Caught In The Crossfire

"Shit!"

Negan rolled his eyes. "Easy there, cupcake," he drawled, hauling Kit up from where he'd tripped over a toolbox, painfully catching himself against the worktable. "Jake is not going to be a happy bunny if you trash his joint."

"It's a bloody pigsty already," Kit pointed out, throwing off Negan's hand, glaring at him as he then rubbed his thigh where the sharp corner of the worktable had hit him.

"Just trying to help you, bud," Negan said coolly, holding his palms up. "No need to bite my head off, man."

"Shouldn't you be at work or something?" Kit snapped, booting aside some loose tarpaulin. "I mean, that was the whole point of moving the party from Sunday to Wednesday so I didn't need to look at your stupid face."

Resisting the familiar urge to break Kit's nose, Negan didn't answer, deliberately turning his back on Kit instead. He had spent the weekend with Imogen and Tess much to Kit's silent, seething fury. Then he'd gone home Monday and Tuesday, working both days, before calling in sick again today for Tess's birthday party, pissed at the last minute changes Kit and his cronies had been pulling.

Against his will, Negan had then been forced to enlist Kit's help to pick up the doll's house, Garry just as reluctantly lending them his van. The guy Negan had commissioned to build the doll's house, Jake, had hidden the key to the garage under a giant cactus pot plant out back. Originally it was meant to have been Jake and Negan dealing with the delivery, but Jake had received a call the night before from his former mother-in-law, who in-between coughing her guts up, had said his ex-wife had been taken to hospital with the flu, and that he needed to come and get his kids or social services were stepping in. At this, Jake had hightailed it out of the house, only having enough presence of mind left to text Negan at the last second about rearranging their plans, not wanting to lose his four hundred dollars, money he was going to more than need with five kids now on his hands.

As Kit continued to poke around, muttering mutinously under his breath, Negan turned impatiently on the spot, just wanting this to be over and done with. Buck was bringing over his old motorbike to the Alford's apartment, Negan having bought it back from him on a sudden whim, Imogen sowing the seeds that night of the attack, when she'd laid into him once again about how he'd lied to get his leg over with her, including about owning the damned motorbike. It was in a worse condition than when he had originally sold it to Buck, but to Negan it didn't matter; the memories it possessed were beyond price, losing it had been like losing a limb.

But when Lucille had first fallen pregnant, he had sold it to Buck, using the money for a down-payment on a family car instead. But then they'd lost the baby, and over time, when it became clear there would be no children in their future, Lucille had bought a car of her own whilst Negan had taken to borrowing the motorbike from Buck on occasion to take his latest bit on the side out on it. At this rate though, he wouldn't get back at the apartment in time, Negan still having to sweet-talk Imogen in keeping it at Kit's place for the time being, not wanting Lucille to know, not that she would probably care, Lucille still having little interest in his life anymore. The only fly in the ointment was that he hadn't actually gotten round to telling Imogen about it yet either, more than knowing she would raise merry hell over it, Negan not in the mood to listen to her nagging about how he spent his own money. Sometimes it struck him there was little difference between having a wife and keeping a mistress.

Cursing under his breath, Negan glanced around the garage again, raising an eyebrow at the sheer mess on show. Jake was OCD when it came to his appearance, with blonde, almost white, hair psychotically parted to the side, but this trenchant tidiness didn't extend to his personal space. He had once admitted to Negan that he had tons of trash bags piled up in his dining room, and that he hadn't been inside that part of the house for three years now. All Negan could do was muse that no wonder the wife had done a bunk, a wife he had once happened to make out with one warm June evening long ago at a sports rally. When he'd seen her photo on the sideboard, he'd been startled and then amused. Jake was just a friend of a friend who conducted his carpentry business as a side-line through word of mouth, but nothing had ever stopped Negan from making a move on other men's women, unwittingly or not, acquaintances or otherwise.

"Where is this thing?" Kit complained, turning on the spot. "You'd think something that size would be hard to miss."

"He said it would be here," Negan frowned, peering under some tarp.

"Well, it obviously isn't."

"Don't fucking say that," Negan snapped, straightening up. "It's about here somewhere."

"Where?" Kit retorted, gesturing around them. "I'm telling you it's not here, Negan!"

"And I'm telling you it is fucking here!" Negan snapped, kicking aside some empty paint cans, only to catch a glimpse of hot pink behind some shelves at the very back. Jake owned the largest fucking garage he'd ever been in, big enough to store a monster truck at least, this fact not helping matters any. Cursing, he crossed the concrete before peering behind the shelving unit, where the doll's house thankfully stood, partially covered by a plastic sheet. "It's not here?" he said sarcastically, pointing at it as Kit came round the corner. "What's that? The fucking Eiffel Tower?"

