A stench wafts its way through the crevices of the walls, permeating the air, stirring its sleeping resident with a look of disgust before consciousness even wrangles her awake. The gag reflex kicking in all too quickly, she's soon flying up, as swiftly as someone who is seven months pregnant can be, and dashes for the first viable bucket she can find.
Her hair hangs limply around her face, masking her view of anything but the sick she just produced. Her hand finds its way to her round stomach, rubbing slow, soft circles, attempting to soothe her upset occupant. A swift kick meets her hand, leaving a half grin ghosting itself across her chapped lips. With a heavy sigh, she uses the sleeve of her shirt to wipe away the evidence of a morning ritual she thought she'd long since left behind.
Turning around, wrinkled sheets meeting her gaze - a now cold, empty bed staring her in the face. She quickly looks away, the remnants of a bad nightmare threatening to overtake her. Her mind's favorite activity as of late was playing cruel tricks on her, placing one too many 'what-ifs' floating around for her to ponder, the threat of the unknown always lingering just outside the fence. Literally.
She turns away from the bed, reaching to tie her hair back, and readying herself for the day. Soft kicks acting as little reminders of her little one nestled just below, comforting her racing mind.
As she steps outside, the sun immediately hits her, glistening her now pale skin, the telltale sign of a morning spent being sick. She pulls her shirt closed around her, protecting her reminder that good was possible - the hope due to make its arrival in just a couple of months. Her forearm rests comfortably across the top of her stomach, her ring glittering in the sunlight, bouncing reflections off the various homes, cascading their shapes onto herself, illuminating her further, giving her an actual glow.
Shuffling through the dirt, her once bright red laces, dusted in a brown that seemed to have overtaken everything here. The demand to produce food at the rate they were expected leaving them in a state not unlike what had first compelled her to make a trip to the Hilltop. It often left her wondering about the competency of the current leadership, and sometimes when her mind was playing tricks on her, the loyalty of said leadership as well. A sneaking suspicion had been eating away at her from the start, and growing with each passing day. She wasn't oblivious to glaring eyes and passive aggressive remarks coming at her like daggers from a man that owed her nothing short of his life.
Her eyes often narrowed into slits, the metallic taste of blood lingering all too often from biting her tongue. He wasn't the first man to underestimate her, her rage, her need to right the wrongs, and he wouldn't be the last.
It felt like lifetimes ago that she'd lost her mother, the grief eating her up slowly, sinking her further and further down a dark path, until properly infecting her very being to the point of toxicity when her father had remarried. She'd been awful, letting the sadness transform into a rage that led to a rebellion of her own doing. She wasn't a vengeful person, not by a long shot, but with a caring heart comes with it the detriment of feeling too much, all at once, and sometimes stages of grief all bottled into one…anger.
The most recent tragedy having taken her crutch, the one thing that she'd had to lean against that night, and thoroughly beat her down to where it had taken every ounce of strength to rise. But she had. A renewed strength rising like a phoenix from the ashes, her rage flowing out of her like the tears that just wouldn't stop. And tucked underneath all that rage, a fragility of being so scared of the fate of her child, that was only slightly acquiesced with the sound of its heartbeat, the fear never leaving her, instead taking up permanent residence, settling in her bones, and in a protective stance that left her with a bite she hadn't had before.
Belt hanging low, sagging with the looseness needed to wrap around her expanded waist, tethered to the weight of her weapon, she meanders her way to the foul smell that had so wretchedly woken her just earlier. Her thoughts carrying her forward, a list of chores playing in her mind like a litany of activities to keep her focused, settled. She had found keeping busy distracted her the most, the looming visit of collection otherwise hanging heavy over her, their walls opening up for evil to enter all too often and with it the threat of death that she knew were more like promises of imminent loss than hypothetical situations - the image of that night still painted on the inside of the eyelids that slid over her irises into focus every time she closes her eyes for too long.
As she makes her way, other residents give her shy smiles, quickly looking down whenever she makes eye contact. She's never been able to figure out whether they see her as a ticking time bomb of responsibility, a stranger to them still, or perhaps it's the stench of death that seems to travel with her - taking out those close to her one by one. Respect her or fear her, the result ends up being the same, quick nods of pleasantry as they shuffle along past her. Not that she cares, not wanting to get close to anyone again, anyway. She has her family, that's all she needs - enough collateral damage to leave her wrecked for this lifetime and the next.
She can see Sasha patrolling the perimeter of the high fence. The illusion of safety ever present, when really they were more like kids playing pretend, playing guard, and then voluntarily allowing the real threat to tramp through, demand what they wanted, taking prisoners when they felt like it. There was nowhere safe anymore. And Sasha was the one most familiar with that feeling. But still she spent her days mindlessly walking back and forth, gun in tow, a prayer of her own sort, before retiring from her shift, usually forgoing sleep with Maggie to keep her company. The baby acting as a distraction - planning a future, if only in the next few months, the most optimistic that the two of them allowed each other to be, all the while that prickling of fear in the back of her mind bristling whenever the word 'when' was used instead of 'if.' Guilt then flooding her system, the word 'expecting' never more real, because there were no guarantees, only what was likely to happen.
But she was luckier than most. Luckier than Sasha.
