Chapter 43
Gilded Cage
I couldn't remember when I passed out, but the next I knew my eyes were opening to the sensation of an incredibly dry mouth. There was little success to wet it with my own saliva, but I managed to focus on a pitcher of water on a table next to the bed. I took the glass on the table and drank hungrily, feeling instant relief. Just then I heard two voices behind me and turned to the sight of the doctor shining a light in Daryl's eyes and speaking lowly.

"And how are you feeling?"

"Like I've been kicked while I was down." The other man announced.

"Well it's better than being dead."

"…No, it's not."

"Daryl Dixon!" My head snapped up before I was ready, giving me a head-rush as a reward for the haste. Yet even while my vision dimmed temporarily, I still managed to untangle from my bedding and scramble over to him, throwing my arms around his shoulders and just about crying in relief for his miraculous recovery.

His response wasn't what I'd been expecting, however. Somehow, his body seemed to instinctively stiffen, like the contact burned him somehow. For three years he had known nothing but Savior cruelty. How foreign did such an exchange feel for him? Did he remember what it felt like? In all that time had he ever even thought of me or of the town? Did he think of Dad and Carl and Maggie and everyone else?

It was then while my arms encircled him that he began to tremble. It was almost like the contact was physically hurting him somehow.

Curiously, I pulled away from him, mindful that perhaps so much intimacy could have been affecting him negatively. I didn't know the details of how he had been treated in this place but I expect it had been neither kind nor humane.

"Daryl?"

For some reason, he wouldn't meet my eyes. He turned away at the sight of me, the shadow of something like shame overtaking his features. For some reason, I was afraid it was because he may have thought I had deceived him and the rest of our family in some way. Now that it was confirmed that I was the cure, maybe he expected I had purposefully hid that from everyone.

"I swear I didn't know, Daryl. I really didn't. If that's why you can't look at me right now then I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Those words seemed to bring him back to life. "What? What are you apologizin' for?"

I struggled against a lump forming in my throat as my own head bowed with shame. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know what I was and I would never have hidden it if I did!"

"I don't even know what yer talkin' about, Judy."

I swallowed nervously for the next part. "I…I thought you would have been angry at me… since I'm… you know… the cure."

"What?!" The word blurted from his mouth before he could stop it and for the first time there was a crack of a smile on his face. "You sorry for savin' my life?"

"No. I just thought you were angry about… well about all the people we could have helped. If we knew then maybe things would have been different."

Realization hit him at that moment. "Oh… that's what yer talkin' about."

I held my face in my hands, shamefully, "Yeah… I'm just… it's so awful."

His mouth opened to say something but whatever it was never escaped as we both turned at the sound of the door opening. We shared looks of displeasure at the sight of Negan strolling in, smiling that sickening smile of his.

Couldn't we just have this moment without it being tainted by him?

"And how are the patients today? Better for sleeping for two whole days, I hope. Lazy bones."

"Two days?" We both repeated in complete shock. There was no way. How in the world could we have slept for two whole days?

"That's right, two days. Sure, hope you kids got your rest for that time. You've both got a big day today." Negan turned as Dwight stepped inside at that time. "Time to get a move on, Judy. Dwight and Daryl have their own things to work on and I've got a real good surprise for you."

Any type of surprise coming from him was not one I wanted. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Daryl's head bow reflexively at Dwight's entrance. The years of enduring their every whim and torment had worn him down like a beaten dog.

I didn't move for the longest moment, my attention focused on his bowed, nervous silhouette. He looked less like my uncle now than ever before.

"Oh, he'll be alright, honey." Negan said, in a tone resembling something like reassurance. "After all, he's lasted this long with us."

That was not comforting.

There was still nothing I could do about it, though. If I stalled any longer he would drag me out by the hair and Daryl would suffer some more. So as a final move of encouragement, I leaned towards my uncle and kissed him on the brow, hoping it would restore the strength he would need to continue another day.

"I'll see you later." I whispered to him.

