The first sense that returned to Cate was smell, as the strong odor of disinfectant and medicine filled her nose. It felt like she was floating in a vast, dark ocean, swayed gently by the waves. Her eyelids cracked open, a blurry hospital room coming into view in the dim light filtering through the blinds. She was too tired to move and was about to doze off again when the sound of approaching footsteps pulled her back to consciousness.
She slipped out of the bed on shaky legs, the searing pain at the back of her head making her stomach churn. A tube was leading from her right arm to a bag of clear liquid that was attached to a rusty pole. She fumbled with the gauze around the needle with trembling fingers when her knees gave out and she collapsed on the floor, just as the steps came to a halt outside and the doorknob started to turn.
"She is still unconscious, sir," a man called hurriedly from the other side of the corridor. The knob stopped halfway, then slowly returned to its original position.
"What's wrong with her?"
The other voice was deep, gruff, and somewhat familiar, but she could not place it.
"She has a concussion and is dehydrated, but with enough rest and proper nutrition she will be fine."
"When can I talk to her?" the grumpy one pressed further.
"It's hard to tell. Maybe tomorrow."
There was a moment of pause. The reply did not seem to please the man in charge.
"You let me know the minute she wakes up, doc," the order left no room for argument, and was followed by heavy boots marching away.
The door creaked open and a thin, balding man wearing a white lab coat stepped inside. Spotting Cate curled up on the ground he almost dropped the wooden crate under his arm as he rushed to her side, but she jerked away from his touch, suddenly all too aware that she was wearing only a bra and panties under her paper-thin hospital gown.
"I'm Doctor Carson and you are at the Sanctuary," he stepped back to give her some space. "You took quite a hit to the head and were out all day. I was starting to get worried."
She raised her arm to examine the injury, but the IV line restricted her movement.
"You drugged me?" she croaked, her tongue feeling like sandpaper.
"It's only saline to replenish the fluids and minerals you have lost."
It offered Cate little comfort that the label on the plastic bag corroborated the doctor's words. Luckily, Carson's medical opinion was that the infusion was no longer necessary. After helping her back in bed, he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, removed the needle, and covered the puncture wound with a bandage.
"Your clothes were beyond saving, so I brought you new ones," he pointed at the crate. "I hope they will fit."
The man poured her a glass of water that she emptied in three gulps before asking for a refill.
"Where is my backpack?"
"That you will have to discuss with Negan."
The name brought back memories of the previous night. Passing through the forest, the chase, kneeling in front of the cocky asshole with the baseball bat. The pictures were foggy, but she now knew who the voice from the corridor belonged to.
"He is very insistent on talking to you. I could buy you some time but won't be able to hold him back much longer."
The doctor pulled out a stool from under the bed and sat down next to her.
"I would like to ask you a couple of questions about your health and examine you."
Cate traced the zigzag pattern of the blanket with her fingertips as if looking for the way out of a maze. Even if Carson had been nothing but kind to her, trust was a luxury she could not afford.
"Everything you tell me stays between us in accordance with doctor-patient confidentiality, and the examination is standard procedure for newcomers to rule out injuries and diseases."
She searched the man's face for any sign of deceit, but finding none, nodded slightly.
True to his word, Carson asked only about her physical and mental health, and while Cate provided no more information than necessary, she answered every question truthfully. After noting down her responses, he checked her temperature, blood pressure and reflexes, then examined her head, humming knowingly when the touch of a tender spot elicited a groan from her.
"Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"
The doctor stood up and walked over to a glass cabinet giving her time to peruse her surroundings. There were two more beds to her right, unoccupied and spotlessly made. A large desk stood in the far corner with piles of medical books on it, other than that the room was clean and simple, all gray walls and metal surfaces.
"I'm in a clearing...there are soldiers around me…and this guy is babbling all the time," she rubbed her temples, feeling her headache worsen.
"It will all come back with time, don't worry."
Carson returned with pill bottles of various sizes and placed them on the bedstand.
"Iron and vitamins. Take one before every meal."
