Author's Notes: Thank you all so much for the continually wonderful response to this story. I'm truly ecstatic that you all are having a good time reading it! I hopefully will have one more update tomorrow before my husband has the weekend off and I have to spend time with him instead of Negan. As always I hope you enjoy the chapter, and I'd like to send a special thank you to those who take the time to not only read but review. Your comments are a huge source of joy and motivation for me on this crazy adventure.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP, the horrendous noise tore me out of slumber. I almost knock the damn alarm clock off my nightstand as I slam the off button. I stretch out my arm as far as I can so I'm able to flip on my lamp without having to pry myself from bed just yet. The room is frigid, and my bed is a cozy cocoon that I'm not too keen on leaving just yet.
The world swims around me as my eyes adjust to the light. I summon all the willpower in my body and flip the blankets off me, steeling myself for the unpleasant rush of cold air hitting my skin. Why does everything about waking up in the winter have to suck? I think to myself. I quickly throw on my jeans and a new long sleeve shirt that had "appeared" on my bed the day after I'd talked about not having enough points for winter clothes to Negan. It's still not entirely coat weather, so I've been getting by alright with my sweater.
Grabbing my backpack, I lock my bedroom door behind me, take a quick trip to the bathroom to brush my teeth and throw my rat's nest of curls into a bun and a moment later I'm rushing off the infirmary. The chill of pre-dawn air lights a fire under my ass and I practically run to the building. Dr. Carson is already there when I burst through the door, greeted by a rush of warm air. He doesn't so much as turn to acknowledge me. I catch a glimpse of the coffee cup he's sipping from, it's not even halfway empty so there's going to be a good 20 minutes before he's up for more than single syllable utterances. Without even bothering to ask, I look at the clock and make note of it on my time sheet. 5:45 is way too early.
Thankfully I don't have to start my morning duties just yet. I pour myself a cup of coffee from the small pot in the corner, grimacing at the bitterness, but grateful for the caffeine. Negan called a meeting this morning, making it clear that Carson, me, and whoever else was coming were to be on time and discreet about the gathering. I'd tried to get Negan to tell me what was going on, but he told me I'd just have to wait and see like everyone else. I finish downing the coffee, and set my mug in the sink. Five minutes before six, Simon, a tall, severe man that was one of the resident hard-asses of Negan's main crew, walked through the door. Whenever Negan was gone, Simon would rule the compound with a short temper and a mustache that desperately wanted to compensate for his receding hairline.
Simon nodded a greeting with a grunt in Carson's and my general direction, and took a spot leaning against the infirmary counter. Not a second past six, Negan stepped into the room, and we all dropped to one knee. His hair was slicked back perfectly, his leather jacket zipped up to where his red scarf tucked in, he wore a casual grin and looked to be the only bright eyed and bushy tailed one among us. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.
"Stand up, you all. It's a beautiful fucking morning, isn't it?" Said Negan, cheerfully. The men grunted their agreement, and I nodded along. "Alright," he says, "I called this meeting with you all because I have a fan-fucking-tastic idea that you guys are going to make happen." He looks fairly excited about whatever he's getting to.
"I realized a couple weeks ago, while our lovely infirmary intern was taking some personal time"—He glances my way and I blush at the reference to my week long suspension – "that while it can be useful, we don't necessarily need two fucking people manning this place at all times." He gestures to the building we stand in. "So, and you all are going to tell me how we make this happen, I want a medic going out with my Saviors on runs. You two" – he points at Simon and Carson – "are going to develop a training plan to get this one here, and hell you too doc, ready to join the Saviors out in the field." He looks at me when he talks. "Brainstorm…Now."
"Emergency medicine is going to be priority," Dr. Carson starts off, "field amputation, chest tubes, GSW's, triage, and stabilization."
"Good. Good. Keep it coming." Negan looks at Simon.
"Well, what weapons experience do you have?" Simon directs the question at me.
"I'm decent with a knife, when I have to be. I've shot before, but it definitely needs some work." I try not to sound useless, but I don't have a ton of weapons training. Up until I was captured, I'd always had my brother with me to handle most of the combat.
"Alright, then that's where I'd start with her." Simon tells Negan. "It'd probably be best if she just started with a new class of combat recruits, get the basics going for her on the whole. Carson too, if you want him in the field as well."
