Bonnie & Clyde | NEGAN

III. AWAKE

VALUES BECOME MORE APPARENT WHEN THEY ARE SCARCE. Hours dedicated to research, passing tissues to clients, results in losing track of time. Time rarely gives me time to sleep, but when it does, I usually end up with someone in my arms. Warmth is what keeps the heart circulating, intimacy is what makes it race. Maybe that part of me is already dead. I can't help feeling a circuit of annoyance pumping through my veins when I feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist. When the quiet snores cause me to sit up against the upholster for the rest of the night. When I don't use my bed, I forget that I'm not used to using the bed for sleeping.

I beat the sun to its job, already getting up and treating Mark to a good breakfast. I wasn't no Gordon Ramsay, but I definitely wasn't an idiot sandwich. I knew how to cook with what I had. The John Hopkins undergrad days led me to experiment with my meals.

A pair of footsteps that belonged to the man who stepped out of my bedroom, rubs his eyes as he lets out a roaring yawn, "Smells good," he comments on the breakfast, wrapping his arms around my waist. He rests on my back and I dare my strings to pull back from his embrace.

I managed to carry out my soft giggle, "I'm sure you don't like crepes burnt."

Mark lets go away slowly, not a strain on his face, "Crepes?" He tilts his head, picking a strawberry out of the bowl, "What's the special occasion?"

"You know the transplant trial was a success. The whole Oncology Department knows it."

"Yeah, all thanks to you." At least he knows. The department barely acknowledged my contribution, despite the fact that I was the head surgeon of the transplant. I wasn't in the position to complain to Mark though. Instead of being a main contributor, I was just labeled as a co-partner. Nevertheless, Mark insisted on performing the surgery. As a firm nod had accepted Mark's idea for a break for me, I made a silent triumph of my own. I'm married to my work, but I was also my own mistress.

"Did you see how Dr. James nearly pushed you out the door right after we left the surgical floor. That's our head of oncology that hates receiving call ins. He turned to me, as if making it an exception for me. I have the top performance success rate in this department." I held my head high, flipping over the crepe.

Mark nods his head in defeat, approving my ego, "He acknowledges you. That's why he gave us three weeks off."

"And not because he thinks I'm your girlfriend?" I questioned, focusing on the arrangement of the fruits.

"Is that what he thinks?" Mark decided to help on the breakfast by bringing out the whip cream from the fridge. He knew the whole hospital knew that we were sleeping with each other. But even we didn't know if we were dating each other. He was using this conversation to find out, being witty.

I use the nozzle of the can, swiping the whip cream on my fingers, engulfing the sweetness in my mouth, "That's not what I think."

I can tell he's holding back something in his smile. I don't know want know what it is, but I do. I don't mention it to him and move on the next possible thing we can ramble about. Noise is the best distraction. I spot the remote control on the counter and aim it towards the television screen. The voices of news reporters filled the awkward atmosphere. Mark gravitating his attention towards the news, I pass him the remote as I finish the breakfast.

"It's been two days since Thanksgiving, here's how you can use those left overs with these crafty tricks!"

"It's flu season! We'll show you ways to avoid getting sick! The numbers are high this year folks!"

"But Kelly, you honestly think that she is the ideal candidate as the leader of the free world? Her scandals and money laundering make me wonder how she even made it this far as the nominee of the--"

"Detectives are now investigating into several different murder suspects. Parents of the late Brona Woods beg the murderer to step forward. Evidence from the crime scene indicates that there have been multiple killings--"

Different figures and headlines faded in and out of the screen as Mark flips the channels back and forth. Not deciding on one station, he turns on television. He gets up from the couch, leaning against the counter, "After today, how about we start our vacation right by going to the cabin?"

Besides money, the late Adam Mahoney left most of his assets to his son. One of them was a cabin at the outskirts of Ash Lake. It was a private property now owned by Mark. One his carefree days, which was a lot, Mark would bring his friends down there and share some beers. I'd been there a couple times, but I wasn't ever as excited as Mark. During our visits, he's always found something interesting his father left behind. How great could a place be that didn't have any wifi?

"That sounds great Mark." That's right. I owe him. Cool girl always says yes. I slide the plate across the plate, looking at my reflection. I make sure a smile was residing on my face.

"I have a surgery tonight, so I'll be late. I'll give you keys to the cabin," wiping the remnants of whip cream with a nearby napkin, he heads to the bedroom. I hear keys jingle. His voice is louder, but he is out of my sight, "I'd hate to leave you alone. It's dangerous out right now. Did you hear? People are getting killed."

"People always get killed, and it's not always by people, Mark," I inquired. If he knew that I practically gave birth to his trial, he should know that I was able to drive myself into the woods.

For a while, I only hear the shuffling of his feet. His voice is bounces off the four walls of my home again. His figure becomes apparent in my sigh again, "I put in your bag."

I turn on the water, ready to wash the dishes, "Isn't your shift at 8:00?" I look over at the clock, taking it's time to move itself. It was 7:37.

He breathes a curse word, scavenging for a dress shirt in my closet to cover up his biceps. For a doctor with a twelve hour shift, he takes care of his body.

By the time I shut of the water, placing the dishes in the washer, Mark had already one step out of the door. Before I could here his car make a beep, he strokes a strand hair from my face. The delicacy of his strokes match his whisper, "You're beautiful."

I know.

author's note:
i know this was a boring chapter but at least you guys get another update right away! i hope some humor made up for the overall darkness in this. the two chapters were supposed to be together, but i figured it was better for them to be separated. always free feel to comment and vote, love to hear your thoughts.