The stiffness he had displayed when I attempted to hug him was back. How much did a person have to break to find the physical assurance from someone trusted as an experience that seemed almost painful?

What on earth had they done to this man?

I didn't catch the expression on Negan's face as I followed him out, but it looked like his smile had dropped momentarily. I followed in total silence until I remembered the surprise he'd mentioned before.

"Where are we going?" I asked hesitantly.

"It's a surprise." He responded, uncomfortably cryptic.

"I've decided I don't like surprises. They're rarely something good."

"Oh, you'll like this one."

I had a few choice things to respond to that troubling statement, but wisely decided not to act on the impulse, choosing a safer topic.

"They didn't let me pack anything." I said, thinking to the way I'd been callously brought here without a chance to get so much as a change of clothing.

"No need. We've got everything you want here and if not, we'll find it for you."

"I highly doubt that." I muttered, thinking to all the irreplaceable things and people that had been left back home.

As Negan escorted me away from the infirmary I was literally too drained to put up much of a fight. Maybe this was how it was going to be from now on. Maybe he thought that if I remained this sapped for the majority of this visit, I'd be easier to control. Considering my track record for compliance, I wondered if there would be anything left of me afterwards.

Feeling defeated, I followed my warden down the path that looked to be leading us back to his room and the wives' chambers. I expected we must have been going back there till we reached a door and he opened it for me, stepping aside so I could enter.

I blinked inside a completely furnished bedroom decorated expertly with soft colors and Victorian furniture. It was like stepping into an entirely different world. No other room in the entire factory looked like this. Everything looked to be brand new, making it appear more as something you might see out of an old Veranda Magazine. It even smelled slightly like fresh paint with a lit scented candle sitting atop a desk, seemingly in a weak attempt to hide the musty smell.

Inside was a tall twin bed complete with throw pillows, a dust ruffle, and a beautiful thick star quilt which I recognized as one of Mrs. Byron's. They had taken it from her the moment she had cut the cord. Beside the bed there was a small desk stocked with stationary, a pair of twin bookshelves, a dresser with a stereo and several accompanying CDs sitting atop it and an enormous wardrobe. There was even a small flat screen TV with a DVD player sitting on the dresser with the stereo.

I was completely baffled at the sight of it all. It looked as though they spared no expense to set this up. Why on earth would they go to such lengths to do all this? I was not on their side nor would I ever be on their side. So, why go out of their way to provide these things?

"Not like your old room," Negan explained from his place as he leaned against the door frame, taking in the sight of the room himself. In that shining, black, leather coat and the spiked bat slung at his side, the overlord looked incredibly out of place among the delicate décor. "You've got an actual bed now. I was sure to give you the best. We want you comfortable here."

Those words twisted inside of me and left a horrible kind of nausea. I would never be comfortable here, no matter the luxuries they provided. This attempt had been wasted on me. I said nothing about it, but it seemed pretty obvious that he was looking for a thank you of some kind. "Well?" Negan was still standing in the doorway, gauging my reaction towards this space and definitely waiting for gratitude. "How do you like it?"

I looked out at it and suddenly the sight of this room filled me with utter bitterness.

In complete honesty, I felt much more comfortable in that cell they shoved me in when I first arrived. That other room was dank and empty and had only the rusted bed and plastic mattress to fill it, but it had also held… possibility. This place was already laid out the way someone else wanted it. My personality was nowhere to be found within this place. It was an alien to me.

Instantly, I missed my room back home. The furnishings may have come off as tacky and dingy, but I had gathered them myself, I had filled that room and made it mine. It was home.

This place wasn't.

I was a witch. I needed my spells, ingredients, tools, and totems. This place was far too exposed against other evils. It looked nice but it wasn't.

I glanced over at him. "You told me once that I should never lie to you, but if I don't, I get the feeling you're going to be pissed off. So, what should I do? Be honest or tell a lie."

His smile dropped and he growled through his teeth. "You could try being a little grateful, how 'bout?"

