"What is that?"

I glance over my shoulder at Hal, then back to the crate ahead. "I don't know."

"They just come back from taking the blockades down?"

"Yeah," I nod, "And the east outpost."

Hal nods his head, too. "What do you suppose is in the crate?"

Gary returns with a nail gun and the four men hoist the huge box up and head off towards the only place I can think they'd take it. The meeting room.

"I don't know," I answer, "But I'll find out."

"You think you should?" Hal lightly holds me back. "You weren't asked to go there. What if he tells you to fuck off?"

I think about it for a second. I wonder if he'll be angry with me for rebuffing that little...incident last night? I look at Hal. "If he tells me to fuck off, then I'll fuck off."

The stairs are getting to be more and more of a trial. It's hard on my knees, but I don't have a choice but to climb, because I live a fucking factory. I do however manage to catch up with the men. I know I probably won't like what I find out and may possibly be barred from finding out, but I'm still going to try.

Keller peeks over his shoulder in the hall to get a glimpse of who's following them. He doesn't say anything, but he does give a look of confusion before he turns back around. I can make out black letters on the lid of the box from the fair distance I keep between myself and them; however, I can't see what it says, because Keller and the other man on the end are to close in shoulders.

But, I can guess what's inside from all the rattling and growling I hear. I'd ask who would put a roamer in a crate and leave it for the Saviors to find and deliver back to Negan, but I don't think I need to. Those people must have gotten to the outpost.

When we get to the door, Gary knocks briefly, after hearing Negan's voice from the inside of the meeting room.

"Yeah?" Negan responds almost immediately with a casual sounding tone.

Gary struggles a little to open the door while still carrying his side of the crate. The men use the crate to nudge the door fully open, exposing Simon right away. Next, they slide the crate onto the table.

"What the hell is that?" Negan asks.

"Special delivery from the Hilltop," Gary answers, "We found it at the blockades." Negan comes into sight from where I stand by the doorframe. His face doesn't look at all amused at the commotion inside the crate. Gary hands him the nail gun he retrieved. "I brought you this to deal with it. It's fully charged."

Negan takes the nail gun. "Get out."

All four file out of the room. I let them pass me, still looking into the room. I'm instantly spotted by Negan and I meekly glance back, anxious. He doesn't look too happy to see me, but he also doesn't appear angry either.

"What?" He demands.

I forgot to find, or makeup a reason for coming here. "I...I wanted to talk to you."

He gives me a brief look over. "Well, whatever it is you want from me can fuckin' wait," His hand takes the door, "Fuck off."

The door shuts in my face. Ouch. Do I really only find Negan when I want something from him? I go to leave, when I hear the snarling of the dead, followed by four or five quick stamps from the nail gun.

"That's Dean," Simon says from inside, "He's from the radio tower. That means the other thirty-eight they have are, too. Those are my men!" His voice rises with anger. "I'll kill those son of bitches!"

"You will do what I asked." Negan fires back.

"We should drive straight down to those pricks and fucking knock a hole in their wall and-" He's quieted by a loud thwack!

"YOU WILL DO YOUR JOB!" Negan booms, startling even me on the outside.

There's a tense air of silence, before Simon speaks again. "Got it."

"And have someone get him to the incinerator."

"Yeah," Simon replies, "Will do."

Before I have time to get out of here, the door swings out and I'm face to face with him. He is clearly not happy. Simon moves past me, shoving past me really, and strides down the hall out of sight.

"I thought I told you to fuck off?" Negan's voice calls me back forward.

I look at his displeased face. "Sorry."

His eyes move over me again and he sighs. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," I quickly say, "I just...wanted to know what was going on. I saw them bring in the crate."

"Well, take a peek." He scoffs.

I cross my arms, very briefly peering over to the box where a lifeless body lays. "Those people did that?"

"Yep, and they got thirty-eight more back at Hilltop," He walks to the head of the table, "Assholes."

I remain standing by the door, unsure of whether or not I should go in. "Are you worried they'll the kill the rest?"

"If we don't 'stand down'?" He chuckles acridly. "I think those animals will do whatever they think is necessary to win."

"I thought you said Hilltop was secured?"

He looks at me. "Yeah, well, that's what my right hand man told me."

"So...what are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna sit for a day or two and then, I'm gonna get a handle on 'em," Negan retorts, "I think it's pretty damn obvious that if Prick and the Alexandrians aren't already at Hilltop, then they sure as shit are heading there."

I nod my head. "Okay."

"That was probably all Carl's idea," He adds with a proud grin, "They all got out while he was distracting me with his little heartfelt speech. Clever little asshole."

"Yeah..." I haven't seen Carl in months. Not since...well, the first time I met him.

"That kid has ten times the balls his father has," Negan hikes his boots up on the table, still grinning, "Ten times the man, too."

The way he talks is so admiring. If I weren't here, he might still be saying these things aloud in an empty room. I don't know what to say, so I just stand and listen.

"That kid's the future," His eyes beam my way, "He's gonna make a great lieutenant one of these days."

I unfold my arms and fix my shirt at the end of my belly. "Okay," I tuck some hair behind my ear, "I'm gonna go to the library."

"Hey."

I turn. "What?"

He beckons me over with his finger. I take a breath and enter the room. I stop two feet in front of him.

"Are we good?"

I puzzle my brows. "What?"

"Are we still on good terms after what happened last night?" Negan elaborates, not once taking his eyes off me.

"Oh," I rest my hand on my tummy, "Um, yeah, we're good."

"That didn't sound too assuring."

"Well, it's true. We are good."

"Huh," He sticks his tongue in his cheek, "You missed breakfast this morning."

"I woke up a little later," I softly lie, "I made something in my room, so I wouldn't be late for work."

"Hm, because the only time you miss a meal is when I've pissed you off, or you're moping about Dwight."

I shake my head. "No, I just woke up late."

Negan's eyes travel up my figure, stopping on my eyes. "That's all? You just woke up late?"

