I stand, stunned and still as I try to process what I think just happened. What I think I just felt in me. Oh! Yes, there it is again. I put my hand to my belly and not another second passes before it's receives a little kick from the inside of my womb. The baby's kicking. It's moving; it's okay. Tears begin to form, as does a smile on my face. I've been so worried for so long and now it's finally giving me a sign. Just as sudden as it comes, it goes, but I know it's alright. The baby's only giving it a rest. For now, I hope.
My hand still sits on my stomach afterwards. The bird that began to sing fades now and I can no longer hear Negan, which means he's probably back down in the factory. It's all quiet, but I know I'm not alone. I'm not alone for the eighteen or so minutes I have left up here.
I gently sit down on the ground, crossing my legs. I can't take my eyes off my bump, wondering when it'll happen again. I feel like all my fears can be dismissed now. The baby moved! I don't know what I did, or if I had to do anything, but I finally got the baby to move. I feel like a mother now more than ever. The mother to the little being that was just kicking around inside me. A lighter than air excitement whirls around in me, causing me to quietly laugh under my breath.
This puts everything in a new perspective for me. I've known this whole time that I was going to be a mother, but something about it now gives me a better sense of purpose. I want to be a good mother, no; I have to be a good mother. This world requires it. I want my baby to not just be happy, but safe. I want it to live better than we do now.
"Alright," Negan calls behind me, "Time is up!" Has the time passed already?
I briefly glance over my shoulder. "Okay."
I go to pick myself up, but I realize that it's going to prove to be difficult. I guess I haven't sat on the floor or ground since I've gotten bigger and didn't count on not being able to get back up. Negan chuckles in the background, before his boots stride against the gravel. He appears before me in no time.
"Need help?" He offers me his hand.
I accept his help. "Sure." I struggle a little still as I go to stand, wobbling.
"Other hand," He reaches out and I allow him to take it as he pulls me up, "There you go."
I smile, before remember my surroundings and politely slip my hands from his. "Thanks."
"Better?"
"What?"
"Do you feel better now that you've had some fresh air?" Negan asks with a hint of mocking.
"Oh," I nod my head, "Yeah, I..." I look at him and I'm at a loss for words.
"You...what?"
"I..." Should I tell him? I smile. "I feel a lot better."
Negan curiously looks me over. "Is that right?"
"Yes," I tuck some hair behind my ear, "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He smiles, furrowing his brows. "Was that sincere gratitude?"
"Yes, it was," I tell him, "I..."
"Spit it the fuck out."
"I appreciate you letting me come up here. I know it was a compromise on your end."
Negan continues to eye me like he's trying to read me. "Well," He says after a second, "Like I said, it was one time thing."
"Okay," I nod, "I guess I should go back inside." I turn and walk towards the open door.
I hear him start to head for the stairs a few seconds later. I quietly go, unsure of what I should do. I almost told him, but I just don't know. In the hall of the top floor, I hear Tonya's boom box playing a soft, yet oddly uplifting song from the drawing room. I pass by, smiling and waving at them as I do.
"Nan?" Negan says my name from the other end of the hall.
I look back as I open the door to the stairwell. "Yes?"
He stares at me, as if contemplating his next words to me. "Never mind. See ya at supper."
I nod again. "Okay."
...
The rest of the workday just flies by. I'm partly on cloud 9 since I felt the baby move. I say partly, because I can't help but have the desire to tell someone that I felt the baby move. I was going to tell Marisol, but another worker lady went to get some hot water for her to put in a hot water bottle for her aching back. Her discomfort is all that seems important for the moment.
"If you want, I can get you an aspirin." I offer.
"No, it's okay," She eases herself down on her mattress, "Quinn's hot water bottle helps a lot."
"Okay," I point to the space next to her, "Mind if I sit?"
"No, go ahead."
I slightly ignore all the looks I get from the other workers, as well as some Saviors, as I sit down. "I'm sorry to hear your back's hurting."
"I imagined having twins was gonna be doubly hard," She groans, "I didn't realize it'd be this painful so soon."
"Can I get you anything?"
"I don't have to pay for food, thanks to you, so don't worry about it. You've done enough."
I smile. "Happy to help."
"So, what did you come by for?"
"Oh, nothing," I tell her, "Just to see how you were."
"Did you go to the doctor's yet?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
I breathe. "Things are good."
"Have you found out what you're having?"
I shake my head. "No, um, the positioning wasn't right."
"Oh, too bad."
"Yeah..."
Marisol's eyes scan my face. "So, what's with the smile?"
"I'm not smiling."
"You kind of are," She chuckles, "You want to explain?"
"I...I felt the baby move earlier today," I reveal, "For the first time."
"Oh, good for you," She smiles at me, though I can see the pain conveyed in her face, "It's weird, isn't it?"
"Yeah," I look down at my hands, "I was worried before. It was weird to feel it moving, but it was also a relief."
"I bet."
Quinn walks back into the quarters. "Alright, I got the water."
"Thank you." Marisol smiles.
Quinn glances at me through the side of her eye as she carefully pours the steaming hot water into the mouth of the water bottle. A lot of workers have been giving me looks lately since the whole mustard incident. The looks are unlike how they've been in the past. They don't seem angry, or judgmental. They seem like they don't know what to think of me, or of themselves, or of the choices made. The compliancy.
