Thanks to everyone who's commented to say they're enjoying this story and who added it to their alerts and favourites. I'm glad to hear there is some interest in it continuing. I can see from the stats that there are more people reading anonymously, so thanks to you too. I know it's not a popular character or pairing outside of those people who read the comics and were hoping for a more faithful adaptation. I consider myself one of those fans and so this is my attempt to try to fix some of the show's mistakes.
Chapter 5
They buried Milton in the cemetery next to T-Dog. Andrea was the only one who knew him well enough to speak on his behalf, but Rick and the others showed up in solidarity, along with some of the Woodburians.
After their excursion to Woodbury failed to turn up any sign of the Governor, Andrea started volunteering for as many watch shifts as she could. As the days went on, Rick got used to seeing her standing up on the platform, looking out over the horizon, as he headed out to the field each morning to feed the livestock and check on the crops. He would smile and wave to her, pleased whenever she smiled back.
One morning, instead of walking by her like he normally did, he decided to stop by and visit her instead.
"I thought Glenn was taking over at lunch," she told him, wrinkling her nose in confusion when he joined her up on the platform.
It was a while since he'd seen her in action; it couldn't hurt to find out what she was capable of in case the Governor did come back, or some other threat reared its ugly head. "Come on, let's see what you've got," he said, gesturing to the rifle in her hands. "You've always been good with a gun. I wanna see how far you can shoot." He pointed out a walker, fifty yards from the fenceline, straggling behind the others. "That one."
"You want me to try to snipe it from here?" she asked, looking sceptical. "Isn't that a waste of bullets?"
"Only if you miss," he teased her.
They needed to clear the fences again anyway. They might as well use the opportunity to get in some target practice.
Her eyes took on a determined glint as she braced her rifle against the railing, tracking the walker with the scope for a moment before firing off the shot.
The bullet hit the walker in the centre of its forehead and it went down in an explosion of blood and brain matter.
She turned to him with a grin, checking to make sure he was watching, and he could see that she was proud of herself. It was the happiest he'd seen her in a while; maybe since the last time they did gun training.
"Could've been a fluke," he goaded her, pointing to another walker, twice the distance away. "Go again."
She huffed out a sigh, rolling her eyes, but took that one down with a single bullet too. "Tell me that was a fluke."
"That was pretty good," he allowed, not wanting to praise her too much just yet, knowing that her need to prove herself to him would spur her on to keep making better shots.
He increased the distance each time to test her, impressed at her range. Three, maybe four hundred yards before she lost accuracy. Far enough to hit anything that came out of those woods. That could be useful in an attack.
"That's incredible," he told her, finally dropping the nonchalant act. "How do you do it?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I just point and shoot. It's not hard."
He couldn't help but laugh at her simplistic description. "I knew a few guys back at the academy who would disagree with that."
They'd cleared out what they could from Woodbury, but with so many people at the prison now, it wasn't enough, especially now that they were trying to expand, to plan for the future. They needed more feed for the livestock, hardware to build proper pens, seeds for more crops… There was so much to do and he wanted her to be a part of it.
"We're going on another run tomorrow," he told her. He didn't want to take the risk of going back to Woodbury, knowing that their luck had to run out eventually, so he and Daryl had been scouring local phone books, looking for other places nearby. "Why don't you come along? Be nice to get out in the open for a while." He tried to make a joke of it. "Even my dreams have bars on them."
He expected her to commiserate, but instead, she admitted: "I don't dream. You have to sleep to dream."
He didn't know what to say to her. He had hoped going back to the room where she was imprisoned would help her work through some of her trauma, but she also needed medication, therapy, support groups – things none of them knew how to give her. All he could do for her was listen and try to let her know he was there for her.
Fortunately, she steered the conversation back to business before he had to come up with a response. "Who else is going?"
"Daryl and Michonne."
"The A team," she mused with a wry grin. "Why do you want me?"
He froze, caught off guard by her choice of words. He couldn't deny that he'd felt drawn to her since she rejoined their group. Maybe it was just because he felt responsible for her and everything she'd been through. He could have done more for her and he hadn't. He settled for the simplest explanation. "If things go south, we could use someone with your aim."
The four of them – Rick, Andrea, Daryl and Michonne – met in the courtyard at sunup the next morning, piling into one of the cars.
"Where are we going?" Andrea asked, buckling herself into the backseat next to Michonne.
Daryl was riding shotgun while Rick drove.
"With Woodbury so close by, all of the stores around here have been picked clean," Rick explained. "We're gonna try a warehouse a few hours west of here."
It looked big enough on the map that he and Daryl figured it should have everything they needed. If not, there were a few other places in the area they could try.
"We ain't gonna fit much in here," Daryl pointed out, looking around the full car for emphasis.
The trunk was big enough when they only had a small group to feed, but it wasn't going to cut it these days. They could have packed more into the bus, but with all the traffic jams on the highway, they wouldn't make it far.
