It only lasts for a few seconds but it feels like eternity. That moment before you open your eyes. This blissful felicity. When your wife is still alive. When you daughter is still safe in the round belly of her mum. When your son is still unharmed and can play with the innocence of the little kid he still is. When the only moments you can feel actual fear are when you are on sheriff duty. When your neighborhood is still full of life and not full of roaming walkers. When your best friend hasn't tried to shoot you in the head yet. When you haven't failed each and every member of your family.
But then it all comes back. And it always starts the same. By the worst day of your life. At the time. Because since then, worst days sure seem to have exponentially multiplied, competing every night for the first place on the podium. And the starting point of it all is that fucked-up day at the prison when the governor attacked. You know you should have been there to protect your family. But your son is the one on the front line of it all. And you hate yourself for letting that happened. You remember his blank face, fighting to conceal his emotions on the deepest box of his soul, as he just had to keep his mother and his stillborn sister from turning. You can't even imagine how something like that can break a human being. Because in the end, you have not even been able to return the favor. It should always be done by someone you love. Bullshit. When it mattered the most, you just turned around and fled, the tail between your legs, like a pathetic coward. Before your eyes, the concrete walls of the prison fade and trees are now circling you. The smell of the deep forest is too strong and is making you nauseous. Then you hear it again. That loud detonation. Deep down, you knew it would haunt you. And at that moment, you miss the simple smell of grass as gun powder and blood are both trying to saturate your senses. It insinuates in your nostrils and soon the despair is taking over you once again. Like you never even left that forest. And yet, you feel those hands taking a hold on you out of nowhere. They are not letting go, manhandling you, tightening their grip on you. And then there are the screams, and it all seems so real.
- "Rick! Rick! Wake up, Rick!"
Because reality does always catch you in the end.
Rick opened his eyes. Right now, he just needed the shouting to stop.
-"Hey Rick. Welcome back in the world of the living." The bedridden man took a weird look at the person in front of him. Those greetings almost sounded like he knew exactly what he had saw in there. "You just had a nightmare."
-"It seems to me that I'm still in it." It was Negan's turn to watch him with an astonished look. Did he went too far? After all, why should he even care about the other man's reaction. He had nothing else to lose now so there was nothing he could do to him that he would mind or that he wouldn't deserve. But he didn't have time to worry more as the man in front of him just burst in laughter.
-"Wow, Rick. And I thought I would need to spare you a bit. Damn, you just broke my heart. I know someone else who tried, you know. And trust me, it didn't work. Like father like son, I guess."
At least Negan seemed to be in a good day, taking his barb as a joke. But him making a not so veiled reference to his boy was too much too soon. He would need more than mere days for the hurting and the culpability to fade.
-"Can you move?"
Taken by surprise, Rick didn't even though or actually took the time to evaluate his state before answering:
-"Yeah?" Ok, not really his most convincing line. This one was not gonna go down in History.
-"Clearly." Was the half laconic half amused answer he got. "If you could move, you would have already tried to go for my throat by now, ain't I right?" He paused a bit, as if thinking, then continued on a more cheerful tone:
-"Okay. You know what? I didn't plan it but you totally deserve it. The Negan's big speech. You're ready? Cause it's a bit long." Then he suddenly stopped talking. And seconds passed in an awkward silence until...
-"That was an actual question, Rick." Said Rick frowned his eyebrows. He almost expected Negan to have shout that "Answer when you're spoken to" of his so the gentle tone surprised him a bit. And what was that habit to repeat his name at the end of each of his sentences with that almost languorous voice anyway? "You're ready?"
-"Um, sure?" He answered, like a kid that would have been caught watching the clouds through the window during class. He could say to himself that he wasn't afraid of what Negan might do to him anymore, it seemed old habits died hard. Negan seemed to notice his reaction as he just started his big whatever with:
-"So, first, I'm not gonna kill you. I thought that would be a good starting point. Second, I'm not gonna hurt you. I mean, not too much. Wait. Okay, I got it. I'm not gonna hurt you willingly unless I have to defend myself or if it's for your own good. But by looking at your state right now, I don't think that first part applies. How does that sound? Better?"
Bewildered, Rick stared at Negan.
-"How can you hurt me for my own good?"
-"Yeah, that part is still not great, huh? Well, it's like sport. You do it for your own good, to improve your future self and sometimes you end up with painful sore muscles. That's the kind of hurt I'm talking about. Which actually brings me to my third point."
As Negan was taking a deep breath, surely only for the dramatic effect of it - he could be such a drama queen sometimes - , Rick was nonetheless starting to be wary. The other could act all he wanted, use his kindest voice ever and talk about necessary pain like it was normal, he could just be planning to torture him without spoiling too much ahead just for the fun of it.
-"Doctor Carson is attending other patients right now. We had actually no idea when you were gonna wake up. He left me with some instructions. And believe it or not, I also have some knowledge about it of my own. If you can't move right now, that's because your body's in shock. Muscles, like a lot of other things, need water to function properly. And because you try to fuck yourself up, your body shut down to concentrate on the most important thing, making you breath. That's why you also had the biggest fucking fever I've ever seen. Forty-one degrees.