"Yes."

"I didn't cross a line, or...creep you out?"

"Mm, no."

"Because that's what it looked like to me."

I shrug. "No."

He taps his finger on Lucille again. "I thought we were going to be honest with each other?"

I look at him. We? "We...we are."

"So, you're telling me the truth?"

"Yes."

Negan's irked face studies me for a hard moment, before he sighs. "Alright, you can go."

"Okay."

"I'll see you at dinner?"

I stop at the door. "Yeah."

...

I roam the halls at a snail's pace to give me some time between stairs, as well as time to shake off my encounter with Negan. I know I should've foreseen him bringing up last night, but god, that was so awful. I wish he would've just pretended it didn't happen...or almost happen.

And do I really only come to him when I want something? Two months ago, I didn't even want to accept a kind word from him in fear that I would owe him for it and now it seems like I'm running to him for everything. What am I doing? I know that I'm trying to make sure my baby's taken care of, but that doesn't include getting together with him. Negan said there was no strings attached in helping me, but I should have known better. I know him well enough.

"Mom, are you listening?"

I look up from the floor as I approach the library.

"Mom?" Amber's meek voice asks again from inside the room.

"Yes?" Lillian finally answers.

"I asked if you were listening to me?"

"I heard your voice," Her mother replies in her usual frosty tone, "But not your words. What were you saying?"

Amber exhales. "I was you telling that Negan made me..." She looks at me as I enter and closes her mouth.

"Hi." I politely smile.

Lillian goes over to her teakettle. "I'll put the kettle on."

"Okay."

Amber watches her mom flip the little stitch on the hot plate and I can see the hurt.

"Did you bring back Jane Eyre?"

"No, not yet," I sit down in my usual spot, "Sorry."

"How are you feeling today?"

"I'm fine," I smile, "I haven't had morning sickness in awhile."

Lillian brushes her hand under my bangs to feel my temperature. Her motherly eyes examine my complexion. "Then why do you seem so troubled?"

"I-I don't. I mean, I'm not."

"Hm." She turns back to go to her desk.

Amber looks at me and she's not amused. "I'm gonna go."

"Oh, I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

"Doesn't matter." She scowls, going towards the door.

"Well, wait," I put my hand up, "Don't go. I'll leave."

"Why are you leaving?" Lillian inquires. "I just put the kettle on."

"She's not leaving, Mom," Amber murmurs, "I am."

"Alright," Lillian simply nods, "Come by again soon."

I know Lillian wasn't trying to be cold, but it came off that way. Amber huffs out the door. She'll probably cry up in her room once she gets back to the top and I don't know if I'd blame her.

"So, what's wrong?"

I glance back to Lillian. "Huh?"

"You're not ill, but you're troubled," Lillian says, looking over a book, "Why?"

"I'm not."

"You aren't a very good liar."

I lean my back against the chair, rolling my eyes. "It's nothing."

"If it's weighing on your mind and showing on your face, it's not nothing."

I pull out my crosswords. "Well, I can ignore it, until it becomes nothing."

"Has that ever worked before?" She peers over through the corner of her sharp eye.

I tap my pencil against the booklet. "Sometimes," I twist my mouth to the side, "But hell, maybe if I didn't ignore things, I would know who the father is."

"How do you mean?"

"If I didn't ignore all those times I felt sick, or paid attention to my cycle, I might have been able to figure out exactly when I got pregnant."

"What does that matter?" Lillian arches her brow. "One's dead and the other isn't."

"Wouldn't you want to know?" I ask curiously. "If you weren't sure who Amber's father was, wouldn't you want to?"

"A mother always knows," She replies, "And I would want whomever was the best choice in raising my daughter. Sometimes the biological father isn't that man. Not that I ever got to know."

I look off. "But I don't know...and I may never know."

"Then why worry?" She looks my way. "If he provides for your child, protects them, and is good and kind, then what difference does it make if he is, or he isn't?"

I shrug my shoulders. "But...it's Negan."

"Ah, so he's the something that you're trying to ignore into oblivion," Lillian discovers with a clever smirk, "Not likely an easy task."

I scoff, staring down at my crossword. "Why? Because he's everywhere?"

"Because he refuses to be ignored."

"Well..." I sigh, "I don't know how I feel."

"About?"

I shrug again as a response. I don't know.

Lillian doesn't press me on it, which is unusual for her, but I'm not complaining. When the hot water's ready, she makes me a cup of tea.

"Thank you." I take a light, cautious sip and then get back to my boring puzzle.

"If you'd like Negan to not be so involved, then why not say so?" She finally speaks after a good ten minutes.

"It's not that easy."

"No?" She questions, skeptical. "From what I've heard, he tends to be more flexible with you."

"Who told you that?" I knit my brows.

"Amber."

"What did she say exactly?"

"That you were his favorite," She tells me, "Despite being an unofficial wife."

"I'm not an unofficial wife," I retort, slightly bitter, "I left him."

"And yet, you still reap all the benefits of being his wife."

"That's because I'm pregnant," I defend, "He's just making sure my baby's taken care of."

"What about that girl down in the quarters?" She airily challenges. "Does she dine with you, too?"

"No, but she doesn't have to pay for meals."

"That's hardly the same," She returns to reading, "At least, from what I know."

"What do you know?"

"She asked me not to say."

"Well, if it's about me, then I have a right to know."

She lets out a 'ha!' with her eyes still on the page. "You have a right to gossip?"

"It's not gossip, otherwise you wouldn't mind telling me."

"She asked me not to say." Lillian iterates, firm.

Flustered, I want to just up and leave, but I don't. "...Can I tell you something?"

"Depends."

"I need you to not say anything to anyone else." I add, almost pleading.

Lillian breathes through her nose. "Alright."

I scratch my thumb. "Um, Negan almost kissed me last night."

She peers over, soberly. "Almost?"

"I turned away right before he could."

Lillian thinks on it, before replying; "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I...I don't know who else to tell?"

