"Dwight?"

I hear her call my name, but I don't move.

"Dwight?"

"Hm?"

"It's cold."

"Do you have your socks on?"

"Yes," Nan replies with a slight irritation in her voice, "I have my socks on. I'm just cold."

"Well, then I don't know what to tell you."

"Can you lay close to me?"

"Isn't Birdie right next to you?"

"Yes," She sighs, "But I'm still cold."

I run my hand across my eyes before forcing them open. I fight my eyes to stay open long enough to see what time it is on my watch. I exhale and then roll to the left. I put my arm around her.

"Are you still cold?"

"No."

I breathe, falling back asleep.

"Dwight?"

"Honey, it's three o'clock in the morning," I gripe, "Can whatever it is wait?"

"...Yeah."

I lay there, trying to go back to sleep. "You have to go to the bathroom?"

"No," She says, "It's fine. I can tell you later."

"Okay."

"I love you."

"Love you, too."

She turns herself under my arms until she's facing me. She buries her face in my shoulder. I sigh through my nose, holding her with the feeling of slipping back under sleep.

…

A few hours later, Birdie and I are in the kitchen. Birdie's playing with that Rubik's cube Hal gave her. I got one of the sides for her, but she took it and undid it and is now trying to figure out how to undo what she did while I figure out what we're having for breakfast.

"Mommy, here."

"In a minute, honey," Nan sounds stuffy from getting sick this morning, "I gotta go get the eggs."

I turn my head from the open fridge. She's red around the eyes and she blots a thing of toilet paper under his nose to get rid of the drippiness. I can see her holding back the urge to puke.

"I got it, Nan."

"No, it's okay," She gets the basket, "I can do it."

"Mommy, I wanna come, too."

"Get your shoes on." She sniffs.

"'Kay!" Birdie runs to her room.

Nan continues to try to stop her leaky nose.

"Why don't you-"

"Please, don't suggest that I go sit down," She takes her tissue to the garbage, "I am perfectly capable of picking up eggs and putting them in a basket."

"Alright."

Nan lets out a big, frustrated sigh, putting her hands on the counter.

I shut the fridge. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," She breathes, "Just really strong kicks."

I lick my lip. "Go sit down. I'll get the eggs."

"No, I said I can do it," Nan moves from the spot, even though I can tell she didn't want to, "I'm not fragile and I don't want to sit around all day, while you do everything, so you don't have to talk to me."

"What?"

"You do everything and then there's nothing left to do, so then you just look for things to do to keep from having to talk to me."

"I haven't-"
"Yes, you have," She snaps a little, "Ever since we found out Negan is gone, you've been avoiding me."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is." Her voice goes hoarse, which means she's about to cry.

"Here, Mommy!" Birdie brings Nan her shoes.

"Okay, let's slip 'em on," Nan helps her into her rainboots, "Go get your coat, please."

I wait for Birdie to go out of the kitchen. "Nan, I-"

"It's fine," She dries her eyes, "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Got it!" Birdie gives her her coat.

"Good job," Nan takes the coat, "Turn around, so I can get your arms in."

"I don't want my coat on."

"I know, but it's been raining and I don't want you to catch a cold." She takes her hand and then the basket and they head out the kitchen door to the coop.

I can see them from the window by the sink. Nan warns Birdie not to jump in the puddles from the rain last night. Birdie, always finding some way to do things, steps into a small puddle and stands there, looking down into the water.

Nan turns around with a basket of eggs and when she sees Birdie standing on top of the puddle, she asks her what she's doing and then rolls her eyes with a little smile, before telling her to come on.

I turn as they come back into the house.

"Take off your boots," Nan tells Birdie, "Let them dry outside."

"Okay."

Nan moves to the sink, making me step aside. She doesn't look or speak to me as she washes the eggs.

"Daddy, I stepped on a puddle!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it was fun."

"Sounds fun," I pick her up, "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Um, waffles."

"Waffles?" I sit her on the counter. "We had those two days ago."

"I like 'em."

"Yeah, I can tell," I chuckle, getting into the cabinet, "Alright, we'll make waffles."

"Then the swing, Daddy."

"The swing?"

"Yeah, I wanna be pushed on the swing."

"Oh, well, maybe Mom can push you later," I tell her, "I've gotta go do some things today."

