Author's Note: Hello all, author here. Just wanted to pop in. This isn't my first time in the pit, but this is my first dive into the Walking Dead. Standard disclaimer that I do not own the Walking Dead. I'm just having some fun writing this shit out. Any references made to other works are just that and nothing is made for monetary gain.
Edit: I have upped Logan's age to seven and a half for plot-related reasons. I promise it'll make sense later on for a good reason. Have also fixed a few grammar mistakes, fixed some sentences, and added some details. Moved author's note to the top because I do what I want.
I've never read the comics, my apologies. I absolutely adore Jeffrey Dean Morgan's portrayal of Negan and was inspired to write some about him. This was supposed to be a drabble, basically, but... things happened. And now I'm plotting this out to season eight.
Whoops.
Anywhoo. I've seen one or two stories with Negan with a kid, and I wanted to try it for myself. I'm just writing this for fun and because I enjoy it.
I'm a huge canon stickler, so I have done my best to draw from the comics, since they look awesome, and from the TV show, which has its issues, but I digress. I'll do my best to follow both, within reason.
Would love it if you give this story a chance, review if you like it, and if you have any issues, constructive criticism would be freaking awesome.
Okay. I've taken enough of your time. Thanks and let me know what you think and if I should continue this. I do have several chapters written out already (like I said, this kind of got out of control once I hit a good flow. I regret every life choice I have ever made ever :D).
This chapter's title and soundtrack is When the Levee Breaks by Led Zeppelin.
Thank you for reading and please enjoy. :)
Life had a funny way of being complete shit to some people, like a cruel hearted, PMSing bitch and a half with one hell of a chip on her fucking shoulder.
Negan knew this as a fact from this funny little thing called experience, which was also a complete and utter bitch in his entirely educated opinion.
Over the course of his life; his father had left when he was ten years-old (yeah, yeah, daddy didn't love him. Boo-fucking-hoo), his mother had died two years later in a car crash, and he was shuffled to his grandparents on his father's side, then his mother's. Basically from family member to family member until he was able to support himself on his own.
Because fuck that noise.
In high school, he had loved sports - he still fucking did - and played whatever sport he could get into; football, baseball, and soccer. He'd even tried wrestling at some point. Negan loved sports. Anything that challenged him mentally and physically was something he enjoyed immensely. He had an extremely competitive spirit and threw his fucking all into it, heart and soul. Every victory was hard-earned and every defeat taught him something important about both himself and people he encountered.
Maybe that's why he and his wife had gotten along so well; opposites attract and all that romantic shit. He was an outgoing, athletic, playboy manwhore and she was a academic, kindhearted homebody. Negan didn't really question anything about their relationship, he just went along with his gut for the ride. She was sweet, too good for him, way out of his fucking league, but they worked. Somehow. She softened his rough edges, and he brought out the adventurous side of her.
After earning his teaching degree at college, he applied for a job as a coach at the local highschool and when money was tight he worked as a used car salesman half the time to make a little extra fucking dough.
He liked cars, although he didn't know much about them, and he had learned to like kids. They were like little alcoholics; completely honest and funny as shit. Not lying bags of donkey dicks like most people. Of course, he wouldn't have learned to tolerate the little shits without Lucille.
Instantly a pang of hurt curled through his chest, leaving hollow pain in its wake, but he brushed it off, shoved it down and strangled it like the little bitch it was until he could ignore it like it wasn't even there. It never left though, instead sticking with him like a bad habit at the back of his fucking mind.
Lucille deserved so much fucking more then he could ever fucking give her.
Negan ran a hand over his face, thinking for the fifth time that day he needed to remember to shave that shit before calling down the hall, "You ready yet, kiddo? Fuck, you take longer then your mom to get ready." He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and checked the time; eight-thirty AM before shoving it back into his pocket.
"I do not!" A young boy, seven and half thank you very much, pulled his door shut and walked down the hall. He was tall for his age and heavier set, taking after his father, with dark hair and Lucille's light grey eyes. He looked like he was a two or so years older then he actually was and was larger then other kids his age. A red and black backpack was on his shoulders and his smaller form mostly taken over by a red hoodie that was three sizes too big, shrugged over a worn grey t-shirt.