Kit just glared at him before pulling the plastic sheet away, letting it drop to the floor. "Holy shit," he breathed, face becoming horrified as he beheld the doll's house in all its hellishly hot pink glory, reality rendering it even more garishly grotesque than the photos did.

"It's a beaut, isn't?" Negan grinned, pluming himself on his prowess at picking out the perfect birthday present. "Tess is gonna fucking love it."

"She could bloody live in it, Negan!" Kit exclaimed, rounding on him. "Look at the fucking size of it!"

"It's big, big deal," Negan said dismissively, kicking aside some cardboard boxes, making the crockery stored inside clatter threateningly.

"Are you insane!?" Kit said in disbelief, gesturing at it with both hands. "It's beyond big. It's – it's epically mammoth!"

At this, Negan swung around, getting pissed off now. "Hey, you knew it wasn't exactly gonna be Lilliputian," he snapped, jabbing his finger at Kit like a sword. "Not my problem you live in a fucking shithole that you can't swing a cat in."

"Imogen and Tess are living in said shithole because of you," Kit snapped, "I mean, they can hardly move in with you, can she? I think Lucille would have something to say about that, don't you?"

Negan was on Kit before he even knew what was happening, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. "Don't you ever say her name," he growled. "You fucking hear me!?"

To his surprise, Kit just smiled; a darkly mocking smile Negan didn't think Kit was capable of, as if he knew something Negan didn't. "Don't make me laugh," he said bitterly, "you of all people feigning outraged morality."

Negan stared at him, Kit holding his gaze, grey eyes dancing, Imogen's eyes, making Negan let go of him despite himself. Imogen also shared that same knack of making highbrow statements, unnerving Negan on occasion because she was such an ignorant savage compared to the more cultured Kit. Narrowing his eyes, Negan then loomed over Kit, only inches apart. "Jeesh," he then said slowly with a sardonic grin, "who'da thunk it? Christopher here has cajones of steel!"

Kit merely raised an eyebrow, but his fists clenched by his sides, trying to hide his now shaking hands in plain sight. "Truth hurts, doesn't it?" he drawled, deliberately provoking Negan further, enjoying infuriating him.

Negan leaned back, green eyes alight with malice as he still held Kit's gaze, waiting for him to look away first, but Kit coldly met him stare for stare. "Y'know, since we're alone," he then said quietly, rubbing his hand across his stubbled chin as he spoke, "maybe… maybe it's time we spoke about the unresolved sexual tension between us."

"What, we should kiss to break said tension?" Kit said sarcastically, nostrils flaring. "God, your ego knows no bounds."

"It's an idea, but I think your boyfriend would have something to say about that," Negan said lazily, taking a seat on an upturned crate, "Blondie's already looking for an excuse to kick my ass as it is – if he ever gets the balls to try, which I highly doubt."

Kit rolled his eyes, even as he inwardly writhed, Negan's words hitting a nerve. His friendship with Garry had grown out of a brief fling ten or so years back, Kit moving on from it, Garry less so, colouring their close bond. "Whatever, Negan," he snapped, "I'm done. Either you can stay here being an asshole or we can get that monstrosity back to the bar. Your choice."

Negan spread his hands wide. "The bar it is," he said equably, "where a tall drink of water like me belongs!"

Irritated, Kit just shook his head at Negan's nonsense, before stalking off. "I'm going home after this," he flung over his shoulder, "and you can just go to hell, Negan."

"So your dear sister keeps saying," Negan muttered, getting up.

Imogen smoothed down the front of her floral playsuit before turning from side to side, critically assessing her appearance in the full-length mirror. The floral fabric was slightly baggy, lending her the illusion of curves, hiding her unflattering thinness whilst showing off her long legs. She had made a half-hearted effort to dress conservatively, not wanting to humiliate herself in front of Kit's fancy friends and their children, who made up the bulk of the party guests, Imogen having only invited a few people including Carol and Sophia, as well Dana and her family, along with some of the other kids Ciara used to childmind before she'd left for Toccoa.

She had curled her hair so it fell down her back in a waterfall of ebony ringlets, and had carefully made up her face, concealing her dark circles and pallid complexion. From a distance, she almost passed for her old self, but up close, she was painfully aware it was just a paint job. But whilst the issue of her appearance ate away at her already erstwhile confidence, it oddly didn't seem to dampen Negan's fervour for her as she had been expecting. Even when she looked her worse, Negan still watched her with that habitual hunger in his eyes, Imogen never understanding why.

It had been the same when she was pregnant; Negan unable to keep his hands off her, even when she'd ballooned to the size of a small house. And afterwards, when she'd tried to shed the pounds she'd piled on, Negan had actually complained about it, preferring her to be heavier. For her though, there had been a fine line between voluptuousness and voluminous and she'd ignored his objections. But now she'd gone from one extreme to the other, cigarettes and stress taking their toll, and here she was, trying to hide in plain sight.

