"Can't repeat the past? Why of course you can!" - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
The day drags by and each hour I don't see Dwight is another brick that weighs down on me. Him asking me, twice now, if we can talk has made a bundle of nerves out of me. I have no idea what he'll say, or how well whatever it is will be received by myself. I honestly don't know what I want from him, or what he wants from me. But I do know that I have to ask him about the note.
"Nan!" Reed tosses a pencil that pelts me on the arm before falling onto the factory floor. I reach down and pick it up, looking over at Reed in bewilderment. "Can you go to the infirmary and have the doctor give a status on the medicine and supplies?" There's an easily detected annoyance in his voice from my apparent drift of mind.
"Yeah." I hand him the logs I just collected from mechanic's yard that he adds to his clipboard. I happen to glance over at the quarters, where I see a Savior rummaging through a crate under the placard 11. "Hey, what's he doing?"
Reed follows my gaze. "I'm confused at what you're asking?"
"He's taking from that worker's things." I clarify.
"What is this your first day here? You want something, you take it." I roll my eyes at Reed's lack of concern. "Besides, that guy's not coming back."
"Wait, is 11 the one who ran?" I ask.
"Yep."
"He might come back." An uneasy feeling swirls in my stomach.
"Nah, not likely," Reed gives me the up and down, "Dwight's not been too good at bringing 'em back alive these last couple times. Now, go get the logs."
The new doctor, Eugene, has been kind of remiss on the upkeep of the medical logs. I guess he's got some other skills, aside from being a doctor and a bullet maker that Negan wants to exploit. I've been up to the infirmary twice already today and he hasn't been there.
The clock on the hallway wall says it's two-ten when I approach the infirmary door. I open it and, surprise, no Eugene. I learnt that his room is where Dwight and I took Daryl that one time. When Negan revealed why Dwight got the iron, thinking it would appeal to Daryl for some reason and he'd kneel. Once there, I knock and he answers almost immediately.
"Um, I need the medical logs." I state, taken back the stench of pickle juice, which sickens me a bit. I don't normally hate pickles, or the smell, but I have to clear my throat and swallow some spit to avoid gagging. It's probably because it's so potent, since that's all I've seen the guy eat.
"I'm sorry to say that I don't have them." Eugene says frankly before going to close the door. I put a hand on it to stop him.
"Well, you've been here for a week and a half," I point out, "And we're kind of up in the air about it all."
"I suppose up in the air is where you'll have to stay, until I've made time in which to properly assess the inventory." His tone is curt and a tad arrogant, which perturbs me.
I scoff. "Well, Negan reads the reports every day and expects everything to be accounted for."
"I am aware of that," Eugene nods, "but I've been put to use in other fields of my expertise and have not had the time." This guy is unreal.
"Keeping track of the medical logs is part of your job."
"Pardon me, but I was under the impression that it was in your job description as a bookkeeper to keep track of the logs." What an ass!
"Yes, but I'm not suppose to be in the infirmary all day," I lean on one side, "You are. And as far as I've seen, you've been anywhere but the infirmary since you took Carson's position. Now, Negan is going to ask why the infirmary logs are not up to date and who do you think he'll want an explanation from?" Eugene falters a bit and so I take a less bitchy tone. "Look, let's just go the infirmary and get things in order."
...
We go into the infirmary and find the logs in Carson's old desk. From the looks of it, these haven't been touched in days. Carson's handwriting is the only writing, save for the signatures from Saviors from days prior. I explain to Eugene that it's important to keep these up to date, which is easy for him to understand, since the main reason is to avoid getting in trouble with Negan.
"If you don't do your job, no one else is going to take the heat for you, understood?" I try not to sound too Savior-ish. Eugene nods. He's a strange man. "Also, it's important that you keep tabs on this place, or else people will-" I stop mid-sentence when the door opens and in walks Dwight. He's dirty and his right hand is wrapped in a bloody cloth.
"Hey." He gruffs.
"Hi," I stifle a smile and then don't have to fight so hard when I focus on the bloody hand, "What happened?"
Dwight lifts the hand and looks at his palm. "He had a knife and I grabbed the blade as a last ditch effort to keep from getting stabbed."
"Did you bring him back?" I ask, noticing that he has the wound wrapped in what looks to be ripped clothing and his clothes are all intact.
"Yeah." Dwight walks over to the exam table to sit down.
"Alive?" I turn and am reminded that Eugene's here as well.
"Yeah." He furrows his eyes in confusion when the corners of my lips tip upward.
I look Eugene over incredulously. "Are you gonna tend to that?" I lift my hand to point to Dwight's hand. Eugene looks nervously over at the hand and I catch him wince at the blood. "There are gloves over there, but you should probably wash your hands in there, first." I point my thumb back towards the bathroom. Eugene does just that and I scoff at Dwight, amazed by Eugene's lack of urgency. Dwight just stares at me with an amused look on his face.
Eugene returns after twenty seconds and I motion with my eyes to the gloves. His uncool expression and demeanor strikes a light bulb in my head and I suddenly remove my attitude. "Look, just, uh...keep taking inventory. I'll deal with this."
