Chapter 48
Lighter Than My Shadow
After we found my guard again, the woman looking rather frantic as it seemed she had been searching all up and down the length of the factory for me the moment she realized my trick. At the sight of me being led by Negan himself, she seemed to visibly breath in relief, probably grateful to see that her ass was now saved and any alert she needed to make on my disappearance did not need to be issued.
When we reached her, Negan pushed me forward expectantly and I apologized, making it sound more out of professional courtesy rather than true regret, fiercely keeping my words devoid of any emotion. Though it didn't seem to be the tone Negan had wanted, he could find no actual complaints with the apology, so I didn't need to repeat myself, at least.
Afterwards, I was sent back to my room till the time for the dreaded dinner and was told to be presentable. The wives let me wash again in the shower and I figured he wanted me to wear a dress, so I grudgingly found a light purpled colored one with short flutter sleeves I wore under the scarlet cloak.
In time my guard told me dinner was ready and I met Negan for the second time that day. It proceeded without marginal incident for either of us and though Negan had definitely tested my impulses, I tried to quell them as well as I was able to. Even so, the occasional snark remark still managed to slip out no matter my self-control.
Thankfully, it was an event that went by without needing to resort to hurting anyone, a much different end as per usual towards these evenings. It was hard, but I initially figured that as long as we steered clear of conversation of any kind, the ending result would not bear unfavorable outcomes for either of us.
Negan loved chatter though and still attempted it. For some reason the topic of conversation seemed to be directed towards my interests and other tidbits of information. My favorite color, my favorite foods, what sort of books I enjoyed, who were the best super heroes—crap like that. To others the questions might have seemed harmless enough but there was very little that was considered harmless where Negan was concerned.
The moment the first inquiry was out of his mouth I was on high alert.
"Why do you want to know?" I demanded after asking me what my favorite color was.
He smiled in the way I hated most. "Well, it's sort of come to my attention that there's not a whole lot we know about one another. I think for this to work we should at least get to know some small details about the other. Don't you think?"
"No. I don't." I stated firmly, not needing so much as a moment to consider the proposal. Why in the world would he ever assume that would be okay with me? "I think we should have as little contact with one another as we can." I continued. "I promise I'll behave from now on, but I'm not ever going to be your friend."
I could feel the fury on him far before I saw it. My news was not what he wanted.
"You also agreed to obey me." He countered. "Like it or not, you and I are going to be spending a great deal of time together. And when we are in each other's company I intend to fill that awkward silence whether or not you agree with it. Communication in any relationship is key, and if this arrangement is going to work, we'll have to be open with each other. So, I think it would be smart if you stopped resisting every single thing I propose and just give it up already."
"I never give up." I announced boldly.
Negan wasn't angry about the declaration, much to my surprise. "I know. That's what I love about you." His mouth became a tight smile. "But there's a time and a place for that behavior and it is not around me. So remember your promise or we can go back to how things were before. Your choice."
My lips pursed together in a tight pout before finally surrendering to the ruthless questions he had, but the rebel in me would not submit so simply and I tended to lie about most of his inquiries or deny any interest in what he asked. I wasn't quite certain about what the future relevance to these would be but I had no desire to encourage his prying. I doubted it was merely out of friendly curiosity for him so I resisted the best I could get away with.
There was always a different agenda he held, after all.
It was such a blessing when I was finally allowed to leave and be alone once more. Dinners with him weren't frequent, much to my immediate relief, though I was still required to endure him whenever he called.
Even with the constant torment of Negan's presence I still felt a small relief inside of me. Perhaps, at least, the worst of my time there had passed.
I began to donate regularly. I had no energy while I was reduced to a human juice box and there was little I was able to do since I wasn't allowed outside. The factory grounds were an area I really couldn't wander around in nor did I really want to anyways. They weren't the woodsy lands of Alexandria, rich in vegetation and sparse on walkers. It was just the opposite really. There was nothing but walkers surrounding this land and looking at it made me cringe in disgust. It was depressing and daunting. Every time I looked out a window and caught sight of one of those things, I had to look away immediately.
Although, I suspected that if I really wanted to, I could walk through the mote of chained dead. They weren't going to bother me after all and I hardly expected anyone would be able to stop me once I was beyond their reach.
But it didn't take long to realize that even casual walks were a chore these days. Every step felt heavy and off-balance. It was like I was a stranger in my own body. At times I couldn't even get up from the bed in the infirmary.
I didn't know why they bothered giving me a room when I practically lived down there now. This other Doctor Carson was not like his brother at Hilltop. He was colder, and far less comforting than that healer had been. There was little he seemed to be against in consideration to how others were treated around him. His only job was to patch people up, not question their injuries.