Imogen finally turned away from the mirror, only to start violently as a loud burst of Britney Spears suddenly blared into being. "For fuck's sake!" she snapped, stalking out into the hall, the sound of Baby One More Time battling simultaneously with the television, the piano and an old Alannah Myles LP for dominion.

Trailing the racket to the living room, she paused in the doorway, only to see with some surprise Sophia by the CD player, trying out a frenzied dance-step, whilst Dana's daughter, Vanessa, snapped her fingers to Black Velvet in the far corner, Kit's prized vintage LP collection fanned around her feet. Her twin boys were hammering on the old upright, whilst Carol and Dana watched an old Robert Mitchum movie, seemingly unperturbed by the din. Only Tess existed apart from the uproar, her small face pressed comically against the window, watching for Negan, Sparkles dangling from her hand.

For a moment, Imogen just stood there, the tidal wave of tension threatening to sweep her away. Tess's birthdays had once been small family affairs, the day divided in half between them all, Kit organizing something special for the morning, whilst Imogen took Tess out in the afternoon with Negan. But this year, Tess had uttered the immortal words, 'I wanna a pawty', heralding a new era of ostentatiousness Imogen knew they couldn't afford. But after much argument, Imogen had reluctantly assented to Kit's idea of a small celebration held in the back room of the bar, but in the past few days, it had suddenly spiralled into something else altogether.

Kit had decided out of the blue that they should do more to mark the occasion, Imogen objecting to the scheme, Negan not really interested, only pissed at having his plans messed up by the last minute changes. Undeterred, Kit had enlisted Carol's help, both in accord that they should make Tess's birthday extra special since it looked like there wouldn't be another opportunity to gather together on a grand scale if everything went into lockdown, which was becoming increasingly likely. Outnumbered, Imogen had been overruled and she here she was, trying to figure out how to face the rest of the day.

She would have just been happy with the birthday breakfast Kit had organized for the three of them, where Tess had held court in her thrifted frilly pink party dress and sparkly pink jelly sandals, opening her presents from Kit and Imogen and eating popcorn for breakfast whilst watching Cinderella on repeat. But the main event was to be the birthday party at the bar with dancing and games, followed by the cutting of the birthday cake, Negan characteristically planning a grand unveiling of his own gift. The day would then finish up with a sit-down supper for everyone back at Kit's, Carol organizing a pot luck to cut down the cost, the Alfords only able to contribute some cheap wine and snacks.

Dana and her daughter had come over this morning to help Carol and Imogen sort out the various dishes and drinks that had been donated, everyone more than generous, coming together to make it an occasion to remember. A growing sense of anticipation had lightened the usually tense atmosphere, a feeling Imogen found she couldn't share. She knew she was in danger of appearing ungrateful, but the proceedings had begun to take on a Last Supper vibe to her, her further fear over infection only serving to heighten her unease. Everybody who was attending was apparently healthy, but despite the precautions taken, everyone had been in close contact with somebody who had the flu, Imogen included. It seemed to pick and choose its victims, passing over some, only to strike others. It was something that was causing the government growing concern, the virus spreading in a way they had never seen before with other infectious diseases.

But Imogen wasn't just stressed out about the cost or the virus; it was mostly about Negan's involvement in the proceedings. She knew she couldn't bar him from his own child's birthday party, but the more people that came, the higher the risk Negan's double life would be discovered, Imogen scared somebody would recognize him. But Negan had just shot down her doubts, saying the distance between Decatur and Carthsville afforded him anonymity; that nobody would know him.

Yet Imogen remained unconvinced, sure Negan's recklessness was sure to lead to his ruin. What with turning up on her doorstep and then her work, and now this, flaunting his fatherhood in the faces of all and sundry. Once he had been discreet, now he was daring to expose everything he had sought to conceal. Why, Imogen didn't understand, only knowing the house of cards they'd constructed was in danger of being dashed down.

"Hey, hey, hey," Imogen snapped, rushing over to the upright as one of the boys suddenly brought his fist down on the keys, making them screech in protest. "That's enough!" But before she could blink, Vanessa was suddenly between her and the boys, hauling them off the piano stool they were squashed together upon.

"Sorry, Imo," Vanessa apologized, forcing them to sit down on the floor whilst Imogen bent over the piano, expecting the worst, "just trying to keep Satan and Lucifer here occupied."

Exhaling sharply, Imogen straightened up, the piano mercifully free from damage. "It's okay," she said tiredly, pushing a loose curl out of her face, "just try and keep the noise down. Most of the neighbours are complete cunts."