Lucille had brought the kid home from a shopping trip and had explained to Negan that the boy had thrown a complete shit fit until he had promised to behave if he got the jacket. Lucille didn't usually buckle under the kid's demands, but after getting him to calm down and apologize, she'd agreed to let him keep it. Negan had thought it fucking hiliarious, but given the kid's frequent growth spurts, it'd be too small in about a year, maybe less.
The kid must be part mutant or some shit. Or he was eating his goddamned wheaties. Negan didn't really have any idea. Lucille oversaw breakfast, and Negan was usually at the school he worked around six. Maybe even earlier if he had shit to do.
"What-the-fuck-ever." Negan drawled, grabbing his car keys off the dining-room table and double-checking to make sure his wallet and his cell phone was in his back pocket. "C'mon, Logan. We need to go see Momma." He said, walking towards the front door.
"Good. I drew another picture for her." Logan replied, following his father out the door. Negan locked the house behind him, before the pair headed over to a beaten black mustang that stood in the driveway; it'd been Negan's grandfather's on his father's side (the old bastard was the only genuine fucker on that side of the family).
He'd spent hours watching his grandfather working on it before the old man had kicked the bucket with a heart attack at seventy-five. Negan didn't want to admit it at the risk of sounding like a complete pussy, but he missed the old bastard; his gruffness and quiet, stern affection. He was the closest thing to a father that he had ever had, especially after dear old deadbeat had skipped town a few years after losing his shit in 'Nam.
An ambulance with its siren blaring broke Negan out of his thoughts, and he and Logan watched the vehicle blaze down the road before climbing into the car. Logan sat in the back, setting his backpack on the floor in front of him, buckling his seatbelt, and looking out the window.
"Do you think Momma feels better today?" The kid asked after a little bit and Negan swallowed a baseball-sized lump in his throat and his eyes burned like a motherfucker. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he pulled out of the drive and started down the road.
"I don't know, kiddo, maybe." He said, trying his damndest to keep his voice light. The doctors weren't optimistic; they basically said it would be any day could be the last and that fucking hurt more then anything. And that was just the idea of losing her, he couldn't imagine how it would be to finally lose her. Every day he hoped it would be just one more day and some naive fucking part of him hoped she could still kick cancer's ass and make it her little bitch.
A Led Zeppelin song filled the background as father and son drove to the hospital. The Virginian city seemed almost alive with ambulances, police cars, and even fucking firetrucks, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Negan brushed it off idly as a fatal traffic accident somewhere and kept driving, even as Logan watched the flashing lights completely entranced.
The kid had told him once he wanted to be a cop and Negan couldn't help but laugh, amused at the idea. Negan had spent most of his adolescence fucking around and barely escaping arrest with his friends after doing some grade A stupid shit. It had been fun before life had given him another brass-knuckle double-tap bitchslap from hell.
He remembered Lucille smacking him pretty damned hard too, scolding him for laughing at their boy's dream. Logan had forgiven his Dad rather easily, but only because Lucille had intervened. The kid had been ready to completely disown his father for his career judgments. He practically had Negan written out of his will before his Momma had talked him out of it.
They pulled up at the hospital after about fifteen minutes, finding the parking lot full and the parking garage near the hospital pretty fucking packed. Negan frowned as he slammed the door shut, waiting for Logan to do the same. The kid was pretty independent and hated to be treated like he wasn't capable. He wasn't a baby, and any attempt to treat him like he was one was met with some pretty fucking funny glaring and sulking, or tantrums as a last result.
Holy shit, the goddamned tantrums this kid threw. That's when the fucking exorcist voice came out. Kid spoke in fucking tongues when he got goddamned mad enough.
"C'mon, kiddo. Stay fucking close. No wondering off." Negan said, shoving his keys in his own jacket and walking towards the elevators that would take them to street level. Logan trailed behind him, forced to jog in little bursts to keep up with his father's long-legged strides.
Once at the hospital, Negan checked in with one of the poor harried-looking woman handling the busy front desk before they headed to the ICU, taking an elevator up and trying to tune out the tinny, shitty elevator music that played over the speakers.
Logan rocked back and forth boredly, before trying to whistle, only making 'pbtttting' raspberry sounds, but he didn't seem that dejected with his lack of ability. He was a determined little shit, apparently. Negan would have to teach him later. No son of his would go on not knowing how to whistle. It was an important fucking life skill to learn, like fire-building or some shit.