"I've got to go," I push myself up from the mattress, "I'm getting hungry."
"Okay, see ya." Marisol winces.
"Get some rest." I add, before flinching a little when I feel a hand on my elbow. My head swiftly turns right to find Quinn awkwardly removing her helping hand.
"Sorry." She barely says.
I don't know what to say, so I say the first thing that exits my mouth. "Okay."
When I'm up on the second floor, I decide to share the news with Hal, before I go up top for dinner. I really hate not living right next to him like I use to. It's strange having to track him down and hope he's home. I know we're cool, but sometimes the distance feels like we aren't as close. The significant others in our lives have sort of helped divide us, although not on purpose. Our priorities have changed, so we've adapted to focus on them. I guess that's what happens when you grow up. He's not alone in his room, I can hear Laura's voice inside, but I don't care. I knock on the door and wait for him to answer. They both stop talking.
"Yeah?" Hal asks from within.
"It's me."
The door opens. "Hey."
"Hi," I smile at him, "You got a minute?"
"Uh," He looks back in the room, "Sure, what's up?"
I smile. "I felt the baby move.
"You did?" His mouth forms a bright smile, "When?"
"Earlier, after lunch." I inform him. Laura's eyes catch my attention, but when I glance her way, she looks off.
Hal chuckles. "How do you know it wasn't just gas?"
I give a light shove. "It was the baby, you jerk."
He grabs my arm and pulls me into a hug. "That's great, love. I'm happy for you."
"Yeah..." I look back in the room and then at him, "Well, I guess I should go. I just wanted to tell you, because... I don't know I just did."
Hal laughs, smiling at my face. "Bloody hell, Nan, you're so giddy."
"I'm not, I'm just..." I look for the words, but I just shyly giggle.
Laura just sits on Hal's bed, waiting for us to finish. I half expected her to roll her eyes, but she doesn't. She just sits with her arms folded on top of her knees, stealing glances at me when she thinks I'm unaware.
"I'm gonna go wash up, before dinner," I tell Hal, "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah," He nods, "You know, you could dine with us, if you like."
Laura huffs, looking at the back of his head with scorn.
I smile lightly at him. "Thanks, but I told Negan I would have dinner with them."
Oh, yeah?" He gives me a nervous look. "You've been up there a lot lately, huh?"
"Yeah, but just for meals," I assure him, "I want to make sure I'm getting all my vitamins and nutrients. For the baby, that's all."
"Alright."
I scratch my nose ring. "Well, goodnight."
"Night, Anna."
...
The menu for tonight is lasagna. The layers consist of cheese, noodles, and some kind of garlicky red sauce. The rolls smell divine and the workers steamed some green beans. It's all good, but it's also somewhat of a reminder that we were reliant on other communities for our food. The rolls are delicious, but they aren't served with butter. The green beans are probably some of the last few fresh vegetables, before we have to depend on the canned goods. And while the lasagna is not anything I'm complaining about, it doesn't contain meat within any of the layers like it has in the past.
The girls are quiet, but I don't pick up on any tension. They're just eating their meals as contently as they can. The only one that's missing is Amber, but no one conveys that that's a bad thing.
"Isn't Amber eating?" I casually ask after about ten minutes.
"No," Frankie shakes her head, cutting her lasagna with her fork, "She's decided to pass on dinner tonight."
"How come?"
"Um, not hungry, I guess." Frankie's signal over to Negan for the real answer.
I nod my head in response, before glancing over at Negan. "How are things going?"
He looks at me, nonchalant. "Things? You mean the war?"
I shrug. "Yeah."
"We're sitting with our dicks in our hands," Negan replies, "Making repairs and combing this side of Virginia for those ass face Alexandrians."
"Oh," I spear a few green beans on my fork, "Okay."
Negan stops moving his utensils and just looks at me. "Okay?"
"Yeah."
"No follow up questions?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Huh." He continues to look at me, dragging his tongue along the inside of his mouth.
I go back to my food, grabbing my third roll. "So, I was going to knit a pair of booties," I address Frankie, "But I don't know if I'm doing something wrong, or if I'm just hopeless, but I was wondering if you might have the time to teach me?"
"Oh," She looks honored, "I would love to."
"Thanks." I smile, pulling the roll apart and then taking a bite.
"Um, you know a pair of mittens might be nice, too," She adds, "Since it's getting cold."
"Mm," I nod my head, "Yeah, that's a good idea. Do you know how to knit hats?"
"Yeah, sure." Frankie grins.
Hazel chuckles. "God, you're gonna have her knitting a whole outfit if you're not careful."
"That's not a bad idea," Danica chimes in, "I mean, it will be November when Nan gives birth and the baby's gonna need warm clothes."
"The baby needs clothes period," I chew, "I haven't had any luck with the commissary, so if you also wouldn't mind, Frankie, I'd like to borrow your sewing machine."
"Oh, of course," She briefly glances towards Negan, "Um, you're making clothes?"
"I'm going to," I clarify, "I haven't really started anything yet, but I'm not dilly dallying anymore. It needs to be done." I continue to eat, despite catching Negan in the corner of my eye refocus on me.