I turn my head back to Dwight and put my hand out for his. He raises a brow skeptically, but places his hand in my palm. I carefully untie the sticky red fabric that was once light blue. The cut reaches across his palm and will definitely need stitches. "Go wash your hand off in the sink." I order and I follow him into the small bathroom, quickly washing mine before him.
Next, I pull out the supplies I need to disinfect and stitch up Dwight's hand from the drawers I've seen Carson pull them out of. Dwight sits back down with a wet, clean hand that I dry with a cotton pad. "Do you know what you're doing?"
"Yes." I say confidently.
"How?" His hand flinches and he sucks in air through his teeth as I dab some rubbing alcohol on a cotton swap onto his cut.
"Charlie taught me." I answer sullenly.
"Was he a doctor?"
I shake my head. "No, but his dad was a paramedic for the fire department and he taught Charlie all the basics when he was a boy scout. Plus, in this world..."
"Right," Dwight watches as I prepare the needle and sutures, "Just didn't expect it."
"I'm mostly going off my embroidery knowledge," I smile at his arched brow, "my grandma." I finish up and tell Eugene to bandage it up. He can do that. I stand by as he wraps the gauze around Dwight's hand. "Not too tight." I instruct, which makes Dwight smirk lightly.
We leave together after Eugene hands me the logs. I scan through the logs casually as we get to the stairwell. Once we're down the first few steps, Dwight stops me on the level between the two sets of stairs. He encourages me to the wall and brushes some hair over my shoulder. He then leans down and put his mouth on my neck.
"I have to take these to Reed." I giggle as I grab his shirtsleeve.
"He can wait." Dwight works his hands up my shirt.
"Or you can," I lightly pull away, "Why so eager?"
"I liked seeing you in the infirmary," He snickers against my neck, "Taking charge, giving orders, patching me up."
"Well, Eugene's not..." I stop myself from finishing that sentence.
"Not what?" Dwight asks as his hands trail down to my pants. The door from the bottom opens and the two of us quickly pull apart, continuing to go down the stairs. I file behind Dwight as another Savior comes up the narrow stairs. Once we're out in the hall, Dwight snickers quietly and I smile.
"I should really get these to Reed." I tell him as we get to our floor. "And you should probably shower."
Dwight takes a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and nods. "Yeah."
"I'll come by yours later," I softly assure, "so we can talk...like you wanted." Dwight's eyes meet me and he nods, going into his room while I go down the hall.
...
Reed asks me why I took so long and I have to explain to him that Eugene was just finishing up with the logs, so I waited. I know it was lying, but you know...he's, uh, new. Reed rolls his eyes and takes the logs, so we can get to work. As we make our way to his office, I catch sight of the man who ran off today. His face is black and blue and bloody from what I imagine was a beating he took from Dwight. Gary and Davy are standing by his bedside, probably waiting for the king of the pricks to arrive. I also notice that part of his light blue, button-up shirt is ripped along the bottom.
I'm conflicted, because as much as I don't want to feel sympathy for that man, I do. He had a knife that he was apparently going to use to maybe kill Dwight with. But seeing him sit there; beaten and defeated, it reminds me of Gordon's chained corpse outside and how he got there. That Dwight, despite knowing what it's like to not want to be here, is not so different than the other Saviors. "There's nothing I haven't done that I haven't chosen to do."
When we get to the office we, unfortunately, find Negan sitting in Reed's chair with his feet propped up on the desk. Lucille sits across his lap.
"There you are!" Negan says, sitting up. "I want an estimate of how much that asshole owes me after his stunt." Oh, good. He just wants to talk to Reed.
"Yeah, I got it," Reed flips through his papers, "I just needed to go to the mechanic's yard to get a sum of how much gas Dwight used to go get 11."
"I'll go do that." I volunteer, starting to make for the door.
"Alright, but hey!" I turn to face Reed. "Go straight to Cooper and then right back here, understand? I don't want you distracting 35 from his work."
I nod. "Okay." As I leave, I hear Negan ask Reed which one '35' is.
I had hoped I wouldn't see him until at least the two days he gave me were up. Tell him no, right now. I don't know why I didn't decline his proposal last night, if you can call being called "fine as fuck" and reminded of how I almost let him fuck me in a bathroom, a proposal. Of course, I'm not going to marry him! As I've said before, why the women who agreed to marry him, agreed to marry him is none of my business, but it's not and would never be for me. It frustrates me that I even allowed what happened in the bathroom to happen. Dwight doesn't know. Shit.
I do as Reed instructed and get in and out of the mechanic's yard with a report of the gas used to go retrieve the runner. Negan's eyes are on me like a hawk and I do my very best not to look his way, as well as not appear like I'm trying to avert my whole self from him. Reed gives Negan the summary of what's owed from the guy and Negan gets up to "pay a visit" to the man which from what I saw that morning they beat Dwight, won't be pleasant. As he goes to leave, he leans towards me and inhales the air.