Negan ruffled his hair affectionately before stepping out of the elevator and with every stride closer to Lucille's room, he felt his stomach dropping lower and lower the further they walked. He opened the door, forcing a smile and throwing his arms out for his grand fucking entrance.
"Luuuuucy, I'm hoooome." He crowed, grinning brightly.
"Hi, Momma!" Logan immediately climbed up into the chair next to the hospital bed, plopping himself on his ass and pulling his backpack onto his lap. Lucille's all too slender hand reached out and stroked his short dark hair.
"Hey, baby." She whispered, before smiling at her husband. "Hello to you too, handsome. How are my boys today?" She continued stroking Logan's hair and the kid leaned into the touch, rifling through his backpack with one hand, searching for something.
"We're fine, right, brat?" Negan answered, pulling up another chair and taking a seat. Logan grinned and nodded, before handing his momma a picture he had been working on; any attempts on Negan's part to see it had resulted in the shit fits of shit fits and he'd given up rather quickly. Fuck it, he'd just be surprised too, apparently.
"Oh, Logan, that's amazing." Lucille sighed, a slightly gurgling sound with a rattle near the end that put Negan on edge. "Are those dinosaurs fighting pirates?"
"Robot dinosaurs and ninja pirates." Logan said, leaning against the metal rails that helped keep Lucille from rolling out of bed. Not that she had the energy to even move that much, but Negan had been told it was hospital policy. He knew the kid wanted nothing more to cuddle up with his mom - and fuck, he couldn't blame him - but they'd talked about it. Logan hadn't been happy, but he was a smart little shit and understood.
"You could be an artist, instead of a cop." Lucille sighed, before she laid her hand across her stomach and closed her eyes. Negan swallowed the lump in his throat again and reached over to take her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles and trying not to stare at the bluish tint that was beginning to take over his wife's bone-thin fingers.
"I could do both." Logan said and his mother laughed softly, before it ended in a raspy cough. "When are you gonna get better?" The kid asked, looking at his mother hopefully.
Negan and Lucille exchanged a quick look and Lucille gently squeezed her husband's hand. He choked up like an overly emotional little bitch; how the fuck was she so strong and she was the one dying. He was practically in fucking tears just sitting here, completely healthy and his cancer-ridden wife was sitting there comforting him.
Even during the early stages of her cancer, when she was puking constantly and lost her hair from the chemo treatments, Lucille always stayed the storm. Negan may be a strong man physically, but Lucille was the strongest of them mentally and emotionally.
"I'll feel better any day now, baby." Lucille whispered, giving Logan's hand a reassuring squeeze and her eyes drifting shut as she lasped into sleep.
Negan swallowed with extreme difficulty and kissed the back of her hand, before standing up and gesturing to Logan.
"C'mon, kiddo. Let's get something to eat and let Momma rest for a bit, okay?" And give him a chance to not break down in the hospital room again. He never cried in front of Logan. Fucking ever. The last time he had been here while the kid was at school, he had started crying like a little bitch. Lucille had held his head close to her chest and he dribbled all over her hospital gown like a fucking baby, stroking his hair and mumbling reassurances to him like he was a goddamned kid.
"Okay." Logan stood on the chair and leaned over to give his mother a kiss on the cheek before jumping down and following his father out of the hospital room. "Do you think they have jello?"
"Sure as shit, kiddo. Wanna see if your mom wants some when we get back?" Negan looked down at the boy and Logan peered back up at him, nodding enthusiastically with an excited grin.
"Fuck yes."
"That's my boy."
"For fuck's sake, just eat it."
"It's jiggly. So jiggly. Jiggly as fuck."
"It's fucking jello. What'd you expect?" Negan was torn between amusement and aggravation, staring at his kid in bewilderment as the brat poked at the jello like it was John Carpenter's the Thing. It probably was just as good for your health, to be honest.
"Less jiggle." Logan pouted, glaring at the jello like it had taken a fake-fruit tasting shit in his fake-fruit tasting froot loops. "Why does it jiggle so much?"
"How the fuck should I know?" Negan asked, poking at the bowl of salad he had gotten. It was the most palatable thing on the whole damned menu because fuck no, he was not getting jello. The six year old didn't even want to eat the jello, he was too busy going Jigsaw on it by jabbing at it with a plastic spork. "I don't think it'll talk."