"Yeah, I'll get it for you before you leave."
"Thank you," I swallow down my food, "I might be able to use Dwight's old clothes, but if not, then-"
"No child of mine is gonna fucking live goddamn rags." Negan finally renters the conversation.
I look over at him, meeting his gaze. "Excuse me?
"You heard me," He slightly grins, "Not a chance in hell. Besides, you cuttin' a bunch clothes up is just a waste."
"They're Dwight's clothes," I say, affronted, "I can do whatever I want with them."
"And when you ruin those?" He raises his brows. "I'm not letting you pick through the fuckin' commissary."
"Okay," I calmly rasp, "What is the baby going to wear then?"
Negan smiles at me and chuckles in his throat, before he returns to eating without an answer. I look back to my plate and bitterly eat as well. I can feel the anger rising up in my throat. There's that tension that the dinner table was missing. He really knows how to kill a good mood. The table's silent, but only for a moment or two. Frankie clears her throat.
"If you want, I can try to make some things."
"Thanks." I murmur.
"Like Dani said; the baby will need something warm when it gets cold out."
"The baby's not going outside." Negan informs us all.
I let my fork fall on my plate and it makes an abrupt clank. I lick my lips, trying my hardest not to lose it. I don't know why he's getting me so worked up in nothing flat, but he is.
Negan continues to smile. "You got something you'd like to share with the rest of the class?"
I breathe in and then out, before looking over. "The baby's not going outside?"
"Nope."
My nostrils flare as I keep trying to breathe normally. "So, what? The baby's gonna be locked away from the world?"
"'Til shit gets sorted out, you're damn skippy it is."
"And you think you're the only one that gets to make that call?"
Negan chuckles, putting his hand out. "Hi, I'm Negan and I call the fuckin' shots around here."
I huff, "That's not the same."
"It most certainly fucking is," He retorts, "I save people, ergo, I'll be keeping you and the baby alive."
"You can't..." Frustrated, I abruptly rise from my chair, putting my napkin on the table.
"Sit down." He orders.
"I'm going-"
"SIT! DOWN!" Negan booms.
We all flinch and I especially, because I feel a painful kick in my tummy. It's almost as if the baby startled as well as at the loud, thunderous demand. I almost put my hand up at the movement, but I don't. I look at Negan's intense eyes and sit back down in my seat. He watches me with a scowl on his face. I thought it'd be awhile before I felt the baby again, but it's wildly kicking to the point where it's almost debilitating. I try to just breathe without any indication that something's up.
Negan turns his head towards the girls. "Out."
None of them need to be told twice. They all get up, Hazel being the only one who takes her plate, and softly leave the dining room to presumably go to the drawing room, or their rooms. I look up to him when they've all gone. His eyes were always on me.
"Jesus," He exhales, "You are always so goddamn quick to skedaddle when you don't get your fuckin' way."
I don't answer.
"I said the baby wasn't going outside, until shit gets sorted out," He adds, "Until shit's safe. I never fuckin' said it'd be locked away in one of the cells. Did I? Correct me if I'm wrong, darlin'."
I mechanically shake my head.
"Speak up."
"No."
"No, I fuckin' didn't," He confirms, leaning back in his chair, "So, I don't know why you're taking harder than a dick."
"It's not about that." I scoff, incredulous.
"Then what's it about?"
"It's about..." I sigh, touching my tummy, "Never mind."
"No, say it."
"It's about not having a say," I tell him, looking him ardently in the eyes, "I don't always want to be told what's best for my baby. I can make those decisions, too."
Negan's gaze is fixed on me. "I'm good at what I do, Nan, and I-"
"This isn't about being a leader," I groan, "Being a...a parent is different." Negan's slight grin goes and I suddenly feel nauseous, so I stand. "Look, I don't feel good, I have to go."
Negan doesn't object, so I leave him in the dining room. As I make it out into the hall, the baby kicks me and it hurts. I stop by the wall and breathe.
"Shh," I wince, "It's okay."
"Are you alright?" Amber asks me from down the hall, behind the crack of Tonya and Frankie's open door.
"I'm fine," I breathe, before knitting my brows, "What are you-?"
"Nan," Negan enters the hall with a sigh, "Wait a damn..." He trails off when he observes me slightly bent over. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I flatly say, "Night."
"Nan, I-"
"Negan, please, d-"
"I'm sorry."
I pause at the door, arching my brow, and glancing towards him. Negan stands by the opening of the dining room with an earnest expression on his face. I give him a brief nod of my head and then open the door to the stairs and leave. I take a deep breath, before I start down.
...
Later in the night, I crawl in bed and worm my way over to my side. It's amazing that even after washing them, the bed linens still smell like Dwight. Maybe it's just his pillow. I've washed the sheets and the blankets, but not his pillow or pillowcase. I shift my head towards where he'd lay if he were still here.
Despite the painful movements, I'm still ecstatic that my baby's okay. My hand traipses my grooved belly. However, I still feel like something's missing in this moment. I turn on my side and grab his pillow, bringing it to me and holding it tight. I close my eyes as I breath in the faint scent of woody soap and smoke.
The upsetting conclusion of dinner replays in my head as I try to go to sleep. Why does he have to be like that? It's like he recognized that something was different about me, something good, and he had to tear it off of me. Negan says he's looking out for me and the baby, but I don't know.