As if feeling her ears burn, the woman finds Maggie's eyes across the way, and nods back towards the opposite direction of her patrol - answering an unasked question. Maggie softly nods back, raising her hand in acknowledgment, in solidarity, before realizing the ring gleaming back like a flare signal of distress for the woman on the other end of her wave, and so she quickly drops her hand before tottering on.
Coming up on her destination, the smell hits her again, giving her pause, slightly hunching over, her hand cradling her stomach, as she catches her breath - breathing in and out, steadying herself against a wooden structure used near the garden. Lifting her head from her bent over position that's when she sees it. And she can't help the turning of her stomach as she once again heaves, leaving anything she could've possibly eaten in a sickly pile on the ground.
Standing tall, she doesn't even take pause as she stomps up to the shoveling man, standing a foot deep in what can only be manure, bandana covering most of his face, a baseball adorning his head, and a blonde stroking his arm.
Upon her arrival a visible flinch comes from the man, her glare causing a jerk of his arm, releasing the grasp the woman had on him.
"You got a girlfriend I don't know about?" She asks with all her mustered composure, recalling back to a time so different from now, although both times knowing the answer before the question was even asked. No. But putting him on the spot, demanding a flustered, awkward answer, hiding her own brazenness, or in this case, the girl who was looking at her like she'd grown another head - though with a belly that round, she had quite literally, grown another head. With the man now shyly smiling, relief painted all over his face.
"Uhh, Allie, this is…this is my wife," he sputters out, with an I-told-you-so look, having likely tried to let her down easily, and failing miserably.
The young girl doesn't even try to explain herself, just embarrassedly tramples her way out of the garden, muttering "sorry, sorry" leaving a trail of bullshit behind her.
Maggie turns to him now, her stoney glare cracking with a grin at his innocent face, covered in sweat, his red shirt, her favorite color on him, soaked through.
"You are knee deep in shit, buddy," she gets out with a laugh, one of the few she's allowed herself in so long.
He grabs his neck, rubbing exhaustedly, looking down with a, "Uhh, yeah."
"Mind telling' me what exactly you're doing?" She asks, stepping closer, leaning on him for support. He gladly obliges, wrapping his arm around her, as she buries her face in his neck, masking the smell surrounding her, making her queasy once again.
"Gardening," he says as if completely obvious, side-stepping the pretty girl conversation, as Maggie shakes her head, knowing full well manure is not good for gardening. "Or at least I was trying to…" he trails off, looking at her more closely, realizing she looks paler than usual. "You okay?" he worriedly asks, quickly scanning her for injury. While always protective, it seems to have increased tenfold over the months - the bigger she gets, the more protective he becomes. Pulling her closer still, leaving no space between them, the distance felt that night, left to communicate in terrified looks and almost silent cries of defeat. They'd spent most of their time together as a couple trying to continually find their way back to each other, always vowing to never leave again, but this time…they'd made it a reality. Cautiously protective, harboring an ember of rage, that if sparked would leave nothing but scorched earth if threatened again.
"I'm fine," she lies, not wanting to alarm him. Her nose slowly becoming accustomed to the smell. His free hand drops the shovel, not even bothering to dig it into the ground to hold it up, as he presses his hand against her abdomen, a smile gracing her lips, at the care with which he takes in making sure they're okay.
"Come on," he slowly motions with his body, her attached. "Let's get you some water."
They walk slowly together, silence engulfing them, leaving too many thoughts free to run rampant between the two of them.
"So who is she? Does she like video games and fast cars too?" She rambles out, trying to take their minds off of anything serious.
He sighs heavily, stopping them in their tracks. She looks up, staring into his brown eyes, heavy with exhaustion. His long hair is curling underneath his hat, and she reaches up, pushing it behind his ear.
"I'm just trying to get to know your girlfriend," she says softly, almost as a whisper - a ghost of a tease.
He remains silent, as if studying her for his response. A gesture that would've long ago had her hiding her face, but having become used to waking up, him staring at her for who even knows how long, she revels in being the focus of his gaze - knowing that it's the only thing getting her through.
"I love you," he utters, finally breaking the silence with his testament.
She smiles brightly at him - her light, her hope - gently stroking his cheek. "I know," she responds.
The begin walking again, passing by Sasha, who doesn't look up at them, instead focusing on her task. And Maggie can't help but squeeze Glenn just a little bit tighter to her. The 'what-ifs' playing so loudly in her head, she can't help but be grateful, and inspired to protect all she can, her little family.
"Baseball," she hears in between thoughts, finding herself looking up at him with a confused look.
"She isn't into video games and fast cars, she was talking to me about baseball," he says with a sly grin.
Maggie grabs the cap off his head with a defiant yank. "No more baseball. Ever."
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A/N: Hey! So I had gotten a prompt asking for "pregnant jealous Maggie" and being the weirdo that I am, this is what I came up. I apologize in advance if this is nothing like what you wanted. I had been wanting to write a fic after the premiere, but I didn't want anything sad (because I've cried enough), so this seemed to satisfy my internal struggle while also fulfilling the prompt.
Glenn's death hit me hard, and I suppose writing fics is going to be the way I deal with it. So feel free to send me prompts or just leave a review for me, that would be greatly appreciated. Thanks so much for reading, guys!