"Oh yes, I'm certainly very grateful I've been dragged to a place where I can't even go outside the fence. If I'm good you'll only beat my uncle a little bit from now on."

"Careful!" He snapped, holding that same unhinged fury he did not long ago. "Though, I can see now it's obviously pretty difficult for you to use whatever weak filter you have, you've done your best to stretch my patience thin and I've quite honestly had enough of your shit. If you need a new lesson I'll drag that bastard in here and show you just how merciless I can be. The next time he's bit he can die for all I care or I might just shave off a piece of him and hang it up somewhere in here to remind you if you start to forget again."

My lips pressed tight and I looked away from him, keeping all my smart retorts from surfacing.

He took my silence to speak again. "So how bout you tell me what you think. A lot of work went into this place, so try not to be too much of a bitch when complimenting it."

My eyes moved over the décor and I migrated over to the shelf, examining a strange knickknack while I considered my next words carefully. Now I knew I felt more comfortable in that first room. At least it didn't try to hide what I was; gilded cages are still cages.

But the memory of Daryl having his neck ripped out still lied fresh in my memory and I was afraid of what Negan might do to him if I continued to be insubordinate.

"It… looks nice," I said woodenly, emphasis on the "looks". It may have looked nice, the same way a bear looks cuddly, but looks are deceiving. This room felt in no way nice, at all. He looked like he wanted more than that but eventually resolved that it was all he would get. And yet something occurred to me abruptly and I just couldn't resist my next words. "There's just one thing about it I can't forgive…" I said.

"What?"

The shadow of the smallest of corrupted little smirks and a judgmental raised eyebrow graced my features as I glanced sideways at the room, "…Pastels?"

His reaction was instant. "Alright you little brat, I was ready to tolerate a little of your insubordination the first few days, but I will not put up with that kind of cheek, no matter what!"

I wanted to growl.

"If you want me to be honest it's a good hotel room." I finally settled on. It was neither a compliment nor an offense and I thought it was most appropriate. "A temporary shelter. A bed and a roof. It'll never be home."

"I hope for your sake, you'll be changing your tune about that real soon, sweetheart. You're going to be staying in this temporary shelter for a long, long time. If I have anything to say about it, you're not going to be seeing your hometown ever again, anyways. So you can put any ideas of going back there out of your mind." Then all at once he suddenly stomped forward, moving into my personal space and herding me back till I hit the marble countertop of the small round table. I was trapped as he leaned over me, much in the way he'd done when he first gave me the crimson cloak that tangled around me like a nasty, bloody fist. My hands gripped the sides of the cool stone while my neck craned to look up at him. He didn't touch me, but he was still far, far too close for comfort while my whole body trembled, listening reluctantly to what he had to say next.

"I want you to listen carefully." He said too soft to be harmless. "I liked you in Alexandria. I liked how capable and battle hard you are… or were, now. It fucking kills me to think all that potential has to go to waste, but you're not going to act that way here. You're too special, too fucking important now to let wander around in the wilderness. Your dad was a real neglectful piece of shit to let his little girl do that, and on her own, too. You might think he was giving you freedom by giving you that space, but he wasn't. And you might think you're brave and capable to be able to wander around on your own like that, but you aren't. If those fuckers we put down after they kidnapped you the first time isn't proof enough, I don't know what is.

"So here, you're going to have to reinvent yourself a bit. I get that it's going to take some time and that's probably going to be a little difficult for you, but ultimately, it's a much better decision. You'll be far too tired and weak to even want to go out, anyways. If I have to drain you dry for you to understand that, I will, though I'd rather not.

"So, this room is yours now. You will use the things here, wear the clothes in the dresser and closet, and appear beside me at my beck and call."

"The fuck I will." I hissed venomously, feeling the fight in me grow more and more the longer he talked. "I'm not your goddamned doll or your pet, you asshead! I'm not going to change—not for you, not for anyone! I don't need to be improved! I'm perfect the way I am!"

