Code note –Really happy you guys enjoyed the previous chapter. LOVE the reviews. I don't write slow burn (I love reading it though) because that is not what this story is about here. If you love that bit of tease in the previous chapter then hooray and if you wanted a little more, well, sorry no smut, how about a little Richonne afterglow. :)

What is up with Carl, we need to find out. Negan is in this update too.

"Weird Science"

Michonne,the first to wake up,tries to stretch in what little space Rick gave, which meant she waspractically right on top of him. They were chest to chest, with his right arm over her naked waist and the other arm resting comfortably over his head. She lifts her head up from his bare chest and looks up at his sleeping face. There was contentment and half a smile on his sleeping a bit parched, but not wanting to disturb his sleep state since he did most of the work and needed the sleep more than her, Michonne slowly removes her arm from around his waist. She carefully pushes herself off of him, but the sudden movements only made Rick pull Michonne closer towards him.

"What are you doing?" his deep voice quietly asks her.

Michonne looks over at Rick to see his eyes were still close. "I'm thirsty and I didn't want to wake you."

"Okay."

Michonne moves her naked form off from Rick to get something to drink. With the glass in her hand she stood and stares aimlessly outside her window; the night was still with a fog ghosting the shores and banks of the river, the ship itself was even silent giving the illusions that there was no one on board. Rick, feeling a bit empty,looks up and around to find her well toned silhouette standing and staring out from her window. Michonne hears her name being called and turns to face her bed to see Rick sitting up watching her curiously.

"It's really quiet," Michonne points out as she makes her way back to bed, getting comfortable she rest her head on his chest.

"You sound disappointed."

"No, I was watching the fog and it always feels like the eye of the storm. The calm before,when I was a child, I use to play hide and seek with the neighbors children in the fog and it was all fun and games until someone got hurt. And someone always got hurt but not me."

"When did you stop playing in the fog?"

Michonne chuckles, "I never stopped, the denser the mist the better."

"What are you saying?You want to go play in some fog?"

Michonne looks up to see Rick beaming at her, his lips were teasingly set in a smile and Michonne just wanted to kiss those lips of his and that she does. She closes her eyes and leans upward and kisses him,it was soft, very slow and sensual, and she heard him groan when she took a nibble of his bottom lip before letting it go. She opens her eyes to find Rick passionately looking at her then he frowns.

"What?" she asks.

Rick wasn't upset, just confused; maybe in awe or in love, too, "How the hell do you do that?"

"Do what? I just love kissing those lips of yours."

"Yes, but then you end it so quickly. You've been doing that most of the night, stealing kisses."

"Careful Grimes you don't want me to steal that heart of yours too."

He chuckles, 'She just may have' he thought.

Rick wanted more and he pulled her closer to him and once again their lips connected and tongues entwined together. Michonne loves kissing Rick because he knows when to take control and for some reason he tasted like passion. Rick adjusts them both so she was now lying right on top of him.

"Oh," she said when she felt his erection on her stomach.

"You woke up other things with that kiss of yours."

Michonne lifts herself up to properly straddle his frame and looks down at him, "Well I better take care of it before you start accusing me of stealing that too."

"Take your time, we have the whole night."

Carl woke up on a soft mattress to the song 'Electric Blue' playing, no, blasting through his eardrums.

"Not this damn song again" he groggily says.

It has been the song of choice Dwight played every hours of the day in the storage closet that became his new dwelling for those weeks and months. It was a small room with just a ratty blanket, a bucket to piss in and the only natural light came from a very small window at the highest corner of the room. It got into a system where Dwight or Arat would pick up his bucket of excrements and those are days Carl felt a resolve of sorts a 'here you go, a piece of my shit for shits'. Then there is Joey, the cook, pretty decent guy doesn't say much when he brings Carl his meager meal of buttered bread and water, sometimes diluted tea and a piece of orange. Out of the three, Dwight does most of the talking he would come in and just talk, his way of making peace with just causes.