The mere mention of eating made Cate's stomach rumble loudly, much to the doctor's amusement. He retrieved a vacuum flask from the crate, unscrewed the lid and handed it to her.
"I thought we should start with liquids, and gradually move on to solid food."
Cate peeked inside and sniffed at the rim suspiciously. Tiny puffs of steam rose from the flask carrying a rich aroma. Taking a tentative sip, she moaned out loud as the salty taste of broth spread on her tongue, and she gulped down her first proper meal in weeks greedily. After slurping up every last drop she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and mumbled a 'thank you' under her breath.
"The restroom is just across the hallway, and my office is the first door on the left. I'll come back to check on you later," Carson promised. "Try to get some rest."
Cate only allowed herself to relax when the doctor's footsteps faded away completely on the corridor. She laid back on the pillow and pulled the blanket up to her chin drifting into a dreamless sleep.
She woke up the next morning feeling significantly better. The nausea was gone, her headache lessened to a dull throb, and the fever also subsided. Carson was willing to lift his strict bed rest order for maximum half an hour deeming his patient fit enough to visit the bathroom while he fetched her breakfast.
Stepping into the large shower area Cate was glad to find it empty. She stripped and stepped into the last stall, pulling the plastic curtain closed. The pipes were rattling before the first drops appeared, but the water was clean and surprisingly warm. Despite Carson's instructions to use the shower sparingly she could not help indulging in the simple pleasure of standing under the stream for a good minute with her eyes closed, letting the memory of bathing in ice-cold rivers and muddy ponds float down the drain. She soaped herself three times and emptied half a bottle of shampoo to wash off all the dirt and grime of months of forest life.
Wrapping herself in a towel, she walked over to the row of sinks on the opposite wall to study her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were pale and hollow, dark circles framed her eyes, and her hair was a tangled mass, but it was her. A little more tired, and much more hardened, but still her.
After drying herself she put on the white t-shirt and grey sweatpants Carson had brought her from the commissary and tiptoed out on bare feet, leaving the humid air of the bathroom behind.
On the way back she wondered what Carson would bring her for breakfast and her mouth watered as images of various options crossed her mind. Opening the door to the infirmary, however, there was no sign of the doctor. A man wearing a black leather jacket was sitting in his place with his long legs propped up on the freshly changed bed. A baseball bat laid in his lap next to the clipboard with her medical records. His lips widened into a wolfish grin at her sight, showing two rows of perfect white teeth that were practically glowing in the morning light.
Cate froze in the doorway, feeling her heart hammering in her chest. Instinct told her to run, but in her current state she had little chance to make it to the fence and zero past it, and she wasn't going to give this man the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerable. If the bastard thought that he had her under his thumb now, he was in for a surprise. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the room to face her captor and whatever he had in store for her.
Negan was at a loss for words momentarily, an unfamiliar sensation stirring within him. He didn't know what to expect after their eventful first meeting in the forest, but it was certainly not this. He looked Cate up and down with unabashed interest, as if he had been observing an exotic animal. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms across her chest, and glared at him with open hostility.
"Who are you?"
He raised an eyebrow, feeling the embers of Lucille's anger spark to life. Despite her partial amnesia he hoped to have had made as much of a lasting impression on her, as she had had on him.
"Well, hello there, wildcat. Don't tell me that you have forgotten our one-on-one the other night. I sure as shit haven't."
She shrugged her shoulders, but her eyes betrayed her as they landed on his right temple.
"Oh, you remember this, don't you?" Negan gritted his teeth. "Your little stunt cost me six fucking stitches," he pointed at the cut that based on Carson's prediction was going to leave a permanent scar.
"Come on, I won't bite. I even got you breakfast," he motioned towards the tray on the bed as a temporary peace offering.
It was Carson who had brought the food of course, Negan only hijacked it from him in the corridor. The doctor tried to argue, but one stern look was enough to make him scurry back to his office. He had been annoyingly overprotective of the little wildcat and had successfully kept him from seeing her claiming that she was not fit enough yet to have visitors, until Negan decided to take matters into his own hands.