He gripped my face harshly, keeping my gaze on him while he sized me up ruthlessly. "There's no denying you're a perfect little snot! But while you're here, you're whatever the fuck I say you are, princess!"

"Get off! Let me go, you grade-A creep!" I struggled with his hand on my face, trying to force him away from me.

"That's enough!" His grip on me tightened and he slammed me down on the table, knocking the wind right out of me while also caging me in and making me terrifyingly conscious of how close he was to my proximity. I didn't like this! I didn't like this at all! It felt like I was suffocating!

My legs flailed out, trying to find purchase to kick and hurt him the worst I could, but he'd positioned himself to the side of me, out of reach from my furious strikes.

He slammed me down a second time, stunning me enough to make me go completely still. It looked like he wanted me quiet for this next part, so I shut up.

"I don't like punishing you, or slamming you down like this just so you will get a simple message, if you didn't know. But when you talk like that to me, it's very difficult to contain that impulse, so do me a favor and stop testing me. I'm not some cartoon villain if you haven't noticed yet, so don't expect me to exercise restraint simply because you're a child. I'm honestly quite passed that with you. So I suggest you stow the attitude, princess. You don't want to see how far I'll go."

The name made my skin crawl, and it wasn't just because his hand was on me. "I'm not a princess, I'm a witch." I muttered, angrily, trying not to tremble in his hold on me.

"Really? I don't see your magic wand anywhere." He laughed, releasing me at last, and stepping away, letting me sit up shakily. The sound of it alone was like feeling a snake slithering up my spine.

I scoffed by that comment, rubbing at my face where he had gripped me viciously. I was trembling hard with the roughness, but he hadn't drowned the rebellious inferno inside me despite that horribly frightening demonstration, only stoked it. "You don't know anything about real witches and we wouldn't reveal our secrets to those with such small minds. It would be wasted on you."

He looked angry that his demonstration had apparently no affect on me. "If you're a witch then why don't you use some of that so-called magic to help you solve some of your own problems, little girl?"

"Don't tell me how to be a witch!" I snapped, still on the table. "If I wanted rules, I'd go to church! Plus, I'm still learning! And since I've been so rudely dragged here it looks like my tutelage will need to be postponed along with everything else."

He seemed to be severely annoyed by my tone and snapped in retaliation. "This is a waste of my time. There's just no pleasing you is there?"

"Sorry, I can't help that around you. It would be a lie otherwise."

"Well you had better learn, and you better do it fucking fast. If things haven't improved by tonight when I see you for dinner I'm going to make both you and Daryl wish he died from that bite. From now on anytime you step out of line, that bastard is going to pay for it in his skin."

With those words, I reluctantly went quiet at last, my head bowed and I glared in submission at a corner.

"You understand that?" He questioned loudly, as if I was idiotic. "Does that register in your thick skull, Judy?"

I flinched and nodded. "Yes."

"Good! Now clean the fuck up. You're filthy and I don't want you stinking tonight when I see you again."

With those final words, he turned sharply and slammed the door in my face.

I tried not to let the insult hurt me, but despite my resolve, furious, shaken tears came anyways and they wouldn't stop.

Author's Notes: Jeez, was that last comment really necessary there? She's a freaking little girl, you ass!

Things were starting to get pretty scary right there. Negan was way out of line with that. Sometimes I feel like this story writes itself at times.

Okay so I made two little references in this chapter; one was for Morticia Addams from Addams Family Values when she was in the diabolical Black Widow Debbie's mansion and she savagely criticized the woman's decorating taste. The second was a nod to Moana when Negan called Judy "princess" and adds by saying "How far I'll go!" I know the moment was sort of a poor place to put a joke like that there, but I just couldn't resist.

This chapter was a bit shorter than last week's but the next one to come will probably be pretty long, so it'll compensate for the briefness of this one.

Thank you all for your lovely comments and reviews, and I look forward to all your future ones.

Luv ya lots!