The first time he heard that Carl thought, 'How is kidnapping me a 'just cause?' Right, speak your sins and all will be forgiven.'

When Negan visits, which was hardly ever, he would tower over him in all his black, sporting those shades in an already dark room and scowls at Carl. Then he would slowly smile then lean on his bat like it's a cane and Carl would feel this foreboding feeling of dying in the tiny dank room.

The room he was currently in was ablaze with natural light, 'Well better than that other room.' Carl thought as he focuses his eyes and tries to sit up; a dizziness had overcome him, so he laid back down. From where he lay, he looks around the room and sees an impressive lab in the corner with clean vials and beakers on a shelf behind it. There was a surgery table in the middle of the room with clean linens at the foot of the bed. Then he sees it, the darn phonograph;he then glances around the area near his bed to see if anything was within arm's reach; something he could throw at it to end the incessant tune, but that would have to wait. As for now, his face felt it was on fire and he winces at the pain and raises both hand to his head; all he felt was cloth.

He frantically felt around his face and head for that one piece that was sticking out or tucked away that would aid him in unraveling the bandage. Carl felt it and began to unwind the bandage,rapidly ignoring the intense pain each time a piece of cloth was removed from his face; he needed to know. Trying not to think the worst did not help with his breathing as it has become slightly labored and the beating of his heart quickens as the dread sinks in and welcomes panic.

'I have no face. What am I going to do with no face, how am I going to charm my way with the ladies at flight school now.' Carl thought.

As he unwinds the cloth from his face, Carl notices how clean it was but the closer he got to his goal there was evidence of dried blood, getting larger and brighter. He didn't know that he had reached his goal until he felt his greasy hair touched his a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he touches his face, he winces in pain when he felt the stitching; just by touch, it felt neat and he slowly works his fingers and trace the lines of each stitch, starting from the inner corner near his right brow all the way down to his chin. He touches his nose and the other side of his face and sighs in relief but winces in pain as the fire on his face intensifies. The music stops playing and Carl lets out a sigh of relief but it was short lived as he heard the machine being cranked again and the beginning chords is heard in the room again.

"Turn it off!" he shouts. "Please," he adds as he was not one to forget his manners when it calls for it.

A man in a brown tweed vest and matching pants stood over the bed and frowns down at Carl, "Well, I see that you've gone ahead and removed the bandages; you were thrashing about in your sleep a few nights ago. I had to restrain you. Had you woken yesterday you would not have so easily removed those bandages."

He gives Carl a tonic to help ease any pain he may be feeling; he warns him that it packs a high punch and may make him feel dizzy and will only dose him once a day. He pulls out a small notebook from inside his chest pocket, opens it and began to write some things in it. He looks down at Carl, frowns and writes some more before finally closing it and placing it back in his pocket. The man leans forward to assess the stitching on his face feeling satisfied he stood back up, "I must say that you missed one hell of a week, but no matter."

"I've been out for a week?" Carl was shocked by this, "It felt like a few hours and not even that. I am still so tired and why is that damn song being played so loudly."

"I'm more partial to the astronomy and the unknown, but Negan wanted to make sure to remind you as to where you are." The man left the room.

"How can I forget where I am?" Carl mumbles as he tries to sit up. Before Carl could wonder where he went he realize it was to lower the volume; it was little use since the music was still deafening.

The man in the tweed vest returns a few seconds later, "How is that?"

Carl groan, "Did you even lower it, it's still loud?"

"Loud?" he inquires while crossing his arm, "Fascinating. How is your sight?"

"Fascinating, I can think of other words and fascinating is not one of those words. You're a doctor, right?"

He nods his head, "That is correct; I am the ship doctor, Phillip."

"Phillip, it is an odd thing to say about my hearing, as far as my sight, well it is as good as it will ever be. The real problem," Carl points to the other room. "Is the music, can I just say that I can feel my eardrums pulsing, can't you just turn it off?"

Phillip purses his lips together and shakes his head, "But the fact that you're telling me that your eardrums is pulsing says a lot."