Some part of me wants to believe that, believe it, or not. I know I must sound out of my mind, but past his asshole taunting, I know he's trying. It's weird and sometimes makes my stomach anxious, but I can see it. So long as I'm carrying this baby, Negan's bent on taking care of us. He just doesn't know how, I think. That I could hear in his apology tonight.
I open my eyes for a moment. Listen to me, justifying the ways of Negan to myself. Trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. I miss Dwight.
...
The air is getting cooler, but it is barely felt as they drudge through the woods. Hot sweat and dirt breaks through every pore on every body. They began traveling last night when the coast was clear and they haven't stopped since. Exhaustion, as well as grief, keeps them quiet as they journey to the only place that was spared from Negan's wrath.
A woman treads a few steps faster to stop the man ahead of her. "Hey, hold up."
"What?"
"We need to rest for a few minutes."
"We're not far."
"People are tired," She adamantly argues, "We've been walking all day."
The man takes a look around at all the people he's leading to safety. "Fine. Ten minutes, but that's it. I'll go back to cover our tracks."
"I have a question," Another woman not far behind them walks up, "Any reason he's still alive?" They all glance at the man further back.
"The fight ain't over."
"It is for him. He can't help us anymore. We should kill him, I'm done waiting."
The man shakes his head, starting back. "Nah, not yet."
"He's right, " The other woman claims, "He could still have an angle we don't know about that could help us. He wants to help. We can't give that up."
The woman stares at her friend, disappointed and angry that neither her, nor the man with the crossbow agree to end the man who caused each of them misery in one form or another.
"Look, we just lost the kid," The woman adds, "So, let's just take a minute and just stop." She walks past her to catch up with the man.
As the two pass, the scarred man catches a glimpse of the other woman staring at him with scorn. He looks away, as does she, with shame. He knows why she bore that look.
He sits down against a tree, cringing at the pang of the gunshot wound in his arm. He carefully peels back the shred of fabric tied around the wound to make sure it's not getting worse. Despite the blood, it looks alright for now. Hopefully, once they make it to the colony, he'll be given something to properly clean and bandage it with to heal.
In his pocket, he fishes out his pocketknife and the wooden figure he's been working on little by little. It's for his kid. Or, will be anyway. The baby hasn't been born yet, but according to the tally marks he's logged on his arm with the pen he took from the truck before he followed them into the sewers, she should be about seven months now, so it won't be much longer before she gives birth.
The man recalls the last time he saw her. She was angry; she didn't want him to go. She didn't want him to have any part in destroying Alexandria. It felt awful to see the dismay on her face when he pretended to side with Negan on going there. He wished he could tell her the truth, but he couldn't, not yet. Will she be mad when she finds out the truth?
He pauses his carving and reaches into his shirt pocket, pulling out the hair tie she left in there when she wore his shirt. He puts it up to his nose and smells it for a minute. It just barely smells like her, or her shampoo, but it's enough. He can remember what she smells like without help from the hair tie. He remembers how her hair smelled like apricots and honey. Hell, he could remember what her hair smelled like before she had that shampoo. Like generic 2-in-1 baby shampoo. That's what a lot of the workers used, because it's what they could afford. It smelt nice, though
And he can remember all ways her skin smelled, too. When he first knew her, she smelled like bread. When they were together, when she was naked, the salty scent of her sweat was intoxicating to breath in. But he most of all, he recalled how she smelled when they slept together in their bed. She slathered that butter from that jar of hers head to toe and when it sunk down and dried into her skin, she smelled like home, if that makes sense. She smelled like a home that could exist when the war is over.
He tucks the hair tie back into his pocket and gets back to whittling. She must look different now, bigger. He hopes that she's okay; safe and healthy. He's worried about her being there without him. If he could go back right now, he would. But there's no way of knowing yet whether or not his words got to Laura and she chose to do the right thing. Until then, the man is anxious. Negan could either be taking decent care of her, or be pressuring her to go back to him with some fucked up ultimatum. It could go both ways; he knows how Negan thinks. It all depends on whether or not Negan knows about his double cross. If it's the former, he hopes that she won't be stubborn enough to turn down the help, but if it's the latter, he hopes they'll be able to end this once and for all and Negan will be dead. Or, if it all goes wrong, then he hopes she makes the right choice. He wouldn't blame her for that.
The man looks up when boots stop in front of him. It's the man with the crossbow. "Get up. We're moving."
As the man stalks off, he bites down the urge to put a bolt through the scarred man's eye. Like he had done to his friend months back. First time she went out in ages and that asshole kills her, aiming for him. Then he treats him like a damn dog back at the Sanctuary. He tried helping him and his wife and that's how he got repaid. He's going to kill him after this is all over. That's how he'll get repaid for what helping them. Eye for an eye.
But what about that girl? He said she was pregnant back in the tunnel. The man holds the strap of his bow as he treads on. He remembers her. She was one of them, but she was different. She fed him real food, despite the risk of getting caught. She wasn't Negan, she said she was to stay alive, but she sure as hell wasn't Negan. Not like the rest of them.