Vanessa's eyebrows flew up into her hairline, making Imogen realise her slip of the tongue too late, glancing in panic at the kids who mercifully seemed oblivious to her blaspheming. Amused, Vanessa wagged her finger at Imogen in mock severity, before descending on her sons who were now squabbling over the toy cars scattered across the carpet, Vanessa hurriedly separating them. As she did, Imogen lifted the needle off the record, before picking up a pair of headphones from the shelf and taking them over to Sophia who was too focused on her footwork for anything else, Imogen having to wave the headphones in front of her face several times before it registered. Sulkily, Sophia then sat down, plugging the headphones into the CD player before popping the buds in her ears, mouth mutinous.

"I'm a C-U-N-T, then?" Carol spelled out as Imogen came over, feigning affront. "Telling it as it is, bitch?"

Imogen spared a glance at Tess who was still glued to the window, before arching an eyebrow at Carol, still wondering at what a difference being away from Ed made to her. "I said most," she corrected Carol, "and call me bitch again, and I think we might have to throw down."

"Don't you think Robert Mitchum looks a bit like my sheriff's deputy?" Dana mused, cramming a handful of leftover popcorn into her mouth, utterly oblivious to everything around her apart from what was happening on the screen.

"For God's sake, Dana!" Imogen exclaimed, half annoyed, half amused. "You and that goddamn cop! The poor guy's at death's door – I hardly think he's going to turn up here for a bit of slap and tickle."

"You hear that?" Dana crowed, elbowing Carol in the side. "Slap and tickle? I love your Englishisms, Imo," she then exclaimed, "I really do."

"Wait, what's this?" Carol interjected, holding her hands up, pretending to pause. "Sheriff's deputy how?" She and Dana had hit it off right away, but when Dana had wanted to swap digits to stay in contact, Carol had made a mumbled excuse about not knowing her phone number off by heart. Ed didn't allow her to have female friends, alienating any she once had, Imogen the only one to stick around so far.

"Some cop bloke got shot in King County," Imogen said distractedly as her phone pinged in her pocket. "Sorry, Carol, I need to check this," she said, pulling it out, only to see with some surprise the text was from Ciara and not Kit like she had been expecting. Like Sara and Casey, Ciara had apparently gone to ground too, not responding to any of Imogen's calls or texts. Yet now she had, sending Tess birthday wishes and a brief but vague update on her family, that they were still in hospital.

"By the way, Tiana is swingin' by the bar later," Dana said, gaze now glued to the television again, "she wasn't sick, only hungover, like really hungover. She and her man got a little too merry celebratin' their anniversary."

"Good," Imogen said abruptly, stowing her phone away again, figuring she could catch up with Ciara later. She and Dana had taken the day off from work, leaving José and Zoe to hold the fort, speculating the pair would finally get it on in their absence, the thought making Dana and Imogen cackle like a pair of witches. Zoe was coming to the pot luck, José turning down the invite altogether. But he had given Imogen ten dollars for Tess, Zoe passing on a Barbie colouring book and pencils she had bought as a present, not seeing the point in wrapping them up even as Imogen did.

"For Pete's sake," Dana muttered as her own phone pinged several times, impatiently pulling it out of her hot pink leather handbag. As she checked her messages, her gaze quickly panning across the screen, Imogen perched upon the sofa's arm rest, taking a moment to catch her breath, only for Dana to instantly sit bolt upright, her heavily kohled eyes widening in alarm. Before anybody could react, Dana was up on her feet and dragging a startled Imogen by the arm out of the living room, leaving Carol and Vanessa sitting there, staring after them in shock as they went.

Imogen came to her senses in the kitchen, tearing herself out of Dana's hold as she did. "What the fuck, Dana!?" she said in disbelief as Dana slammed the door behind them, the force of the impact rattling the kitchen cupboards.

Dana collapsed against the draining board, face ashen underneath her fake tan. "Lula-Mae is shuttin' down the diner," she choked out, ramming her phone in Imogen's face, "for good that is and she's not gonna pay us what's owin'."

Imogen tried to read the text, but the words onscreen all blurred into one another. "But – but that's a whole month's wages," she stuttered, blindly backing away, the backs of her bare thighs painfully hitting metal as she crashed into the fridge. She had been counting on that money, the little that it was, to tide them over.

"I know," Dana exclaimed as Imogen righted herself, "I mean, it was always in the wind this could happen, the diner shuttin' down but not like this – I always thought we would just go back when shit calmed down and in the meantime, we'd get furlough or whatever fancy-assed crap the government promised."

Imogen rumpled up her ringlets with a trembling hand. "I was looking for a second job," she said dazedly, "something to fit around the diner."