Carl watches in silence as Phillip pulls up a seat next to the bed and takes a seat; Phillip pulls out his little notebook.

"Let's start with the basics, Carl. Can I call you Carl or would you like something formal, say Mr. Grimes or?"

Carl interrupts him, "Mr. Grimes, you can address me in a formal manner, we are not friends."

Phillip raises a brow and tilts his head his way. "Indeed we are not. Shall we start then? You came in care with deep lacerations," Phillip pauses to look at the picture he drew of the boy's face. Each area was marked in its medical term but knew the boy would not understand so he would have to choose his wording carefully. "Deep lacerations to the right side of face, and right eye."

Carl listens intently as the doctor went into detail on how the wound was treated; stopping him to ask what he uses to numb the area and seal the area. He was excited to know that the most serious areas nanobytes were used. Carl stops him at the conclusive evidence as to what scarred his face.

"Be reasonable here Phillip, Fingernails?"

Phillip looks up from his note, "Doctor Blake, you can address me in a formal manner as well."

Carl smiles, "Touché, Doctor Blake." He got serious again, "Can you be reasonable here, it was talons, hell, claws that did this," he points to his face as an added statement.

"You're right, Mr. Grimes," Phillip closes his notebook and places it back in his pocket,"It was claws, you've been mark by Negan and you're going to morph into a werewolf on the next full moon."

Carl sits back in his bed, not sure how to feel about that,wonder, excitement, fear?'Evidently all, yes however what a shit life I'm about to have.' Carl thought

With this new found information, Phillip observes the boy's behavior; taking in the crossing of the arm and this stillness to his demeanor, 'He is taking this bit of news rather well.'

Phillip stood up from his he began to grab some items off his desk and walks back over to the bed, he begins to run a light in both of his eye.

He took a vial out, "Make a small fist for me." Carl watches as he took blood from his arm in silence.

He then walks over to his lab and place the vial in a tray with other matching vials, he wrote the date on the new one. Without looking up, "Now that we got all that out of the way, do you or can you recollect anything?" Phillip asks.

Carl frowns at that question. He is very annoyed with even the thought that he would forget something like this, "Have you gone daft all of a sudden? Of course I remember everything."

Carl remembers the very second that had led him here. From his supposed friends Ron and Adam inviting him to town only to get tied and blindfolded upon entering the carriage, losing his favorite hat in the process; he had even called out to his friends only to get silence and then being knocked out. He remembers smelling the sea water and meeting Dwight. Carl remembers the pitied look the guy gave him when he introduced himself, but fuck it, Carl took a chance when the ropes were removed and landed a right hook and a solid kick to the stomach. But then he had gotten the wind knocked right out of his sails when Dwight punched him first in the face then in the stomach. He was bracing for the next one when someone ordered for Dwight to stop and that someone was Negan.

Carl will never forget meeting Negan, his presence alone was dark and sinister; Carl, between breaths, had even commented on him being a walking cliché since he was dressed in black. He had long since removed the very tall hat from his head and slicks his shiny black hair back, he hands his hat and bat to Dwight and towering over Carl.

"Walking cliché, am I?" Negan had said, slowly leaning forward until he was eye level, and removes his dark sunglasses while he glares at him menacingly. The man then laughs in his face; his breathhits Carl's face, smelling like days old cigar, iodine and blood. Carl remembers cringing inwardly as the cold fear went up and down his spinewhile he watched in silence as the man'spupilsturn to an odd mix of brown and red with specks of yellow around the irises and gave Carl an even more penetrating stare. He leans forward, places the sunglasses back on his face, reaches for his hat and bat and slowly saunters out of the room.

'The man is definitely not human'Carl had thought

Carl looks at the doctor, "I remember Negan ripping right through me, and I can still remember the pain. Who could forget that?"

The doctor stops what he was doing and shakes his head, "I wouldn't have thought it would have gone this way. The captain has something against your father. You, me even Dwight are pawns in something bigger."