"Because you have no friends."

"No, because I don't want to tell my friends," I clarify, "It's private."

"Am I an empty room?" She wryly asks me.

"What?"

"If it's a private matter, then you would tell no one," Lillian explains, "Am I no one? Am I an empty room for you to speak all your secrets into without caution?"

"No, that's not what I meant," I assure her, "I just...you're a mom, you keep secrets."

"I'm not your mother." She says, before her eyes flicker to the window.

"I know you're not, but..." I exhale, standing up, "But you sometimes..." I close my eyes and shake my head, "Never mind."

"Don't open the window."

"I wasn't going to."

"I saw it," She claims, "It's shadow."

I furrow my eyes, looking over my shoulder. "What?"

"The bird," Lillian stares at the window, "Don't open the window; it can't be here."

I give her a concerned look. "Okay, I won't open the window."

Her eyes watch the window for a second more, before reaching for her tea. "It can't be here. It's wing will get broken. How can it fly with a broken wing?"

"It can't." I sit back down.

"Why did you turn away?"

I almost ask what in confusion, but I then I realize what she's talking about. "I didn't want him to."

"Kiss you?"

"Yes."

"Because you don't desire him?'

I stifle an eye roll. She has such a way of putting things that's so off putting. "It felt like it would be wrong."

"Why is that?"

"Because I don't know who the father is and...what if Dwight's the father?" I put a hand on my belly, uneasy. "Then it feels like I would be doing him an injustice."

"You can't offend dead people."

"No, but you can dishonor them," I rub my pregnancy, "He...hated him." I say that low enough, so it can't be heard out in the hall. "He always did his job and was one of Negan's top guys, but I know he still hated him."

"Well, he certainly did a good job of hiding it."

"He had to," I murmur, "I don't know if I'd be doing the right thing."

"He already takes care of you and your child."

"I know and I agreed to let him continue to help me, but I don't know that it should go beyond that."

"Do you feel nothing for him?" Lillian asks. "If you don't, then it shouldn't."

"I felt strongly for Dwight." I wiggle my nose to keep from crying. "I still do."

"I didn't ask about him. I asked about the other one, you know that. Don't play the fool."

I dig at the skin around my thumb. "I...I don't know how I feel."

"You hesitated."

I drink some more tea, balancing the saucer on my stomach. "I didn't."

"You certainly did."

I stare down into my teacup. "When I was...married to him, I don't think I did."

"Now?"

I shrug my shoulder. "It's nice to have someone who wants to be there for us."

She looks me over, then nods. "I see."

I rise up again. "I think I'm gonna go."

...

Laura answers the door to Hal's room. I stand in front of her, a little bewildered. She blandly stares back. "What?"

"Uh..." I look over her shoulder into the room, "Where's Hal?"

"He's gone," She informs me, "He left about three hours ago."

I furrow my brows. "Left? Left where?"

"To the dumps where those garbage freaks live."

"Why? I thought they switched sides."

"Well, Negan sent Simon over with some guys to straighten shit out and redeliver the message."

"What message?"

"Figure it out." She goes to close the door.

"Wait!" I put my hand in the doorway.

"What?"

"What are you doing in here?"

"None of your business," She snaps, "Move your hand, or lose it."

"Laura," I beseech, "Please, talk to me."

"Move your hand."

"Why can't we be friends?" I ask her. "We were before-"

"Oh, fucking hell!" She rolls her eyes. "Everyone needs to shut the fuck about that night!"

"What went wrong?" I beg her to answer. "What did I do wrong?"

"You didn't..." Laura exhales heavily, "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why are you angry with me?"

"I'm not."

I look at her, utterly confused. "Then why are you giving the cold shoulder?"

Laura covers her eyes with her hand, frustrated. "Look, Nan..."

"We lived together."

"I know, but I can't...I can't be around you, okay? I can barely even look at you."

Ouch. I stare at Laura, completely hurt by what she's just said. My dry lips come together as I swallow down the ache in throat. "Okay," I croak, "I, um, I get it. I mean, I don't but...I'll leave you alone."

Laura's eyes look me up and down. "Okay, then," She goes to the close the door, "Watch your hand."

I remove my hand and the door is shut. I feel my face start to scrunch, so I take a breath to smooth it out, before I walk off. The only place I want to be right now is my room, so I head back that way with eyes blurred by tears.

Once there, I sit down on the edge of the bed and wipe my eyes. It seems like I'm just causing more tears to well up. I know it's the hormones making such a big deal out of it, but I am hurt. I don't understand. If I didn't do anything wrong, then what the hell made me so offensive to her?

"Nan, do you copy?" Reed radios me.

I wipe my hand under my nose, before taking up my radio. "Yes, I copy."

"Are you in the office? Over."

"No," I sniff, "I'm in my room."

"Roger that." He replies.

"What do you need?"

"Never mind," Reed answers, "I needed the logs for the commissary, but I'll get 'em myself."

I dab the shoulder of my shirt under my eye. "No, I can get it, just give me a second."

"I'm already in the office," He reports back, "Don't worry about."

I toss the radio on the bed and glance around the room. I don't even feel like crying anymore, but the tears keep coming. It really is times like this that I wish Dwight was here. If he were, he might hold and comfort me like he did that time I was really upset. I sigh, snagging my breath on an upcoming wail. I know I have to let go, but I can't shake myself loose.

I stand up and go over to the sink to wash my face in cool water. The baby kicks a little, which puts a mild pang on my lower abdomen. "Not now, baby."

I'm not sure if I called the baby by simply what it is, or by a term of endearment, but it must have heard me, because it's movement becomes light little flutters and then settles down.

"Thank you." I flip on the sink and cup the water in my hands.

Someone knocks on my door as I'm washing my face. I don't answer, because I don't feel like entertaining at the moment. The second knock comes a moment later and a little louder.

I sigh, patting my face dry. "Yeah?"

The door opens and, you guessed it, Negan walks in. "Hey."