"Okay. Perfect. This is gonna be so fucking cool." I can tell Negan is pretty pumped about the idea. "How quickly do you think we can get both of you field ready?"
Carson answers first, "Medically, speaking I'm good to go, but Rori… I'd say I would need six weeks to get her decent in field medicine, eight if we want her confident."
"Yeah, 'bout the same for general field training," Simon tacks on. "We have a couple new recruits we could start. She and Doc could join the next class. The waffle faced-fuck too, you were telling me about."
Negan takes a moment to consider, "Bad fucking ass," he says, "get this shit started. I have some shit to take care of, but you all figure out amongst yourselves how you can get this going fucking ASAP." He swings Lucille over his shoulder, and starts to walk out. I see him turn his head slightly as he's leaving, just enough that I catch him shoot a wink my way, Simon and Carson none the wiser. I hate how much I miss his presence already as the door swings shut. He knows what a distraction he is to me too, which only makes him more incorrigible when he flirts like that.
With Negan gone, Simon takes over the room as the de facto leader. "Alright, if the big man wants both of you ready in eight weeks, we're gonna have some long ass days ahead of us. I think our best bet is to split the day three ways, so that there's always someone in the infirmary, but you both get a chance to train. Thoughts, Doc?"
Carson nods in agreement, "It's usually slowest here first thing in the morning, and later in the day. We'd probably be best having Rori go with your recruits first, I'll work with her here during the middle of the day, and I can go with your crew at the end of the day."
I don't really have much to contribute to the brainstorming, I feel like I'm just here to be in the loop on the plans the others have for me. I'm not terribly sure how to feel about this new opportunity. I am definitely excited to have the chance to be useful in such a cool way, but I'd be lying if I didn't also admit that I'm terrified of the prospect of going out beyond the walls again. I understand Negan's logic in beginning the medic training with the only two people who have a medical background of some sort, but I can't help but wonder if he's making the wrong choice putting someone who isn't exactly psychologically whole out in the field. I choose to focus on the words he'd impressed on me consistently the past couple weeks. Balance, it's all about balance.
Simon agrees with Carson's proposed time divisions. "Well there's no reason we can't get this going now," he says, "I'll take her till 10. We don't have a training group yet, but I can get a baseline of her skills."
"Sounds good to me." Carson steps away from the group, grabbing his clipboard and focusing in on getting the infirmary set up for another day of patients.
"Let's get going," Simon beckons me to follow him. He leads me through the compound to the armory. It's a large room, adjacent to the mess hall, filled floor to ceiling with every weapon you could ever imagine.
Simon looks me over, taking in my small stature and slightly stocky build. He steps over to a case of knives and selects one, then walks over to an array of handguns sitting on a shelf. He glances back over to me, one more time, refining his assessment, before he selects one of the handguns from the display. "Waist or thigh?" he asks me, looking at a table covered in various styles of holsters.
"Umm. Thigh, I guess." I say, not particularly sure.
"You're a righty?"
"Yes." He picks out a black holster from the table. He holds out the strappy holster for me and I snap it on around my leg, securing the top clip to my belt loop. Simon then hands me the knife, it's smaller than the one I used to use, but the blade is extremely sharp and angry looking. I slip it into the second slot on the holster. The handgun Simon picked out for me is small and smooth, it's lightweight but still very sturdy. I like the way it fits in my hands. As Simon makes note on an inventory sheet of the supplies he's checking out for me, I slip it in the holster. I feel incredibly powerful all of a sudden. I have almost no experience using the weapons I've been entrusted with, but just having them on my person is empowering.
"Come on, let's go to the range and see if you can put those fuckers to use." Simon leads the way once more. I'm startled a little when we get to the gates. "Skills test for the girl." Simon calls up to the guards. They nod and open the gates without question. It's a short walk to the range, a clearing with targets set up on the far side. When we get there a walker is stumbling around in the clearing alone.
"You can start by taking care of that asshole," he tells me. My stomach turns in knots, the last time I was up close and personal with a walker my foot almost became crunch 'n munch. I swallow my fear, pull out my new knife and approach the stumbling monster that's now taken notice of me as well. I get around behind the thing and grab it by the tattered collar of his shirt. Unfortunately the weather worn garment tears in my hands, and the walker spins around trying to grab at me. I move out of the way just as it lunges at me, but the clumsy movement throws me off balance. I trip over my feet and almost fall, but I'm able to catch myself at the last second. The walker wasn't so lucky. Thankfully as it launched itself at me it was thrown to the ground face first by its own momentum. I pin the walker between the shoulder blades with my boot and stab through the soft skull at the temple. The gooey pudding that used to be a person's brain sticks to my hand as I pull out the knife.