Finally, Phillip checked his vitals; feeling satisfied with the result, he left to inform Dwight that Carl was awake and in turn Dwight let Negan know. Negan, pleased at the news, order them to clean him up and to have the Grimes boy dine with him because their kind needs to stick together.

Carl once again on another dining evening sitting across from Negan, and Carl preferred choice of face game; a perpetual scowl. He never took too kindly to these dining experiences and cringe every time Negan said the word 'our kind'.

Carl did ask him about that a few dinners ago. "You keep bringing up 'our kind' this and 'our kind' that. Arat gazes upon you rather warmly; you could have your own kind with her."

Negan balks at the thought, "That she does but there is no way in hell I am sleeping with the help. I have on the other hand set my sights on someone nearby been trying to get a little action from her for years now. She does cure one hell of a meat though."

Carl once again sits with the food placed in front of him still untouched, he could swear that it was same meat and he stares at the bloody mess and tries not to retch. What he does do is yawn instead of stifling it, his mind instantly thought what his mom would have said if he had done that at their dining room table.

Since being kidnapped, Carl thought about his mom a lot, he thought of his dad too but it was her face that comforted him when he was kept in the dark storage room of Negan's ship. It was her he dreamed about when he slept. There was a family photo beside his bed in his dorm room that he would sometimes stare at; it was his favorite one of her too. He was six in the photo, they were dining at their favorite restaurant, and his mom had pleaded for them to have their photo taken. It was a happy occasion, his dad relents, and they took it. He was in the middle of his parents, with a bit of frosting at the corner of Carl mouth, but it was all a toothy smile; the lace hat his mom wore covers one corner of her face and she had her head slightly resting on his dad's shoulder.

Carl wished he had that photo with him right now, he had even found himself talking out to her, of course, she doesn't respond back but there was a level of comfort that gave him. He was so glad and relieved when he saw his dad ship in the distance on that day, he has always known that his dad would find him, no doubt and was ready to fight his way off the ship and was about to reach for that stupid ass bat Negan always had with him but then he death grip him and that level of fear returned again. Carl felt like he failed everyone on The Bandit Hunter, there was no way his dad was going to risk taking a shot, not even his uncle Daryl would've risked it, he knew both his dad and his uncle were weighing all possible options as well.

Carl needs a distraction before he gets too emotional and criesagain so he focuses his attention on the bloody bandage on the table. It was always removed atthe behest of Negan, and most often, by Negan,so he could bask in the art of perfection he has created; the guy had even clapped and patted himself on the back every time.

There was also a broken handheld mirror on the table too, that was new to the dining experience. Negan had wanted Carl to see him as he is and practically shoves the mirror in his face, but Carl takes a hold of the stupid thing and slams in on the table, shattering it in pieces. Carl had crossed his shackled arm and smiles in glee. Negan was amused by it all and just sits back down at his end of the table, Negan figures when the Grimes boy was good and ready to see himself he will. Carl's face hurts and itches like hell too; some places still very raw and tender to the touch but according to the doctor, it was healing wonderfully.

Negan continues to stare at his handiwork, it was like looking at a younger Rick Grimes all over again, but this time there wasn't this intense feeling to punch him in the face. Negan was enjoying the way each raw lining had lined up perfectly with the next. Oh it is going to scar up most definitelyand Negan was happy about that.

Negan leans forward and takes another bite from his plate and chews on the meatwhile saying nothing. They have been doing this staring at each other bullshit for some time now, no words spoken; and Negan was okay with it but now, now he was downright annoyed.

"This is it Carl, I personally made sure that the meat was not overcooked this time. If you do not eat, you are going to get a very rude awakening at the next cycle."

The meat was just braised on both side and just plain raw in the middle. "I'd rather die than eat this disgusting shit in front of me, it's not even cooked." Carl shoves the plate away from him, the chains on his arms rattle.

"And that is the best way to eat meat, trust me."