The man also recalls the other thing said in the sewers. That Negan would hurt her in a way that they wouldn't expect, instead of killing her. He shrugs his shoulder. It's just some girl. Why should he care? Plenty of their own were good people and they died anyway. What does it matter if a few of theirs die? But he said Negan might not kill her. So, what then?
...
The autumn air begins to flow through the broken windows. It's better than the alternative, I guess, but everyone is bundling up during the workday, especially if they work outside. I was smart to grab that jacket from the commissary months back. It's good to have even indoors. Come wintertime, we'll have to board up the windows, which unnerves me.
Over the course of three days, my emotions have fluctuated like a yo-yo and I think I know why. The mornings start off really well. I wake up feeling ethereal and lighter than air, despite the twenty pounds I've gained during the pregnancy. The baby moving a few days ago has really put me in good spirits. However, by the time I have to go to work, my mood emotionally and physically dips.
Since I don't have much to do for the majority of my day, I do my usual sitting around, which gives me too much time with my thoughts. Too much time to think about Dwight. Too much time to think about the anger I feel at Negan. Too much time to think about the absence. I've spent a good amount of time crying, too. It's sporadic and I don't know when it'll hit next, but when it does, there's no stopping it. By bedtime, I've tired myself out too much to worry and so I drift off to sleep with a resurgence of the excitement that I know has an element missing from it.
Today, the showers are full, so I have to wait. Which is all as well, because I absentmindedly forgot my towel. On my way, I overhear that couple I use to live by in their room. They seem to be doing well; as far as I know, Rachel has stayed away from Simon, which I think every woman could benefit from, and they've both patched things up.
I go into my room and find a clean towel in the folded pile of the laundry basket. When backing out, I accidentally bump the small end table by the armchair, but just right, so the whole chessboard knocks over.
"Goddamnit." I groan, before setting the towel down on the arm and steadying myself down to pick up the pieces. After I place the table and the board upright, I gather up the individual pieces to put the back in their assigned places. I almost start...but I have to pause to think for a moment.
Where do they go? Perplexed, I examine the pieces. I...I don't know where they go. I can't just put them anywhere. They all have their own place, that's the way Dwight set it up. I saw him arrange them before. I just...can't remember where he put them. And I can't just put them anywhere.
After a few moments of mental distress, I set them in the armchair. I can't deal with this is right now. Rationally, I know it's silly, but emotionally, I'm not ready to handle it. I walk back to the bathroom, once again hearing that couple behind closed doors. Except, they're not having sex. They're talking.
"It'll be okay," Neal says.
"I just don't want you going out, Neal," Rachel softly replies, "It's dangerous, we don't know where those people are."
"It's not like I have a choice," He chuckles, "Look at you, all concerned for me."
She laughs a little. "Well, you are nice to have around from time to time."
"From time to time?"
"Yeah, well, maybe if you cleaned your own dish-" She stops into a giggle.
"What was that?" He laughs, "What were you about to say? Huh?"
Rachel cackles. "I love you!"
Neal's laughter settles down. "I love you, too."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," He says, "You're beautiful."
I pick up the pace of my walk back to the bathroom. When I get back there, the showers are all still occupied, some by those who got there before me. I set my towel under my shower stuff and tread over to one of the bathroom stalls. I lock the door and sit down. A deep breath only produces tears.
I cry as quietly as I can, since I'm in public. I tear off some toilet paper from the roll and dab it under my eyes and nose. My face scrunches as I sob. See, that's what I'm missing.
I thought by telling Marisol, or Hal about the baby that that would suffice, but it didn't. It's not their fault. They were happy for me, genuinely, but it didn't fulfill my needs. I even told Lillian yesterday in the library. She, in her cool manner, congratulated me and then went back to her work. She asked if "he" knew and when I told her no, she nodded her head. I caught her staring, studying me when I was putting books away on the shelves. It was eerily astute, but she went back to reading.
I don't want to say they're receptions were not good enough, but...I don't know. I realize that it was only a temporary fix and what I think I need is someone to share this milestone with. Someone who can understand the overwhelming joy that I felt on the roof. Someone who can share the feeling of bringing this life into this world. A life that will exist because of us. I want that person.
A woman knocks on the stall. "You almost done?"
I dry my eyes. "Yeah." I drop the toilet paper in the toilet and flush. I know my eyes will be a little puffy, but who's going to say something? Once I'm in the shower, it won't be obvious anyway. I step out of the stall and go over to the bench to get my stuff. But it's not there.
"Over there." A woman in the showers points to the sinks. "It was in the way."
I nod my head and go to the sinks, relieved that no one stole from me. At first, I don't recognize who's at the sink, but once there; I realize Laura's brushing her teeth. Why is she always here at the same time as me? I guess because it's the morning.
I turn on the sink next to her and run my toothbrush under the faucet. From the mirror, she glances my way. I do the same, before focusing on the running water as I brush my teeth. A few last call tears slip down my face in silence, but I just wipe them away as they fall.
Laura looks over towards the stalls, then spits in the sink and turning the water off. "You okay?" She flatly asks, putting her toothbrush in her caddy.
I peer her way, almost dumbfounded that she's spoken to me. "Um, yeah, I'm fine."
She looks me up and down with a skeptical brow. "Okay." She leaves the sink and heads for the door.