I'm embarrassed at the pitiful display. "That could've gone better," Simon laughs. "Let's hope you're better at medicine than you are at putting down these bastards." My face burns.
"Alright, let's see how we are with a gun, shall we?" He says. He holds out his hand for my gun, which I give him, and he demonstrates silently how to put in a clip full of rounds. "Now you," he says after removing the clip from the gun and handing them both to me. It takes me a moment to get it in, but at least I don't make myself look entirely incompetent.
"Safety off." I push in the button. "Aim for the middle target."
"Okay," I say trying to line up the sights. I think I have a good shot lined up, and I pull the trigger feeling the sharp shock wave go through my arm. Super sensitive trigger, I make a mental note for the future.
"Safety on." I push the button the other direction. "Lower your weapon." I drop my arm, pointing the gun at the ground. Simon walks across the clearing, to examine the shot. "Not horrible, but definitely a shit ton of room to improve." He says, pointing to the mark on the target left by my shot. It was barely in the outermost circle of the bullseye, but honestly it was better than I was expecting.
He walks back to stand beside me. He pulls out his own weapon, already loaded. "Alright, now try this. When you line up the shot" – He raises the gun, taking aim at the far right target – "instead of holding your breath to brace for the recoil, breath out just prior to pulling the trigger." He fires, and I see the new impact site form just next to the bullseye of the target. "You try," he says looking at me.
I push my safety to the off position, raise the gun, and line up the sites with the middle target once more. This time, I do as Simon instructed, and exhale evenly right before pulling the trigger. The shock of the fire surprises me a little less this time round. I can actually see the impact mark without having Simon point it out, the little indention forming two circles closer to the bullseye than my previous shot. "Better," Simon says, "Again."
I fire the rest of the ammunition I have in my clip. I don't really come anywhere close to hitting the bullseye, but for most of them I'm on the target itself. After firing all of my ammo, another walker is drawn by the noise. This time, Simon takes it on, demonstrating to me a more reliable technique of grabbing them by the neck, instead of the clothes to pull them near enough to take out with a knife. He points out that if you do it right, they shouldn't be able to bite you, and you should have free choice of soft spots to aim for. He stabs the walker cleanly through the eye.
For the final bit of our training session, Simon has me show him all the ways I know how to attack and disarm an opponent with a knife. He gives me feedback throughout on things I can do to improve, and teaches me a new way to defend against a direct stab to the gut, before it's time to start heading back.
By the time we get back to the infirmary, it's barely ten o'clock. I'm already incredibly exhausted. I'm hoping that Dr. Carson will take it a bit easy on the first day of training with emergency medicine, but unfortunately he decides to launch into it with everything he can throw at me. I am blown away by the difficulty. From giving vaccines and taking animal's temperatures, to packing bullet wounds and emergency chest tubes, there's quite a bit of a learning curve. I'm fighting very hard to not feel overwhelmed by it all. I keep telling myself that Negan wouldn't trust me with this job if he didn't think I could handle it. So I make myself handle it.
Simon comes to fetch the doctor at two o'clock, leaving me alone in the infirmary for the last four hours of the day. By the time that Negan gets here at six, I've only seen two patients, one who needed splinting on his wrist, and another who needed stitches above his eye. I'm just cleaning up and marking down all the supplies used today when Negan walks through the door. He takes one look at me and a huge smile crosses his face. "Darlin', you look like shit," he says it with an infuriating laugh in his voice.
"Deal with it," I say returning the smile. I only feel brave enough to sass back at Negan when there isn't anyone else around. "You blindsided me with a hell of a day."
"That I did, Sweetheart." He leans against Lucille as he watches me finish up reconciling the inventory for the night. A moment later, a drained looking Dr. Carson, a new hip holster and handgun bouncing beneath his lab coat, walks in. After acknowledging Negan's and my presence, he takes a look over the inventory sheet, glances over the infirmary, and gives me the green light to head out.
Negan holds the door for me as I exit the building. My feet are burning, and every bone in my body is sore. Right now, I'm absolutely dying for a shower.