"Since you are so hell bent on having a 'kind', why not have one of your own. And how would you know what's best for me? Maybe I'm a different 'kind' of breed, you may have been the one to mark me but I am still a Grimes." Carl says confidently as he sits back in his seat and crosses his arm.

Negan grunts at the statement, "A Grimes," Negan shakes his head and grunts again, "That you are for however long that may be."

"What's that suppose to mean."

"It means exactly what it meant to be stated," Negan scrutinize Carl, "I marked you Grimes boy, I am a part of you and you are a part of me.

"Yes, a werewolf I am to be on the next full moon, I suppose I should ask you questions about all that."

"You can if you want but that doesn't mean I am at liberty to explain anything to you."

Carl wasn't surprise by this, "Right, because it would be so much easier for me to find things out on my mind."

Negan smile, "You learn quickly, and that's good because I never took you to be an idiot but I will tell you this, each change will get easier." He also notices that Carl hasn't taken a single bit from his meal, "Now, about that piece of meat in front of you.""

"What about it? You never brought anything fully cooked in front of me for three days now. You're a shitty host."

Negan laughs then got serious, "Listen here Grimes boy, I am not your host, I am your kidnapper," he then raises the knife in his hand in his direction, "Hence the chains and the crappy sleeping conditions."

Carl's stomach rumbles loudly and Negan raises his eyes at the noise, "Shit, I should bring you a fully cooked steak, bet you'll love that. Then you'll know what the fuck I've been talking about."

Negan shouts for Arat and a few minutes later she walks in.

"Have Joey cook up a nice piece of steak for Carl," Negan faces Carl, "How you want it? Medium? Well done?" Negan didn't let him answer, he faces Arat again. "You know what, a fully cook steak with all the fixing too."

Arat nods her head, "You got it." She left the room.

Negan shoves another piece of meat in his mouth, "The hunger is going to be so bad for you too and I cannot wait."

Carl really was hungry but reached for an apple instead, "This conversation is boring. Can we just not talk?"

He takes a bite out of the apple and nearly gags, the thing tasted horrible but Carl forces his way through it and felt relieved that he was able to swallow the damn thing.

"How was that bite, went down okay?" Negan ask very amused by his stubbornness.

Carl responds by taking another bite and other, finishing it completely and reaches for another one.

'Ha this kid is a real asshole, a teenage asshole. Was I this stubborn at sixteen, seventeen.' Negan thought.

"You can't fill up on apples alone but you know what, this is good. It is going to be real fun when I release you."

Carl perks up at this, "You're going to let me go?"

Negan shoves another piece in his mouth and finishes chewing before responding.

"I wasn't going to,but your ill behavior has me thinking and plotting. Society social climber Gregory owes me a favor. Now listen good Grimes boy," he points his knife in his direction, "You've been somewhat of a burden being an extra mouth to feed and having to accommodate you and yes accommodate because there have been times I wanted to kill and be rid of you but I got huge plans. Now, instead of burdening me by me not killing you I'll let you go so that you can burden others and kill them."

Negan smiles sinisterly while he cuts another piece of meat and place the bloody piece of meat in his mouth; the juices trails down his mouth and Negan doesn't wipe it off, "I want to see how and what you father is going to do when he gets a hold of you."

Negan enjoys it very much when he sees the fear in the Grimes boy eyes. "You're going to be so feral. I'll bet you'll even kill him too."

Negan takes the last bite from his delicious piece of meat, his eyes a darkened pool of yellow as he continues to stare down the Grimes boy, feeling content when that scowls was long gone from his face.

Daryl and Sasha have been sitting in the dark waiting for this contact for a good hour now. Sasha was doing most of the talking and Daryl was listening but not really paying attention. Ever so often he would throw a pebble into the foggy night, the pebble hits the tree he was aiming for then falls in the moss around the tree roots. He stops mid throw and listen, was that something, and stood up to listen for a few second only to get frustrated when all he heard silence. Daryl sits back down.

'This better not be a complete waste of time.' Daryl thought.