"Laura?"
Laura sighs heavily as she stops in her tracks. "Yeah?"
I stare at her back. "Are you okay?"
She's still for a moment, before she gives me a curt, "Fine," and walks out.
...
"Come on, Reed," I plead with him, "I can be fast!"
"And I could be dead, if you get caught." He retorts, trudging through the factory.
"So, I won't get caught," I've been trying to convince him to let me go out to the coops to get some eggs for myself, "And even if I do, I'll just tell him that I did it of my volition and you had no clue."
"That doesn't mean shit," Reed rolls his eyes, "He specifically told me that you were not, under any circumstances, permitted to go outside. For your own safety."
"Oh, come," I jog a little to keep up with him, "There's armed guards out there! I'll be fine!"
"You want eggs, have them bring 'em to you."
"They're not as gentle. By time they bring them up to my room, some of the eggs have cracks already."
"Sorry, Nan. Rules are rules."
I take Reed's arm to stop him. "I haven't been outside for weeks," I tell him, half-lying, "I'm suffocating in here."
"Most of our windows are shot out," He looks me over, "There's plenty of air circulation."
"It's not the same," I beseech, "I just...want to feel the sun on my skin and pick out my own eggs. I know that's hard to get, but please, that's all I want."
Reed bites his lips, thinking it over. He glances down at his watch and exhales. "Alright, look...you have minutes."
I smile. "Thank you."
"Hey," He halts me for a minute, "Five minutes. If you aren't back inside this factory by then, hell, if you're two seconds late, I'll start locking you in my fucking office during the day. Got it?"
"Yeah," I nod my head, "Five minutes."
"Well, go! Time started already."
I hurry over to the door to that leads to the coops. I stand in the doorway once there, a little nervous. The workers and the Saviors don't pay me any mind, so I step out and causally walk over to the chickens in their laying nests. I gingerly stick my hand underneath one hen and feel around for eggs. She doesn't fluster, or balk at my intrusion. My hand closes around an egg and I gently pull it out. I take the soft, muslin rag I brought from my back pocket and clean the egg real quick and then leave it there.
I then reach back under and take a few more eggs. When I've collected six eggs, I tie the rag into a little bag around the eggs. I glance over at the workers and the guards, who have by now taken notice of me. They all look bewildered, but if I act like I've been caught, then I have been.
"Afternoon." I say.
"Afternoon," One of the guards awkwardly greet back, shrugging to the other guard.
I turn around and go back inside the factory. They aren't going to say anything. As far as they know, I was given permission from Negan to be out there. I make sure that Reed sees me, so he can stop sweating. I'll take the eggs back to my room and then maybe take a short nap.
A loud, sudden boom hits the floor, making me jump. I turn my gaze to the left to see what made the noise. Just some Savior who dropped a heavy looking box. While watching him pick the box up, I collide into someone.
"Sorry," My head moves forward, "I..." I cut myself off, when I see that it's him.
"Good afternoon," Negan smiles, "How are you this fine day?"
"I'm okay." I rasp. Are you kidding me?
"You haven't dined with us in a few days," He says, "Are you eating okay?"
"Yes," I nod, clutching the knot of the rag, "Um, I was just about to go make something now, so..."
"What are you in a hurry?" Negan glances down at what's in my hand.
"Well, I'm pretty hungry." I answer, trying to move past him.
He stops me. "What's in the rag?"
"Eggs."
"Don't I send someone to bring you eggs when you need 'em?"
"Well, I haven't needed them in a while, because I was eating with you," I tell him, "But I'm out now, so I...needed them."
"You had one of the workers get you a couple?" He inquires.
I meekly nod my head.
Negan eyes sharpen. "You had the one of the workers get you a couple of eggs, right?"
"Right." I murmur.
He steps a little closer. "You didn't go out there and get 'em yourself, right?"
"Right."
"No? You didn't take advantage of the kindness I extended to you the other day and think you could slip out and back in without me knowing?" I'm quiet. "Right?"
"...Right."
He examines me from head to toe. "So, if I go out and there and ask, they'll back you up?"
I know he has me there and so does he. I can't put anyone in that position. I lower my eyes and cloth my mouth, wanting to kick myself.
"Did you go outside, Nan?"
I look up at him. "I was out there for less than five minutes."
Negan's face is anything but pleased. Despite the calmness, I know he's fuming. "If I were you," He says, "I'd start walking towards the stairs, before I fucking drag you."
I move cautiously around him and head for the stairs. Fuck. I know he's not far behind me and the tension is thick. My legs feel like they weigh a ton each as I tread up the stairs. His steps are harder, which only increases my nerves. Walking through the halls feels like I'm about to meet the electric chair. Or Lucille. I go up to my door to open it.
"Nope," He denies behind me, "Keep going."
I turn a little, bewildered. "To the top?"
"To the top." He sternly confirms. I swallow the lump in my throat and keep going.
By time we make it to the top floor in heavy silence, my legs are like noodles and if I don't sit down soon, I'm gonna drop. I lean my hand against the wall to catch my breath. When Negan comes up to the side of me, his eyes motion for the room at the end of the hall. I go down the hall and wait for him to open the door.
