So, I got 5 extra followers overnight on this fic, putting it up to 40+. That's incredible! I promise to make the next few chapters extra-special. Thank you all for reading, please review and let me know what you think. I hope you're all excited like me for Season 4! I'm still going with my own head-cannon here people, integrated loosely with the actual cannon. Enjoy. This chapter is dedicated to Sally, thank you for making me the writer I am today! :)

This is the big one, people!

Chapter 7; In The Name Of The Brother

(I wish I had an evil twin,
Running 'round doing people in
I wish I had a very bad
And evil twin to do my will
To cull and conquer, cut and kill
Just like I would
If I weren't good
And if I knew where to begin)

Michonne had sensed everything in the briefest of moments; she had always had a way of recognizing what others couldn't. She had looked into that stranger's lost blue eyes and seen the weight of so much loss and fear that it had flooded her mind, he was desperate and she knew that feeling all too well. He had the gravity and power in those eyes of a man twice his age, who had seen twice the things he had seen and learnt from each mistake. Something about him made her determined to help him.

She had done her part by getting them to where they needed to be, but hadn't stuck around for long when the fighting went down. Above her head and into the street the cop, Rick had tossed a smoke bomb and his comrades had used the cover to spring headfirst towards the hospital. By the time the first screams of death had ricocheted around the town she was long gone, using the distraction to make her way towards the apartment block where the Governor and Andrea were spending increasing amounts of time together. She hadn't seen her striking golden-haired companion for days at a time since they arrived in Woodbury, as though she had forgotten what the two women went through together, out in the harsh winter. From her position propped against the wall beneath the Governor's balcony, she listened for the oncoming blast of commotion which always followed disruption in his town.

As if on cue, the sounds of a screen door sliding open at the hands of one person and slamming shut at the hands of another penetrated the near-silence. The Governor's heavy boots thudded across the tiled floor, sending waves of sound out over the now deserted streets as he paced around on the terrace, conflicted between charging towards the battle with weapons blazing or turning and running away from it. The older Dixon had told him much of his younger brother, particularly of his prowess in stealth and close combat. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to challenge that with his militia in disarray. He had expected an attack, but not so soon. He would have to be wiser now.

Andrea stood a little behind him, frantically shifting from one foot to the other. After a period of silence in which Phillip strode around and huffed loudly to himself, she could refrain herself from interrupting him no longer.

"There's a weak spot in the fence near the hospital, you know. Walkers must have pushed through and found their way in. We need to go check it out!" She swept past Phillip and almost made it to the door before she felt a hand on the soft skin of her upper arm. He held her tightly, his hazel eyes locked intently on her baby blues.

"You ever heard of a Walker carryin' a smoke bomb?" He nodded his head in the direction of the hospital district, from where wisps of smoke were rising, catching the light and turning the whole sky orange. "We'd be better withdrawing and regrouping. I bet it's those friends of yours…"

"No!" Andrea snapped, wrenching her arm from his grasp. "I imagine something got triggered, or set alight in the confusion! That's all it is!" Her voice was almost a hollow shriek now and it began to wear on his nerves. His eyes narrowed slightly and his jaw clenched. His firm face.

"You know I'm right." He barked. "They think we've kidnapped that woman. Don't know she's there for her own protection. They think we've got her. And you know, if they got in through the hole in the fence, I have a much better idea than fighting them head on. I need to find Merle. We're going to track them home..." Andrea's face sank into a bitter pout, like she had taken a bite of a particularly sour lemon. She narrowed her eyes and the look of confusion on her face told the Governor everything he needed to know. "Your loyalties are conflicted Andrea? Can't you hear the yelling? They're killing our own."

"How do I know you didn't take Carol?" Andrea replied snappily. "You were quick to decide that's what they're here for. Maybe they're just raiders from somewhere else and they happened to find that weak spot?"

"Go inside, Andrea." His voice was softer now, barely a whisper but when he spoke she fell deadly silent. It told her he pitied her. It also told her, in the mild steely undertones that there would be consequences if she disobeyed. The reality of the situation hit her like a smack in the face, Michonne was right to be wary of this man. His decision troubled her. Track them home for what reason, she asked herself. To hit them where they were most vulnerable?

"Alright." Her voice was a sigh. Without warning, the Governor whipped his body around and tore open the door to his room, pointing resolutely within. His blonde companion slouched inside wordlessly and shortly after, the door was slammed shut and the front door replied with a squeak as it was forced open as Phillip marched outside. Michonne counted slowly to 120 before she heard the timid squeak of the door being gently pushed open again as Andrea too slipped away, following Phillip onto the street below then veering in the direction of the Hospital district. Michonne knew her well enough to recognise that no manner of threats or orders would stop Andrea from involving herself.