"Hi," I put the dish towel back on the hook Dwight put up, so it could dry, "What brings you by?"

I heard you over the radio," Negan leans Lucille gently against the armchair, making sure the barbs don't touch the leather, "You sounded like you were crying, which it looks like you are, so damn do I have you down, or what?"

I take my elbows in each hand. "You don't have your radio on your belt."

"I heard it on Arat's radio," He informs me, plopping down in the armchair, "So, what is it today?"

I tread over to the bed. "Just girl problems."

"How can that be?" Negan inquires, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "You're knocked up; aren't you not supposed to be riding the crimson wave for a while?"

"What?" I knit my brows at him. "That's not what I meant."

"Huh," He reaches down into the chair, "What the fuck's sticking me in the ass?" He pulls out one of the soldier chess pieces from under him. He inspects the little bayonet. "Jesus, D really didn't cut corners with the details." Negan reaches down, lifting his leg some. "Why the hell do you have all the goddamn pieces in the chair?"

"I knocked them over and I don't remember where they're supposed to go."

"Does it fuckin' matter?"

"Yes, it matters," I tell him, looking at the water on my shirt, "That's why he had them in certain places."

"So, you're just gonna leave 'em in this chair for people to unknowingly sit on and get bayoneted in the ass cheek?"

I shrug, even though I know he's just messing with me.

Negan's grin lessens, before he exhales. "Fuck." He sets the piece on the chessboard to his left. "Whoa, did you feel that?" He looks over at me, brows raised into his forehead. "The earth opening up to swallow us whole?"

I huff. "Very funny."

Negan chuckles taking another chess piece and putting it on the board. I observe him take a few more up and set them in no particular place, almost to prove a point.

"You sent Simon to the meet with the garbage people?"

"I did."

"Do you think they're trustworthy?" I ask him, getting up to trade my shirt for one that doesn't have some water on it from when I washed my face.

"I think that people fall in line and get with the program when they realize it's in their best interest." Negan's eyes follow me to my trunk.

"Hal went with him." I turn my back to him and peel off the flannel, draping it over the bed frame.

"He's a good soldier," Negan claims behind me, "You know he's quite the sharpshooter?"

"Uh, I think he mentioned it before," Goosebumps raise with the feel of the chilly air on my skin, "We didn't talk much about that. We were too tired from working all day to reminisce about our lives before."

"Well, hard work is rewarded with a good night's sleep, so you're welcome," Negan humors, "Hey, did you and him ever-"

"No, Hal and I are just friends."

"Really?" He smiles at me when I turn around. "That's a shame. He's a handsome lookin' kid. I heard Laura's hittin' that."

I wallow over to the sink for a glass of water. Nice to see he's back to normal. "You can go, if you want. I'm okay."

He's quiet for a moment. "...Well, actually, I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"Last night."

I pause with the glass just at my lips, then lower it. "We talked about it this morning."

"Yeah, well, it's still sitting on my balls like a brick, so we're gonna bring it up again."

I shift around to look at him. "Okay."

Negan glances over his shoulder to see me. "Have a seat."

I go back to the bed and sit with the glass on the end table I dragged over to the bedside.

Negan studies my movements, flicking his eyes up to my mine. "So, let's just whip it out in the open," He rests his leg on his knee, "I misread the room and ruined a perfectly lovely night."

I look at him, not amused by his attempt to joke it off.

He sees that and exhales, licking his bottom lip. "And I'm...sorry."

I smooth my hands together, nodding down at them. "Okay."

"Okay?" Negan scoffs, "Hell, give me a little more than that, Nan."

I look up. "Did you mean what you said last night?"

He nods. "I did."

"Good," I breathe, cupping my hand under my belly, "Because I was afraid you only said it, so I would let my guard down and it really meant a lot to me."

Negan's eyes explore my face. "You thought I was trying to throw you off balance, so I could fuckin' move in on you?"

I shrug, tapping my thumb on my stomach. "I don't know...I felt off balance."

"Well, I wasn't trying to fucking prey on you with sweet nothings," Negan retorts, a little irritated, "I meant what I said, Anna."

I nod my head, mouthing; "Okay."

He sighs through his nose, looking me over in frustration. His eyes focus on mine. "You felt off balance?"

I avert my eyes, ashamed. "A little."

"Why?"

"I don't know," I start to pick at my thumb, "Maybe it was what you said; it made me feel really good." I scoff at the tears that try to rise. "It's probably the scariest thing I've ever done and you...made me feel really proud to be carrying this baby."

"You should be proud," Negan says, "You're giving birth to the future."

"I thought Carl was the future." I reply, calmly smoothing my shirt to keep from massacring my thumb.

"He is," Negan grins, "But our kid's gonna grow up and survive this world just like Rick's cyclopsed pride and joy. Do better than we did."

I feel a pound of weigh on my lungs. "Better?"

"Abso-fuckin'-lutely," Negan nods, solemnly confident, "We've got to get civilization back in order and once all this shit's hashed out and people get back to the program, then we've got it." He closes his gloved hand into a fist, as if he's actually attained something. "And then we work our asses off, so that kids like Carl, and Judith, and our baby have a fighting chance to exceed us. I want 'em to do more than just survive; I want my child to live. That's what we're fuckin' fighting for."

A smile peaks up. As insane as it sounds, I believe him. I believe in Negan for the first time since I got here. I really think he's full-heartedly determined to make a path for my child to succeed. To live, not just survive.

However, my smile wanes when my mind takes stock of chess pieces on the other side of him. I look down at my bump. "I still have feelings for Dwight. I know he's gone, but it...felt like I would have betrayed him, if I..."

"If you hadn't turned away?"

I nod my head.

"So, does that mean you wanted me to?"

I glance back up, finding his eyes. "No."

He nods his head. "Then why were you afraid of what it would mean, if you hadn't turned your head?"

I look away and I can't help but notice the bass trophy on the wall from the corner of my eye. "Let me ask you something."

"Shoot."