"Aw!"

"I can push you when I get home."

"Where are you going?" Nan asks.

"I might go to my grandpa's place," I look over to her, "I left some things over there that'll ruin, if I leave 'em."

"Oh, okay…" She looks me over, "For how long?"

"I don't know, a few hours." I tell her, setting Birdie off the counter.

"Okay…" She takes the freshly washed eggs to the fridge.

"You'll be alright on your own for that long."

"Yeah, of course."

I see her face. "I mean, I could come back sooner, if you want."

"No, I'll be fine."

"Okay."

She stops for a moment and shuts her eyes gently.

"The baby kicking again?"

"Yeah," She breathes, "It hurts a little this morning."

I put my hands on her belly and she opens her eyes. I look down at her bump. "Go easy on your mother. She's got enough on her hands with your sister."

The violent movement flutters to a stop, as if the baby heard me and agreed to stop.

I smile and when I look up, so is Nan. I put my arms around her and she hugs me tightly.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," I rub her back, "I'm sorry if I've been an asshole the last few days."

"You haven't, I-"

"No, I have and I'm sorry," I tell her, "I just...I want you and Birdie to be safe and Negan out there somewhere made me afraid, but maybe you're right; we're pretty far out, so there's a slim chance he'll find us."

"They might have already found him."

"Yeah…"

Nan touches my arm. "Honey, I promise we're safe."

I peck her lips. "I'll head out after breakfast."

She smiles sweetly. "Okay."

…

"Look, Mom!" Birdie points to the T.V.

I pause my knitting for a moment to look. "Oh, yeah. Who is that again?"

"Lisa."

"Leisel?"

"Yeah."

I go back to knitting a pair of booties for the baby. We've still got Birdie's from when she was born, but I think this baby should have their own. It gives me something to do.

"Mommy, I wanna play outside."

"It's a little muddy right now, Bird."

"I have my boots."

"Let's wait a little," I tell her, "It looks like it's gonna rain soon."

She gets up on the couch. "We can play in the mud."

"No, we are not playing in the mud."

"Lame."

"Hey, don't call me lame," I kiss her temple when she hugs me, "Where'd you hear that?"

"Laura."

"I thought so."

"Mommy, I wanna say a bad word."

"Well, you can't say a bad word."

"I'll whisper it."

"No, you won't, or you'll get in trouble."

"You're mean."

"If you say a bad word, I'm letting Daddy know what you said."

"No!"

"Then don't say it."

There's a knock on the front door. I pause my knitting.

"Who is it, Mom?"

"I don't know," I get up from the couch, "You stay right here, okay?"

"Okay, Mommy."

I go to the door with a tender foot. I peek through the little hole and feel some bit of relief to see that it's only Sherry.

She knocks again, so I unlock the door and answer it.

"Hi."

"Hello," She greets, "I was wondering if I could borrow some laundry soap."

"Oh, yeah, sure," I open the door some more, "Come in, I'll get you some."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

I go to the laundry room where we keep the soap.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

"Wow, that was very nice of him."

"Here, you can play with it, if you want to."

"Oh, thank you."

I go into the living room with the jar of laundry soap. Sherry is sitting on the couch looking over the puzzle Dwight made Birdie while Birdie sits on her knees at the coffee table.

"Here." I offer her the jar.

"Oh, thanks," She stands up, taking it, "I'll bring it back when I'm done."

"You can have it," I say to her, "We've got another kind that we use. Birdie broke out in hives with this one, so it wasn't being used."

"Oh, alright," Sherry looks around, "Did you repaint the house?"

"What?"

"The walls look brighter," She notes, "White. They were yellow before."

"Oh, yeah, Dwight said they needed a fresh coat of paint and it was all he could find."

"Huh, I liked the yellow better." Her eyes blink back to mine. I offer a smile, embarrassed.

"Would you like something to eat?"

"No, I had breakfast."

"I saw that."

Sherry stares, one brow curiously lifted.

I smile demurely. "There were less eggs in the coop than usual this morning."

"Does D know?"

"No, I didn't tell him."

She looks me over. "Huh...where'd he go?"

"To his grandpa's cabin," I answer her, "To make repairs. It burned down last fall."