"Good point," Rick agreed. "Everyone keep an eye out for a trailer. We can carry more back that way."
They found a trailer on the highway, loaded up with what looked like its owner's entire life as they tried – and failed, by the blood on the driver's seat – to evacuate. Andrea and Michonne stood guard, picking off walkers by hand while Rick and Daryl dumped its contents in a pile on the side of the road. Once they'd emptied it out, they dragged it out into the open and attached it to the car's towbar, continuing on their way.
When they reached the warehouse, they split up into two teams of two and began loading up bags and carts with the things on their lists, as well as anything else they thought the prison could use.
Andrea was in the pharmacy aisle, scooping up medical supplies for the infirmary when she heard male voices that didn't belong to anyone in their group. "There's someone outside," she whispered to Michonne, who was working nearby, unshouldering her rifle. "I'm gonna check it out."
She crept behind the shelves to the front of the building with Michonne at her heels. "Shit."
The men crossing the parking lot were Martinez and Shumpert. They appeared to be alone, but she had to be sure.
She knew she should be scared, but instead, she felt a white-hot fury burn through her.
Sensing what she was about to do, Michonne grabbed her arm. "Andrea, don't."
But Andrea shook her off, raising her rifle as she pushed her way out the door.
Both men looked stunned to see her.
"Holy shit. Andrea," Martinez said. "You're alive."
No thanks to you, she thought, remembering the way he'd confiscated her gun on his orders. If it wasn't for Martinez, she wouldn't have been defenceless while he stalked her in that deserted warehouse. She would have been able to kill him before he could drag her kicking and screaming back to Woodbury. Milton would be alive and so would all of those other people.
She ignored his comment, pointing her rifle between them. "Where is he?" She needed to know so they could end this and she could get on with whatever life she had left.
Martinez put his hands up and Shumpert followed suit. "Whoa! Where's who?"
He tried to sound innocent, but Andrea had no patience for his bullshit. "You know who. Your boss," she spat. "Where is he?" They knew. They had to.
"We haven't seen him in weeks," Martinez told her. "Not since he went crazy on our men."
From what Karen had told their group, the two of them hadn't hesitated to take off with him after the massacre. "I don't believe you. Where is he?"
"He's telling the truth!" Shumpert insisted.
Martinez took a step towards her like he was thinking of going for her gun. "Just calm down, Andrea, and we can talk about this."
If there was one thing she hated, it was being placated. Like she was a child or some hysterical woman who needed handling. Like she had no reason to be angry about what had happened to her.
She cocked her finger on the trigger. "Don't tell me to fucking calm down! You know where he is. Just tell me!"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Michonne move around the side of the building, in the men's blind spot, preparing to sneak up on them from behind.
Martinez tracked Andrea's gaze, turning to see Michonne coming at him, sword in hand. "You crazy bitch!" he cried, drawing his own gun.
As he fired at Michonne, Andrea released the trigger on her own rifle and shot him between the eyes.
He was dead at her feet by the time she'd even registered what she'd done.
Shumpert tried to run then but Michonne, who had managed to dodge Martinez's bullet, drove her sword through him from behind before he could get away.
Rick and Daryl were at the back of the warehouse, collecting farm supplies when they heard shouting outside, followed by gunshots.
They left everything and ran towards the sounds, weapons at the ready, bursting out into the parking lot in time to see Andrea lowering her smoking rifle.
She covered her mouth with her hand, staring at the man's body on the ground in front of her, ashen. "Oh my God. I killed him."
The dead man had a small bullet hole right between his eyes. Rick recognised him as one of the Governor's cronies. The other one was lying over near Michonne with a gaping wound in his chest.
In contrast, Michonne looked almost casual as she wiped the blood from the blade of her katana and resheathed it on her back. "He didn't give us much of a choice," she reminded Andrea. "He was trying to kill me."
Her words didn't have much effect on Andrea, who was almost hyperventilating by then as the weight of her actions set in.
She was so experienced with firearms now – it was easy to forget that it was the first time she'd ever used one to take out a human. Rick was so used to shooting people himself now that he could only dimly remember what that was like. But despite his own apathy, he knew killing was still a big deal for her, especially after how hard she'd tried to honour Dale by fighting for peace between their two groups.
He put his hands on her shoulders and bent down to her height, trying to get her to look at him.
When she finally did, there were tears in her eyes. "I had to," she whispered.
"You did the right thing," he told her, trying to soothe her conscience, the way he wished someone had for him back when he'd killed Shane. "What would've happened if he went back to the Governor and told him you survived? We couldn't risk him coming after you, or Michonne, or any of us again."
She swallowed hard, nodding. "I did the right thing," she repeated.
Still, despite her brave words, she vomited at the edge of the parking lot while they loaded up the trailer and was silent the whole drive home.