He had gone through Cate's backpack first thing after returning to the Sanctuary, and once more last night, but the contents had raised more questions than answers. The entries in her diary were vague and offered no clues as to where she had been from. Carson's diagnosis confirmed that she was malnourished and anemic, besides some bruises and a burn scar there was nothing worth mentioning though. Whichever community she had belonged to, she must have left abruptly, and the mysterious circumstances made Negan even more eager to find out the truth.
Now that she was standing before him, his curiosity was peaked due to another reason. He checked her out lazily, getting his first good look at her in daylight. She was tall and lean, yet toned, with curves in all the right places. She was a redhead, not the ginger kind like Frankie, but darker, with tiny freckles dotting her skin around her cheeks and nose. The water dripping from her hair created a sheer spot on her t-shirt revealing to him that she was braless and cold, her nipples poking through the fabric. Letting his imagination run wild with the possibilities he stamped his "hot as fuck"-seal of approval in the miscellaneous section of her medical chart. If she had been an ordinary stray, he would have asked her to marry him on the spot.
A flash of pain snapped him out of his fantasy. He was absentmindedly playing with Lucille when one of her barbs bit into his flesh as a silent reminder that the purpose of his visit was to interrogate and then punish the little thief for breaking into the Sanctuary, taking his stuff, and trying to carve him up like a goddamn Thanksgiving turkey. He reluctantly tucked himself mentally back into his pants and cleared his throat to focus back on the plan.
Cate was oblivious to his rampant thoughts and padded to the bed, the perpetual scowl never leaving her face. He followed the sway of her hips as she climbed up on the mattress and sat down cross-legged. She was about to dig into the bowl of steaming porridge when he stopped her with a shake of his head.
"Ah-ah, not so fast, wildcat. You haven't earned it yet."
Her head snapped up, eyes cold as ice.
"I'm not gonna suck your cock for a bowl of soggy oats," she hissed and tossed the spoon on the tray.
Negan's gaze went to her mouth unconsciously, feeling the blood rush to his groin. The little brat was baiting him on purpose, and he was falling for it anyway. She was trouble with a capital T, and if he wanted to get her under control, he had to step up his game. Lucille, however, was not in the mood to play and demanded immediate disciplinary action, more than ready to act as jury, judge, and executioner.
"Hot damn!" he clicked his tongue. "Here I thought we were going to start this out nice and PG, and you are trying to get into my pants already? Sadly, business comes first," he winked at her lewdly, "and the questions I want answers to."
Cate rolled her eyes at him in exasperation.
"I already told the doctor everything."
"I don't care about your blood type or vaccination history," he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward in his chair. "For every answer you get one spoon of oatmeal in return. Deal?"
She continued playing hard to get for a few seconds before giving in with a pout, just as Negan had intended.
"How long did you live out there on your own?"
He knew the approximate answer from her diary already but wanted to test her credibility.
"About five months."
Without waiting for approval Cate picked up the spoon, filled it to the brim and shoveled it into her mouth.
"What happened to your community?"
A look of panic crossed her features before her resting bitch face slipped back on.
"There was a riot."
Another spoonful disappeared between her lips in the blink of an eye, as if she had been afraid that the food was going to be taken from her any minute. A drop dripped down her chin that she collected with her thumb and licked off.
"You are a damn messy eater, you know that?" Negan frowned at her lack of table manners.
"Uh-huh," she mumbled and had the cheek to scoff at him when he did not reward her answer with another bite. Lucille was sharpening her barbs at her audacity, but he soothed her with a caress along her spine and moved on to the next question on his list.
"Show me the location," he took the map from his jacket pocket and unfolded it on the blanket.
Cate stopped munching and gulped hard, evidently caught off guard. Fidgeting on the mattress she scanned the wrinkled road map of the great state of Virginia for a few moments then pointed at a spot in the middle of nowhere.
Negan clenched his jaw and inhaled deeply through his nose. His patience was wearing thin from an impending migraine, and he had left the aspirin in his room.
