Present Day
Michonne and Andrea watched from the bushes as a burly man stabbed a dead soldier in the brain.
She squeezed Andrea's shoulder. "We need to go now."
Andrea nodded without hesitation. On their way to nowhere in particular, they'd spotted a smoking helicopter crash to the ground a few miles west of them. It had been Andrea's idea to check out the wreckage, arguing that the military might still be intact. Anyone who survived the crash might lead them to a safe haven.
Michonne wasn't a fan of wishful thinking. Initially, she'd had a hard time letting Andrea take the lead. But she proved to be a strategic thinker, saving their lives a number of times in the past eight months. This time around, however, Andrea was suffering from a serious flu virus.
As they moved to leave, Michonne halted. A man with a knife for a hand stood over the beheaded corpses of her "pet" zombies. She darted for her katana, gripping the handle just as the man whipped out a pistol, aiming it between her eyes.
"Easy, gal. You just lower that nice and slow," the man commanded in a raspy voice. Michonne reluctantly obeyed, already calculating her next move.
"Merle?" Andrea coughed. The man looked her way, but kept his gun trained on Michonne.
"Blondie?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "The Governor's gonna get a real kick outta you two."
His laugh did little to reassure Michonne.
The woman in the blue scrubs remained silent as she treated Andrea, easing an IV needle into a bulging vein on her arm. She assured Michonne that with a lot of fluids and rest, Andrea would recover soon from the virus she'd contracted. Luckily, Andrea had received treatment just in the nick of time, as she was severely dehydrated with a dangerously high fever. Michonne smoothed stray blonde hairs from Andrea's forehead, a smile forming at the sight of her friend drooling in her sleep.
Michonne had been on the verge of giving up when the two of them first crossed paths. The wide-eyed woman was exhausted and surrounded by hungry walkers. After Michonne disposed of the walkers, she offered the harried woman some food and water, intending to continue on alone.
And then Michonne realized how capable Andrea was with a pistol. They struck a deal to stick together until they found Andrea's group, becoming close friends - and sisters - in the process.
A tall, lanky man stepped through the door of the exam room, the woman excusing herself. He wore a leather hunting vest, a blue button-down shirt, and brown cargo pants. A holstered gun hung from the belt secured around his slim waist. Michonne focused on his eyes – cold, blue and dead.
"I see your friend is getting some needed rest. I hear we found you two just in time," the man said.
"We weren't lost," Michonne replied brusquely. "We want our weapons."
"Seems like luck either way," he said, ignoring her request. "I'm Phillip."
Michonne sneered at his extended hand.
"You two just rest up here for tonight." He gestured to a weathered love seat. "The couch is comfortable enough. We'll set you up in a private room tomorrow, after a tour of the town. Sleep well and welcome to Woodbury." He forced a smile as he left, securing the lock on the other side of the door.
The icy stare belied his easy manner and it all unsettled Michonne. Her fingers itched for her katana. Without her weapon, she was dead in the water.
"Sleep well, my ass," she muttered above Andrea's peaceful snores.
The Governor, as the townspeople referred to Phillip, ended their tour of Woodbury at their new room. Despite her initial reservations, Michonne was impressed by the town. Running water, a school, gardens, even a gym, were all within the confines of the walker-free area. And the people were kind and welcoming, though clearly oblivious to the dangers lurking on the other side of their gates.
"I hope you join us for the BBQ tonight," the Governor said, looking between the two women.
"Of course we will," Andrea said with a smile. She'd been glued to his side all afternoon, asking him question after question and offering up information about their own travels a little too generously.
"There's a place for you here, if you want it," the Governor said, focused on Michonne.
Michonne only cleared her throat in response. Finally, the Governor departed, leaving them to settle in.
Andrea moaned. "That man is gorgeous, Mich."
"If you like the Jim Jones type," Michonne said. She sat akimbo on the bed, watching Andrea unpack her belongings. Michonne's pack remained intact, she had no plans to stay longer than a day or two.
"Would you please give him a chance? This place is a dream and we could use a home base. We need this, Mich."
Michonne had always been quick to question and slow to trust. Andrea was the exact opposite. This balance between vigilance and impulsiveness had proven beneficial so far. And in all their time together, Michonne had never seen her friend so desperate to hold onto something.
Michonne sighed. "We may as well enjoy ourselves tonight. I haven't had a drink in almost a year."
Michonne crunched down on her corn-on-the-cob, licking the sweet juice from her lips. She sipped from her third glass of wine, allowing a lightheaded haziness to lift her spirits. She preferred whiskey sours, but in a world overrun with walkers, wine did the trick.