-Wait, what? Fahrenheit?" Rick was so curious he actually forgot his doubts for a second and who he was actually talking to.
-"No, Celsius.
-So how much is it?"
At that, Negan started to laugh.
-"I'm not making fun of you, I swear. Damn, that's the exact same conversation I had with Carson at that moment. But to answer, that's about one hundred point five degrees Fahrenheit."
Rick couldn't believe it. He almost would have call Negan a liar if he didn't feel the results of his own mistreatment in his skin and bones... and muscles. And now that he was thinking about it, he wasn't able to contract them at all. But he still was not able to understand where the leader of the Saviors was going with all that.
-"So, I'm not gonna let the mystery lingers any longer. Physical therapy." He declared with way too much enthusiasm. "Delivered to you directly. By yours truly." And with that appeared the biggest smile he ever saw on Negan's face. It actually took a few seconds to Rick before he could fully grasp the whole implication of it. So his reaction was a true cry from the heart:
-"You're not fucking touching me!
-Wow, Rick. And I thought I was the only one allowed to throw some f-bombs around here.
-Why can't Harlan do it? I'm not trusting you with shit." It seemed his rebellion was funny to Negan at first. But as he was swearing more and clearly disagreeing with Negan's choices, the leader of the Saviors was starting to lose his grin. Good.
-"What are you so afraid of anyway? I have only one word. And I already told you I'm not gonna kill you or hurt you. Are you trying my patience right now? If you ever wanna be able to move or walk again, I suggest you stop complaining."
And without further ado, he rolled up his sleeves, not waiting for Rick to protest. But he actually kept quiet, as if feeling he wouldn't win this round.
Negan was now really close as he had just stepped forward. Rick couldn't believe he was growing apprehensive over something so... He actually didn't know how to call it. Touching the bare skin of someone was intimate for most people. But here, as Negan just said, it was more of a necessity. But he still couldn't shake off that feeling.
-"I'm gonna work on the upper part first so you'll get used to it." And as Rick had nothing to add to that, Negan just went even closer, bending over the bed until he could reach the button of Rick's shirt near his throat. Rapidly, he unbuttoned the whole cloth. Then he put one of his hands behind Rick's neck and gently pulled him forward until he was in a sited position. He was then able to let the sleeves slide down his arms to remove the shirt completely.
-"Fourth point", Negan added with a grin, startling Rick who didn't expect the other man to talk at that moment, "I'm not gonna kiss you. So you can relax. Oh boy, you should see your face right now. But I guess that level of blush is a good sign. Your blood is running smoothly through your veins once again."
Rick couldn't believe he hadn't been able to control his body under Negan's touch but he could indeed feel the heat that was now radiating from his cheeks and his blood cursing through his veins like he had just ran a one hundred meter at full speed. And he couldn't even hide his shame as he still wasn't able to fucking move. If he could just disappear right now.
-"I'm just messing with you, Rick, don't sweat it. Wait, I actually have an idea."
Then he just rummaged thought what seemed like a medical bag standing on the nightstand and finally grabbed a bottle. He opened it and poured a bit of the liquid on his hands. Feeling Rick's gaze on him, he explained:
-"That's only massage oil mixed with a bit of essential oil. It will help you relax more easily and the skin will get warmer faster.
Rick looked at Negan, dubious. He kind of liked the attention but couldn't shake off that feeling inside his guts that there was a less than honorable reason behind it all.
-"I'm gonna start with your hands. That way, I'll be able to rub your skin from the extremities towards your chest to your heart. And now I'll stop talking so you can try to convince yourself I'm anybody else than myself."
That statement sounded strange to Rick. He knew Negan was a chatterbox. He also liked to tease him whenever he could and he did it more than once already since he had been awake. His behavior was just incomprehensible right now and he didn't like to be caught unawares. But he was not gonna pass on that offer so he just went along, even closing his eyes to extend the illusion. At first, he thought it would be like a gentle massage, but it was actually way tougher. The palms of the hands were pushing with a fair amount of intensity while the fingers where rubbing his skin. It was, as he had been warned, a bit painful at the beginning but as his body started to wake under the pressures, he actually started to get loose a bit. He could feel that all the work was paying off as some sensations were emerging here and there after only ten minutes.
And that's when he remembered something that Negan had just said, that he had some knowledge about it of his own. Once more, the curiosity took the upper hand on Negan just being quiet for once. So Rick engaged the conversation, genuinely interested in the answer he hoped he would get.
-"It's not your first time, is it?" As only silence replied, Rick reopened his eyes, meeting almost instantly Negan's gaze.