We go inside and the rumbling sound of the door closing against the other intimidates me. I'm glad the chair I normally sit in is both soft and firm. My back is killing me.
"Water?" He asks.
I look over at him as I'm catching my breath. "Please."
He puts his hand out towards the table that already has a glass pitcher and four smooth glasses. "It ain't gonna pour itself."
I lean forward and pour myself some water. I gulp it down as politely as possible.
"I asked you not to go outside the factory," Negan speaks, "Because it could be dangerous."
I set the glass down on the table. "I know. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" He chuckles. "Sorry for what? Disobeying me, or for pulling my dick when you said you'd settle down, if I let you out for twenty minutes?"
"Both."
"How about undermining my authority in front of my people?"
I breathe out. "I'm sorry for that, too."
Negan sits down on the leather sofa, eyes fixed on me with a smirk on his face. "You're sorry?"
I nod my head, feeling tears surfacing.
He snickers. "Are you gonna cry now?"
"No." I lie.
"That's not what the forecast is saying," He humors, "So, what, darlin'? You get caught breaking the rules and you think can just say you're sorry and sprinkle it with a little tears?"
I shake my head, wiping my tears. "I'm not trying to get out of trouble."
"Good, because you are damn well in trouble," Negan tersely informs me, "All that's left now is to figure out how to punish you."
I glance across the table at him. He smiles and I know in someway that he's pulling my leg. If I am punished it's not anything major.
He exclaims at an idea and his grin grows. "I've got it," He stands up, "I want you to play me a song on the piano in there."
I scowl. "I can't."
"Of course you fuckin' can, "Negan argues, "You're a natural."
"Not since my fingers were broken," I sniff, "They jam up."
"Well, you can go ahead and give it a try anyway," He insists, walking around the table for the door, "I didn't say you had to be good, I said I wanted..." He trails off when I snivel into tears.
I couldn't help it. It's not even about the piano, or about getting in trouble. Like I said, once it starts, there's no stopping it. I put my hands up to my face to conceal my bawling. I hear him groan to the left of me.
"Nan..." He exhales again, "Look, I'm just fuckin' with you. You don't have to play the piano."
"It's not that!" I cry.
I feel his legs brush against mine as he sits down on the table in front of me. "I asked you not to go outside." I cry a little harder and his hand touches my knee. "It's not like I'm doing it to be an asshole. It's to keep you and the baby safe and if you don't like then, I'm sorry, but that's too damn bad. "
"It's not that either." I muffle as I sob in my hands.
"Then what is it?"
"It's just hormones."
He sighs, frustrated. "C'mon, Nan, cut the shit."
I lower my hands and look at him with blurry vision. "What do you think?"
Negan scans my face, before lowering his head. He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales. "You fuckin' exhaust me."
"Same." I clear my throat.
He chuckles, looking back up. "Trust me, honey, you are definitely fuckin' worse."
I huff. "You're not the one crying."
Negan laughs under his breath and I, oddly enough, do a little as well. He breaks from the humor with a sigh. "Listen, I'm...sorry if I snapped at you the other night."
"If?"
He rolls his eyes. "Jesus, I'm sorry that I snapped at you the other night."
"You already apologized for that," I remind him, "And you ruined dinner before that."
Negan's brows furrow at me. "What?"
"We were having a nice time," I say, fiddling with the topknot on the rag of eggs in my lap, "We were talking about the baby and then you just..." My eyes find his. "It wasn't about the clothes, or going outside. I mean, I was angry, but I was more angry that you just took over the conversation and told me I had no say in raising my child."
"I didn't fuckin' say that."
"You said you call the shots around here," I retort, "And we both know you meant the baby, too, so don't lie."
He sticks his tongue in his cheek, trying to hold back how nettled he is, before standing up.
"You said you wanted to help me," I continue, as he aimlessly paces, "And I said I would consider it and I have."
He scoffs under his breath in response.
"And I...I want your help," My words cause his head to turn in the direction of my honest eyes, "I want your help, but I also want to have a voice in how my child is raised." I look away, feeling thoughts flood my brain. "I...I want to be a mother, not a nanny."
Negan's eyes blink away from mine, but not as if he didn't hear me.
"I know that you know how to...save people and to keep them safe," I keep going, since he hasn't stopped me yet, "And I believe that you can do that. But raising kids is different."
He huffs into an acrid smile. "Kids need direction. Otherwise they just grow up to be assholes."
I move away a tear that's resting on my cheek. "Yeah, but they also need patience and understanding. Take it from me."
Negan exhales gruffly. "Well, damn. Is that why you're so screwed up?" He lets out a throaty chuckle. "Lack of patience and understanding?"
I sigh, rising from my seat. "I'm willing to compromise with you on some things, Negan. Can you at least try to do the same for me?"
He looks me over. Compromising isn't really how he does things. "What like some common ground?"
"Yes," I nod, "We won't agree on everything, but that doesn't mean we can't work...together."
Negan's eyes transfix on mine. It's like my words are a pair of bells. "You want to work together?"
"Yes."
"To raise the baby?" He strolls over my way. "Our baby?"
I run my finger over the skin around my thumb. There's only two other people beside myself that would have the same amount of ardor and connection to this baby. And one of them is dead. I nod my head, meeting his eyes. "Yes, I want to work together with you to raise the baby."