"See ya later, sweetheart." His exhaling breath gives me goosebumps which makes me cringe.
...
Reed and I finish the books by five- thirty and thankfully Reed goes up to meet Negan. Should I tell Dwight about Alexandria and the proposal? What if he doesn't take it well? He won't take it well.
I think about the time he was going to break things off with me until I mentioned how Negan tried to kiss me. Or when Negan wanted to speak with me in my room and Dwight intentionally had sex with me ten minutes before Negan came, just so he could get some satisfaction out of Negan knowing. You wanted Negan in Alexandria. No, I didn't and I don't now. History repeats itself.
I need to stop all my unwanted thoughts from eating me. I open the door of Dwight's room and find the room empty. Fuck! I run my hand through my hair as I pace on the rug on his floor. Where is he? It's so hot in here.
I take my clothes off and then step up onto his bed to open the window because it's hotter than hell in this room, which is unusual. Maybe it's you. I put a hand on my warmish forehead. I must be getting sick.
Dwight walks in within five minutes of me being here and immediately is taken by surprise. I wade over to the edge of the bed and then briskly walk off of it like someone would a cliff. I trek barefoot over to him and practically slam my body into his as if I were a wave and his was a rock, planting my mouth onto his. I grab hold of his shirt and try to haul him towards the bed.
He takes my hands and pries them off, moving his head to break the kiss. "What are you doing?" He asks breathily.
"I'm trying to finish what we started in the stairwell." I try to kiss him, but he pulls away with a mildly concerned look on his face, so I press my body to his.
"Are you okay?" Dwight puts his hands on my arms to hold me back. "You look a little flush."
"I'm okay," I pant, "I've just been thinking about it all afternoon."
I back away and make it onto the bed, removing my panties. As I step out of them, I stumble a bit, almost losing my balance and I hear Dwight snicker to himself. He gives me the up and down before he walks over and places his hands on each side of my face; bringing me in for a lustful kiss, which aches through me. I reach around with one hand to frantically unhook my bra, while taking another fistful of his shirt. Dwight moves his hands to his vest that he rapidly takes off while putting his mouth on my neck, making me moan. After shedding his shirt over his head, he pushes me onto my back.
As I fall back, I'm immediately dragged by the legs until my feet touch the floor. He effortlessly parts my legs, nudging himself between them. Dwight's lips on the insides of my thighs make me even more impatient. "No, no, no," I plead breathlessly, "just do it, don't waste time." I put my hands over my eyes at how desperate I sound.
Dwight puts his mouth on me and I flinch at the first twinge of pleasure, lifting my foot onto his shoulder and putting a hand in his hair. His hand wraps around the leg as he gets more into his work. He knows what he's doing; I'll tell you that much. "Ooh, Dwight!" I weakly mewl as I find release.
I feel Dwight snicker against me and glancing down, I see him wipe his face before he moves up. With a hand on each side of me and a knee between my legs on the bed, Dwight situates over me. I smile with billowy cheeks and still heaving, as he looks down at me just before kissing me. I taste myself on his mouth as his tongue tangles with mine. After undoing his pants and kicking out of his shoes, Dwight turns me horizontally onto the bed, moving himself along with me. I wrap my arms around him when I feel his hardness slide into me.
...
It's quick paced, a little rough, and fantastic. Dwight rolls off me and we both laugh with choppy breaths. I pass him his cigarettes and lighter and then put my underwear and shirt on. After partially dressing, I sit down on the armchair feeling a little less dauntless than I did a few minutes ago. Hell, a few seconds ago. I think it's because I'm remembering why I came here initially. He wants to talk. It's unnerving to try and fathom, since usually when someone asks another person if they can talk, it's something important. Why else would you make a point of asking? Don't bring it up.
"I should go to my room and get some food." I randomly say while scratching my nose.
"You can eat something here," Dwight exhales smoke through his nose, "I don't care."
"I don't want to always mooch off you," I stand up, "I'll bring something back and share it."
"No offense, but I don't want your stale crackers." He grins. I smile as I take my pants from the back of the chair.
"I'll be right back." I tell him, before leaving him in his room.
Okay, he hasn't said anything about the "talk" we're suppose to have which makes me apprehensive. What if being in his room half- naked before he got in, made him reconsider? I know it's always been said that there's nothing men want more than to have a naked woman waiting for them at the end of the day, but let's be honest; it was kind of odd. I was not the alluring minx that would generally exist in the realms of such fantasy. More like a dizzy nymphomaniac. Maybe he's going to break things off for good, although last night and this morning would seriously camouflage that. How will he react when Negan comes calling?
"I'm sorry, Neal, I made a mistake!" The noisy neighbor woman sounds like she's crying when I make it to my room.
"A mistake?" Her partner scoffs angrily. "No, Rachel, that wasn't a mistake! A mistake is something that happens once, but this..."
This conversation, I think I can guess the subject, is loud enough to be clearly heard in the hall, but the inside of my room is like an audible front row seat when it comes to sound.
