put him in the bed right away and tried to leave him there to sleep, he almost always had violent nightmares that scared him until he woke up shaking and crying desperately. Because of those nightmares, he wasn't entirely fond of bedtime in general. The only way they'd found to soothe things over was to let him go to sleep in their big bed, tucked in between Andrea and Michonne. Once he was good and asleep, and usually once Andrea was asleep as well, Michonne would ease the little boy out of the bed and transfer him to his own bed. If they handled things that way, Andrew would often sleep until at least the earliest hours of the morning when Milton was already up and milling about.

Michonne left Andrea and Andrew sleeping peacefully in the bed and she went to the kitchen to have a cup of tea to help her relax. She was tired, but she was far from ready to call it a night and go to bed.

In the kitchen, Milton already had the kettle on the stove. Clearly he'd had the same idea as Michonne. Michonne leaned against the island in the kitchen.

"Do you mind if I have tea, too?" Michonne asked. She knew that Milton sometimes like his quiet and his solitude during certain events that he almost treated like rituals. His late evening tea was often one of these rituals where he seemed particularly annoyed by the presence of Michonne and Andrea. "I'd be happy to take mine in the other room."

"You needn't bother," Milton said. "I believe there's enough water for the both of us already set to boil, but you might check it to see if you're satisfied."

"I'm satisfied," Michonne said without even bothering to see how much water Milton had put in the kettle.

"Will Andrea be having tea?" Milton asked.

"Andrea is sleeping," Michonne said.

"Andrew as well?" Milton asked.

"Andrew as well," Michonne confirmed. "When I left, the only person in that room that wasn't sleeping was the baby."

"I beg your pardon?" Milton asked.

Michonne laughed to herself.

"She was moving around," Michonne said. "I had my hand on Andrea's belly. I could feel her moving around. The baby doesn't like to sleep when Andrea's sleeping. It's one of the reasons that Andrea says she doesn't sleep well. It's hard to sleep when something inside you is having its own little dance party."

"I wouldn't know," Milton said.

"You wouldn't," Michonne confirmed. "But I would. And I would imagine that you'd be able to imagine it, Milton. I'd imagine that you could empathize if you really wanted to try."

"As long as you're here," Milton said, ignoring what Michonne had suggested, "I'd like my tea with sugar. Two spoonfuls. And just a little cream."

Michonne laughed to herself and walked around the island so that she could prepare Milton's tea. His ritual was ruined as long as she was there, so she might as well make her presence enjoyable by preparing his tea for him.

"Do you want to have it in the living room?" Michonne suggested. "If we're both having tea, it would be nice to sit and have it together."

"That will be fine," Milton ceded. He left the kitchen, heading toward the living room, and Michonne followed after him with the mugs as soon as she finished preparing them. She passed him his mug before she settled down in her seat.

"Milton—bringing Andrew here for Andrea was the best thing that you could do," Michonne said.

"Perhaps," Milton said. "It offers new material and new perspectives to the project, but it is possibly a bad addition for the recreation of Kreegan's original experiment."

"Because of the solitude?" Michonne asked.

"Among other things," Milton responded.

"Will you have enough data from the time before Andrew arrived?" Michonne asked.

"Perhaps," Milton said. "It may be necessary to explore other aspects of Andrea's relationship with Andrew. It will be necessary to examine things as my research progresses to assess whether or not there's sufficient evidence to prove my hypothesis."

"And then what happens, Milton?" Michonne asked. "When your hypothesis is proved and the world accepts it. When Kreegan's research is thrown out and the world learns that Wilds are just people—what happens?"

Milton stared at his tea.

"Then the world will go through a stage of transition," Milton said. "As it does with every great discovery. As it did when Kreegan's findings first went public. There will be those who will celebrate our new knowledge. Others will doubt it or find it difficult to accept. They'll find it difficult to change their long-held beliefs, but they'll adapt slowly. Finally, there will be others who will refuse to accept it, no matter how well we're able to present the findings of this project and no matter how thorough our investigation may be. They will immediately set out to prove us wrong."

"Because they're more comfortable in their hate," Michonne said.

"We naturally fear what we do not understand," Milton said. "For some, hate is a more comfortable emotion than fear. With fear there is a certain passivity. Hate often leads to action and provides the individual with a feeling of more control over their own emotions in light of the thing that they fear."

"They'll wrap their hate around them like blankets to keep them comfortable," Michonne said with a laugh. "It's easier to hate us than to believe that we're human."

"Among other things," Milton offered. "The world will change, though, even if they aren't prepared for it."

"And what about you?" Michonne asked.

"I will be prepared," Milton said.

Michonne laughed to herself.

"I mean—where do you go from here? When it's the end of it all and there's me, Andrea, Andrew—and the two new babies we're promised. Where are you? Are you with us or...where do you go? What happens to Milton?"

"I can assure you that I don't know," Milton said. "Just the same as I have no guarantees that there will ever actually be an end. Much like you, when I look to the future, I find myself surrounded by little more than hope and question. I have science on my side, Michonne, but that's hardly a crystal ball."