Dana just shook her head, face still shellshocked, her next words just washing over Imogen like rain. "Figures out Lula-Mae was real cosy with the mayor; that he gave her a nod and wink about everythin' closin' when Carthsville went into lockdown, with all unnecessary travel outside the area bein' outlawed, " she continued, gnawing on her thumbnail, oblivious to Imogen's blank expression, "Apparently the sneaky cow's been plannin' on bailin' out for a while now and with this virus malarkey goin' down, she thinks she can shut up shop without havin' to fork out. But the stupid bitch didn't even bother to wait until the actual lockdown was enforced, which is meant to be in a week's time, givin' the government goonies time for the groundwork and shit"-

As she prattled on, Imogen just stood there, the world crashing down around her ears. But what Dana said next was nothing to do with the diner and everything to do with what Imogen was running from. "Casey she what?" she demanded, her fingers flying to her throat.

"I was sayin' Lula-Mae and Casey's mom went round to the house and there was a huge kerfuffle," Dana said impatiently, "turns out Casey and her mom became estranged when Casey came out of the closet but that's neither here nor there. Casey's parents are divorced and her dad had taken bad just there and Bert, Casey's big brother, couldn't get hold of her. They's none too close either but needs must. Anyways, apparently he's not feelin' too peart himself, so he got their mom to go and see what the score was"-

-"Dana" –

-"She didn't want to go, but she had no other choice and roped Lula-Mae into comin' with her. So they go round but Casey don't answer the door. They hear her shufflin' about and then there's this huge crash so they bust in, thinkin' she's hurt herself, but Casey comes barrellin' out of nowhere and bites her mom before tryin' to take a chunk out of Lula-Mae. Now Lula-Mae's sitting in the hospital, place swarmin' with men in black types and soldiers, while she decides to do us out of what she owes" –

-"Dana, I – I - I need some air," Imogen said faintly as Dana's phone pinged again, what was left of the world starting to spin around her, "it's getting really close in here"-

But Dana wasn't listening, checking her phone instead, the latest message making her shake her head. "Lula-Mae wants me to come to the hospital," she scoffed, "as if I'm goin' to go and offer moral support to the likes of her."

Ignoring Dana, Imogen pushed past her, feeling like the walls were closing in on her. Bile was burning the back of her throat, Imogen feeling like she going to throw up. Casey. Vapid, harmless, confused Casey who meant well only to mess up. Casey who had attacked two women like a wild animal. On impulse, Imogen's hand flew to her throat again, fingers encircling it like shackles. Blindly, she staggered out into the hall, only for the front door to open, making her stop dead in her tracks. As she did, Kit came through the doorway, face pained whilst Negan stalked in after him, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

"Dada!" Tess cried as she came barrelling down the hall, completely ignoring Imogen and Kit. " Dada!"

"How's my best birthday princess?" Negan declared as he swept her up into his arms, giving Imogen a concerned glance over Tess's dark head. "You having a good day so far?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Imo honey, you okay?" Dana asked in an undertone as she came up behind Imogen, gripping her phone like grim death.

Imogen started violently, startling Dana in turn, who clutched her arm, alarmed. "Don't – don't say anything to anyone – not yet," she said in a rush under her breath as Negan then came towards them, brow furrowing. "Hey, everything go alright?" she said with some difficulty as he stooped down to kiss her. His stubble was rough against her skin, all but a beard, lending him a piratical look. All she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and forget the hell unfolding around her, but pride held her in place, not wanting to appear weak in his eyes.

Negan studied her, suspicious. "Yeah," he replied, his eyes saying otherwise as his gaze slid sideways to Kit where he was hanging up his battered leather jacket on the peg. "And who is this fine piece of femininity?" he then said silkily, his gaze roving over Dana instead, taking her in from head to toe. "Your face is more than familiar, darlin'. Are you that platinum-haired vision I spied in the diner that day I happened to drop by the other week?"

Dana did a double-take, having not realised he was talking to her. "Oh, hey there, handsome," she then said distractedly, holding her hand out to him, whilst glancing down at her phone in the other, "I'm Dana and you can call me darlin ' any time of the day or night, sugar pie."

To Imogen's annoyance, Negan took Dana's hand before dropping a dramatic kiss on her knuckles, ignoring Kit's derisive snort as he did. "Oh, I'm ready for action any time," he smirked, finally releasing Dana, making a great show of reluctance.

" Charmed, I'm sure," Dana drawled, but her attention was now obviously elsewhere for once, her gaze finding her phone screen again. Muttering an excuse to Imogen, she went back into the kitchen, blonde head bent over her phone as her fingers flew frantically across the keys.

"Is everything okay, Imogen?" Carol asked, making Imogen turn around, only to see Carol coming towards her, face concerned. Vanessa was in the living room doorway, looking equally worried, arms folded across her chest.

"Yeah, it's all good," Imogen lied, forcing a smile on her face, "usual Dana drama." But as she glanced up at Negan, it was only to see him watching her, brow furrowing even further as Tess rammed Sparkles into his face. As usual, he wasn't buying her bullshit, even if she was practically giving it away.