"It might." Logan said, picking up his knife next as his father watched, feeling the tiniest bit better about this whole shitty ordeal of a shit sandwich. "We still gotta get some for mom." The kid added, stabbing the jello in its jello-y guts.
"Sure thing, kid." Negan said, his mood immediately taking a nose dive. He set his own spork down and took a deep breath, bracing himself. "Logan, we need to talk about some shit." A pause. "Stop torturting your fucking food for five seconds and listen to me."
Logan looked up , hunching his shoulders like he was about to be sent to the corner for time-out; Lucille had been - was - fucking adamant about not ever laying a hand on the kid, and Negan agreed whole-heartedly. You didn't do that shit to kids. Negan sighed and rubbed at his face again - still needed to shave, goddamnit.
"I'm gonna be honest with you, Logan." He started off carefully. The kid was smart. He got it from his parents; ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent from Lucille, and about a zero point one from his father. Thank god. The kid took after Negan with physical looks, but he was sweet and smart like Lucille.
They'd talked to him about the fucking cancer and what it was doing to his mother, but Lucille had made him promise not to talk about death until it was pretty much inevitable.
Negan had agreed that avoiding emotionally scarring your kid sounded like a good idea, but now he wished he had mentioned the possibility before. That sounded better, instead of coming the fuck out of leftfield with it. Something about emotionally suckerpunching the shit out of your young child left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"Your mom isn't gonna come home.. She's sick and she aingt getting better. We're..." He swallowed, and fuck his eyes hurt. "It's just gonna be you an' me, kiddo. I'm sorry. Fuck, I don't know what to say or do, but it is what it fucking is."
"I know." Logan's little voice is even smaller and quieter then it usually is and he seems to shrink in on himself in his seat, not meeting his father's gaze. His lip wobbled and his eyes are getting brighter and more watery with unshed tears.
Negan feels like a complete asshole not knowing what to do and he wonders - not for the first time - why his and Lucille's roles aren't reversed. She's so much better at this parenting shit then he'll ever be. Why she has the cancer and he doesn't is beyond him. He'd rather she be there to take care of Logan instead of him. He'd fuck it up somehow.
Shitballs, he already is fucking it up. He can barely talk to Logan without being a smartass or making goddamned small-talk. Like he can hardly connect with the kid at fucking all.
"I know this shituation isn't the least bit fucking fair to you. Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty fucking pill to swallow, but we both gotta do it." Negan sighed and got up, sitting down on the bench next to his son and pulling him close. Logan curled against him, his small body shaking as he sobbed into Negan's jacket. Negan stroked his back, wrapping his arms around the child and rocking him gently, like he and Lucille had done countless times before. "You and me both, kiddo."
Logan had cried himself out after about fifteen minutes, and now was slumped against his dad's side, his face red and eyes a little puffy. Negan kept rubbing his back comfortingly until the sniffles and whimpers quieted and the boy seemed more calm, or about as calm as he could be considering the situation.
"You think you're okay to go see Momma again? We need to spend as much time with her as we can, you get me?" Negan asked, tilting his head as he looked down at the boy slumped tiredly against him. Logan nodded mutely, before burying his face into his father's side.
Negan heaved him up - damn, the little shit was getting heavier every damn day - and picked up the bowl of jello for Lucille. She wouldn't eat it, but it'd help Logan feel better. Give him some control over an uncontrollable, shitty situation.
It only took them about ten minutes to get back to Lucille's room; Negan set the jello down on the table beside her bed and settled Logan into his chair closest to Lucille. The kid hadn't wanted to walk back to the hospital room, but he wasn't too heavy for his dad to carry him yet. Although a hernia was in the near future if they kept this shit up.
Negan sat in the chair he always used. He talked to Lucille, more at her then anything, but it made him feel a little fucking better about the shit sandwich he was being forcefed.
Logan would pipe up occasionally, but he mostly stayed preoccupied drawing more pictures for Lucille. The nursing staff had been fucking angels and would tape Logan's drawings for his mother on the walls, so she could see them. It seemed the brat was determined to cover all the walls; he got an A plus plus for effort.
Right now the kid was sitting in his usual spot in the chair, only paying half attention to the cartoons playing on the tv - something with a purple fucking dog or some weird shit like that. It all looked like goddamned nightmare fuel to Negan, but the brat never really seemed to mind the somewhat frightening imagery - at least until it was nighttime. Negan had lost track of how many times he had to check under beds and in closets for monsters and shit.