-"It's not." He confirmed, his voice now tinted with a bit of sadness. Suddenly, it seemed that Negan was lost in his thoughts, his hands having stopped moving. It's only when he seemed to notice the interest in Rick's eyes that he sighed and finally continued:
-"My wife had a cancer. At first, we were able to stay at home and she would go to the hospital only for the treatments and the chimio. But when it worsened, she had to be hospitalized." Taking a moment to organize his thought, Negan carried on with light tremors in his voice:
-"I wanted to be present for her. I wanted to help. And towards the end, she couldn't even move by herself. But she didn't want to… die… at the hospital. So I learned all the doctors could teach me about taking care of a bedridden person. Physical therapy was the only thing that would calm her down and appease her. And it's also effective against bedsores when you're not moving that much. But in the end, it wasn't enough."
There was no need to explain further. Cancer was a bitch. And no one deserved it, not even your worst enemy or their relatives.
-"I am really sorry to hear that." Rick knew it wasn't much comfort, especially from him, but he meant it.
-"Thank you, Rick." The other man only replied, at first. It seemed the kind words were not in vain after all.
-"Anyway", he started again, clearing his throat. "Are you trying to make me go soft on you for the bottom part? Cause trust me, it's gonna be worst." At that, Rick panicked again, his cheeks taking two shades of red brighter if it was only possible. And it wasn't even because it would be supposedly more painful. It was more because he would have his legs completely bare in front of, well, Negan. And he seemed to catch on Rick's discomfort rather easily for his own embarrassment.
-"Did you never share a shower at college or at work? I mean, we're talking bare legs here, I won't remove your underwear. It's not that kind of massage." Of course Rick knew that!
-"I've never been bullied at college or at work.
-You see me as a bully? I guess that's fair enough. Though if I can add something, after what you made your own body endure, I'd say you are your worse enemy right now." Rick's eyes widened at the comment. He wasn't expected such an honest repartee.
-Okay, maybe you can come back to shutting up your mouth now." Rick frowned. And Negan actually giggled at the remark.
It took fifteen more minutes to the physiotherapist of the day to rub and move Rick's legs. Once again, Rick felt the benefits almost immediately. And once again, he couldn't keep his tongue.
-"Why are you doing this?
-Wow, so you actually do like when I'm talking."
Why would he even encourage him like that?
-"I'm doing it so you can move.
-No, I mean, what is your grand scheme, the bigger picture?
-I know that's what you meant. Damn, grand scheme? I just think life would be very pathetic without you able to move. Or maybe I want to save you because I can this time. Or maybe you're the one always taking care of everybody else and I thought it was time you let someone else take care of you for once. Why do you care?"
Negan seemed to regret his sudden impulse as he shook his head as if trying to regain composure. For Rick, it seemed Negan himself didn't know his own motives for helping him and was just trying to stall.
-"Anyway. I think we had enough emotions for today. I'm gonna get someone bring you some food so you don't have to see any more of me today. But you better eat and drink everything this time. Or I'll have to plane the fork all the way to your mouth myself." It seemed to Rick that Negan was doing way too much effort for his own good.
-"I'll see tomorrow. For some more therapy." He added as Rick wasn't answering.
-"Yeah." Was his only reply. And with that, the leader of the Saviors was just gone.
In a way, he really would have wanted to be able to thanks Negan. All his actions and words today were only for his comfort, he realized. Even the jokes and what sometimes sounded like mockeries had been there just to lighten the atmosphere. But at the end of the day, he couldn't. Because when he had told him he should stop complaining if he ever wanted to be able to move or walk again, he had only one thought on his mind.
I don't care about moving or walking again. What I really would like is not being able to breath ever again. I almost did. And you took that away from me.
Still now, after all the suffering from his failed suicide attempt, he only wanted to end it all. Even if it meant feeling the pain a little bit longer. Because in the end, all would be gone for good and it was worth it.
He should have felt guilty for everyone he was leaving behind that cared about him. But even that didn't matter to him anymore. The whole concept was hard to comprehend. But he didn't feel guilty about failing the living by being so selfish. He was beating himself over his lack of emotions and the emptiness of his heart.
And the paradox that he needed for his body to be alive and responsive once more for him to be able to kill himself again wasn't lost on him. So yeah. In a sick way, he couldn't wait to be able to move again.
Hello there! I hope you liked that chapter. As I was writing, I kinda thought it would be interesting to share a bit of what I have in mind when I am actually writing. So here are some thoughts:
- Are you a Fahrenheit or a Celsius person? Anytime I read a fanfiction written in English and I see a temperature in Fahrenheit, there's always that moment when I wonder "Am I actually gonna check the conversion this time? Cause I really want to know but it's also cutting the hype". So I guess that scene is just me trying to make a point in a funny way ^^. I would be very interested in having your opinion as a reader and/or writer!
- As for the physical therapy scene, I knew I wanted to include that but I had no idea it was gonna end up so… I actually don't have the word for it. I swear this fic is not gonna be M/M even by the look of it ^^ (maybe in a future oneshot I'm thinking about that would take place after the end of this fic though). Did you think it was too much?
Anyway, don't hesitate to share what you liked the most and what you disliked so far. Have a nice day!
