Up The Wolves | Negan

Chapter Twenty-Six: Sick Day

I found myself curled under the duvet of the bed the entire night, still shivering the next morning when Negan knocked on the door and made himself known when he entered. I could barely lift my head when he stepped in, fearing what was wrong with me. And the last thing I wanted was for him to know.

"Lou?" he shut the door, stepping up to the foot of the bed.

"Please go away," I moaned, pulling the blanket over my head as I shook. It wasn't common for me to get sick... Over anything. I hadn't had a fever since before the dead rose.

"I came to tell you something. You're gonna wanna know this," he suggested, sitting by my thighs. I felt a hand drifting over my body through the blanket, not quite putting all the pressure down, more like feeling out where in the bed I was curled up. Slowly, I uncovered my head to look at the man beside me. His leather jacket gleamed in the flourescent lights as he looked me over. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Just peachy," I nodded with a sniffle, "What's going on?" I questioned.

He then proceeded to tell me about the intrusion that went on last night, about how the person got in, how many they killed, and then finally ended with who they were and where they were from. In his words, she was one of the girls from the line-up. I tried to recall everyone who was there, hoping it wasn't Maggie the most. Michonne, Rosita, Sasha, they all had their own reasons to want to break into the place, but it was stupid nonetheless.

"Let me see her," I requested, shooting up in the bed as a terrible spiking pain shot through my skull. Why he told me, I wasn't sure, but the order seemed to amuse him.

"Honey, you look like you can barely stand. What are you gonna talk to her about?"

"Let me see her," I repeated simply.

"Only if you put in a good word for me," he leaned closer, grinning down at me. I could feel my nostrils flare at the tease, and he laughed.

"I am asking you, as a... As a friend, to please let me talk to her," I said again, calmly, slowly, waiting for an answer I could already guess.

He took me by surprise when he nodded and said, "Okay. After you." He stood from the bed, making his way to the door and swinging it open. I slowly left the bed, moving past him and into the hallway. "Remember where the cells are?"

"How could I forget?" I walked in the direction of that horrible place I'd stayed at before. Negan followed close behind. I shivered as I walked the chilly halls, wrapping my arms around myself. Down in the cell hallways, I paused for Negan to show me to the one she was in.

To my surprise, I felt a warmth envelope me just before he passed me, now not wearing anything over his perfectly white shirt. Glancing down, I saw his jacket draped across my shoulders, and as much as I wanted to object–tell him to get his disgusting jacket off of me–I couldn't find the strength to. So, instead, I pulled it closer, and he lead me down the rest of the halls. When we got to the end, we found an open cell door, and a look of confusion crossed Negan's face. He held his hand up for me to be slow, quiet, as we silently walked up to the door. He swung Lucille down from his shoulder as we saw the scene before us.

In the cell stood a man, standing over a sweaty, dehydrated Sasha, with half of her shirt ripped open to reveal a brastrap. My jaw dropped as I listened to the man I'd never seen before.

"Fighting's just gonna make it last longer," I heard him speak as he stood from the floor and began to unbuckle his belt, "which, for the record, is fine by me."

Negan, having seen enough, swung up Lucille, swinging the bat into the frame of the door as he shouted, "David!" The man–David–turned around, frantically rebuckling himself back up. Negan stepped into the room with him, barely taller than him but much more frightening. "What the hell are you doing in here?" Even with the amusement in his voice, his face showed no remorse for the man before him.

"Negan, sir-"

"Do you really think I need you to answer that?" he leaned closer. "I can see that you're trying to rape this woman. You were trying to rape this woman, weren't you?" David stayed silent, giving Negan all the answer he needed. He stepped forward, letting out a breath. "This is some unnacceptable behavior. Rape is against the rules here. I wouldn't wanna be somewhere where it wasn't. Someone in charge who let something like that fly... Whew." I glanced at Sasha, who was watching the scene in front of us like a train crash, just as Negan pulled out a large, serated bowie knife and held it close to David's skin. Close enough to scare him. "David. You really crossed a line here."

"I'm sorry, sir," David breathed, shaky and whimpery. Negan stared at him another moment, then jammed the knife right into the side of his neck, so far, the end was sticking out from the opposite side.

"You know what? I do not accept your apology." As he pulled the knife out, I felt myself become weak, not at the gore, but due to whatever else was going on with me. I stumbled a few steps back, bracing myself against the wall as Negan let out a sigh and turned back to me. "Lou, you can go ahead and have your talk, but make it quick. I'll go ahead and get someone to bring, uh..." he turned back to Sasha, searching for a name he didn't know.

"Sasha," she answered, making him smile.

"That is a beautiful name," he said, leaning down to her. I slid down the length of the wall, stars dancing in my vision as I tried to swallow, wanting so desperately to talk to her–ask her why she'd come and if anyone else was with her. I wanted to find out what I could to help, but my throat was dry, and the longer my eyes stayed open, the heavier and fuzzier it became to see, "I'll get someone to bring Sasha here a new T-Shirt," Negan turned back, once again, only this time finding me on the floor, barely conscious. I heard him swear and step out into the hallway, kneeling beside me. I could feel him patting me on my cheeks as I lost consciousness, everything fading out completely.

-

I faded in and out as my legs bounced over the arms of whoever was carrying me through the hallways, shivering from the suddenly freezing air as somebody commented on me "burning up". I certainly didn't feel it.

I heard shouts from somewhere nearby yet far about where the new doctor was and how long before he'd be here. Somewhere in my mind told me you know who, but I couldn't place the identity. Then I faded back out into the blackness.

When I finally came to for what I hoped was the final time, I was hooked up to things I didn't even realize still existed in this apocalypse. I was sure none of it was as good as it had been years ago, but the fact that it all existed was a wonder. I was in the doctor's room, but nobody was nearby. For a minute, I wondered where Emmett was before reminding myself of his untimely end. I saw a small cup filled with flowers beside my bed, and another even smaller cup with what looked like a pickle sticking out of the top.

Then, as if summoned, Negan stepped through the doors.

He released a breath at the sight of me, confused, but awake, and came to my side. He lifted one of my hands in two of his and pressed a soft kiss to the knuckles.

"Do not scare me like that again," he ordered, like it were up to me when to pass out.

"How long was I asleep?" My voice was hoarse, but there.

"A day, maybe a little bit over. We got you some antibiotics and water," he explained, sitting beside the bed. His hand moved up to my head, gently sweeping my hair off of my forehead and feeling the skin there. "No more fever," he observed.

"I never get that sick," I mumbled, wanting to pull away, but finding myself leaning into the touch.