My lungs fill with air and anxiety let's it sit there for a moment or two, before I let it go. "If the baby's born with blonde hair and Dwight's eyes, what will that mean?" I count to five in my head, then let my eyes return to his with the utmost seriousness. "Will you still provide for my child?"

Negan's eyes are transfixed on mine with the same intensity. His gloved thumb grazes the knuckles of his other fingers as he thinks on it. "Yes."

"You will?" I murmur.

"Absolutely."

"And you'd...you'd raise it the same?" I ask with an aching throat. "You'd want the same things for them? To live and not just survive?"

Negan continues to stare at me. The fact that he doesn't answer right away wrecks me. The radio on my bed statics.

"Get ready to open the gates," Simon orders, "We're pulling up in two."

"Copy." Solara says over the radio.

Negan gets up from the armchair. "I gotta go meet my right hand out front."

"Okay." I nod, devastated.

"I'll see you tonight at dinner." He collects Lucille from the side of the chair.

"Yeah..."

"And to answer your question," Negan adds with his hand on the door handle, "I have every intention on raising that baby with you." He looks back to me. "No matter what."

...

I log all the points and deductions before Reed gets back to the office. I wanted to go straight to the front to find Hal and make sure he's okay, but I had to get my work done first. I started on the main books, just because I've been the one taking the books to Negan every evening since I started having dinner up there and I want to be able to leave as soon as possible. Also, it gives me plenty of distraction from Negan and I's little conversation three hours ago.

"Hey," Reed stalks in, "What are you doing?"

"I'm half way through the logs," I answer, "I finished my crossword."

"You planning on taking the books to the boss?" He sits down in his chair.

"Yes."

"Good." Reed nods, pulling out a drawer for a pen.

"Good?" I arch my brow. "You got plans tonight?"

"No," He scoffs, "I just don't wanna be the unlucky son of bitch who has to take the books up to him...no offense."

I look at him, perplexed. "Why? What's wrong?"

"No fucking clue, but he didn't look happy when he came back inside."

"Did the meeting with the garbage people not go well?"

"According to Simon, they regretted double crossing us and he brought back their guns, so I'd say things went well."

I nod. "Well, then why would Negan be upset?"

"I don't know," Reed shrugs, "All I know is that he was outside for a while and when he finally came back in, he looked like someone pissed in his porridge."

I look down at my work. What if he's having doubts? He's been really banking on this child being his own flesh and blood. What if he's met with disappointment? What if he's not the kind of man that Lillian's second husband was? But he said no matter what...

"Done?" Reed puts his hand out.

"Uh, yeah." I hand him the papers.

Reed carefully looks over my work to copy into the main book and to make sure it's accurate. "Alright," He closes the books, "All ready to go."

"Okay." I rise out of my chair.

"Good luck." Reed gives me the main book.

"Thanks."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," He chuckles, "He's, uh, fond of you."

"Right." I dryly huff.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Reed locks the door to his office. "He knocked you up, so he's nice to you?"

"It's not..." I exhale, "I don't know who the father is, so please don't just assume it's him, okay?"

"Alright, whatever," Reed walks towards the kitchens, "Have a good one."

"Thanks, you too." I hold the book to me and tread to the stairs to take it up to Negan.

Why can't I ever catch a break? I had a good guy and now he's dead and I'm left to find a place where I feel comfortable with Negan. It's like I'm always trying to balance between wanting to try with Negan and wanting to get away from him.

Maybe I should have slept with Hal. Things would have been so much easier for me, if Hal got me pregnant. My face winces as I climb the stairs. Ew, even joking about that makes my shutter. Hal's so close to me, it'd be like incest.

I would've been fine with just Dwight, though. Sure, we didn't have the best start, but I thought we were finding our way. You have to let go and move on.

I stop at Hal's and knock. I hear two voices quiet. I knock again. "Hal?"

Hal sighs inside and says something to Laura, I presume. I hear her murmur some type of assurance or agreement. The door opens rather softly and she and I are face to face again.

"Can I come in?" I ask her.

"Uh, no," She tells me, nearly whispering, "Now's not a good time."

I read her face that she attempts to make aloof, but subtly fails. "Is everything okay?"

"Yep," She retorts, "So...bye."

"Hey!" I put my hand on the door. "I just want to see Hal for a minute, okay? Can't whatever you're about to do wait?"

Laura scoffs, smiling incredulously. "We're not having sex, dumbass."

"Well, then why can't I see my friend?" I question, trying to get a glimpse of him. "Hal?"

"Come back later, Nan," Laura blocks me, "He's had a long day."

"Is he hurt?" I panic a little. "Hal? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Nan."

I push on the door and Laura begrudgingly lets me. In the room, I discover Hal sitting on his mattress with his shirt off and his head in his hands. He's so low to the ground, despite the palettes, that his knees are close enough for him to wallow between them. Something's wrong. I notice a thin bandage on his right bicep that looks like it's got a little blood poking through.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He says with a despondent rasp in his voice.

I look at his poor state over, concerned. I suddenly remember what the "message" they had to redeliver to the garbage people is. It must have been horrible for him to be sent on that kind of errand and have to witness it.

"Hal, don't-"

"Just go away, Anna," Hal mildly snaps, "I just...I can't talk right now."

"Do you need any-"

"No, I don't want anything!" He lifts his head and I nearly gasp at the terrible look in his eyes. He exhales, hanging his head again. "Look, I'm sorry for snapping, love, I just...want to be alone for a bit."

"Okay," I nod my head, still haunted by his look, "Let me know if you need anything, alright? Even just to talk."

"Yeah." He huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's in pain.

Laura glances at me, before shutting the door. "I'm gonna heat some water for tea." She says behind the closed door.

"No, I don't want anything."

"Okay," She murmurs, "Let me change your bandage."

"Are you gonna stay the night?"

"...Do you want me to?"

"Yeah," He replies, barely audible, "I want you to stay with me."