Fires blazed in metal barrels lining the block. Grilled hot dogs and potato chips were doled out generously, along with wine and cold beer. The celebration reminded Michonne of happier times, before the world had turned to death and blood and rot. Mike had loved throwing BBQs, a master in the art of grilling.
Andrea chatted with the Governor, his eyes occasionally straying to Michonne. He is handsome, she thought, admiring his longs legs and athletic physique. The wine was definitely loosening her up. Best to ignore him, especially if Andrea is interested. Michonne recalled the iciness of his eyes to cool the heat rising to her cheeks. She stood, her bladder on the verge of exploding. She darted across the street to a dimly lit storefront, barely making it to the bathroom in time.
As she washed her hands, Michonne gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, cheeks flushed and eyes puffy. It felt good to let her guard down for once, to not have to constantly look over her shoulder. She smiled, drunk on the normalcy of it all. Michonne stepped out of the bathroom and straight into the Governor's solid chest. She stumbled back as he reached out to balance her.
"Steady there. Had enough wine for tonight?" He smiled.
Michonne snorted, surprising them both. She cleared her throat and said in as serious a tone as she could manage, "I think I've earned a night off, Governor."
His smile reached his eyes, replacing the coldness and the death with something softer, more human. "Call me Phillip." Sudden memories of Rick invaded her thoughts. She looked away, embarrassed by her oncoming desire. It'd been way too long since she'd been attracted to someone and she needed to put some distance between herself and the man who reminded her of Rick.
"We should get back to the party," Michonne whispered, afraid of what she might regret.
The Governor gripped her shoulders. "You are a beautiful woman, Michonne," he said, his warm breath caressing her forehead. Before she could stop him, he leaned down to capture her lips with his own. Michonne pushed against his chest as his mouth moved against hers. Heat crawled up her neck, enflaming her cheeks and weakening her will to resist.
Damn wine. She relaxed the tension in her arms, giving in to his rough kisses, so unlike the gentle ones Rick had planted all over her body that glorious night.
He isn't Rick. The thought shocked Michonne sober and she untangled herself from the Governor's arms.
"Michonne," he growled, his voice rough with desire.
"I'm sorry, I can't," she whispered, pushing past him and whipping open the front door. She rushed past Andrea, her blue eyes brimming with accusation and hurt. It was clear her friend had seen them.
No more alcohol for a year, she declared as she escaped into the crowd.
Three days later, the Governor summoned Michonne to his apartment. She had tried to let him down easy that night, calling the kiss a drunken mistake. He insisted she just needed time to think it over. Apparently, the Governor was as stubborn as she was.
Michonne's locs danced in the morning breeze as she strode through town to his apartment. She had responded to his request with the sole intention of securing her katana and Andrea's pistol, the first step in her escape plan. She would need to talk with Andrea next. Her friend had been avoiding her since the BBQ, occupying herself with odd jobs around town, returning to their room only after Michonne was asleep.
Weapons first, sisterhood second. She ascended the stairs leading to the Governor's apartment. Michonne knocked on his front door.
"Come in," the Governor called from inside.
The sweet aroma of bacon enticed Michonne as she walked into his apartment. She noticed the dining table was set for two. The Governor kept busy at the stove.
"Have a seat, Michonne," he said without glancing her way. Michonne took the seat closest to the display cabinet which held her katana.
He shut off the stove and brought over a plate topped with scrambled eggs and strips of bacon. He took the seat across from her.
"I thought we should take the time to have a meal together, get to know each other better," he said as he loaded the food onto her plate. "Breakfast was my specialty before…all this. My daughter, Penny, always went crazy for my Mickey Mouse pancakes."
Michonne watched his movements like a hawk. Unable to ignore her hunger, she stabbed at her eggs with a fork and scooped them into her mouth.
Much better than what I used to make, her eyes still on him. Memories of Andre squishing scrambled eggs between his chubby fingers flitted through her mind.
"You belong here," the Governor said, cutting her reverie short. "You're a fighter who understands the brutality of the world outside of these walls; a woman with the skill to survive on her own, but risks her life to keep a friend alive. I need someone like you. I truly believe that together, we could win this war against the dead and rebuild civilization."
Michonne pushed her plate away. "I'm my own woman. I don't belong anywhere or to anyone."
The Governor sighed. "Why must you always play hard to get? I'm not the only one who enjoyed that kiss. You gave a part of yourself to me that night and I'm not giving it back."