"Oh…" She nods, before clearing her throat. "You know, I walked here and so I'm a little thirsty."

"Oh, sure, let me get you some water."

The two of us go into the kitchen. I get her some water and when I turn around she's having a seat at the table, still glancing around the house.

I clear my throat. "So, is the house up the road dry?"

She looks at me, puzzled. "What?"

"It's been raining," I clarify, "I was wondering if the roof is good; if you were keeping dry."

"Oh, yeah, the roof's fine." She takes the glass of water.

"Good." I say, hardly audible. I sit across from her. Her eyes stare at my pregnant belly. I feel slight discomfort in her staring, though I try to appear unaware.

"How far along are you again?"

"Uh, seven months."

"What are you having?"

"We don't know yet."

She nods again, slowly. Her hand grips the glass on the table. Her eyes pick up to mine. She smiles a little. "You know, you're very pretty."

I smile politely.

Sherry looks down at the glass of water with almost a hint of bitterness. "I'm surprised you managed to slip past Negan back at the Sanctuary."

I hold my smile, but it fades a little.

"He liked the pretty ones…"

I swallow. "I guess I got lucky."

Sherry scoffs. "Yeah, you did."

I don't say anything. She doesn't know and it's probably for the best that she doesn't.

"You don't know what it was like living with a man that would've killed you and your husband and not lose an ounce of sleep over it after," She says, licking her lip as she remembers, "Sleeping with a man who relished the fact that he took you from someone good, or that you'd still let him touch you even after he put an iron to the face of the person you love...the only person left in the world."

I look on her with sympathy and a little pity.

"You don't know what he does to you," Sherry's eyes get shiny, "I thought if I got out, I'd be okay. If I lived. But being the road alone doesn't do your mind any favors either."

"I spent some time on my own before the Sanctuary," I finally speak, "I can understand."

Sherry looks over at me. "Were you scared?"

"Yes, I was."

"Did you think every day would be the day you died?"

"For awhile," I say, touching my belly, "But I think sometimes when you'd be okay dying, life has a way of being cruel...even in the most sparing of ways."

"You wanted to die?"

"I thought so at first, but I think I really just wanted to be alone," I look at her, "Did you want to die?"

"Not at first," She tells me, "At first, I wanted to be alone, too…" She furrows her brows at me, inquisitive. "Did you ever become violent?" She almost whispers.

"No," I answer honestly.

"Not even when you were afraid?"

I feel unease. "I killed the dead when I needed to. I don't know that I would say I was violent towards them."

She closes her lips, staring off for a moment. "That's when I wanted to die...but then...then one day I didn't feel like that. I stopped feeling that way and I didn't even care. I hardly noticed."

"...About killing the dead?"

Her eyes dart to mine. "You never came across other people when you were alone?"

"Some bikers," I reply, growing more anxious, "But they never saw me, I avoided them."

"Why?"

"Because they didn't look like good people."

She knits her brows, seemingly bewildered.

"They sort of looked like bad guys." I offer a faint smile.

"Huh," She huffs, "Well, that's the thing. Sometimes you can tell that someone is bad, but really there's no telling these days who is and who isn't."

What morsel of a smile I gave is gone.

Sherry's eyes move to the water and she exhales. "Well, he was decent in bed. I'll give him that."

I furrow my brows, confused. "What?"

"Negan," She takes a drink of her water, "He was decent in bed."

The way she says 'decent' sounds like a willful choice. Like she chose that word in place of another, perhaps better word. I don't say anything though.

Her eyes once again look around. "You know, D and I bought this house together three years into our marriage."

My eyes look into the other room, where Birdie sits watching her movie.

"We wanted the whole white picket fence type of life," She goes on, "With date nights, and a dog, and kids…" She looks directly at me. "Then the world changed."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "It must have been hard to have to leave."

"It was for me," She says adamantly, "But I don't know about D, because he came back and has all that. But with you."

The tone of her voice is unsettling. Pointed.

"When did you say D was gonna be home?"

My heart sinks. "I didn't."

The sound of a motorcycle tears up the road.

"Daryl!" Birdie says with a smile on her face. She's associated the sound of a motorcycle with him, since he is the only one we ever see on one.

Sherry looks back at Birdie and then at me with furrowed brows.