I step away from the door and head towards the stairwell to the third floor. He seemed really upset...like I've never seen him before. Public executions are always hard to see, they're supposed to teach not only those people a lesson, but us as well. But Simon must have done something extra awful to shake Hal that much.

He asked Laura to stay with him, after telling me he wanted to be alone. I want to feel jealous that he chose Laura over me as comfort, but I'm not. I'm actually glad, because that means they must care for each other, even if they're not open about it. Laura and I may never be friends again and I may never know why, but if she's good to Hal, then she's okay in my books. She was always okay in my books, but evidently I'm not okay in hers anymore. Doesn't matter, I respect her for whatever it is about her that makes Hal trust her. Dwight and I were like that.

When I finally make it to the top floor, I've lost my appetite. The stench of strong liquor hits my nose in the hallway. Wonderful. That must mean Negan's been drinking for however long he's been up here and because I can smell it so potently, I'm guessing there's a broken bottle. I know why Reed didn't want to come up here.

I almost move to pass the drawing room, when I notice the girls in there. Frankie's sweeping some glass into a dustpan, while Danica, Tonya, and Amber are all sitting, clammed up.

"Excuse me." Hazel comes into the room with a bucket of sudsy water and a mop. Her acknowledgement of me draws the eyes of the other girls my way.

"I told you just to grab a rag and some spray cleaner." Frankie grumbles, dumping the broken glass into the little garbage can.

"And I told you, that that homemade cleaner of yours doesn't work on actual messes," Hazel plunges the mop into the bucket, "This will get rid of the smell."

"It works for me."

"Yeah, right." Hazel huffs, mopping the floor.

"I clean with it all the time," Frankie sharply says, "I use it to clean all the counters and tables and it works just fine for me."

"Yeah, if those surfaces are already clean."

"God, shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"Oh, very mature!"

"Guys, don't start, please." Danica calmly pleads.

"Well, I'm tired of Little Miss Holly Hobby over here, thinking she's so nifty with all her DIY crap!"

Frankie folds her arms, rolling her eyes. "Better to use my time productively, then to waste it on dumb comic books."

"Oh, please!" Hazel snorts. "The only time you're being productive is when your legs are open and that hasn't happened in a while, because he won't touch you."

Crack! Frankie swiftly brings her hand across Hazel's face. Hazel feels her cheek and while I can only see her face from the side, I can tell she's not angry, but shocked.

"How dare you talk to me like that." Frankie scolds in a tense voice. The light from the chandelier glistens the tears in her eyes. "How dare you say those things, after you're always going on about how we're more than just bed warmers. And last time I checked, he hasn't touched you in a while either."

Hazel's hand comes off her face and onto her elbow. She appears speechless. Frankie inhales and exhales sharply, before storming off. She wipes the underside of her eye as she passes me to go to her room. All the other girls remain silent, just as stunned. Hazel, most likely embarrassed, goes back to mopping.

I stand in the doorway, still as a pillar and unsure of what to say. I've seen the wives bicker before, but I've never seen them so on edge with each other. And all over cleaning spray.

Tonya looks over at me. "He's in his room," She tells me, "But if I were you, I'd just leave it by the door."

"Okay," I nod my head, "What's wrong?"

"We don't know," She shrugs, "He came back up a while ago and went straight to his room. We didn't see or hear from him until ten minutes ago, when he came in for a drink."

"...And he broke a bottle?"

"Not on purpose," Danica chimes in, "He accidentally knocked it over with his elbow when he was reaching for a glass. He said a few interesting curse words and then marched on back to his room."

"Oh," I look at the shiny wet place where Hazel just mopped, "He is coming to dinner?"

"No, Negan told me to tell Owen not to send the workers up tonight." Tonya says.

"We're not having dinner?"

"He said I can make us something," She twists her mouth to the side, "So, I guess I'll be going down to the kitchens."

"I'll come with you." Amber murmurs.

"Fine," Tonya stands, "What do you like on your sandwiches, Nan?"

"Oh, don't worry about me, I'll just eat in my room."

"Are you sure?" She asks. "It's no bother."

"Yeah, thanks, but I've got some stuff back at my place."

"Alright." She and Amber walk towards the entrance.

"I'll come, too," Danica gets up, "I don't like how fancy you try to get with sandwiches."

"Sprouts are not fancy." Tonya laughs.

"Wait for me!" Hazel whines. "I just have to dump the bucket."

"I can take care of it," I offer, "Go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm."

"Okay, but be careful," She catches up with the girls, "It's slippery."

I take the handle of the bucket and walk it into the bathroom to dump it into the sink. Now, I have to get the mop to go put it back in the closet with the bucket. In the hall, I briefly peer over to the doors of Negan's room, before I go back to the drawing room. The whole floor is silent.

I set the books down on the coffee table and go over to the bar. Hazel must have put too much soap in the bucket, because the floor is more slick than slippery. I carefully toe around the area to get to the mop that's leaning on the end of the bar. I spy the broom and dustpan there as well, so I gather them up, too.

My feet slide a little as I try to step past the soapy circles. Some of it got on the bottoms of my shoes, so squeak as I walk down the hall to the closet. And sure enough, my right foot slips out from under me and my heart stops as I start to fall. I catch myself on door handles, which stops me from going down all the way. The handles of the dustpan, mop, and broom slap against the hard floor. The bucket spills the some remaining water.

I pull myself up, using the door that helped me. The handles don't decline all the way, which must mean the doors are locked. I look up and see that it's Negan's door. I brush myself off and pick up to take everything to the closet.

I peer back at Negan's door as I shut the closet. Nothing. I hear nothing coming from that room. No footsteps, no cursing, nothing. I tread as quiet as a mouse past his door. I think maybe I better just leave. The wives will see the books on the coffee table and take it to him if he wants it. I don't want to deal with whatever's going on with him.

However, once I make it to the door to the stairwell, something stops me. My mind flashes the image of Hal's distraught face. Don't do this to me. I exhale, frustrated with myself. I turn around and walk back down the hall. I'm sure it's nothing.

