HEART OF GLASS
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN !

[ season three, episode one ]

Finding the right supplies. God, it was so unnecessarily hard.

The door to an abandoned drug-store shuddered open upon a sharp nudge to the hinges, and the trio of rotten walkers inside sluggishly turned, lifeless eyes dead set on the two new opportunities for fresh meat lurking in the doorway. A woman and a boy ── both of whom were not looking to become human snack-bars for the undead anytime soon.

And so Michonne raised her sword.

With one swift movement, she severed the head of the first walker to approach. Blood sprayed across the walls, splattering on her cheeks, coating the edge of her long blade. Still with snapping jaws, the decapitated skull rolled along the length of the middle isle, where it clattered against a metal shelf containing various bottles of mediation before continuing on downward.

Two more walkers remained. Michonne put them down within seconds, which was definitely not out of the ordinary for her. She was ruthless.

And then there was Theo Peterson, who on the other hand was crouching down beside the medication shelves, tongue poking between his teeth as he impatiently raked through the rattling pills for antibiotics. He wasn't unaccustomed to getting his hands dirty if it meant ridding places of walkers, nor was he totally against the idea of killing the lumbering creatures so inhumanely. His lack of assistance in killing the walkers had more to do with the fact that he could never jump in to help in time, because Michonne usually decimated and sliced through them all before he even had a chance to draw his bow.

Regardless of that, Theo was still a good partner to have on runs into town. He didn't panic, and kept his composure, even when faced with the worst case scenario of any situation ── ranging from herds, to close encounters with the worst kinds of people, and getting horribly lost in the woods. That was his speciality; Andrea often found herself feeling envious.

Thud.

The decapitated head rolled past him, and crashed against the counter at the front of the store.

Muttering to himself, Theo rolled his eyes and began pulling orange-tinted bottles from the shelves. He scrutinised the labels with narrowed lids, and when he saw the unfortunate circumstances revolving around the contents of the medication, a sharp huff of frustration left his lips.

They were all empty.

"Who puts empty meds back on the shelves?" Theo grumbled to himself. "Idiots."

He placed the vacant bottles back on the thin slabs of metal, and pressed his hands against his knees to push himself back up from the ground. Dull throbs of pain crackled up his spine, spanning throughout his tender limbs, a familiar sense of agony igniting in his bloodstream as if it were as flammable as gasoline. Everywhere ached ── and Theo had only Michonne to blame for their constant moving around, never sticking to just one place.

In fact, she was already prepping herself to make a run for it back out into the desolate strip of town.

There was nothing here to help.

Theo glanced around the drug-store once more, gaze slipping over fragments of shattered glass on the floor and shredded cardboard boxes. Amongst the mess, something caught his eye. He used the front of his shoe to scatter the dangerously sharp shards of glass ── pushing them beneath the shelves and into the pools of walker blood ── before reaching down to pick up what could be their last hope of recovery.

Two packets of aspirin.

Pain relief was better than no relief, right?

Michonne gave him a small nod. Sometimes, the woman preferred to gesticulate her thoughts and emotions, rather than using words to express these aforementioned emotions. They both had the power to speak a thousand words. To sink in. Having been in her presence for a little over nine months, Theo was fairly habituated with the way Michonne's mind worked . . . well, most of the time.

She was complicated and stubborn and kept a large quantity of her real self locked away like a terrible secret, but she knew how to take care of herself and her comrades, and that was all that mattered.

That was what they needed. Someone willing to abandon any presence of their humanity at the click of two fingers if it meant they got to live. If it meant keeping other people alive.

Michonne knew how to. Theo was still learning.

✧.｡. *.

Outside of their temporary place of residency ── an old and rundown deer-hunting shop called "Deer Cooler" ── the streets were swamped with walkers.

Slowly and cautiously, Theo stumbled along the pathway leading toward the store. With one intricate sweep of her eyes across their surroundings, Michonne's expression hardened, and she placed a wary hand on the hilt of her sword.

The first thing the duo encountered upon their entrance into the hunting store was two chained up walkers. Michonne's walkers. They lacked the essential limbs that were required of the undead ── arms, serrated nails to scratch with, jaws, and teeth to shred through the tenderness of human flesh. Even in the presence of what could be described as an opportunity to quench their insatiable hunger, Michonne's pets barely flinched. They gurgled a little, but remained idle.

Theo had never understood her reasoning behind keeping the disfigured creatures stumbling along, but he never raised the question of why. Back Before, when Theo was only young, his mother described him as impulsive. An impulsive, obnoxious child. It was never a true statement, and carved an indent into his self-worth, his self-imagine ── but it wasn't like she understood her son very much anyways, seeing as the estranged woman was rarely around enough to perceive the way his mind worked.

And his Dad . . .  Well, Theo never liked to talk about his Dad. Any instance the man sprung to his thoughts, Theo did everything in his power to shove those repugnant memories of him away, into a deep and dark crevice of his mind ── rather resemblant to a gully flooded with contaminated water.