Negan had asked him to keep the volume down so Lucille could sleep more easily, but it seemed like the kid just wanted something there to watch while he drew. As long as it kept him preoccupied and happy, his dad didn't mind.
Negan watched Lucille sleep, feeling more like a fucking observer, or an outsider looking in. It was hard to believe that his life had taken this shitacular turn.
Negan now sat as close to Lucille as he could get, her hand in his. He brought it to his mouth and kissed the cold skin of her knuckles, memorizing every detail of her face. Even sunken in from sickness and chemo, she was still his angel. Still as beautiful as when they had first met. Back in high school when shit had been so simple. He was the jock class clown and she was the teacher's pet good girl with her nose in a book and who was nice to everyone. All of their plans back then didn't go over any of this shit. For the most fucking part it was planning out their house, a large family like they both wanted, and a life of love and laughter.
Goddamn, it was dusty as shit in here, he'd have to tell a nurse to get that shit straightened up lickity-fucking-split. His eyes were stinging like a mother fucker.
"Lucy, baby, I love you." His voice cracked like he had been thrown ass first back into puberty, but he kept going, wanting to spill his guts to the woman that was his soulmate. "You're going to fucking beat this, okay? Stop all this goddamn negative thinking. You're like a health ninja who's going to broadsword the fuck out of this cancer - you're going to-" He kissed her hand again, not bothering to hold back his tears as the words tumbled out.
The worst fucking thing was he knew what he was saying was complete bullshit; she couldn't get better. The cancer had progressed too far and now it was just a morbid fucking waiting game. He wanted an end to this, to stop Lucille's pain, but he was also a selfish prick and didn't want to let her go.
"You're off your game." Lucille's voice was so quiet, he almost missed it entirely. "Even Logan knows ninjas... don't use broadswords." Negan chuckled feebly, looking over at Logan who smiled with pride at his fucking superior ninja knowledge - smug little shit.
"I need you to know that you are everything to me. I'm not perfect... Hell, I'm a fucking piece of dog shit. You deserve so much better." He kept rubbing his hands over hers, as though trying to will life back into her. And the words kept fucking coming, faster and faster and broken and more broken. "Did I do this to you? Did I fucking cause this? If I'd been there for you... And not... if I didn't... Would you have been strong enough to fight this?" He squeezed his eyes shut as his body shook with barely-restrained sobs. "Please don't go... Don't leave me, baby..."
Negan startled at the feel of a hand on his knee, looking over through blurry eyes to Logan, who was crying as well. Negan immediately scooped him up and held him close, the two clinging to each other like lifelines as Lucille drifted away again. She was doing that more and more often for longer and longer fucking periods of time. It worried the shit out of him, but she didn't seem to be in as much pain and goddamned suffering while she was asleep. When she was sleeping, she looked at peace, for once.
The door flung open, hitting the wall with a loud bang. Both Negan and Logan jumped, scared shitless, as a nurse or some shit in a bluish scrubs stood in the doorway, looking just as fucking spooked as they did. Fucker also looked like he had just run a marathon after downing five bottles of pepto bismol and topped that shit off with ten goddamned tubs of chalk-shit tasting tums.
"Sir! Sir! We've evacuated the hospital! This area is not safe!" The man said in a panicked voice, stepping into the room. Negan could see a flurry of people behind the man running down the hall, screaming their fucking heads off about something. "You and your son need to come with me!" He added, gesturing back towards the fleeing people behind him.
Logan made a distressed sound in his throat, between a 'no' and a whine, shrinking back against his father's burly form and eyeing the other man with fear and worry. Obviously, the man's fear and the panicked people running past were scaring the shit out of the kid.
"What?!" Negan growled, standing up, one arm bracing Logan against his chest. The kid squirmed and prodded his dad's ribs in protest, demanding to be put down, but Negan wouldn't have it, not with some strange fucker in the room yelling at him and trying to take them away from Lucille. No fucker on this fucking planet was prying him from Lucille's side. The man reached over and grabbed his arm, and Negan growled deeply in his throat and Logan clung tighter to his jacket. "I'm not fucking leaving my wife!"