When I get to the door, I put my ear up to it to see if I can hear anything. Nope. I knock lightly.

"Didn't I fucking say not to fucking bother me?" Negan growls.

"It's me," I meekly reply, "Nan. I brought the books."

"Leave 'em somewhere," He answers, "I'll get to 'em later."

"Okay," I nod my head, "Um...Can I come in?"

"No."

I chew my lip. "Please?"

There's a moment of silence, before a loud, annoyed sigh, followed by footsteps. The lock from the inside is clicked to the right and the door rumbles open. Negan scowls down at me, but I just look up, sincere. He walks back to the leather sofa and sits down.

"What do you want?"

"I don't want anything," I close the door behind me, "I wish you wouldn't think that."

"Yeah, well, what am I supposed to fucking think?" He stares at me. "You only come to me, when you fuckin' want something."

"And whose fault is that?" I sigh, glancing down.

"Excuse me?"

My eyes blink back to his and I shrug. "You're the one who told me to come to you, if I needed anything."

Negan's daunting eyes continue to look at me. "So, then what brings you by?"

"I..." I rub my arm, "I heard you were in a bad mood."

He scoffs through his nose. "Normally, people run the opposite fuckin' way when I'm in a bad mood."

I shift my mouth to the side. "Well, Reed told me to bring the books up. And...I was coming up to eat dinner."

"Dinner's cancelled," Negan curtly reports, "Have Tonya whip you up something to eat."

"No, I'll cook something back in my room," I hesitate to walk further into the room, "How come dinner's cancelled?"

"Not hungry."

"That's never stopped you from having the workers serve the girls."

"They can survive one goddamn night fending for themselves," Negan rudely says, rubbing his hand through his hair and down his face, "I don't want anyone up here who doesn't live up here for the rest of the night."

"Oh," I nod, "Well, then...I'll go."

He looks up. "Calm your tits, I didn't mean you."

"I don't live up here."

"Yeah, well, you're obviously the exception," He retorts, "Are you gonna fucking sit down?"

My eyes move to the two chairs. Lucille's sitting in the chair I sit in, again.

"Well?"

I tread over to the sofa, going the other way around the coffee table, and sit. I turn my head his way and my brows start to gather. He looks over at me. His eyes look a little drained. Has he been crying? I turn my head forward. Negan doesn't cry.

"Was it you I heard in the hall?" He asks.

"Mhm."

"You fell?"

"I slipped," I clarify, "Hazel was mopping the spilled whiskey and she didn't dilute the soap enough."

"Jesus Christ," He curses, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I shrug my shoulders, "I caught myself." I gaze his way again. "Are you alright?"

Negan looks me over. "Peachy."

"Reed said you seemed irked when you came back in after Simon got back."

"What the fuck would Reed know? He was taking inventory of the new guns with Arat."

"The girls said the same thing."

He chuckles under his breath. "Those gals are would say that any damn day of the week."

"So, nothing's wrong?"

Negan's grin lowers.

Something about his face makes me grow anxious. "What's the matter?"

He looks ahead and lets out a ragged breath. He leans forward, clasping his hands in the gap between his legs.

"Tell me," I press, unnerved, "Please."

Negan hangs his head and sighs again. "Rick got a hold of one of our radios. Demanding to speak to me."

"...What did he want?"

Negan looks at me with heavy eyes. "Carl's dead."

I stare back. What did he say? "Carl?"

"Yeah."

"W-when?" My heart thumps against my chest.

"The morning after we destroyed Alexandria." Negan answers, swallowing.

"Y-you killed him?" I feel tears form in my eyes. "When you-

"No," He shakes his head, "He got bit, trying to help somebody."

"From the grenades?" My voice cracks a little. "Or the fires?"

"Neither," Negan tells me, "It was before...had to be."

"Why?" I rasp, doubtful.

"Because of the things he said to me that night..." His eyes scan forward as if he's trying to make sense of it.

"What did he say to you?"

Negan glances back to me briefly, then down in hands.

My throat makes a wet, sinewy click as I swallow down the hurt. "This is your fault."

"No," Negan's voice instantly sharpens, "It's Rick's."

"Carl-"

"Carl died because Rick is a bad father and a bad leader," He cuts me off, angry, "Because he doesn't have control over his people and they do stupid shit and it gets them and other people killed."

I bite my tongue. I only knew Carl very briefly, but...he was just a kid.

"He's a monster."

"I know."

"If you know then how can you take up with them?"

I blink my eyes closed to clear my head. "We were just talking about him."

"Yeah." Negan barely says.

"You said he was the future."

"He was supposed to be. He was built for this world. That kid..."Negan breathes out, "That kid was something else."

My hand fearfully touches my belly. "You said my baby the future, too."

Negan turns his head. "It is the future."

Tears shed down my face. "And is what happened to Carl it's future?"

"No," Negan shifts my way, "Absolutely not."

"How do you know?" I stare at him with watery eyes.

"Because I'm not Rick," Negan puts his hand on my knee, "I'm a better the leader, the best damn leader around, and I sure as fuck won't let shit like that happen, because I know how to save people. Rick doesn't; he only knows how to get 'em killed. Including his boy."

My lip quivers, so I lick it. I go to speak, but I'm too upset to form the words.

"Hey," Negan calls me, squeezing lightly on my knee, "I give you my word, Nan, that our kid's gonna live a long, long life. They're gonna grow up and be happy and safe. And do better than us, remember?" I meet his eyes. They gloss over, but I know he's holding it in. "I promise you that."

I slowly nod my head. "Okay."

"Do you trust me?" His eyes are keen and bear into mine.

All I can do is just stare look back. "...Yes."

"Good," He pats my leg, comfortingly, before wiping away a tear from my face, "Dry those eyes, mama, 'cause there's not reason to cry."

"Carl." I sniff, brushing off more tears.

Negan faint smirk grows fainter. "Yeah." He shifts back to the position his was in before. "What a badass kid."