"I never meant for it to get out of hand like this, baby, I swear!" She pleads in a way that's all too familiar to me. "It won't happen again, I promise, that's why I wanted to tell you!"
"You didn't tell me though, did you?! I had to hear it from Yancy!"
Yancy's the Savior who guards the gates at night that lives down this hall. The one who is always yelling at them for being too loud when he's trying to sleep in the morning.
"I know, I know, but he told you before I got the chance, Neal, I was going to tell you myself!" She sounds pretty distraught.
"How long has it been going on?" Neal asks, as I get out my food.
"Four months before he left for the outposts." Rachel answers with a low shame in her tone.
"Four months?!"
"Right before he left was suppose to be the last time, but then he came here and we got to talking and it just happened." I've said that before.
"Yeah, talking," Her husband chuckles sarcastically, "that's not what everyone was hearing in here when I was out there."
"I'm so sorry, baby, I am!"
"What if you had gotten pregnant? Would you even know for certain if it's mine, or his?" His question makes her cry harder and I can't bear to listen to anymore.
I solemnly walk back to Dwight's room, trying to block out the crying, begging, and yelling. Trying to keep painful memories at bay. I'm almost to tears when I open the door and go inside, finding Dwight dressed in just his jeans.
"Why am I not surprised?" He chuckles under his breath as he grabs his shirt off the floor, throwing it on, and then sitting back on the bed.
"Hm?" Is all I say.
"Peanut butter and crackers," Dwight points to the contents in my hands, "Your go to."
"I use to have preserves, but the jar was smashed." My smile wanes when Dwight's does.
"When Davy ripped your room apart." He looks down at his hands which hang off his knees.
"Yeah." I nod.
"Um," He clears his throat, "I wanted to talk to you about that."
"Look, I know I have to stay away from him," I claim, "Negan told me so." Oh, lord, who forgot to gift you the good sense not to mention him?
Dwight glances up at me. "No, that's not what I mean. Although, that's part of it."
"Oh," I whisper, "Well, what do you mean?" My heart thuds nearly into my ears.
"I, uh...I wanted to talk to you about maybe..." Dwight's eyes trail off in contemplation, which only intensifies my nerves, "...about maybe moving in here with me." His eyes fix back to me.
I stare at him, taken back. Move in with him? Does he mean that? I must look like an idiot for just staring at him like I am. His eyes scan my face and I can tell he's possibly thinking he may have spooked me with what would be a step into commitment.
"Um-" Dwight begins, but I cut him off.
"You want me to?" I ask, pulling a leg on the armchair and snaking my arm around it.
"Yes, I want you to," He nods, "If you want to. I know we haven't really been together for that long, but I thought that maybe we could try."
"Try living together?"
"Yeah, that and maybe...try to be together. Like a relationship."
"I thought we technically were already." I shyly say, looking down at my knee.
"Right," Dwight nods, "But I mean more than just sex." All my whirling, anxious joys and fears geyser into my chest, bringing about an overwhelming sensation. "I like you, Nan and I like being with you."
"You do?" I rasp, staring at him with analytical eyes.
"Yeah." He nods, fiddling with the bandage around his hand. He wants you.
"Okay." I impulsively answer.
Dwight glances up. "Okay?"
"Okay, I'll move in with you." I clarify with a meek smile that he returns.
"Okay." Dwight nods, reaffirming my words.
"Um, should I...should I go get my things?" I ask, while my insides are screaming.
"You don't have a lot of stuff," Dwight states, standing up, "We can probably bring it all in one trip.
Dwight's right, we manage to get my things to his room in one swoop. We fold the bedding, putting it along with my clothes in the trunk, and carry it to his room; leaving the clothesline empty and alone with the stripped bed. Neal left his room shortly after Dwight and I came to pack. Rachel can be heard crying in the room, which makes me feel bad for her since I understand. You always hurt him.
"Your bedding is better than mine," Dwight determines, "Maybe we should change it out.
"Sure," Once that's done, my eyes circulate the room, "I'm all settled in." I dryly note.
"Well, you don't have a lot of stuff." Dwight replies, looking around as well.
"Fair enough." I go over to my trunk and open it, taking inventory of everything. I pull out the food and he shows me where to put it. All this moving in is enough to make me want to cry. It feels like it should have taken an hour or more. Not because I have all these possessions that need to be moved in, since that's clearly not the case. I agreed to move in and like a flash bang; it happened and I feel somewhat disoriented. Get it together.
"Hungry?" Dwight asks, going over to the fridge.
"Yeah, but you don't have to fix me anything."
"It's not that big a deal," He glances over his shoulder, "I'm making dinner, so why wouldn't I make you something, too?" I smile and nod at him. "Just put your stuff anywhere, so you can use the trunk for your clothes."
"Okay." God, what am I doing? I quietly situate things around the room, which is pretty much just my desk clock in some random spot, I don't care. I leave the photo of the old resident and my ring hidden in the tear of the trunk's lining. The vase Negan gave me heightens my low grade, inward panic. Should I even dare put it somewhere in here?