When Birdie runs to the door, I rise and go to the front of the house. Sure enough it's Daryl with Dog in an attached sidecar. I huff, knowing why he's come up here. Like Rick, Daryl has never been up here before, but I know he's come for the same reason as Rick.

"I wanna pet Dog!"

"Hold on." I keep her from running out as I watch Daryl walk around from his bike with Dog leaping out of the sidecar after him.

He meets my eyes as he stalks up to the door without a greeting.

"Did they tell you where to find us?"

"Laura did."

"Why?"

"'Cause I asked."

"Why did you ask?" I ask him. "So, you could come here and ask about Negan? He's not here. He doesn't know where we are."

"I wanted to make sure." He gruffs.

"Do you wanna come in to make sure like Rick did?"

Daryl's eyes move behind me. I look over and find Sherry staring at him with what looks like shame and terror.

"Hi, Daryl."

"Hey." He greets Birdie.

"I have to go." Sherry moves past the two of us. She turns, nearly stumbling. "Uh, don't tell D I was here."

And like that, she heads off down the road, less brave than before.

Daryl watches her go for a moment and then looks over at me.

"She came for soap." I walk into the house.

He whistles for Dog who trots into the house with him.

"Negan's not here and we haven't seen any signs of him."

"Where's D?"

"He's working."

"He should be here."

"Why?" I go to the kitchen. "Negan's not going to find us."

"You don't know that."

"Well, if he does, then we'll return him to you."

"If he doesn't kill you first."

"He wouldn't do that."

"Why? 'Cause of her?"

I look over at Birdie in the other room, sitting beside Dog and petting him.

"She's his kid, ain't she?"

I look back to Daryl staring at me.

"Why else would you talk to 'im after what he did to you?"

I put my hand over my belly, vulnerable and angry. "You think he'd kill us and take her?"

"You don't?"

"He's not a monster." I say the phrase once again.

"He deserves to rot in that hole they put him in."

I inhale, frustrated. "If you came here for the same reason as Rick, then I think you should go. Dwight and I can handle things ourselves and he should be home any minute."

I don't know why I said that with no actual knowledge of whether or not it's true.

Daryl looks around the kitchen and then back to me. "I'll wait 'til he gets back."

I nod reluctantly as he goes to the living room where Birdie and I were and sits in the chair, leaned forward. Dog gets up and pads into the living room, prompting Birdie to follow.

I, despite not really wanting Daryl here as a watchdog, but with zero ounce of energy to fight, go to the couch where I sat and pick up my knitting.

"What the hell is this?" He nods to the singing on the television.

"Sound of Music." Birdie tells him, sitting in front, craning her head up.

I concentrate on my work, trying to let go of the frustration I feel over Daryl deciding to stay for our protection. I know he means well, at least I think I do, but I don't need him to protect Birdie and I while Dwight's not home.

Daryl glances over at me.

I break eye contact, determined to work on the booties.

…

It's started to rain again. And I never like the rain when Dwight's outside somewhere from home. Pretty much all of the times he's gotten hurt has been when it rains.

Daryl was adamant about staying until Dwight got back and so he let Birdie bring him stuff to do until she got tired and fell asleep. Now we're just sitting around. Daryl tinkers with the Rubik's cube and I'm finishing up the booties.

I don't like him being here. I like Daryl, but I don't like him thinking he needs to be here. Like I'm some helpless woman who couldn't handle Negan or any other potential threat if they came by. Besides, neither of us are really talkers, so the conversation ran out long ago.

When I open my eyes, Daryl's back to the chair in a reclined position with his boot on the table. His eyes stare out the slider glass as his finger rests along his upper lip.

I look out the same door at the falling rain. The chickens are all in their nests inside the coop.

"No signs of Negan?"

Daryl's eyes move to meet mine. "Nah."

I sigh through my nose, smoothing my hand over my belly. "There's a radio in the kitchen on the counter. If you get it for me, I'll see if Dwight's on his way home."

He glances me over.

"Or I can do it, but you'll have to help me up." I put my hand out.

He gets up from the chair and stalks into the kitchen. He returns with the radio, handing it to me.

I turn it on. "Dwight? Dwight, do you copy?"

We wait in silence. Sleeping Birdie sighs on the floor where she passed out.

"He might be out of range."