Michonne rose from her chair, taking a step backward. "Thank you for your hospitality-"
The Governor slammed his palm onto the table. "Hospitality? I offer you the chance to be my partner, my lover, and you spit it back in my face?" He slowly stood, inching around the table.
Michonne took another step toward the cabinet. A few more steps and the katana would be hers again.
"It's time to finish what we started." The Governor lunged, gripping her arms before she could make it to the cabinet. He pulled her close and ravaged her lips with his own. Michonne gasped for breath, pushing futilely against his solid chest. Michonne bit down hard on his bottom lip, the taste of his blood bursting into her mouth. He pulled away in shock, giving Michonne the chance to snatch her katana from the display.
The Governor moved for her again, this time meeting the tip of her blade. She reached into the display, grabbing Andrea's pistol and tucking it into her pants. Michonne backed away in the direction of the door, brandishing her katana to discourage any further attacks. "I think it's time Andrea and I were on our way."
He laughed. "Andrea? Where do you think she's been these last few nights?" He answered for her. "In my bed."
Michonne halted. "You're lying, she would never..."
"It was easier than I thought it would be. I guess you two aren't that close after all. Andrea isn't leaving Woodbury and neither are you."
Michonne backed into the front door. "Our bond is beyond your reach. There's no way she would choose scum like you over me."
"Andrea will stay, I've made sure of it." He flashed a smile laced with malice. "Are you so determined to escape me that you would leave her behind? You're mine, sweetheart. The quicker you come to terms with it, the easier it will be for all of us."
Michonne rushed through the door, fixed on proving him wrong.
"I'm not leaving," Andrea said, her arms crossed over her chest.
"This place is not what you think it is. The Governor's manipulative and corrupt and will stop at nothing to keep us here."
"Phillip doesn't have to keep me anywhere. I want to stay." Andrea sighed. "I'm tired, Mich. I don't have the strength to face the horrors out there, not if I don't have to. We've got it good here – food, shelter, good people. Why do you want to give all that up?"
Michonne played the only card she had left. "He doesn't love you. He's just using you to get to me."
Andrea's expression wavered and Michonne knew her friend had suspected as much. But it wasn't enough to crack the illusion of the good life the Governor had promised her.
"You just can't stand that he wants me instead of you." Andrea shook her head. "I'm done following in your footsteps. If you want to leave, you're on your own." Andrea turned her back on Michonne.
Michonne's heart plummeted. She suddenly realized the woman she would have given her life for, had never felt the same about her.
"Fine," Michonne snapped, grabbing her pack and katana. "Don't try to find me when you see him for the monster he is. We're done."
She slammed the door behind her, never looking back once.
Michonne pressed the blue bandana against the wound in her thigh. It was almost completely soaked with her blood. The makeshift tourniquet strapped around her thigh staunched the blood flow only so much. She gripped the shopping basket of baby formula in her other hand.
Under the cover of night, Michonne had managed to ditch the guards the Governor had trailing her, escaping under a gap in one of the fences. As expected, he sent Merle to capture her. Michonne managed to kill two of his men before Merle put a bullet through her leg, forcing her to retreat. Desperate for shelter, she stumbled across a young couple in a small town shopping center, scavenging for baby necessities. They mentioned their home base, a prison not far from there. Michonne had been on the verge of revealing herself and begging for assistance, when Merle showed up and took them hostage. She had grabbed the baby formula they dropped, intending to trade it for shelter and first aid at the prison.
An hour later, Michonne limped toward the prison fences, expending the last of her energy. The decomposing guts coating her vest masked her scent from the walker mob headed in the same direction. An inexplicable force drew her to this place, moving her forward when she thought she might lose consciousness from the loss of blood. Darkness permeated her vision as she walked the last few yards to the outermost fence. She could just barely make out the silhouette of a man slowly walking in her direction.
Michonne caught his piercing blue stare and her eyes widened in shock. They were Andre's eyes – the eyes of his father.
"Rick?" Michonne gasped, drawing attention from the zombie nearest her. She dropped the basket of baby formula.
It's the blood loss, it can't be him.
Taking advantage of the shock of adrenaline running through her veins, Michonne grabbed her katana and sliced through the three walkers closing in on her. Exhausted, she fell to the ground, temples throbbing and stars distorting her vision.
"Dad, should we help her?" yelled a young boy, before her world went dark.
A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews and encouragement! I'm going to do my best to keep on top of these chapters, especially with the midwinter season beginning. Hope you enjoy the direction this is headed in. I promise there are a few more twists and turns up ahead!