Arturo Peterson hadn't been a very good man.

The apocalypse gave him a chance to forget his family ever existed. Instead, it gifted him with a new one.

Michonne shoved open the door leading into the backroom where they stashed their supplies. Food, clothes, weapons: all of that jazz, stacked into orderly piles. In the far corner, beneath a row of shelves, a frayed mattress lay on it's lonesome. Which was strange.

Not only was it strange, but it also caused the duo to draw up the worst case scenario.

Theo nocked an arrow into his bow, on high alert for the low snarling of a recently reanimated walker. Michonne pulled her sword from the elongated sheath strapped to her back, and began marching toward the smaller, more compact room at the end of the storage hall. The heavy door was cracked open slightly, and a slither of dewy light cascaded along the hard-floor. Together, they made their approach.

No snarling. No sign of the undead.

Much to their relief, it was Andrea. Still alive.

She was like a little, lost wounded puppy, curled up on the ground with a knitted blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes were heavy; deep purple marks similar to bruises were pressed to the wrinkles below her lower-lash lines, proving last night had not granted her with the luxury of sleep. Her complexion had never been paler, which caused a flurry of anxiety to rise in Theo's chest.

"What are you doing out here?" Michonne asked, less anxious now and more disappointed.

"I needed some light." Andrea replied in a groggy voice.

Theo knelt down beside the blonde woman and pulled her upright, into a sitting position. Her skin was incredibly warm to the touch, but she shivered as if the temperature in the room was below sub-zero, when in all truth it was hot enough to draw sweat. Winter was long gone and they were forced to become habituated with the warmer weather. There was no denying that it was proving difficult, especially being out on the road for so long.

Michonne tore open a packet of aspirin, poured the contents onto her gloved hand, and tipped it into Andrea's mouth.

"How is it out there?" Andrea inquired hoarsely.

Michonne gave a small shrug, "Same. It's quiet."

Theo knew she was lying ── having seen the swarm of undead outside for himself ── but chose not to say anything.

Unfortunately, Andrea picked up on his guilty expression and fluttering gaze despite the bleariness in her eyes, and mumbled, "You're lying."

Michonne and Theo exchanged a wary look.

"We should go in a few days," the woman with dreadlocks informed.

A low snarling noise reverberated outside the walls of the hunting shop ── an indication the walkers were growing nearer. Theo subconsciously placed a hand on the arch of his bow, pushing himself into a crouching position, prepared to defend his sick friend if necessary.

Andrea shook her head weakly, "They're coming. You should go."

"No."

"Don't talk like that." Theo scolded gently.

"I'll just hold you back," Andrea insisted, barely able to keep her wilting eyes open. Even in her state, she managed to joke around, "I can take care of myself. I saved your asses all winter, didn't I?"

Flabbergasted by that statement, Theo quirked a brow, "You did? I don't recall."

Andrea recognised the playful tone in the boy's voice that she was subject to all throughout Winter, and a genuine smile cracked over her lips. Theo couldn't help but mirror the gesture ── until Andrea started coughing and hacking, gripping her stomach in pain, and that smile was replaced by a fearful grimace.

Theo handed the woman his bottle of water, trying to coax her into drinking it for the sake of her own health. But knowing how stubborn she was, he didn't take offence when she slapped it away.

"I won't have you both dying for me." Andrea scoffed. She readjusted her position on the ground, pressing her back to the cobbled wall and pulling the blanket around herself tighter. "Good soldiers won't leave your posts. Screw you."

Feeling deflated, Theo dropped his head. Michonne sighed heavily and exasperatedly, kneeling in front of Andrea.

"We'll go in a few days." she said.

Instead of standing up and making his way around the hunting store, Theo sat down beside Andrea. Leaving her alone was a last resort.

"If we stay . . ." the sick woman began, already knowing the truth of the matter: the one Michonne refused to acknowledge. "I'll die here."

She was right.

Michonne's expression warped into a frown. That frown was notorious between the trio: it meant she was thinking. Debating. Weighing their options. She knew what they needed to do, truly this time. Staying in that shabby old hunting store was absolutely out of the picture now that Andrea's sickness was getting worse; the towns were desolate, the stores were empty, no signs of medication. A death wish.

They needed to make a move.

Around twenty minutes later ── and a whole lot of debating in hushed voices ── Michonne untied the rattling chains from the pole and tugged her pet walkers out into the light of day.

With one arm looped through hers, Theo helped keep Andrea steady.

Muddy waters; it took willpower and strength to trudge through them, but the trio were capable.

Their path to a new beginning was being laid.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

short af chapter but say
hello to theo!! don't worry,
youll see his background story
eventually and how he got
to be with michonne!

but i love him with my whole
heart he's such a sweetheart.