Batting Sparkles aside, Negan narrowed his eyes before turning to Carol, donning what Imogen called his Don Juan grin. "Hi," he said smoothly, "what do they call you, then?"

"Carol," she said coolly, taking Tess from him, much to his annoyance.

Negan raised an eyebrow. "Well, hello there, Carol," he then drawled, hiding his irritation, "will you permit me to say you're giving Audrey Hepburn a run for her money with your elfin allure?" Like he did with Dana, his gaze roved over her unashamedly, lingering on her bare legs the longest, Imogen having lent her a sleeveless sequinned top and leather mini-skirt, as well as doing her make-up and fixing her hair.

"Maybe," Carol said evasively, glancing archly at Imogen before taking a protesting Tess away. Like Negan, she wasn't buying Imogen's bullshit, somehow knowing without words Imogen needed to be alone with Negan to talk.

Negan watched her go, nostrils flaring, not appreciating her interference. "Hi," he then called over to Vanessa, jerking his chin at her, "I'm Negan." He eyed her with great interest, taking in her tight red flamenco style dress that clung to every curve, showing off her dark hair and dusky skin to great dramatic effect.

"And she's not interested," Kit interjected as he came over, sick of Negan's theatrical flirtations. At this, Vanessa rolled her eyes before going back into the living room, her entrance heralded by the boys banging down on the piano again. "What was Carol saying?" he then asked Imogen, wincing at the discordant sound. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Imogen said abruptly before turning to Negan, who frowned down at her. "We need to talk, Negan," she said, her voice cracking despite herself. " Now."

Negan studied Imogen again, his suspicious expression instantly becoming serious. "Sure, sweetheart," he said with another frown, sliding his arm around her waist, before making in the direction of her bedroom.

"Keep the door open, then," Kit snapped as they went past him, "and keep your confab clean, okay? My house, my rules. Try to respect them."

Before Imogen could react, Negan's hand suddenly shot out, the tips of his two fingers seeming to flick Kit's groin. Only the sound of its dull thwack and Kit's shocked gasp of pain told her she wasn't hallucinating. Then she was being swept into her bedroom, Negan banging the door shut behind them, making the walls shake. As he did, his best white shirt and black dress trousers that were hanging on a peg on the back of the door, fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

"Fucking hell!" Negan roared, rushing over to them. "I just ironed those fuckers this morning!" Face furious, he hung them up again, only for them to almost drop to the ground once more. "Shit!" he cursed, catching them just in time.

"Hey, hey, hey," Imogen protested, whilst still not quite sure of what she had just seen, "calm the fuck down!"

"I will when you will," Negan retorted, ineffectually trying to smooth the creased fabric. "What the fuck was with Tenko taking Tess off me like that?" he suddenly said, rounding on Imogen. "She making out I'm sort of weirdo or something!?"

Imogen stared at him. "Tenko!?" she said incredulously, the rest of his words washing over her. " Tenko!?"

"Hey, I'm not insulting your precious pal," Negan snapped, "she's a bit alright with those big blues of hers and that sweet face. Her legs are something to write home about too. But this?" he continued, gesturing wildly to his head, indicating Carol's cropped hair. "Tenko she is, and Tenko she'll stay."

Imogen ignored this. "Did you just touch my brother's balls there?" she demanded, startling Negan. "I hope to hell you didn't because that would mean I would need to start questioning your real reason for coming around here."

Negan stared at her this time, taken aback, not realising she'd witnessed what he'd done. "Well… it's not the first time a guy's grabbed his nuts, is it?" he then said evasively, running his hand over his head. "I mean, it might go a long way to addressing some of the fucking issues between us. We all know he wants me when he doesn't want to."

Imogen gawped at him. "Have you lost your mind!?" she said in disbelief. " Kit wants you? You're the one doing the groping, not him!"

"Hey, there was nothing sexual in it, at least not on my side!" Negan protested. "If Kit wants to view it that way, fair enough, different strokes for different folks and all that jazz. But I'm more of a… cat person if you get my drift." He had the sheer audacity to wink salaciously at her, only adding to the innuendo.

Imogen pressed her palms to her eyes, trying not to lose it. "Do not touch my brother in any shape or form again, do you hear me!?" she said through gritted teeth. "I mean it, Negan!"

"You're starting to sound a little jealous, here, Imo."

Imogen ignored this. "Just what the fuck were you thinking, Negan!?" she exclaimed, flinging her hands up, fighting the urge to throttle him.

Negan sucked on his teeth. "Jeesh, it was just a little nut-tapping, Imogen," he said defensively, only to see her suddenly bewildered face, his logic losing her. "Never mind, it's a guy thing," he then said dismissively, flapping a large hand at her, "you wouldn't understand. But if the next kid we have is a boy, he will, so don't worry."