"Bullshit," he snarled, his voice dangerously low. "We have an outpost nearby and my men have checked every nook and cranny in that area. They found no trace of a settlement."
He snatched her wrist with his gloved hand to prevent her from scooping up another bite.
"I don't give a flying fuck if you are trying to hide something or protect someone, but you are lying. I want to know everything about your community. Where they are, how many people live there and what supplies they have."
Cate glowered at him clutching the spoon as if she was going to carve his heart out with it. Negan had her right where he wanted her, and it was only a matter of time before she told him everything. They could have a scavenger team ready within the hour, but Simon would not be back from the satellite station until nightfall. He preferred to have his right-hand man by his side when taking over a new community.
His battle plans were however rudely interrupted when instead of surrender Cate chose to shit in his scrambled eggs and reaching for the tray with her free hand snaked her fingers around the handle. Negan opened his mouth to warn her to back off, but before he could utter a word, she pulled the object to her side of the bed. He gripped the other handle, holding onto it like his life depended on it, and soon enough they ended up in a twisted game of tug of war, both trying to yank the tray to their side of the imaginary field. Lucille was pacing up and down on the side like an agitated panther, watching the scene unfold.
A minute into their Mexican standoff, Cate changed tactic and went for the bowl itself, but Negan blocked her attempt by ripping out the tray from her hand with a smug sneer. His victory was however short-lived when the momentum sent the porcelain bowl sliding along the smooth surface before it tipped over the edge and landed face-down on the cheap linoleum, shattering into pieces and spilling oatmeal everywhere.
The silence that followed was deafening before all hell broke loose. The fury of Lucille coursed his veins like liquid fire and Negan finally allowed her to fully take the reins. He jumped from the chair sending it flying backward and grabbing Cate by the throat slammed her against the wall with a dull thud.
"Listen carefully, wildcat, because it looks like you didn't get the fucking memo," he growled in her face, his nostrils flaring. "You are mine now. The clothes on your body, the food in your belly, even the air you are breathing IS…FUCKING…MINE!"
Cate tried to fend him off, but was no match to his strength, and her body dangled helplessly in his hold like a rag doll, her tiptoes sweeping the floor.
"If you try to outsmart me, I will beat you to it. If you cross me, I will make you regret it. And do not even think about escaping, because I will catch you, drag your ass back here, throw you in my deepest, darkest cell and then flush the key down the drain. Do you fucking understand?"
A quiet cough came from behind him.
"Sir…"
Negan recognized the mousy voice of Carson but did not acknowledge him in any way. He must have heard the commotion from his office, if he was not lurking outside the door already. Negan thought that if he ignored him, he was going to go away, but the doctor seemed to have grown a pair of balls and did not budge.
"May I remind you that Cate had suffered head trauma and needs to rest? Cutting off her oxygen supply can cause serious damage to her brain and even suffocation. I would recommend that you find another method of interrogation that will not leave her incapacitated or dead."
The words slowly cut through the haze of red as Cate's face came into focus before him, contorted in agony, her eyes bulging and a thin trail of blood dripping from her nose onto her T-shirt. He released her throat as if her skin had burnt him, and she dropped down like a sack of potatoes, coughing and gasping.
Negan stumbled back in confusion and bumped into the nightstand that got knocked over during the fight. Something crunched under his boots, but it was impossible to tell what from the debris that littered the floor. The walls were closing in on him and it felt like all the air was sucked out of his lungs. Spinning on his heel he noticed Lucille on the ground, forlorn and sulking after rolling off his lap in the heat of the moment. He made a mental note to himself to make it up to her later, but he had to get out of there before he did something he would regret. Careful only to touch her surface with his gloved hand he picked her up and hurried to the door.
"Have her clean this mess up," he barked at the doctor over his shoulder. "And she doesn't get anything to eat until dinner."
He stormed out of the infirmary with long strides, desperate to put as much distance between him and his prisoner as possible. Lucille gaped at him, her barbs like dozens of question marks, but he paid her no mind, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. He badly needed a drink, and it was not even noon yet.
