*End of Warning: Okay, for those who skipped ahead, long story short, they had sex, he scared her with the walkers behind the fence, making her believe she could be bitten. And the fear ignited some kind of dark pleasure despite herself. We pick up things right after.

I hope I haven't lost anyone... Although, this story has been pretty dark since the start... Don't hesitate to let me know what you think!


EPISODE 88 – Say Yes

"Ye motherfucking arsehole…"

"God, that was awesome! Can't believe I've ever done that before. What can I say, darling, you inspire me!"

"Don't ye ever fucking touch me again…"

"Oh, come on, don't be mad. I know you enjoyed it."

"I thought I was going to die…"

"Yeah. And you fucking loved it, didn't ya!"

"I fucking hate ye. Don't ye ever lay a fucking finger on me, Negan. Ye're fucking mad! I can't believe I ever pitied ye. Ye'll fucking die for this."

I'm livid. And I storm back into the building to find a hole to crawl in. When I curl up in a ball inside a cabinet of my room, I'm trembling so violently I wish I would pass out. I'm seething. But as much as I hate his guts, I only manage to loathe myself even more.

How could I…feel that?

I don't think I'll be able to live with myself after this. But the more I think back to it, the less it seems real. My mind becomes fuzzier as I try to explain and excuse my way around it. Soon, I'm not even sure of what happened any more. Since I can't have felt pleasure, it must have been something else, right?

Yet, I'm still so crushed by shame, and guilt, that I cannot get out of my pitiful hiding place until the next day.

That's when Sherry brings me a plate of pasta. The very sight of it could make me gag, but by then I'm collected just enough to think about the little bean that needs food to grow. If I don't take care of it, what was the fucking point of all this?

Although that is it. I'm not ever doing that again. Not for anyone or anything. Not for the baby, not even for Daryl. I feel like I've sold my soul to the devil. I can't get it back, but I won't be complicit any more.

What helps me, I think, is the pure understanding in Sherry's eyes. No pity. Not even a healthy compassion. Just understanding. And self-hatred. So, I come to sit by her side on the bed. And eat in silence.

After that, I still need to wait almost three more weeks that stretch like years of dullness and sullenness.

I get a glimpse of Daryl once. He's looking way better, although, this time, I'm the one that cannot hold his gaze. I cower away.

Then, I go back to the doctor's office. He tells me that everything looks fine; I have trouble believing him. I feel like, maybe, the baby should have suffered from my own ugliness. But it's going well. And the time for lying has come.

In the end, I let the doctor tell him. Carson is almost giddy at the idea of being the bearer of such good news. We exit the office together, and I follow him to the main floor where Negan is surrounded by his men. I watch from the galleries as Emmett pulls him aside to murmur in his ear. Then he points up at me. And my hand reflexively comes to protect my stomach from their gaze.

So, I turn and fly away, back to my room.

Of course, Negan is right behind me.

"It can't be mine. I can't have kids."

I shudder in horror at those words. But I quickly spin on my heels to face him and spit:

"Right. So, I'm the Holy Mother, then."

"Says the girl that's been screwing twin fucking brothers…"

"I told ye I hadn't seen them in weeks before I even got here. Didn't Carson tell ye I only just got pregnant? Or did ye already forgot what happened three weeks ago? No, ye're right. I must have screwed around. I probably fucked Joey behind yer back. And Dwight, and Simon, and Justin. Probably Carson as well, right? That must be it!" I rant to cover the tremors of my hands.

"Will you shut the fuck up! I'm trying to think. I mean. I haven't done anything with you I haven't done a thousand times before, and no girl ever got pregnant. Not here. Not even before all this. So, what makes you different?"

"How the fuck should I know?" I yell back.

And he suddenly burst out laughing. "Shit, maybe it's your fucking Catholic God granting me a miracle!"

"Right. Like ye would deserve it…" I mumble back.

"Damn… That's fucking crazy…" He begins to calm down now, realising what it all means. "We're having a child…"

I only grunt in response, so he raises his eyes suspiciously.

"Are you… You're gonna eat better, right? And take the fucking vitamins and stuff…" And his voice sounds shy all of a sudden. Almost as if he were afraid. "I mean, you gonna be careful, right?"

That's when I understand that he's sincerely scared. He's scared because he's happy. And I could put an end to it.

I wonder how I would feel, now, if it was his. Would I be that cruel? Would he deserve it? Probably. I would gladly hurt myself if that could hurt him too. But would I do that to a foetus just in spite? I'm not so sure.

Though, in the state of things, I can only answer in a soft voice: "Of course. Of course, I'll be careful. It's my baby as well. Don't ye ever forget that."

I think it is the first time I see his wide smile completely reach his eyes. It would be endearing if I didn't despise him.

When his hand makes the slightest motion toward my belly, I can't help but violently recoil. And he clenches his teeth.

"You better not do anything stupid, Aideen."

"Well, maybe ye better make sure I'm stress-free, ye know."

He freezes for a second. It's his turn to get the gears spinning in his head. What is he okay to forsake? Would he grant me anything?

"I will make sure you're fucking comfortable, but don't push it," is the answer.

"Right, ye can only do so much…"

There's so much hate sipping in my voice that he squints his eyes at me. He's trying to figure out how much he can trust me, and I'm suddenly afraid he might restrain me further instead of being more lenient. So, I promptly add:

"Ye know I'm just as happy as ye are, though… I had resigned myself to staying here, that I wouldn't ever leave this fucking place. I had nothing left. But now…I have something."

This is somewhat true, so it does come out sincerely. He doesn't answer. Though, before turning away, he gives me a last look, with a sad smile. As if he had wished for things to be different. I raise my head defiantly, showing more bravery than I feel.

I may make ye believe that this is yer child, but I won't make ye believe we could ever be a family.