7:00 PM
Gavin handed Frankie a glass of wine, poured one for himself, and then slunk down onto the love seat in his old room. Wade had been kicked out again, and Gavin had spent part of the afternoon picking up the place so it would be more suitable to receive Frankie. He'd already put the DVD player on the coffee table and fished out Police Academy 3 for her.
"So, I assume the Kingdom's producing well?" Frankie asked. "If Negan's rewarding you again."
"It's an easy route. That's why I picked it." He took a sip of the wine.
"You didn't pick the route," said Frankie, half turning to him on the couch. "You established it. And you made it an easy collection because you're the most level-headed lieutenant Negan has."
He looked at her and then forced himself not to look at her. He took another sip of wine, leaned forward, opened the DVD player, and slipped the disk inside. "Third one tonight," he said as he lowered the lid. "We'll see if it's as terrible as the first two." He pressed play and sat back.
"You don't have to pretend, you know," Frankie said.
"What?" he asked.
She set her wine glass down on the end table with a clink. "That you accepted his generosity. You don't have to pretend this time."
"I – "
Frankie took his glass from his hand and set it down next to hers. Then she straddled his lap and kissed him. Gavin's brain told him this was a bad idea, that he couldn't get attached to her, and if he let this happen, it would be a kind of point of no return for him. His brain told him all that, or tried to, through the fog that was permeating it as Frankie kissed him.
"Oh, fuck it," he muttered, and kissed her back. He stood up from the loveseat with her legs wrapped around his waist and carried her to bed.
8:01 PM
"Egypt come in." Michonne's voice on the radio. "Egypt come in. Over."
The sun had set and almost everyone had gone to bed, after a sleepless night and some intermittent napping in the day. Daryl seized the microphone and pressed the talk button. "It's Daryl. Over." He'd never bothered with a call sign.
"We made it back safely. Had to clear six walkers from the road, though. Finally got some katana practice. Over."
"How are Rick and Carl? And the baby? Over."
"The baby got a clean bill of health. Rick was given a sedative, and he's sleeping. Carl's in bed now. He'll pull through. He's a resilient kid. Rosita and Oscar will give me a ride back on 110372. They're headed out that direction for something. And Rick said to say he was sorry. About…whatever it was he said to you today. Over."
"Tell Rick I ain't holdin' no grudges. Y'all take care. Over and out."
After hanging up the microphone, Daryl went to the bedroom and eased the door open to see if Carol was asleep. She wasn't. She was lying on her side staring at the closet in the darkness of the room, with only a single bedstand lamp casting an eerie glow. He crawled into bed next to her, curled around her from behind, and kissed the top of her head. "There's still food leftover from dinner. 'Tricia made a casserole. Could warm it up for ya."
"I'm not hungry," she said quietly.
"Ain't ate all day. Should eat."
"I don't want to."
"A'ight." He didn't know what else to say or do, so he just lay there and held her.
"Our anniversary is never going to be a day to celebrate," Carol said numbly. "It was such a beautiful wedding. So beautiful. And I'll never be able to think of that day again without thinking of that pitiful creature, it's tiny, glassy little eyes – " She let out a great sob.
Daryl breathed out a shaky sigh, held her closer, and bent his forehead against her head. "I'm here," he murmured, because it was all he could think to say, because he didn't know what else to say. "I'm here, Carol. I'm here. Right here. And I'm your husband now. You can lay it all on me."
Carol turned in his arms, gripped his shirt, and balling fists of fabric, buried her head against him. Into the crook of his neck, she wept out the last of her tears.
March 22
6:50 AM
Gavin awoke to the sound of a bat pounding on the front door of the apartment. "Shit!" he cried and flung the covers off himself. "Get dressed!"
"What?" Frankie murmured. "Why?"
It took Gavin another terrified five seconds of frantically searching for his clothes to remember he hadn't done anything wrong by Negan's rules. Negan had given his permission for him to be in this bed with Frankie. He hadn't done anything wrong. It just felt wrong. Because it had felt so damn right.
"Nevermind." He pulled on and zipped and buttoned his pants as the beating on the door continued.
"Little pig, little pig!" Negan yelled. "Let me come in!"
"Coming!" Gavin yelled.
"The fuck?" Frankie dragged herself up in bed and dug for her underwear under the blankets. "What time is it?"
"Early." Gavin walked with his shirt open over his chest, buttoning it as he approached the door. He opened the door and stood back as Negan sauntered in, swinging his bat.
"Have a good night last night, Gavin? Enjoy unwrapping my gift?"
When Gavin looked up from buttoning the last button, he saw a cruel coolness in Negan's eyes, as if the man knew, somehow, that Gavin had let go of some restraint last night.
"Fat Joey's waiting outside to walk Frankie back to my harem. And next time…I would advise you to choose someone else." Negan grinned. "Because Frankie's going to be tired. When things are back in balance again, I am going to be riding her like a horse!"
Gavin gritted his teeth and tried to keep his nostrils from noticeably flaring. The son of a bitch. Negan loved this. He loved it. That was really why he'd sent Frankie last night, even though Gavin hadn't asked for her this time – so that he would finally let his feelings for her unwind, and then Negan could torture him with them. It was a moment before all of Negan's words penetrated his brain. "What do you mean, when things are back in balance again?"