From where I sit, I watch him blink, once. No tears fall on his cheek, but I swear his eyelashes appear wet. This really has upset him. He liked Carl, more than anyone else I know.

He swallows and exhales through his nose, then clears his throat. "You better get to steppin', if you want Tonya to make you something in the kitchens."

"I'll make something later," I mildly smile, "What about you?"

"I'm fasting for the night."

Without thinking, I put my hand on his shoulder. His right hand reaches across and softly glides over mine.

"Dry those eyes." I faintly murmur.

Negan chuckles, leaning back on the sofa. "Don't be a smart ass."

"I wasn't." I claim, taking my hand away from his shoulder.

He looks over at me when I do, but then accepts it when he sets his eyes forward. My index finger rubs along my thumb. I slide myself a little closer him. He notices right away. I gaze down at him. One-two-three-four-five. Sheepishly, I extend my hand over and place it gingerly on the other side of his face.

Negan takes my arm, while continuing to stare back at me. One-two-three-four-five. I sigh through my nose, then, I lean forward and plant a small kiss on his lips. He reciprocates, more wantonly than me, before looking me over as I pull back a little bit. We fix on one another for a few seconds. I wait for something, but I don't think it'll come, so I kiss him softly again.

...

The night's cold and the wind whirls furiously. His breath fogs the window, so he moves away from it. If it rains tonight, it'll snow. The man lights up a cigarette and sits on the single bed.

He looks at the inside of his forearm. Seven months, two weeks, and three days. It'll be seven months, two weeks, and four days tomorrow. Tomorrow. He'll be back there tomorrow.

It looks like he's not been ratted out, or he's walking into a trap by going home. But it's not like he had much of a choice. It was either go with them, or get all those people back the banks of the swamp killed. No doubt Negan would bash his brains in with that stupid fucking bat once all that was done. In front of her...

"You want some of this canned soup?" Another Savior appears with a pot of chicken noodle in his hand.

"Nah, I'm good." The man takes another drag from his cigarette. "What time you think we'll make it back to the Sanctuary?"

The Savior chuckles. "Eager to get back to your girl?" He shrugs his shoulders. "Probably before dinnertime."

"How come that late?"

"Negan wanted us to swing by the west outpost."

"Why?" The man's brows furrow. "It's already been cleared. Regina's manning it."

"Yeah, but he wants us to bring back a few guys."

"Oh, yeah?" The man's finger scratches the one next to it. "What for?"

"He's gonna send that weird asshole with the mullet to that factory to make bullets and he needs a few helping hands."

The man nods. "You think it'll take that long? If we're fast, we can make it back by noon."

"Calm your dick, D," The Savior grins, "We'll get ya home."

The Saviors walks back to the part of the post office they use as lounge.

The man scratches his head, then puts his cigarette out on one of the p.o. boxes the bed leans up against. He puts his shirt back on, before getting under the starchy blankets. He stares up the ceiling, fishing out the hair tie from his shirt pocket. He turns it over between his fingers as he thinks. Tomorrow.

...

I turn in my sleep. It's warm in the room, too warm. The fireplace is going. I use to think it was electric, or just for show. I can hear the crackling of the burning wood and the smell, which has always been a favorite of mine. I flip over with some difficulty, kicking off the soft sheets.

The bed creaks at another's movement and my brows furrow, before I open my eyes. It's dark; but my eyes adjust on him lying on his back. I visually trail down, taking note of his white t-shirt as his breast moves up and down in a shallow rhythm.

I begin to slide myself ever so carefully towards the end of the bed. My barefoot feels around the air, until it finds the floor. The bed creaks again as I ease myself off it.

"Where are you going?" He asks, making my heart skip a beat. His eyes are still closed.

I stare. "Um, to the bathroom."

He nods his head in response, half-asleep.

I pad around the bed and towards the coffee table, where I left my shoes, flannel, and jacket.

"You need shoes to take a piss?"

I look over to the bed. His eyes still aren't open. "No," I murmur, "I guess not." Fuck.

I barefoot it out of the room and curse myself as I walk to the bathroom. I really do have to pee. I don't turn on the light as I enter. I just sit down on the toilet seat in the dark. My stream practically sounds like Niagara Falls, because of how dead silent it is up here, but it's such a relief.

I flush and go to the sink to wash my hands. I'm faced by the mirror on the wall above, but I barely can see who's there anyway, so I ignore it. I wash the sweat off my face and around my neck. After drying my hands, I very gently close the door and tread back to his bedroom. His doors always make a rumbling sound, no matter how delicate the hand.

I make him out on the bed, just as he was before I left. I walk over to my clothes and gather them up, throwing them down on the sofa. I pull my jeans down and step out of them. I then slide my yoga band down off my hips and lay it over the arm of the sofa. My underwear is considered high- waisted, but you can hardly tell in the front. I got them from the commissary, since my usual pairs make me feel like I've got to pull them up every couple minutes. Terry laughed that these new ones looked like granny panties when I was signing for them. I don't care, they're comfortable.

I climb back into my jeans, even though they won't button. I set the flannel down on top of the band and then my jacket. Next, I stick my socks in my shoes and place them right in front of the clothes.

I turn around and take a deep breath, before going back over to the left side of the bed. I said I would stay. I peel back the blankets and am relieved that he still has his pants on. I climb back under and go back to bed.


Thanks you all for reading! I appreciate all the awesome support!

CLTex: The tension with Amber shall be revealed soon! Glad you like the drama surrounding the Saviors and workers. That's definitely gonna be coming back.

Jofrench22: You're wait for Dwight's return shall be coming to an end fairly soon! I feel the same way; I want him to come back to the Sanctuary, too. He's been gone too long (much to a certain somebody's advantage) (:

StTudnoBright: I'm happy you like Nan and Negan's little moments. Nan's definitely trying, despite the obvious reservations. I know, you can't wait to find out why Amber's so sore, either! ;)