Author's Note: Woops I totally lied about getting another chapter up on Friday. Sorry y'all! I hope your weekends were great! Hopefully a longer chapter today makes it up to you guys. I wanted to say thank you all again for being such wonderful readers, your reviews and engagement with this story as a whole mean the world to me! I hope you continue to read, enjoy, and review as you see fit! You all are the best!

The afternoon sun peers through the windows of the infirmary, offering greatly needed warmth to the room. I just finished up making a wish-list for the Saviors to bring with them on their next supply run, some much needed supplies like antibiotics and sterile equipment, as well as a few items that would greatly increase our medical capabilities like an ultrasound machine or a ventilator. I decide I've earned a break. Sitting down on Dr. Carson's swivel stool, I lean my back against the cabinets. I reach up and extend my arms as far above me as I can, enjoying the slightly painful stretch of my exceptionally sore muscles. I'm only coming to the end of my second day of training, but my body is feeling the effects of a steep learning curve.

The night before, I slept like a rock, far too exhausted to dream; and prying myself out of bed this morning had taken a serious act of divine willpower. Sitting here now, I can't help but wonder how I had ever considered myself to be in shape prior to this regimen. Carson and Simon are going to be the death of me.

Startling me out of my relaxing daze, the door opens and the plainest of Negan's wives steps into the infirmary. Sherry, I think her name was. Her eyes scan across the room as she enters, shoulders hunched, and hands knotted together, she is the picture of discomfort. She looks thinner than the last time I saw her, her dark brown eyes sunken in and her cheeks are gaunt. She chews the inside of her lip.

"Hi," I say, "Um. Sherry, right?"

"Yes." She nods.

I feed her my name in case she doesn't remember, "Rori. We met a couple weeks ago." She gives me another small nod. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Can I – get a pregnancy test?" She doesn't look me in the eye as she asks me, her voice barely above a whisper. I can't help but feel a flare of anger entangle itself in my stomach at her words. She's one of Negan's wives, it's not exactly a stretch to guess who the father is. It's a thought that makes me sick to my stomach.

"Oh, sure." I say. I grab a little rectangular package from the top left drawer, handing it to her. "Bathroom's over there," I point to the slightly open door on the other side of the room.

"Thanks." She quietly steps through the room and enters the bathroom, closing the door gently behind her. I hear the little click of the lock.

I know I have no right to be angry but I really can't help it. She's his wife. One of his wives. She has every right to get pregnant with Negan's baby. I shuffle around papers and containers on the countertop trying to busy myself to distract from the green haze that's coloring my world at the moment. I almost feel silly being so jealous of this skinny, exhausted looking woman. I could easily join her up in that common room any day, lounging around getting pregnant with Negan's babies. 'When I do ask you, and you do say yes. Because believe me, love, you will say yes…' Negan's words rang through my head, overpowering my jealousy with a sense of nervousness and anticipation.

Three minutes go by like a waltz in lead shoes. When Sherry emerges from the bathroom, the downcast posture she had carried herself is transformed. There's lightness in her eyes and a small smile on her face as she holds up the pregnancy test. "Not pregnant," she says happily.

I can't help the flush of relief I feel at her words.

"Thank you, again." She says as she starts to make her way to the door.

"Wait!" I call after her, she turns around. "You should take a test with you to double check tomorrow morning. It's always most accurate if you test first thing in the morning." I grab another test to give her. As I walk closer to her, I really notice how much the sweater and jeans she's wearing appear to hang off her tiny frame. The dark circles under her eyes and the dullness of her skin that otherwise looks flawless concerns me. "You know what, Sherry, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but you don't look like you're feeling alright."

Her eyes darken a little as she takes the second pregnancy test from my hand. "I'm doing alright. I just came for the pregnancy test."

"I know. But can you humor me? It's slow right now, I just want to do a quick checkup, make sure you're healthy." I try to convince her. "You look like you've lost weight. You don't exactly have any extra to lose in the first place," I add.

Hesitancy crosses her eyes, before she finally gives in. "Alright," she says, "please just make it quick."

I have her take a seat on one of the beds, and I grab Dr. Carson's stethoscope and clipboard.