She sprang to action like a panther. She hadn't heard Andrea lock the door, she indisputably intended on coming straight back before anyone even noticed she had gone. That gave Michonne time enough to run for the front door and begin prying around inside. At a first glance, the apartment was totally standard, a number of doors leading to what was undoubtedly a bathroom, bedroom and what she presumed was a box room though this was the only room with a fully sealed door. She knew he was hiding something, but it struck her she might not have time to find out what before they all returned and that worried her. She noted that the balcony doors were unlocked, an easy escape route, then she began her enquiry.

She dove into action like a seasoned detective, choosing first to search the room she was in; a combined living room and study of some sort, beginning by retrieving her swords from their place on a shelf. She glanced briefly over the plush leather sofa, under the mahogany desk, into the cabinet full of rare aging whiskeys and eventually she took to searching through the desk drawers. There, she found nothing of specific interest, besides a leather-bound note book full of pages upon pages of lines. At first this struck her as odd but in her haste she tossed it aside, assuming it was a stress relief technique of some sort.

Next she searched the bedroom and bathrooms. Her search was futile, the only items of trifling concern a used condom which indicated that lines in a journal were not his only method of stress relief, and a cabinet full of medicines most of which were half empty.

Then, she came to the box room. She noticed immediately as she tugged at the door knob that it was locked and a bizarre grumbling noise emitted from the inside. This was the room, she decided. It was the only one he didn't want Andrea to enter, the only one he shielded from her view with locks. Michonne returned to the desk and searched through the drawers for a key, though this was unsuccessful, so she merely thrust her pocket knife between the door and the handle and wrenched them apart, splitting the wood and sending splinters across her bare arms. The stench which erupted was pungent; she was amazed that the rest of the apartment didn't reek of it.

Then, she spotted the heads.

Her eyes widened and her knife clattered to the floor as her body weakened and her hands failed to grasp it any longer. Her mouth flew open and formed a wide 'O' of horror as each pair of eyes in the tanks turned to stare at her, their mouths gaping and snapping wordlessly, like they were chewing the water in their glass boxes. She noticed a few recognisable faces, a chubby man who had wandered into town a few weeks ago and his teenage son were amongst the small legion of unknown women, men and children each gaping ravenously at her with their glassy eyes.

She hadn't heard the rustling of chains from behind a small metal grille but the sound of it eventually broke her horrified trance. She tore her face away from the dead and turned towards the noise, her teeth grinding together anxiously. From the darkness emerged the figure of a tiny petite girl, her head hidden in a sack and only the smallest trail of neat blonde hair visible, and poking out underneath. She sounded like she was coughing hoarsely, and instinctively Michonne was drawn towards the minute figure.

"Are you alright sweetie?" She whispered as she slipped the chains from the pale wrists of the little creature, which continued to rasp and wheeze in response. She didn't notice the hint of a growl. "Let me get these off you, then we're out of here ok? Nobody's going to hurt you now." She slipped the bag off her head and suddenly let out a yelp of surprise as the tiny zombie snarled back at her.

Her hand found her sword swiftly and without a word she slipped it through the creature's head and a cry of pain erupted all around her. Unusually, as Michonne watched the eyes roll back into the little girl's head and her body fall to the ground limp, the screaming continued and she began to realise she wasn't alone. Her head snapped up and she found Phillip's eyes, contorted with rage and grief, staring straight back at her.

"PENNY", his only comprehensible word. She remained pinned to the floor in fear and shock, staring at the man who had collapsed in a heap on the floor nearby. His face contorted in pain, his fists clenched into balls of rage, his teeth bared like a lion's. She expected the mad man to pounce any moment, and just as it appeared he was about to, he fell totally silent. The last thing he would ever feel was pure sorrow.

His hazel eyes glazed over completely and his tongue rolled out of his mouth, allowing trails of saliva to drip down his chin. Soon, the saliva was greeted by a stream of blood which mixed in with the fluid and gave him the appearance of a Walker after it's meal. Michonne's eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed as she struggled to her feet, dropping the small girl's body on her way. Phillip remained frozen to the spot, his features limp and his legs locked in a half-stance. She noticed something moving beneath the powerful man's shirt. It eventually made it's way through the cotton and poked out, the tip of a long knife inserted into the man's chest. Someone was struggling to pull it out of his chest from behind, eventually pulling it free with a sickening splashing sound. For a moment she expected Andrea's enlightened face to appear from behind as his body fell limply to the floor.

Her heart sank. She realised immediately that it was just the distraction the sick bastard had been looking for. Things were about to get a lot worse. Merle Dixon's knife-arm was soaking in the Governor's blood. He met Michonne's eye with a smirk, his own face twisted in amusement.

"Oh, well hey there sugar tits!" He purred, watching her terrified eyes which were glued to Phillip's deflated corpse pooling in it's own blood. He put one foot on the Governor's back like a hunter with his prize catch and he smiled widely. "Say hello to your new Governor."