I guess living in this place, surrounded by these people had made him rather apathetic. Maybe it was just me, but he seemed less like a physician and more like a mad scientist, since he was apparently quite partial for experiments and I seemed to be his initial lab rat for the ones he conducted. I never saw the experiments her performed, but I knew he was conducting them. I prayed dearly that it wasn't on living people but there was a sinking suspicion that it probably was. Wherever these so called subjects were being held it was no where I had access to. Even if I did, there was probably very little I was allowed to do for them, I was under constant surveillance wherever I went, so what point would there have been to try.
In order to conduct his studies, he needed a lot of samples from me. Blood and plasma were the tip of the iceberg for him. Among those things he took hair samples, lymph nodes, and a patch of my skin at one point. I even once overheard him talking about an operation to take a piece of my liver. That had terrified me enough, but the real problem came when he discussed drilling a hole through my hip and taking my bone marrow.
I had been wracked with terror about the idea. Needles and blood donations were one thing but cutting me open was another subject entirely.
I was completely panicked this time. I had complied with their requests and their tests with no complaint thus far, but this was where I drew the line! I couldn't do it this time. I just couldn't!
"She's putting up a fuss, today." The doctor announced as Negan waltzed in.
"Why, what's going on?"
The doctor sighed adjusting his glasses as both men approached where I was glued to a chair in utter terror. "I want to take a bone marrow sample from her and she's not too thrilled about the idea."
Of course, he would say it so abridgedly. He had explained the procedure to me earlier and it was nothing so simple as all that in the least. It was straight up terrifying. "H-he wants to drug me and drill a hole in my hip and insert a needle this BIG and drain out my bone marrow!"
"It's more like this big," he corrected, demonstrating with a smaller length of his hands. "Plus, we'll have you under anesthetic the whole time so you don't feel a thing and we'll be sure to do it in a completely sterilized environment preventing any infection."
I pressed my back deeper into the chair feeling as if I could sink into the material and somehow merge with the object, thus making whatever procedure they planned to do, utterly impossible. "Nonononono! I don't want to do this. Donating blood and plasma almost every day is one thing but I don't want anything going into my bones!"
"Judith—,"
"No—NO! I let you people poke and prod me every day a-a-and conduct your weird experiments and prescribe me a diet and make me do this and that exercise for your reasons but I draw the line here! I'm not doing this! I-I can't do this! I'm human and humans have limits—and well this is my limit, okay!"
"The doc says it's perfectly safe."
"THEN YOU DO IT! Y-y-you do it first!" The words were out of me before I had time to think about them.
"Uh…"
"See? See! It freaks you out, too! There's no way you'll do it! I'm not crazy! This mad scientist is!"
He looked stunned, and when it was obvious that I was genuinely afraid of this procedure he turned to the doctor. "Is this really necessary."
"Okay now you're definitely exaggerating."
"Actually, I do need to gather a marrow sample from someone else… if you're going to offer…"
Negan looked back at me and I was suddenly under the impression that there was something different in his gaze. Some sort of new understanding. He looked back at the doctor and pulled him aside, speaking lowly in the corner while they debated over something.
Eventually, they came back and though the doctor looked somewhat disappointed I was still on high alert.
"Okay, we'll hold off on any marrow samples for a while and use that time to try and see if we can build up a little more weight on you."
I breathed a deep sigh of relief with that announcement, feeling much better yet still surprised somehow that Negan had talked the doctor out of his strange, frightening procedure.
Most of my time was spent reading whatever I could find but staying so still for that long eventually bored me to tears—well maybe not to tears, but I was moody.
I hated the Factory so much. The people were unhappy, the Saviors were savages and I had no energy for anything. But I'd stand it all if it meant my family didn't need to worry about meeting anymore offering deadlines for them.
That's really the only thing that got me through all of it. I had to think about my people and so long as there was a chance they would benefit from this situation, I'd keep letting them drain me. But it was taxing and sometimes I felt so weak it was like the smallest effort could knock me over. It was a good thing that I wasn't allowed outside, the wind would probably blow me away with one gust. I felt transparent and fragile.
I never felt fragile before I came here. Not ever.
Was it possible to be lighter than your shadow?
In the midst of all this there were several things the doctor realized as he was experimenting with the samples extracted from my blood and plasma. I overheard some of it one day as I was sleeping in the infirmary after a particularly demanding donation session. He seemed to have taken more than he meant to this time and as such it left me too weak and too tired to make it back to my room. So, I was told to spread out and recover on an extra bed while he worked.