"Do you like mustard?" Dwight's voice makes me turn my head away from the vase. "Yeah." I put the vase back in the trunk. You can't tell him.
We have sandwiches for dinner; something I'm starting to believe is Dwight's strong suit. It's quiet for a while, shy small talk here and there, but we basically eat in silence. I think it's sinking into both of us that we kind of jumped into this with both feet. After dinner, we get into bed together and lay on our backs for a while. I don't know what he's thinking, but all I can think of is how stupid this might have been and how I'm going to give Negan an answer without Dwight ever finding out. Charlie also orbits my brain in the mix. What are you doing?
...
The next morning, I'm jostled awake by both the dream I had and the movement in the bed. It was the same dream I had a few nights ago; the one where I fall back into the grave I was digging. It ended the same way, too. With the two figures above and the one whose hair shone by the sunlight, kicking the dirt into the hole. It reminds me of the note I forgot to bring up last night.
"Mornin'." Dwight sighs as he moves out of sleep, turning on his side that's towards me.
"Morning," I rasp, "You sleep well?"
Dwight opens his eyes. "Yeah. You?"
"Mhm." I fib, feigning a smile.
"Your shoulder's doing better?"
"It doesn't hurt too bad anymore." I reply, running the opposite hand through my hair.
"I have something for you."
I chuckle, inching closer to him. "Should I proceed with caution?" I sweep a hand across the blanket his way, figuring he's talking about morning wood.
Dwight laughs sleepily and moves the other way out of bed. He goes over to a black backpack and I watch as he unzips the front pocket, pulls something from it, and walks back over to the bed with what looks like a card. "I was gonna give it to you yesterday, but I forgot."
I take the offering in between my fingers and discover it's a postcard. I turn it around to the glossy picture on the back and smile into a laugh. "It's my tattoo," I rotate my arm, "Well, the painting behind it."
"I found 11 hiding out in some small art center," Dwight explains, walking over to his coffee maker, "It caught my eye on one of those gift shop stands. I thought you'd like it."
"I do," I touch the shiny petals and flip it back over, "Williamson Center for the Arts." I read the little title above the street address. I sit up, still fixed on the gift.
"It was pretty much untouched there." Dwight tells me, sitting down on the edge.
"Really?" I scoot myself over to him. "Like nothing was scavenged?"
"It's an art center, Nan," He snickers, looking at me, "The vending machines were broken into and it looked like a few things were taken from the gift shop, but aside from that what's there of any interest or value?"
I kiss his scarred cheek gratefully. "Thank you."
...
As smoothly as the morning went, more relaxed and reassuring than last night, the day brings on the stress of having to face Negan. I figure when he said he'd give me two days, this being the second day, he meant two full days. So, by that logic, I won't have to answer to him until tomorrow. Why not just go now?
I'm nervous of reprisal that Negan may take towards me if I deny him. I mean, I can at least rationally assume that no physical punishment would be the result of denying marrying Negan, but there's always more that can be done. He could strip me of my rank as a Savior to a worker again. Would that mean I can't stay with Dwight and that I'd have to go back to the quarters? You can't go back there. I really want to hope that Negan wouldn't be that petty over a simple rejection, but you never can tell with him.
Also, how is Dwight going to react? I know the honest thing to do would be to tell him about both incidents, but if I were good at that, I would've never had the problems I had with Charlie. Is there a way I can keep it a secret, like a less he knows the better kind of thing? Old habits die hard.
While heading towards the mechanic's yard, Hal suddenly walks ahead of me without acknowledging me, so I begin to walk faster. "Hal!" But he keeps walking. "Hal!" I finally reach him and take his arm to get him to stop. "Hey, stop for a minute."
"I really don't want to talk to you right now, Nan," He says bluntly, continuing to walk towards the yard.
"What? Why?" I try to match his strides. "Hal, what's wrong?"
Hal stops abruptly and shifts my way with stony eyes. "You know where I just was?"
"In the quarters?"
"Reed came and got me. Brought me inside to have a chat...with Negan." My heart sinks into my stomach.
"W-what did he want?" I dreadfully ask.
"He asked if I had military experience. Said that Reed said you made some sort of mentioning of it, once or twice." His eyes look gravely betrayed.
"That's a lie, Hal. I never said anything to Reed!" I protest.
"Yeah, well...I got offered a chance to rank up, because of it."
"Why didn't you lie and say that you didn't?"
"Because he already knew the truth, Nan, I could tell." Hal starts for the yard.
"You're a Savior now?" I ask quietly and in disbelief, treading behind him.
"I don't know, he told me to consider my options which doesn't really imply that I have much of a choice now, does it?"
"Hal, I swear I didn't say anything. You know I wouldn't."
"Can you stop following me?" He stops and turns to me again. "I just...I have to go back to work." And with that, he stalks off. Unbelievable.
I immediately march to find Reed, whom I find out by the coops, talking to Bryan the Savior that oversees things here.
"Can I talk to you for a second?" I ask with a heavy tone.
Reed looks me over and then hands Bryan's logs back to him. "What do you want?"