"She's too sick to move -" The fucker insisted, giving a tug before Negan pulled his arm out of his grip and backed away so the shithead couldn't grab him again. He curled his lips into a snarl, bristling and angry as all hell.
"Get your fucking hands off me!" He snarled. His hands were clenched into tight fists; he was gonna punch the everloving fuck out of the fucker if he touched him or Logan again.
"Fuck off!" Logan growled, although he fell pretty fucking short of being anywhere close to as intimidating as his father. Good effort though.
"It's not safe here." The nurse was beginning to back up, turning back towards the door. He obviously wanted to leave, but convincing Negan to leave compelled him to stay - for the moment. "Save yourself!" Finally, his bravery failed him and the bastard left, joining the fleeing crowd rushing past in the hallway.
An explosive sound outside caught Negan's attention and he stumbled to the window to see a car in the parking lot had caught fire and people scattering in all directions, but while some were getting the fuck out of dodge, others shambled slowly, like they had suffered traumatic brain injuries while drunk off their asses.
"What the fuck..?" Negan gasped, his grip loosening on Logan enough so the kid dropped to the door. "Those people..." He watched in bewilderment as a doctor fled a group of the slow-moving fuckers below, screaming his goddamned head off. "... there's something wrong with them." The door clicked behind him and Negan turned to see Logan locking it, before he moved to the shelf that held the tv and tried to shove it in front of the now closed door. However, he couldn't fucking move it by himself.
Negan rushed over to help, pushing the shelf up against the door, muttering all the swears he knew. The two leaned against the shelf panting as the muffled sounds of chaos outside the calm hospital room surrounded them. Negan looked over to where Lucille still lay, peacefully asleep despite the anarchy happening outside.
"Probably best you're sleeping through this, baby." He sighed, ushering Logan back to his seat. The kid eyed the door again warily, but obeyed, clambering up and hugging his knees to his chest. Negan looked down at his wife and son, before, dragging his chair around the bed next to Logan's.
"Should be all over by the time you wake up." He looked at Logan and the brat nodded, hanging onto every word. "We'll be okay." He reached over and stroked Logan's hair gently, before taking Lucille's hand once more. "We'll be just fucking fine."
He rested his head against Lucille's stomach, fighting in vain to keep the tears streaming down his cheeks as he gripped the sheets that covered her frail form like the desperate fucker he was. But he'd been too strong for too long and this shit, piled on top of Lucille's cancer and caring for a kid, it was too much. He burried his face into Lucille's sheets like he was Logan's age instead of forty-fucking years old.
He felt fingers going over his hair and he looked up, hoping to see Lucille awake, even if meant he was being fucking pathetic, as per fucking usual it seemed. Logan was perched in his chair, grey eyes watery and frightened, but he reached over kept stroking his father's hair.
Negan gave a weak as fuck smile, although he really did appreciate the gesture. He rested his cheek against Lucille's stomach, letting his eyes drift partway shut. Seeing his father calm the fuck down, Logan settled back into his chair, chewing on his lower lip before he went back to his drawings.
Negan continued to watch the crazy as shit events unfold from the window of the hospital, even as Logan dozed off in his chair, head pillowed on his backpack. There was something really fucking wrong with the people in the street; they didn't look right, they didn't act right. Negan's skin prickled with nerves just looking at their stumbling, hunched forms.
A loud sound from the parking lot jerked him from his thoughts, and he released Lucille's cold hand to run to the window to see what the fuck was going on. Behind him, Logan made a sleepy, questioning noise, sitting up in his chair and rubbing at his eyes.
"Fucking shit." Negan whispered, his hands pressed against the cool glass as he looked down into the parking lot. A car had just crashed, the front completely fucked up and crumpled and a horde of those odd people outside clustered around it. Scattered around the rest of the lot were the fallen and bloodied bodies of other people, some missing limbs and large portions of their fucking bodies. Like they were fucking eaten away.
A strained gurgle from behind startled him, and he turned to see a wide-eyed Logan and a feebly squirming Lucille. She had ripped one of the tubes from her nose and stared at him blankly, still making the weak, raspy sounds.
She gave a lurch, and practically threw herself over the bedrails and out of the bed, landing on the floor with a loud, boney thump. The IV stand holding the bags of fluids and pain meds for her fell over as well with a crash. The blankets that were tucked around her ended up holding her in place.