I was in between drifting off for good when I heard Negan's voice just then and lied still, keeping up the pretense so I could eavesdrop.
"How's it look, Doc?"
"Strange." He announced. "I've done some tests and a few experiments and it seems as though administering her plasma is not actually a fully effective cure, but more of a treatment the same way as a tetanus or rabies shot is. Effective, before a certain point but not in the ways you might imagine. I am very confident the cure is in her somehow but I'm unable to access it to its full potential at the moment. I'm leaning on an odd hypothesis and there are several other tests and experiments I'd like to try in regards to it. Unfortunately, I don't have the proper equipment here to really conduct any."
"Well tell me what you need and the next party out will get it."
There was a moment of silence and I imagined the doctor was already producing a list of things to Negan before he spoke again.
"I'll also need something else." The Doctor explained carefully. "I need an assistant; another doctor preferably or ideally a trained chemist. Even a nurse would be sufficient. If you can find any of those it would be helpful in my work."
I heard Negan smile in his voice. "I think one of our generous towns might be able to provide us with a suitable assistant for you." I knew what that meant and so did the doctor, but he didn't say a word against it as he turned back to his work. I could feel Negan's eyes on my curled-up form as I pretended to sleep. "How's our supplier doing?"
"Honestly?" The doctor tested, sounding skeptical and displeased. I felt the air go stiff by his tone.
"She's chronically depressed and very tired these days, but she's been cooperating without objection so that makes things easier." Then I heard his tone sharpen. "It's unhealthy for her to donate so often. Healthy adults are recommended to typically wait three weeks between donations, but she's barely waiting between days. And those are people who are considered emotionally and mentally stable. She has no appetite and is very nearly anorexic. So, once again I stress that She. Is. Too. Thin. And too short. I need her to gain a bit of weight and grow a few inches if things are going to proceed the way we need them to."
"We're working on that."
I heard the doctor grumble just then as I pictured him looking back into his microscope. "Where's some pure protein bars when you need them?"
"Expired or all long gone by now."
A momentary pause before a deep breath from the doctor brought him back to the first subject. "There's also… one more thing I'd like to suggest." The man sounded hesitant as he went on. "A lot of the emotional stress she's been under seems to be building up quite a bit and it's really only getting worse. I've noticed that it increases especially when she's around… um… well you."
"Are you trying to tell me that I'm not allowed to see my own ward? Is that what you're saying, Doc?"
"That's not what I'm saying, what I'm suggesting is maybe you could give her… a bit of space right now to adapt and heal from these first few weeks."
There was a moment of silence while Negan rolled over the recommendation. "That's just what she wants," he growled out with poison. "She hates me so fucking much and does everything she can to make sure I know it."
"I can't say anything about her opinion on anything. I'm sure her feelings on all of us isn't relatively high, but I'll be frank here; I can't have the only cure we have being beaten and traumatized regularly." He announced sternly, ridding the room of any kind of humor Negan had brought in with him when he entered. "If it turns out she is the exact sort of cure we've been hoping for, which I'm certain she is, her health needs to be a first priority; not because you like her not because she's some sweet little lamb—which she's not—but because we need her to live. We've been given only one shot at this—only one! And we can't screw it up. I want this dead world fixed and I want to be one who succeeds in fixing it."
"Ah I see how it is." Negan hummed. "You want all the credit. That's what this is about to you."
The doctor wasn't in the least bit disturbed by his tone while he spelt out his reasoning. "The ones to end this madness that has unfolded over the world will forever go down in history as the greatest benefactors of our entire species. Her name will be there, your name will be there and you can bet that my name will be there right next to them." I could only imagine that the "Her" he was regarding happened to be me as I listened closer. "I never would have been arrogant enough to assume I'd have the opportunity to do it, but now that the tool has been placed in my hands I will do it. I'm not going to become another nameless forgotten dead person like the ones that guard this fortress or wonder the woods. Not by a long shot."
Another moment of silence and when Negan spoke again I could hear the impressed pleasure in his tone. "I'm reassured by your confidence. That determination is going to get you to high places."
"Just as long as I can get the things on that list, then we'll see what happens," With those final words the conversation was over and I imagined the doctor had turned back to his notes and microscope.
The stool he sat on squeaked loudly as Negan got up to leave, but before doing so I heard him walk towards me. I was sure to keep still and breathe as evenly as possible while I felt his eyes study my curled form. I wished I could have seen his face and the expression on it to maybe guess what he was thinking, but I didn't dare move until he was gone.
Before going though, he reached out and brushed my hair out of my face. It took everything in me not to flinch at his touch. So, I stayed still, pretending it was an absurd dream that I'd be able to forget tomorrow.