"You're a doctor?" She asks me as I take her wrist in my hand, gently pressing two fingers into the skin to find her pulse.

"No. I used to be a veterinary technician before the fall, but Carson's been training me." I say, as I watch the clock and count the beats of her heart. Even though she's sitting down her pulse is racing. For such a tiny woman, her heart is under a lot of stress. I pretend to keep taking her pulse so I can get her relaxed respiration rate so she doesn't know it's being counted. She's breathing incredibly fast as well. I mark both the figures down on a patient sheet.

I place the ear pieces of the stethoscope in my ears, and instruct Sherry to breathe in as I place the chest piece to her back. I listen to her breathing and it's very shallow. I make a note on the sheet. "How long have you been at the sanctuary?" I ask her as I grab the forehead thermometer from the counter.

"Long enough." She says, not offering me anything more. I take her temperature.

"No fever. That's good!" I mark down her perfectly normal body temperature on the sheet. Overall, however she really doesn't appear to be doing well. "How have you been sleeping lately?" I ask her, taking a guess at the cause of her dark under eye circles.

"What's sleep?" She asks me with a small smile.

"Well that may just be your problem." I reply looking into her eyes. She has very kind eyes on the whole, but I can tell that there's something seriously bothering her. "Are you alright, Sherry?"

She snaps her eyes away from mine. "I'm fine." You could cut a knife with her tone. "Why does it matter to you, anyway?"

I really don't have a good answer for her. "I don't know," I say. "I guess I'm just confused."

"Confused?"

"Well, I mean from what I've seen you ladies have a good thing going for you. Negan takes care of you."

"Oh, well you would know, right?" Defensiveness colors every word. "You've got your weird arrangement going with him too. What are you anyways? Another wife? A side chick?"

"I'm just his friend." I don't even believe myself as the words come out.

"Just his friend? That he walks with all the time, and has special meals with in his room?" I bite my lip because I have no idea how to respond. She sees my expression and her face softens. "Sorry," she says looking down once more. "If you really are just Negan's friend, consider yourself lucky."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just put it this way. I can't speak for any of the other women, but at least for me, if I had any other option, if it was only my life on the line, I wouldn't be in this right now."

Again, I'm really at a loss as to what to say in return. The way that she's describing her situation as a wife doesn't really fit with the way I'd pictured it. "He saved my life," I tell her, it feels like I'm trying to justify my association with him, "He's been nothing but good to me."

She smiles sadly at me like I'm a lost puppy, "That's good. I'm not gonna tell you what to do, I'll only say be careful. I'm glad he's been good to you. Just know that he doesn't ever do anything that isn't in his own best interest, that doesn't benefit him somehow. He's very charming. But he's also a manipulator. He's capable of getting anything he wants." She hops up off the bed. "Thanks for the look over, I'm sure I'm just stressed. The test too, thanks" – she tucks it in her pocket as she walks to the door – "Rori, just be careful if what he wants is you." She walks out, letting the door close behind her this time.

I feel like someone scooped out my insides as I busy myself for the last hour of my shift. I know for a fact that Negan wants me; he's made that no secret. I don't want to believe Sherry, but the way her clothes hung off her body, and the darkness in her eyes as she talked about Negan is haunting. Ten till six I hear the unmistakable heavy footfalls entering the infirmary, it's more nervousness than excitement that fills my heart. But turning around, seeing the gentle creases around Negan's eyes as he smiles while entering, happiness almost immediately swallows the nerves.

"Evening, Doll face," He greets me with his characteristic grin. "Should I just get used to you looking like a fucking hot mess when I pick you up now?"

"Gee, you really know how to make a girl feel special." I retort, prying myself away from his absurdly handsome, mischievous smile.

"You know I'm just fucking with you. I always like a woman who's all hot and sweaty.

My face flushes bright red. I make a final note on the inventory of the two pregnancy tests I'd given to Sherry, and check over the notes from the rest of the day. A moment later, Carson arrives to release me from my shift.

As Negan walks with me back to the Big House, Sherry's warning long since forgotten, I ask Negan about his day, and he fills me in on some of the going's on around The Sanctuary. When we reach the top of the stairs, I'm about to turn to enter my room when he stops me. "I know you haven't eaten." He says, "I had the kitchen bring up a couple trays," he points to his bedroom.