Daryl puts his boot back on the coffee table.

"Yeah, I copy," Dwight answers back, "What do you need?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to know when you'd be back."

"I'm putting a tarp over the roof," Dwight reports, "I'll be heading out after that. You alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. Just wondering when you'll be home."

"I'll be home soon."

"Okay, see you soon."

"See you soon."

I set the radio on the side table. "He'll be home soon," I tell Daryl as if he couldn't hear it, "You can go home, if you want. Negan's not here and Dwight will be, so…"

"You tryin' to get rid of me?"

"It's gonna get late and you have a two hour ride back."

He nods, looking me over.

"There's a shotgun in the closet and I know how to use it in the unlikely event that he finds us."

Daryl huffs under his breath. "Why aren't you afraid?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ain't you worried about him finding this place?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Of course."

"Then why ya so laid back about it?" He mimics my shrug.

"How would you like me to react?"

Daryl doesn't reply, he just stares like he does.

"I am afraid," I admit to him, "My whole world could fall to pieces if he found us."

Again, he just stares.

"But I'm not gonna pace back and forth and panic over what may never happen. It's not good for the baby and it would upset Birdie."

Daryl looks towards the floor where she lays.

"I let him have control over my life before," I go on, "I'm not gonna let him have that again."

"Huh." He grunts, petting Dog.

"Does it bother you to know the truth?"

"What?"

"About Birdie?" I ask him, concerned. "Do you think differently of me now that you know I had his baby?"

Daryl looks at me. It's hard to tell what he's thinking. He always looks like he's got a chip on his shoulder.

I look down at my stomach. "I feel like a circus freak sometimes. It's like everyone who knows has never been unkind to me, but I know the look when I see it." I look at him. "It's the look like 'how could she have his child? Everything he's done and she had his daughter.'"

I fiddle with a button in my shirt. "Sad thing is, the only people who wouldn't have outcasted me if you had killed Dwight would have been the Saviors. They all knew and none of them cared." I lick my lips. "I'm not ashamed though. I thought I would be, but how can I be? That little girl is everything to me. I would do anything to keep her safe."

Birdie starts to wake up. She sits up on her knees and rubs her eyes. "Mommy?" Her voice is raspy.

"I'm over here, Bird."

She pads over to the couch. "I'm thirsty."

"Okay, I'll get you some water." I force myself up off the couch.

"Dog, you're a good boy." Birdie praises.

"Sherry coming back?"

"I don't know, Dwight doesn't really want her around."

"Why? What's she done?"

"She took some eggs while we were gone." I put Birdie's cup under the faucet.

"That it?"

I look over because of his tone. I knit by brows a little. "Yeah. Why?"

He shrugs, leaning against the frame.

I put the lid on the cup. "You told me to watch my back last time we saw each other."

He looks over.

"Why?"

He shrugs, leaning against the frame. "She seemed off."

"Off how?"

"Just off."

"Oh…" I walk slowly back to the living room. "Dangerous?"

"Don't know, that's why I told you to watch your back."

I give Birdie her water, nodding. Maybe it was a good thing he came when he did.

"Guess I'll head out," He says, "Since you don't want me here."

I smile a little at his attempt at good humor. "It's not that I don't want you here, it's that I don't need you here. I can take care of things when Dwight's not here."

"While you're carrying a baby?"

"Didn't Maggie fight the war pregnant?"

"Yeah, but that was different."

"How is it different?"

Daryl shrugs. "Just is."

My eyes read his. "You mean she's different. I'm different."

He stares.

"Are you going home, Daryl?" Birdie asks.

"Yeah, I am." He answers her.

"Aw, I like playing with Dog."

"You'll see him next time we go into town." I tell her.

"Okay, pound it." She puts her fist up to Daryl.

"See ya, kid." Daryl bumps his fist to hers, before whistling to Dog.

The two head for the door and I traipse behind them, holding my elbows.

"You let me know if he shows."

I pick my eyes up to Daryl's. I nod quietly.

He nods back, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and opening the door.

"What will happen to him once he's found?"

Daryl looks over his shoulder, peering me over through his hair. He doesn't reply, he just walks to his bike with Dog at his heels.

…

"Stay in tonight."

"I won't be long." I put on my hat.