" Negan" –

-"I'll initiate him into the ancient art of nut-tapping," Negan continued, peeling off his checked shirt and chucking it over the back of the chair. "It's quite the skill to pass down to your sons. My ole man, well, he was the King of the Nut-Tappers. It was the only thing he ever taught me apart from how to royally fuck your life up." He kicked off his trainers before throwing himself onto her bed, making it creak in complaint. "So you wanna talk?" he drawled as he propped himself up against the headboard. "Come and sit on my knee, then. Tell Auntie Negan all of your woes."

Imogen just stood there, as usual never sure with Negan whether to laugh or cry. Rolling her eyes, she went over and sat on the edge of the bed, primly folding her hands on her lap. "I mean it," she said quietly. "We really need to talk and not about your bloody nut-tapping or whatever you call it."

Negan eyed her. "First up, what was with that little peck on the lips out there?" he then said, arching an eyebrow. "A man who does a hard day's work like I just did needs more than that."

Rolling her eyes again, Imogen climbed up on the bed before straddling him. Grinning lazily, Negan drew her to him, his hands finding her hips. For several long moments, all she knew was Negan and his mouth on hers, her fingers becoming entangled in his messy hair, and then she reluctantly pushed him away, refusing to be sidetracked any longer. But before she could say anything, Negan pressed his finger against her lips, startling her into silence.

"Just one last thing, sweetheart," Negan grinned, pulling his hand away. Still smirking, he leaned over the side of her bed, scrunching up his eyes as he did, rummaging for something unseen. Imogen just sat there, completely confounded. "Ta-da!" he crowed, pulling out a white plastic bag with a triumphant flourish. "I snuck this in when I was bringing back my best duds."

"What is it?" Imogen frowned, perplexed.

"Open it up."

Brow furrowing, Imogen pulled out a brand new leather jacket, the black fabric as soft as butter, the zips shining silver. Holding it up, she immediately saw it was too big for her, making her glance at Negan in confusion. "Do you have the receipt?" she asked, carefully setting it down on the counterpane. "I mean, I love it, it's gorgeous but I'll need to take it back to the store and swap it for a smaller size. It's way too big."

"It's not for you, dumbass," Negan laughed, giving her a gentle shove. "It's for me!"

Imogen rocked back on her heels, not getting the joke. "Where is this going, Negan?" she then said tiredly, smoothing her hair back.

"I bought my old motorbike back from Buck," Negan grinned, pulling her into his lap again, "it needs some work but nothing major. It means we can hit the road again, just like the good old days, y'know, look up the old haunts."

Imogen did a double-take. "For fuck's sake, Negan," she said in disbelief, "you really bought that old rust bucket?"

"Hey" –

-"How much did you spend, Negan?" Imogen demanded, rising on her knees. "And what's it going to cost to fix up?"

Negan stared at her, face darkening. "See, I knew you would do this," he then said through gritted teeth, "I knew you would just shit on it like you shit on everything."

Imogen stared at him in turn; hate suddenly curdling in her heart. "How much did this cost, then?" she snapped, snatching up the leather jacket, ramming it in his face, making Negan knock it aside. "One hundred dollars? Two hundred? Three hundred?"

"Six hundred actually, you little cunt."

Imogen sank onto her knees again, the leather jacket slipping from her fingers, shoulders slumping, all her fire suddenly fading. "The diner is shutting down," she said suddenly, startling Negan, "I've lost my job and I'm not getting paid my last wages either."

Negan looked at her, completely taken aback. "Well… you were talking about getting another job anyways, weren't you?" he said, bewildered. "Yeah, it sucks losing your job but it sucked already. The bitch has done you a favour. You're better off out of it."

Imogen shook her head, half closing her eyes. "No, you don't get it," she said, voice cracking, "everything is going into lockdown. Carthsville is closing down completely."

"So?" Negan frowned, shrugging his shoulders. "We all knew that was on the cards."

" Everything is fucking shutting down, Negan!" Imogen cried, thumping the mattress. "How can I get another job when there's nowhere to get a job? Unless I claim government assistance, I'll have no money coming in and neither will Kit, and you're not paying child support but somehow you can afford motorbikes and fancy leather jackets and doll's houses I have no space for" –

-"Imo, come on" –

-"It's – it's not just about my job or the money anymore, Negan," Imogen snapped, "it's not the same old shit you've heard before. It's about you having to choose where you're going to be."

Negan paled. "I'm not leaving Lucille," he said immediately, shaking his head, "you know that already."

"I'm not asking that," Imogen said impatiently, "but you won't be able to drive down here to see Tess anymore. Nobody knows how long the lockdown will last – it could be weeks, months, a year, I don't know."

"I can't leave Lucille."

Imogen shrugged her shoulders this time. "It's either Lucille or Tess, Negan," she said brutally, "your choice."