"Did you tell Negan that I said that Hal had military background?" I glare at him and he just leaves the coops with the notion for me to follow.
"Yeah, I told him that yesterday," Reed unapologetically admits, "After I told you not to mess around and distract 35, which you always do, Negan asked which one 35 was." I do recall hearing that as I left the office. "So, I gave him a report on what Hal does for him on a daily basis. How he never causes trouble, follows the rules, and how Cooper and others prefer him for certain tasks and projects. I also said how I thought he might have been a soldier before the collapse."
"And how did you make that assumption?" I scoff.
"You." Reed answers plainly.
"Me? I never I said anything like that!" I retort hotly.
"I heard call him 'soldier' on more than one occasion," Reed glances sternly at me, "And don't give me that 'it's a term of endearment' crap."
"That was a hell of hunch, Reed." I huff.
"Yeah, well, I was right wasn't I? So, you can call me Sherlock and get back to work." Reed leaves me standing near the bread station. I look over at the bakers who look upon me dully, yet abhorrently. I tread away from them and the smell of bread that's killing me. Great, Nan, you've managed to fuck up your best friend's life. Inadvertently, at that.
...
Later on, I go back to my new residence and grab my shower stuff. As I shuffle down the hall, I hear Rachel crying in her room and despite my nature, I stop and knock.
"What?" She snaps inside the room.
"Um, I lived to the right of you." I call back; not mentioning my name since she probably doesn't know it. The door opens startlingly and I'm confronted by a pretty woman with warm brown skin and tear swollen eyes.
"Look, why don't you go fuck yourself and mind your own business, alright?" She abrasively suggests. "I don't need anyone else crawling up my ass about the yelling."
"I'm not here about that." I claim, unsure of why I actually knocked. I wasn't planning on consoling her, on cheater to another.
"So, what do you want, then?" Rachel leans her hand on the door.
"I moved out of my room last night, so it's, uh, vacant if you-" I'm interrupted by the slamming of the door in my face, "need it." When I hear quiet cries again, I leave for the showers.
After having showered, I shuffle back towards my room, deep in thought. I have to talk with Dwight about Negan, but how? While Dwight would likely never admit it openly that he hates Negan, I know that he must and so this is a delicate subject to address. Pretending that Negan will keep this discreetly between us is utterly naive and so I have to be the one to tell Dwight. I have to; I can't let history repeat itself. You have to try.
"Hey." Laura strides up to me from behind.
"Oh, hi." I reply politely.
"Wanna doing something later?" She asks.
"Um, I can't," The heated sound of more arguing becomes apparent as we turn the corner, "Dwight and I are already doing something." Unbeknownst to Dwight.
"I bet," She says, humored, while inclining her head upward to listen, "Jesus. Those two went from always fucking to always fighting in nothing flat."
"Yeah." I agree quietly, wanting to pass as quickly as possible.
"That's what happens when you get involved with Simon," Laura adds acridly, "nothing but trouble."
"His other fans seem to be fine." As I say this, the door to the couple's bedroom flings open and Rachel storms out with a blanket, pillow, and backpack with her. Neal yells from his room in mock pity at "poor Rachel" moving out and how she'll be back. We walk a little slower as she opens my old room door and then slams it shut behind her.
"We'll see how fine they are when the pregnancy tests are taken," Laura continues in a lower tone, "Cause from what I heard, he doesn't pull out."
"He's not worried about getting them pregnant?" I scoff, a little peeved.
"I don't know. But Simon seems like the kind of dude who'd empty into you and then ask what you want from him when you show up with that pink plus sign." Laura's down tone raises my brow, but I don't inquire. "Well, I guess that's what the morning after pills for."
"We have that?" I ask.
"Yeah," I see Laura wiggle her nose the same way I do when something's bothering me, "Well, I gotta go. See ya, dollface."
As soon as I get back to the room, I realize I forgot my sweater in Reed's frigid office, so I begrudgingly have to go back before he closes up for the day. When I make it to the factory floor, I pass the quarters, which seem to be loud with some commotion. I look over and notice a Savior rummaging through 11's things without him present. Another worker stands by and soon the Savior drops the crate right at the worker's feet, pocketing a jar or something. The worker then squats down to the crate and rifles through the crate. Wolves and vultures.
"If you're here because you've gotten over your hissy fit and want to help with the books, you're too late." Reed says, as he takes the keys from his jacket pocket.
"I'm not here for that." I claim. Hissy fit? "I left my sweater in your office. Can I get it?"
Reed refrains from locking the door and lets me go inside. "Look, Hal's a hard worker," he tells me, "he's a good asset as a worker, but if he's more useful as one of us, then that's where he belongs."
"And what of he likes doing what he does now?" I retort, stepping out of the office with my sweater.
"Trust me, he's gonna be utilized everywhere Negan wants him," Reed locks the door, "But believe it or not, soldiers who are already trained and have half the diligence that kid has are hard to come by. Plus, his life will get better." He starts to walk toward the stars, so he can take the book to Negan and I follow.