"Lucille?" Negan rushed to her side, scared shitless that she had hurt herself. Logan leapt off his chair, looking concerned and moving closer to his mother as well. "Lucille! Are you okay?!" He bent to help her off the floor, a hand going to her shoulder. "I thought you were - I thought you'd -"
Another garbled growl broke from Lucille, halting both her boys in their tracks. Logan looked up at his father, uncertainty on his face. Lucille looked up, her face bloodied from where she had bitten clean through her lip and the tube from her mouth fell out, splattered in red.
"Lucille!" Negan immediately threw himself back, scrambling away out of Lucille's grasping hand. "Stay back!" Chest heaving, he held an arm out to keep Logan away as well. Meanwhile Lucille kept growling, a broken, raspy sound, reaching out to him as if to touch his face. Negan crawled slowly forwards, gently grasping the sleeve of Lucille's hospital gown to keep her hand away from him. He poked her face, finding her skin ice-cold and clammy. And she wasn't breathing. "That's not... This isn't real." He muttered, trying to convince himself that this was just some fucked up, horrific nightmare.
Logan made a keening sound, like a hurt animal and Negan waved him back, even though the kid hadn't made any moves to come closer; he'd doen the opposite and had actually moved back against the wall so he was pressed against it.
"You're not.." Negan leaned ever closer to Lucille's broken and bloodied face, but no recognition lit her once vibrant eyes. "Do you...?" He lifted a hand towards his face, but stopped himself when she snarled at him, her lifeless eyes locked onto his, unblinking. "It's me.. It's your husband... And Logan, your baby." Lucille growled weakly in response, but it was inhuman, animalistic.
She wasn't there anymore. It was her body, but Lucille had moved on, leaving only an empty shell. Their love, their life together was gone forever, like her. He didn't deserve her. Never had. And now she was gone.
Tears came unbidden to his eyes, and he didn't even try to hold them back. For months and months he had done his absolute damndest to hold his pathetic ass together, but now.. What was the point of hold it back? He had failed her. This was all his fault. He failed her.
Negan startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder, ripping his gaze from Lucille to see Logan standing behind him. The kid rubbed his back gently and Negan ducked his head again, feeling shame well up. He was sitting on the fucking floor sobbing like a fucking baby and his son was comforting him. Again. Being the selfish bastard he was, he took a few steadying breaths, his body shaking, taking his time gathering himself together. If not for his sake, then his child's. Lucille's child. Their baby.
Negan tightened his grip around Lucille's cold arm, holding her down as firmly and gently as he could as he placed a tender kiss on her forehead. She snarled and groaned, dead eyes watching as he did so, before leaning back. He sat back on his haunches, scrubbing at his face with the back of his hand to wipe away his traitorous tears.
"I'm sorry, Lucy-baby."
Her hand reached for him again, but Negan was already moving, ruffling Logan's hair with one hand before pushing him along. He pushed the shelf holding the tv away from the door, while Logan watched his mother, his face unreadable. After a few seconds, the boy turned away and looked to his father for direction, his shoulders set.
Negan knew they'd have to sort this shit out later; it probably wasn't normal for kids to see their moms die and not outwardly react. Logan's whole demeanor was one of unexpected acceptance and his father knew that was not fucking normal by any means, no matter the fucked up situation that they now found themselves in. Poor kid was probably so traumatized, the easiest thing to do was keep going. Maybe that was a good idea; bury this shit down deep and deal with it never.
Two fucking thumbs way up.
Negan poked his head out the door, a scream coming from down the hallway breaking him from his thoughts.
"Fucking fuck!?" Down the corridor littered with papers and dropped belongings a young black man in a hoodie was using an abandoned gurney to hold off two snarling and grey people, one in a business suit covered in blood, and one a woman in jeans a t-shirt. Their stiff arms reached for him over the top, their faces slack of any humanity and motions stiff. They hadn't noticed Negan, but the man desperately fending them off certainly did.
"He-hey, help!" The gargling woman managed to grab the kid by the front of his sweater and the teenager struggled to get away, trying to use the gurney as a fucking shield. "Oh god! Oh god!"
"Be more practical, kid." Negan growled, rushing forwards. "Call someone who can actually fucking help." He snarled, grabbing the gurgling woman by the back of her t-shirt and throwing her away. She slammed into the nearby wall, but the man in the business staggered forwards, grabbing for any part of Negan he - or rather, it - could reach.