Negan's grin extends to his eyes. "Well, ho-ly shit. This is terrific news. The kind that tickle my balls."
I put my hand out. "Shake on it."
He briefly flickers to my hand. "Pardon me?"
"You're word means nothing, unless you shake on it," I flatly reply, "Shake on it."
Negan chuckles, before he meets his hand with mine, giving it a firm shake.
"To common ground," I stare at him, "Say it."
He grins, but relents. "Alright, to common ground," He agrees, while still holding onto my hand, "But...you do as I say as it regards the rules and safety. No ifs, ands, or buts."
I stubbornly inhale.
His eyes grow more serious, more vehement. "The rules still apply to you, same as they do for anyone else around here. I can't let shit slide, because you're pregnant. The rules only work if everyone is subject to the consequences."
I lower my eyes, exhaling. I nod, "Okay."
"Atta girl." He praises, shaking my hand again, before releasing it.
I take back my hand and wiggle my nose, sniffing up to hold back the leftover runniness. "Thank you."
"Well, you're a shrewd business woman, but it was pleasure doing business with you." He snickers.
Like most interactions with Negan, I feel drained afterwards. "Well, if you don't mind, I'm gonna go lie down for a bit."
"Sure, darlin'," Negan smiles, motioning towards the door, "You and the baby get some rest and I can trust I'll see you at dinner?"
"Yeah." I meekly rasp, walking to the door.
"Fan-fuckin'-tastic."
I scratch at my thumb, despite feeling relatively alright with our agreement. I wish Dwight were here, so I wouldn't have to make a deal with Negan, but since he's not, I have to. I mean, I don't have to have to, but I want what's best for my baby. Dwight once told me that I should consider accepting help from Negan, if things were going to become scarce or uncertain. I'd like to think that he would want me to do this. Even if it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
From the corner of my eye, I see him sit down on his bed, reclining backwords with his arms behind his head, satisfied. He lets out his signature whistle. I stop at the door, glancing down at my tummy. It can't be.
"What?" He asks, "You got something to add?"
I shift my body back around and look at him.
He knits his brows. "What?"
I put my hand to my stomach and it makes him sit up. "The baby's kicking."
Negan's expression subsides. He stares at me, then down at my pregnancy, and then back at me. "What?"
"The baby's kicking." I repeat.
He gets up from the bed. I stand still as I observe his movement as he approaches. Negan towers over me, glancing down at the curve of my belly. Both hands just barely touch my tummy, before his fingers draw back. I find hesitation in his body language, which is surprising. I almost winced at the expectation of him coming over and just putting his hands on my stomach without asking. It seemed like something he would do. His eyes flicker to mine and I count to five in my head, before I reach over and take his hand in mine. I place it where the baby still continues to kick. Negan eyes search as he waits for movement.
"Can you feel it?" I ask him.
Negan breaks out in a smile. "Yeah, I can. Holy shit."
I can't help but let a little smile inch across my face. The baby stops kicking after a few more seconds. His smile eases as he becomes aware of that, but it doesn't go away. He finally looks back up at me and I offer him a little more of my smile. Negan smiles wide and it looks breathtaking. Not my breath, but his. Like he was blown away. It puts a weight in me that inclines my lungs.
"Goddamn," He finally says, "That is something else."
I shyly lower my eyes, taking my hand off his and taking a half a step back. "Yeah, it is."
Negan studies my demeanor. "Thanks for that."
Puzzling my brows, I gaze up at him. "What?"
"For letting me cop a feel," He chuckles huskily, before his grin settles, "You could've just kept it to yourself. I know I'm not always your favorite person, or who you likely wanted to share that with."
I open my mouth to speak, but I hesitate at a moment's notice. "Well...it was nothing."
I don't have it in me to tell him it's not the first time. What purpose would that serve except to disappoint him? I know Negan's the guy who could really stand for a good kick in the shorts, but I...I can't. It'd be petty and it wouldn't make me feel as good as I would want it to.
"It wasn't nothing," He claims, "And I appreciate it."
I nod my head. "Sure."
"Makes shit seem ten times realer than before, huh?"
I lightly snicker. "Yeah, it does." His eyes causes that weight in me again. I rub the back of my arm. "Well, I'm gonna go lie down now."
Negan takes a prideful inhale and an exalted exhale with a smile. "Alright, I'll see you tonight, mama bear."
I blandly smile and then promptly exit. As I close the door behind me, I hear a taken back "Goddamn" coming from his room. I breathe in and out, sitting my hand down on my pregnant belly. I glance down at it, giving it a comforting pat, before carrying on. It'll be okay.
Hope you all enjoy this week's installment! Thanks for all your support, y'all are great!
CLTex: Glad you like Nan's time with the wives is enjoyable to see, as well as Negan's niceties. Yeah, that mustard was not just gonna go unnoticed lol.
StTudnoBright: Yeah, I like Lillian's maternal tone with Nan, too. I think Nan likes it more than she knows. I hope Nan's pov in the chapter may have given some ideas on the odd looks from the workers.
Guest: Lol, yeah, Laura really did have the gall to slap a pregnant lady. Hey, she's a Savior, she's use to using her hands instead of her words.