"Yeah, better." I mutter sarcastically under my breath. This only confirms that Hal was right when he said he won't really have a much of a choice. "Did 11 go to the infirmary, or something? I saw more people taking the rest of his stuff."
Which I suppose is not unusual. Hell, the Saviors will just come right into your quarter and take something and be totally justified by the rules around here in doing so. But the workers generally don't steal from each other unless that person...
"No, he died like forty minutes ago," Reed states unfazed, "Had some bruising that looked like broken ribs, so he probably bled internally."
"From the beating he took as punishment yesterday?"
"That on top of the one D gave him before he came back." Reed continues to walk down the hall while I stop at my door.
"Well, which one was worse?" I call out. Reed puts his arms in the air and disappears around the corner. I go inside and am alone. I sit down in the armchair and put my head in my hands.
...
It's about eight or so when the door finally opens and Dwight steps in. The smell of his foresty soap breezes through with him and he goes over to put away his shower gel.
"Hey." He greets nonchalantly as he brushes back his damp hair with his hand.
"Hi." I shallowly greet back, still sitting in the chair I've been in for nearly two hours.
"Have you eaten yet?" He asks, going over to the fridge.
"Nope." I shake my head.
"Are you mad, or something?" Dwight scoffs, half- jokingly. I shake my head and he sighs. "Well, then why are you so quiet?"
"That worker died today," I touch each of my fingers in thought, "the one you brought back yesterday."
"Yeah, I know." He doesn't sound remorseful or troubled.
"Okay." I nod, figuring that he wouldn't feel sorry.
"Did you know him?"
"Did you?" I glance over my shoulder and see him look at me with furrowed brows. "You use to be a worker and have been here longer than me." He doesn't respond, which makes me think that maybe he did know the guy. Ask him about the note.
"Here." Dwight hands me a plate with a sandwich on it. I take the plate and place it on the arm of the chair before taking a half between my fingers. "What?" He asks when he catches me looking at it without taking a bite yet.
"Nothing, I'm just not hungry." I put the sandwich half back on the plate and get up from the chair to walk it over to the fridge. As I close the fridge door, I turn to find him staring at me strangely. Ask him. I go over to him and sit down beside him awkwardly, like I've never sat next to him before. I then put a hand on his leg and open my mouth to speak.
"Stop." He frustratingly moves his leg from under my hand.
"I was just-"
"You have something on your mind and you're trying to use sex to distract from it," He bluntly states, "So why don't you just come right out and tell me what's up?"
"I was not." I'm a little offended that he caught on so quickly. As much I want to ask him about the note and tell him about Negan, it's always been in my nature to go running back to my old ways so I don't have to confront things.
"Yeah, you were," Dwight argues, "So what's wrong?"
One- two- three- four- five- go! My words catch in my mouth. Dwight gets up from the bed and takes his plate over to the sink. One- two -three - four- five- go! "I need to ask you something."
"What?" He shifts his upper half towards me.
"The note I found the other morning," I can see his face drop expression, "Who wrote it?" Dwight looks down towards the spot where I had said I found it. "Who was it for?"
"Nan, I told you-"
"I know what you told me, Dwight, but that wasn't the truth. I want to know...I need to know." I begin picking at my thumb.
"Why do you need to know?" His tone is rising in heat.
"Because I just do," I insist, "If you want to try at a relationship, then you have to be honest with me, right?"
Dwight gazes at me with the kind of look that probably means he's contemplating one of two things. Either he's going to tell me the truth, or he's thinking he made a mistake in getting into this relationship with me. He sighs through his nose. "She wrote it."
"Who'd she write to?" I can feel the tears coming up, although I suppose I've basically known that it was Sherry who wrote it since that morning.
"Nan, I-"
"Who did she write to?" I repeat more firmly.
"She wrote to him."
"To Carson?" I croak, stepping over to him.
"To Daryl." Dwight's answer devastates me.
"Carson didn't help Sherry did he?" I sniff to try and keep the tears away. Why am I so leaky?
"No." He reaches out, but I walk away over to the armchair.
"I knew it," I look down into my hands, "When Negan accused him of letting Daryl out for Sherry, I just knew it couldn't be true. And I didn't want to see it, because..."
"Because?" Dwight sits down on the bed closest to the chair.
"Because I wanted to believe that you weren't like the rest of them. That you weren't as cruel and awful as the Saviors."
"I am a Savior," He scoffs, blinking up to meet my eyes.
"You didn't use to be," I glance bleakly over at him, "But from what I know now and from what I've seen, you could fool anyone from thinking otherwise."
"Yeah, well maybe that's not such a bad thing." Dwight takes out his pack of cigarettes and lighter.
"I have to tell you something," His uncaring confession has prepared me for the second half of this shipwreck in the making, "Negan asked me to marry him the other night before I brought you back to my room."
Dwight quickly looks back at me with a sudden change in demeanor. Here it comes. "What?"
"I guess he's taken a liking to me and wants me to be a wife." Dwight's severely holding gaze doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would.