"Let's just lock up," Nan drapes her arms around my neck, "You'll catch your death out there."

I give her lips a kiss. "I'll be in and out before you get out of the shower."

"Dwight, I don't want you getting sick," She argues, "Stay, don't go."

"This morning you wanted me gone."

"I didn't want you gone, I just wanted you to stop pacing around like a trapped animal."

"When did I do that?"

"When you were trying to keep busy, trying to stick around here," She pecks my lips, "You were going stir crazy, it was getting on my nerves."

I smile into a laugh. "I'll be right back."

"You can go one night without doing a perimeter check."

"Why are you fighting me on this?" I ask her. "Is it because of Daryl?"

"Why would it be because of Daryl?"

I shrug my shoulders. "You didn't like that he was here."

"When did I say that?"

"I can tell," I kiss her, "You were really glad to see me."

Her smile sinks a little and she looks down. "That's only because I don't like you being out in the rain."

"I won't melt."

She snickers, looking back at me. "I just missed you is all."

"I was gone for five hours."

"Well, I was glad you were home," Nan moves her arms, "Is that such a bad thing?"

"No."

"Just stay in tonight," She lightly pleads, "Please?"

I look over her face. She's definitely bothered, even though she says she's not. I exhale. "Yeah, alright."

She smiles, content.

The two of us lock up the house before we go to bed. Birdie's already been asleep for half an hour in our bed by time we lay down. Nan rests her head against my shoulder as I bring the covers up.

"What'd you and Daryl talk about when he was here?"

"Nothing much," She says, "Daryl's not really one for conversation. We mostly just sat in silence after I told him Negan wasn't here."

I nod, reading the book in my hand. "Sounds like a riot."

"Mm, I didn't mind," Nan replies, "It's a comfortable silence. Well, it would have been, if I wasn't pissed that he decided to stick around."

"You could've told him to leave."

"Yeah…" She touches my arm. "But I did feel a little safer with him around."

I glance over at her. "Why's that?"

"No reason," She exhales, snuggling closer to me, "D?"

"Yeah?"

"...Nevermind."

"What is it?"

"It's nothing." She smiles up at me.

I smile back, but I know it wasn't nothing. I go back to reading.

"Turn the page."

"I'm not done yet."

"Well, I am."

I chuckle. "Well, I'm sorry, I didn't know I was sharing the book."

"You are."

We laugh together. I put the book down and move towards her, kissing her lips.

"Hey, watch it; Birdie's in the bed."

I smooth hair out her face, looking at her. "You're really pretty, you know that?"

Her bright smile settles into a sweet closing of her lips.

I kiss her again. "I love you, Anna."

"I love you, too."

I lay back and she moves back to where she was. We're both quiet for the rest of the night.

…

It's quiet this morning. The earth is damp from the rain. The house is glistening with the wetness on its exterior. It looks familiar. Like deja vu, though I can't fuckin' put my finger on where I've seen it before.

The truck's parked right off to the side. I know someone's home. But I don't hear any voices. Of course, I am in the woods.

I thought about how I'd approach, if I ever found the place and now that I have, I've decided the best thing for me to do is to walk right up to that door and knock. Well, it's maybe not the best way. It could invite getting shot in the fuckin' face, but would I be me, if I wasn't ballsy enough to do it anyway? Fuck no.

I walk straight ahead to the front door of what I am ninety-nine percent certain is Nan's house. I recognize the truck to be one of mine from the Sanctuary, so that's enough proof for me.

I look down at the door mat that reads 'welcome.' I stare at the door and I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little nervous. I take a breath.

"Get it together, you pussy."

I extend my hand and knock on the door. I wait for a response. A click, the all too familiar sound of a hammer being pulled back by a thumb makes me aware of someone behind me.

I scoff under my breath, smiling defeatedly.

"Don't move."

I stick my tongue in my cheek and my hands up. "Mornin', D."

The front door opens up and suddenly I'm face to face with Nan. Her expression drops, utterly taken back with what looks like dread or shock.

"Hey, baby," I say, somewhat wry, "Daddy's home."

Thanks for reading!

CLTex: I really wanted to have more Negan in this chapter, but I've had terrible writer's block when it comes to this whole situation! But he's here and now shit's gonna get a hell of a lot more fun and tense!