"Well, that's just the thing, Gavin. Things are not in balance. Things, as they stand, lack a certain synergy. All of the lieutenants have arrived. And I'm going to need you in the Council Chambers in five minutes. Because some serious shit is about to go down." Negan peered over Gavin's shoulder at Frankie, who was now standing in the open doorway between the sitting room and bedroom wearing nothing put her panties and Gavin's undershirt. Negan leered at her and a self-satisfied smile twisted his lips. "When this is all over, I am going to need some serious stress relief from you, darling." He turned toward the door. "Five minutes!" he demanded before walking out.
Gavin closed his eyes and let out a sigh after the door shut.
"What the hell's going on?" Frankie asked nervously.
"I don't know, but it sounds bad. I have a really bad feeling things are about to unravel."
Frankie came up to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. It was comforting, and he didn't want it to be. He didn't want to need her like that. She kissed his shoulder. "Whatever happens," she said, "I just want you to know…I love you."
He pulled away. He couldn't do this now, not now that Negan knew to torture him with it. He grabbed his belt and laced it through the loops angrily. She watched him as she yanked it through, loop by loop. "Gavin?" she asked. "Did you hear what I said?"
"I heard you." He buckled his belt with an angry jangle and then grabbed his boots with the socks tucked in and sat on the couch and pulled on the socks one by one.
"Aren't you going to say it back?"
He shoved his foot angrily into one boot and then the other and began lacing up.
"I know you feel it, too. I know you have for a while."
He stood. "I don't love you," he lied. "It was a good fuck, that's all. Now get your goddamn pants on. Fat Joey's waiting to walk you back."
Gavin threw open the door, strode out, and slammed it shut behind himself. He strode by Fat Joey, rounded the metal balcony, and paced toward the council room. As he did so, he looked down at the factory floor below. If all the lieutenants were back at the Sanctuary, if they'd completed their collections yesterday as they were supposed to, as he had, why wasn't anyone unloading the trucks? Why were no goods coming into the marketplace?
He clanged over the metal walkway, entered the council chambers, and looked around the table. Negan's inner circle was all there:
On one side of the table, the grim-faced brunette Regina, who headed up the Shepherd's Office Plaza outpost and made collections from the Viskocil Public Library. Next to her Simon, with his 1970s porn mustache and his perpetual frown, looking even more sullen than usual. He headed up the Satellite Outpost and made collections from Hallowbrant Outreach Recovery Center. Gavin despised him and suspected he had designs on eventually overthrowing Negan to become the leader of the Saviors. As much as Gavin would like to see someone less sadistic than Negan in charge, Simon was not that man. If Negan's brutality was like a scalpel, Simon's would be a hammer.
Opposite them sat Gary, a thirty-something African-American man and former U.S. Marine, who headed up the Manassas battlefield outpost and made collections from the Hilltop. And last there was Jed, a bulky, unkempt, black-haired man who had been given the outpost nearest Alexandria to continue collections after Negan personally established the route. Jed was chewing nervously on a toothpick. They all looked a little sick to their stomachs.
And then there was one more person, sitting at the head of the table, opposite where Negan typically stood, a man who wasn't a part of Negan's inner-circle. A man who didn't belong in the Sanctuary at all – the weaselly former ruler of the Hilltop, Gregory, sitting there in his pretentious gray blazer and his button-down pale blue dress shirt, with his arm resting on the table in a relaxed formal posture, as if he actually imagined he had a place at the table.
Gregory reminded Gavin of all the self-important executives he had once dealt with in the old world when he was a construction foreman, the kind of men who didn't ever do hard labor or get their hands dirty with the crew but always thought they knew what you were doing wrong, what could be sped up, what corners could be cut on the project, how you could get the workers to do things that were impossible.
Gavin eyed Gregory warily as he pulled out his chair and sat down across from Regina and Simon and next to Jed and Gary. "What the hell's he doing here?"
Instead of answering, Regina looked behind him at the now opening door of the council chambers. Negan strolled in with his bat against his shoulder and stood at the head of the table. Behind him, the door clicked ominously shut.
6:56 AM
Carol awoke to the feel of Daryl's concerned eyes caressing her face. Her eyelashes fluttered open as the rays of the rising sun filtered through the curtain lace. He was lying beside her, rolled on one shoulder, face to face. "How you feelin'?" he asked.
"Better. Thank you for just…holding me last night."
"Mhmhm. Anytime, Miss Murphy."
She smiled weakly.
"You know," he rasped, "Ain't just our anniversary. That day. Was Judith's birthday, too. She was born 'fore midnight. And that day, it ain't gonna be about death every year. Can't make it 'bout death. This world's too full of death. But you and me, we ain't ashes. And every chance we get, we gotta make every day we can 'bout life and love."
Carol blinked to hold back the tears. They weren't all sad tears this time. Her heart was racing and the affection she felt for him almost threatened to choke the breath out of her. She breathed out, swallowed, and nodded. "You're right," she said softly. "Make love to me, Daryl. Please. Make love to your wife."
Daryl's lips twitched into a bitter-sweet smile, and then he pulled her into a deep, slow kiss. By the time the sun had risen all the way, they were naked and joined together, rocking gently in the bed, a tangle of limbs and quiet moans and loving sighs.