Negan glanced around, suppressing the panic rising in him, Imogen asking the impossible. "Maybe – maybe you can move back to Decatur," he said, clutching at straws, "not near your gran, but surely we can sort something out and fast. I mean, there's nothing here for you, is there? You only came to Carthsville out of necessity."

Imogen half closed her eyes again, thinking of Kit; of Carol and Sophia; of the girls at the diner. She had carved a life of sorts for herself out of the harsh clay of Carthsville. "No," she said quietly, shaking her head, "I can't, Negan, I just can't."

"What, but you want me to just drop everything and move out here to the sticks?" Negan protested. "I have a wife, a job, a whole life - a real life, Imo" –

-"I'm talking about Tess here," Imogen retorted, face suddenly feral, "you've never missed a single visit with her, not one. All the times you bailed on me, you always showed up for her. She is your one constant. The one thing you always come back to. Lucille, me and all your other women – we don't matter, yes, even your precious Lucille. Tess is the only thing you give a shit about more than yourself, Negan. So can you really spend the next God knows how damn long without seeing her?"

Negan stared at her again, all the blood draining from his face, knowing she had him there. Tess was the heartbeat of his existence. Before she was born, he had poured all his heart and soul into the kids he taught, his frustrations at not being a father finally finding an outlet. Now he had what he'd once thought was out of his reach and he refused to lose it again. He loved the shit out of Lucille, but Tess was his.

Imogen held his gaze, her angry eyes darkening to gun-metal grey, their expression equally hard. She meant what she said over it being about Tess, and not them. If he chose his wife over his own daughter, then… She swallowed hard, Negan inadvertently finding her one weakness. He didn't know she only put up with his shit because she'd always believed he was a better man than he made out to be. She caught glimpses of that man from time to time, enough to keep her hanging in there like the idiot she was. But if he put Lucille before Tess, then her faith was nothing more than foolishness.

"Imogen…" Negan began, only for his phone to start ringing, the sound jarring, making them both start violently. Cursing under his breath, he pulled it out of his pocket, only for his face to blanch as he stared down at the screen. "It's my wife," he said, panicking. "I mean it's Lucille."

Imogen shrugged again, feigning a cool she now didn't feel. "Answer it, then," she said, tossing her hair back, taking a sick satisfaction in watching him writhe, "see if I care."

Negan glared at her, knowing she was enjoying seeing him squirm like a fish on a hook, Negan feeling just as fucking helpless as that fish. So much for God cutting him breaks. Taking a deep breath, he put the phone to his ear, wincing as he did. "Lucille," he said abruptly, "what's up? You caught me at a bad time." He frowned before suddenly sitting bolt upright, dislodging Imogen from his lap. "What the fuck did you phone the school for?" he demanded, swinging his legs over the other side of the bed. "They said I wasn't there?" He stood up. "I'm not there because I had to go to the showroom." He started pacing the floor. "Oh, so you called there too?" He swung round, face furious, Imogen merely raising an eyebrow, meeting his angry gaze head-on. "Philip hauled me in, emergency meeting - everything is going to go into lockdown." He turned his back on Imogen. "Yeah, lockdown, I'm not messing."

Imogen folded her arms across her chest, listening to him spin lie after lie, gaining a window into his world, the one where she didn't exist.

"What appointment?" Negan frowned, coming to a halt, spine suddenly rigid. "An MRI? Are you shitting me!? Seriously!?" At this, Imogen also stiffened, shocked, realising he hadn't been lying after all about Lucille being ill. Then Negan exhaled sharply, his whole body suddenly relaxing. "For fuck's sake, Lucille, you nearly gave me a heart attack, man," he snapped. "If they're saying they don't think anything's there, and it's just a precaution, I don't know why you're getting so het up about it. What? Why do you need me to drive you? You told me? I don't remember. Well, when is it? Today!?"

Imogen's head jerked up, Negan turning around at the same time, his helpless gaze seeking hers out for help, but she didn't offer him any shelter, only a silent ultimatum.

"Fuck," Negan breathed, tilting his head back. "Uh, well, what time do you need me there for? 2.15?" He was playing for time, putting off the inevitable, Imogen's cold stare holding him hostage. "Can Janine not drive you?" he then asked, rumpling up his hair. "She can't? Shit, Lucille… I'm sorry. I – I – I can't. I just can't. Any other day… The school says I have to be on standby. Why? Cos of this lockdown shit probably." Negan listened to Lucille several moments longer, before raising his gaze to the ceiling. "Right. Okay. Bye." He switched the phone off before flinging it onto the bed, face once again furious as he faced Imogen. "Happy now?" he spat, hating himself but Imogen even more.

At this, Imogen just turned her back on him, hiding her suddenly shaking hands from his sight, sensing she may have won the battle, but she'd just lost the war.

Can I trust what I'm given

Even when it cuts?