"Their heads! You gotta bust them open or they just keep coming!" The teen shouted, looking around desperately for anything that could be fucking useful. "I seen one get shot five times." Negan groaned as he was slammed against the wall by the dead weight of the obviously reanimated man, the creature's bloody jaws snapping towards him. He braced an arm against the fucker's chest to keep him at bay, trying to keep the man from biting him.
Logan stood in petrified fear before he looked around for something to help, picking up a vase from the nearby nurse station and chucking it at the woman. It smashed into the woman's shoulder, breaking into pieces and falling to the floor.
The woman snarled and jerkily turned to look at the kid, who grabbed a fucking stapler of all things and chucked that at the dead bitch too. It thunked to the floor uselessly as the woman continued on, advancing on the kid, who ran behind the counter.
Negan's eyes darted around wildly for anything he could use as weapon, landing on a fire extinguisher hanging on the wall next to him. He ripped it from its mount and cracked it against the infected man's skull. sending him to the floor.
Negan brought the end of the extinguisher down on the man's skull twice, the meaty wet thuds filling the hall along with Negan's pants. But he couldn't really hear it over the pulse hammering in his ears.
Gasping for breath, he ran over to the nurse station, rounding the edge of the circular desk to see Logan shove an office chair at the woman, sending her stumbling again. Negan brought the fire extinguisher around again, cracking the woman across the back of her skull.
Congealed, dark blood splattered his face, feeling cold and wrong. Negan stood huffing and puffing, his hands trembling on the blood-covered fire-extinguisher - there were even bits of fucking hair sticking to it. Holy shit balls, he was going to throw up.
"Thanks, mister." The teenager said, coming from around the gurney. "You guys okay?" He approached slowly and cautiously, head tilted warily. Logan inched over to his father, eyeing the stranger just as warily as the stranger eyed them.
"No... I'm not.. I just murdered too people." Negan gasped, still feeling out of breath even as his adrenalin burned through him ice cold and scalding hot at the same time. "I'm a fucking murderer." He swallowed heavily and slumped against the wall, dragging the fire extinguisher he had used closer, feeling like it was the only thing keeping him fucking anchored to the present. This fucking day just kept getting better and fucking better.
"I don't think they were people." Logan muttered, glancing at the two fallen bodies before plopping down next to his father. He kept looking at the blood with an odd expression, like he wasn't sure what to think of it.
"You can't murder people who are already dead, man." The teenager said, sounding a little surprised that Negan didn't know already know this fucked up shit. "These guys were dead on the ground when I came through here." He gestured to the pair of lifeless forms with one hand. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"They're dead?" Negan blinked, confused, but the pieces of the puzzle were slowly getting their asses in the proper places. Lucille's lack of recognition, her falling out of bed with a strength that she hadn't had in weeks, the fact that she hadn't spoken a word, just garbled snarls and growls. "They're just mindless monsters now..."
"Trying to eat us..." The kid supplied, helping Negan make sense of this complete and utter clusterfuck. "Yeah. This has been all over the news for days. The dead are taking over." He waved a hand in emphasis, obviously surprised Negan hadn't already figured this shit out. "Where you been?"
"I've been a little.. Preoccupied." He hadn't been watching the news; it'd been the furthest thing from his fucking mind. Looking over at Logan, he saw the kid hugging his legs to his chest again, staring straight ahead. If he wasn't fucking traumatized before, he sure as shit was now, watching his father beat the fuckity fuck out of two people with a fucking fire extinguisher. "Down the hall a ways.. There's another one on the floor... Next to a bed. Could you handle her for me?" Negan looked down at his own shoes, covered in splatters of mostly-dried blood. "I'm a little beat."
"Yeah..." The kid muttered, voice low as he looked down at the shell-shocked pair. "Sure." He grabbed the extinguisher and hauled it off down the hall, back to Lucille's room. Negan rested his arms on his bent knees, focusing on breathing.
Just keep fucking breathing.
There was a muffled thump and a small jolt against his side. Negan looked over to Logan, who was now leaning against him, his face buried against his father's arm. Negan shifted, placing his arm around the brat and tugging him close again.
"I know, kiddo." Negan sighed, rubbing Logan's shoulder as the boy finally wept against him. "I guess we're all having a fucking shitty day."