Glancing down at myself I'm genuinely pretty grossed out at how disheveled I look. I feel gross too, and I don't even want to imagine what my hair and face look like. "Would you mind if I took a shower first?" I ask. "I feel so dirty right now." At the last part, I hear the potential innuendo and judging by the glint in Negan's eye, he does as well. For a moment he looks like he's going to capitalize on it, using my own words as a tool to extract another blush from me, but he takes a different approach.

"The shower will still be there after you eat, but the food isn't gonna wait around for you like I do." He winks at me. "You can even use my shower after," he offers.

"Fair enough," I give in, "I'm starving." My stomach gives off a loud grumble as if to punctuate my words.

Negan walks me to his room, holding the door open for me as I enter. I can see the bowls of soup and plate filled with bread sitting on his table. I take my usual seat and wait for him to join me. He sets Lucille down by the door, and slips out of his leather jacket, tossing it casually on the bed before taking his place at the table.

I take a bite of the creamy soup, and it warms my body from the inside out. Negan watches me as I take a bite, with his eyes on me, I feel self-conscious of the way the spoon slides in between my lips, delivering the delicious soup to my taste buds. "So how was it today?" he asks me, using a piece of bread as spoon for another bite of soup.

I swallow my bite. "It was good. Exhausting. There's just a lot to learn."

"Good." He swipes absentmindedly at his lips with a napkin. I can't help but notice the way his lips curve around his words as he speaks, it's intoxicating to watch. "Is Simon behaving himself?"

"Well, besides having a special way about him that makes me feel like an absolute idiot, I'd say so." I smile, meeting his eyes, as I take another bite of soup.

Negan's quiet chuckle in response makes my stomach flip. "Yeah, he's an ass," Negan laughs, sitting back in his chair.

I take a final bite of soup, running a piece of bread along the sides of the bowl to get the last of the creamy broth. It feels amazing to have a full belly. I stand up, pushing my chair in. "Mind if I take you up on that shower offer?" I ask him.

He nods. "Wouldn't offer in the first place if I minded. There should be a towel hanging in there, you know where all the other shit is." With that I walk over to the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror I remove the hair tie from my knotted hair, letting the tangled curls spill down my back. My face is flushed and there are a couple smudges of dirt along my jaw and hairline, where I'd wiped the sweat off during Simon's training session. I don't let my eyes linger for more than a moment on the gouging scar that I hate, before I turn away, shedding my sweater and letting it fall to the floor. My arms ache slightly in resistance when I reach behind my back, unhooking my bra to let it join my sweater at my feet. I untie my boots and kick them off to the side, tossing my socks on them as well. In one quick motion, I slide my pants and underwear to the ground, stepping out of the garments.

I turn on Negan's shower, letting the water heat up. Holding my arm in the water to feel for the changing temperature, I let myself look over my body. The crescent shaped bite marks littering my chest and abdomen have all faded from dark, angry, scabs into shiny pale scars. The bruises that once marred my legs have long since disappeared, though the memory of the horrors that created them still runs through my head daily. Once the water has warmed, I step in, relishing the way it runs over my skin, sending goosebumps down my entire body. I tilt my hair back into the stream of water, feeling it soak into my scalp. I let my body absorb all the warmth it can before I lather up my body with the bar of soap in the corner, scrubbing away the grime of another physically intense day. I'm gentle as I massage my scalp with a sweet smelling shampoo.

All the stresses of training and strange conversations with wives run down the drain with the soap and the dirt. I run my fingers through my hair, coating the strands in conditioner, working through the perpetual knots that form each day. I take my time on the final rinse that I give my body, savoring the warm caress of the water.

Turning the shower off, I reach out the glass door, and grab the towel hanging on the left. I flip my hair over and squeeze the towel through it, letting the extra moisture be absorbed by the cloth. I turn my hair back over and wrap the towel around my body. Immediately I feel like I made a mistake by showering here tonight. I had forgotten that I didn't have any clean clothes with me. I look at the dusty, smelly clothes from earlier that are crumpled on the ground and hate the idea of putting them on when I just got so clean. I'll just ask Negan to borrow a shirt and some shorts to wear back to my room.