"You told him no?" He rigidly asks.
I shake my head. "I haven't given him an answer yet, I'm suppose to tomorrow."
Dwight's pissed off, but I can tell he's trying to remain calm and unbothered. "What are you gonna say?"
Ouch. "What do you think?" I huff, raising my voice a bit.
"I don't know." He stands up from the bed and walks aimlessly to the other side of the room, smoking. Double ouch.
"What do you mean you don't know?" I stand up, too, wanting to approach him. "I thought you wanted to be with me?"
"I did, I do. And I thought you wanted the same thing, but if you wanted to be with me, then why haven't you said no to him yet?" Dwight exhales smoke through his nose. "If he let you think about it, you could've answered him sooner. I don't know, maybe after you agreed to move in here last night."
If you don't say so now, he'll find out later. "He kissed me in Alexandria and I didn't pull away right away." I blurt out.
Dwight's blank expression turns disappears. "What do you mean not right away?" His voice raises.
"I kissed him back," Oh, god it's happening again, "B-but I did pull away. Before we could go any further."
Dwight runs a hand over is face. "Get out."
"Dwight, I'm sorry. I wanted to-" I stop when he puts a hand up.
"Fucking save it!" He shouts, before lowering his voice. "I don't want to hear it, alright?"
I walk towards him, beseeching. "I'm going to tell him no tomorrow. I don't want to be with him." This is how it use to be with Charlie. I suddenly recoil with that painful realization. Fight for this. "I-"
"I can't do this, again, Nan," Dwight goes over to the bed and starts to pull the bedding off the mattress, "I knew he wanted you, he told me so right before I had to go after Gordon. Said you were hot and that if I wasn't hard whenever I was around you then my penis must be broken." He laughs sardonically."But I didn't know you wanted him, too."
"I don't." I barely say.
"That's what she said, too. But I..." He sighs, exhausted inside and out. He rolls up my bedding in a ball and takes it over to my trunk as I numbly watch him do so. After he closes it down, he looks up at me with what I think is a little disappointment. Then, he lifts the trunk over towards the door, but I take the side handle, grazing my hand against his. Do something before it's too late.
"I can take it by myself." I croak. No. Dwight lets go of the one side and then the other as I take it. He then goes over to the door and opens it for me. "Bye." He doesn't say it back and it burns.
...
I wake up the next morning in Laura's bed, wrapped like a wretch in my blanket on top of her bed, while she sleeps under hers. I was going carry my trunk back to my room last night, but as I went to, I remembered that Rachel took me up on my offer earlier. Guess, I thought I wouldn't screw things up as quickly as I did. Two days has to be a new record.
Lucky for me Laura didn't ask details when I came knocking on her door. She just let me in and asked if I wanted any of her pasta. I declined, got out my blanket, and then went straight to bed. I stared at the wall facing away from her for a long time and when I was sure she had fallen asleep, I cried as quietly and as heavily as possible.
This morning, we woke up and were pretty much silent with one another. I think Laura can kind of sense that lack of desire for conversation. She fixes scrambled eggs, which she flavors with onions and bell peppers and makes coffee. After eating in practical silence, we head off to our individual jobs. For once, my thoughts aren't running amok in my head. I just mindlessly go down to take inventory and try to figure things out.
It's not until noon-ish that Reed finds me to tell that Negan radioed for me to go up top to speak with him. I knew he had before Reed told me, since I heard it from another Savior's radio near by, but I didn't make a move from work until then. I hand him my clipboard and tread towards the stairs. My eyes wander to the quarters as I pass them and I try to look for Hal, but use my common sense when I don't see him. He's probably out working and doesn't want to talk to me anyway.
The smell of perfume and food nauseates me when I make it to the top floor. I walk past the room where I can see his wives and almost gag when I get a stronger whiff of the food. Get it together. It's just your nerves. I meet the double doors gravely and knock without hesitation, ignoring the figures I see from the side of my eye this time.
"Come in." Negan commands inside. I go inside promptly and find him sitting, once again, in the black leather sofa. He's got a mug of something held up to his mouth but I can see that he's smiling from his eyes. "Well, don't you look a sight to behold?" He lowers his mug, chuckling at my drained complexion.
"You wanted to see me?" I ask bleakly as he stands up and begins to walk over.
"I did," Negan smiles as he towers over me, "I've been really patient these last two days, but now I need that answer, sweetheart." I look down and nod in understanding. He tips my head back up to meet his eyes. "So, Nan..." His brilliant smile grows more serious, "are you gonna have me to wed?"
Once again, thank you, thank you for all the loveliness! I know this chapter's rapid rise and fall of D/N in two days time seems a bit wonky, but sometimes that's how fast good and bad things come and go in real life. Plus, I think we all could agree that Dwight was not going to take the news of the proposal or the kiss at Alexandria well.
Stay tune for next week's chapter, which I've already began writing, to see what happens next!
P.S. I hope the Gatsby quote isn't misconstrued as Nan trying to repeat her past failings, as is just something she's backsliding into.