I wrap the towel a little tighter around my body, folding the loose corner under the bottom fold to secure it in place, covering myself the best I can. Negan's sitting on the bed, book in hand, when I step out of the bathroom.

"Would it be alright if" – I'm cut off by the expression that covers his face when he looks up. The moment he raises his focus from the book and sees me, registering my attire, or lack thereof, his eyes darken. A dangerous smile paints itself on his face.

"Wow." He says, setting the book down on the bed and standing. I feel dwarfed by his imposing stature when he stands in front of me. A colony of butterflies just about explodes from within me as he tucks a piece of my wet hair behind my ear, his hand gently grazing my cheek as he does so. He's standing only a few inches away from me, I have to crane my neck sharply looking up in order to look him in the face, the heady scent of him makes me feel lightheaded and flushed. Whether from cold or anticipation, I'm not certain, but goosebumps tingle across my skin, standing in front of him. His eyes are heavy and dark, as he looks into mine so powerfully I almost want to look away. "You, sweetheart, are absolutely fucking beautiful," he says, his voice thick and velvety.

When I feel his hands gently fold around my hips, my heart starts to pound so hard I'm certain it's going to give out. He's holds my gaze a moment more, before I see him glance to my lips. His eyes linger there, a strange expression crossing his eyes. He grazes his teeth over his lips before he gently places them to my forehead. My skin feels like it's melting. I feel his breath dance across my skin as he moves to place another kiss on my cheek, just next to my ear. An unfamiliar warmth pools in the center of my body, the mesmerizing feeling of his lips making me feel dizzy. He removes a hand from my hip, using it to tilt my jaw up to him, and he places another ghosting kiss on my neck. My breath is becoming ragged, I feel drunk on the sensations he's giving me. When he reaches the crook of my neck, he gently nips at the skin there and though it feels amazing, the touch of teeth to my tender flesh almost immediately snaps me out of the intoxicated daze. A chill runs through my body, when I feel him slip his fingers beneath the towel under my arms. I panic.

Before he's able to remove the towel, I snap my arms up around my chest, holding the makeshift garment in place. I stumble a little as I step back, feeling startled into sobriety from the moment. The memory of the way my clothes had been torn from my body each night in the forest replays in my mind with the warning voice of Sherry this afternoon echoing over top. "I'm sorry." I whimper. Arms still crossed around me. He reaches out to gently place his hand on my arm, but the touch makes me flinch. "I-I'm sorry." I stutter out again, stumbling back a step once more. There's hurt and concern in his eyes, but he doesn't try to touch me again.

"It's okay, Darlin'. It's okay." He raises his hands up in front of him carefully, in a gesture to reassure me he isn't going to try anything. I don't know why, but in spite of the gentleness and worry in his eyes, and the soothing tone to his voice, I'm afraid of him.

"I'm sorry." I spit out again, this time, turning around to grab my things from the bathroom. I snatch them up from the bathroom floor, clinging to the items with one hand and holding the towel in place with the other. Negan watches me almost dumfounded as I trip over myself in my efforts to leave his room. I feel like I'm going to suffocate if I stay in there another second. I thank the Lord above as I step out into the hall and there's no one to see me run down the hall, covered in only a towel. I fish out the key from my pants pocket and quickly unlock my bedroom door.

Once inside, I shut the door quickly and turn the lock before letting myself fall to the floor, allowing the towel to slip down around me. I hug my knees to my chest and force myself to take deep breaths to calm down.

After getting control of my breathing, I slip on my pajamas and tuck myself in bed. I curl up into a ball, wrapping my arms around my knees beneath the blankets as the darkness envelops me. Over and over my mind replays my conversation with Sherry and the terrifying pleasure of Negan's lips on my bare skin. I feel horrifyingly torn between a desire to act on the wonderful feelings Negan tortures me with, and a gnawing sensation in my gut that Sherry's warning would be wise to heed. I make no progress in sorting out my thoughts as I drift into an uncomfortable slumber.