#perplexedflower

~~~~~~~~~~

I felt a little dizzy as my body began to tremble, but after one slow, deep breath, I regained my composure and walked out of the attic. After having spent so long, so much time, so many days debating with myself, I had finally made up my mind: that day was the day I would dare approach Stanford and confess to him everything that weighed on my mind. At last.

I made my way down the staircase and up to the vending machine, alone in the room; that afternoon was bright and sunny, thankfully for me, as all the others were spending their time outside the shack. The last thing I wanted was for one of them to walk in on me confessing my love to Stanford, and the sheer thought of such a thing happening was enough to bring knots to my stomach.

Still standing in front of the vending machine, I input the code to the basement on the pad, a code only the Stan twins knew better than I did, a code I typed in every day, a code that had become so important to me.

Come on, [Y/N]... You can do it. I motivated myself through thought as I watched the secret door open. You've prepared yourself for this day, for this exact moment... You can do it.

With the vending machine now retracted, I took a deep breath once more, sensing my nervousness rise as my stomach truly began to ache, my heart beating faster in my chest than it had ever before. For the second time, I found myself faced with a flight of stairs: I walked down each step, one by one, until I arrived at the elevator. With a slightly trembling index finger, I pressed the button that led to the last floor, which was home to the now-broken portal. While I waited inside the elevator, I continuously repeated to myself the speech I had prepared, the speech I intended to give to Stanford. And the second the elevator stopped moving and the doors slowly opened, I knew my time had come.

Seated on his chair, Stanford was pacing back and forth between all corners of the room, whether it was his desk, shelves, or even the ground, promptly standing up to grab some of his tools off the floor before he sat right back down. For but a moment, it was clear he had not yet noticed I was present in the room with him, until I took a few steps forward in his direction: then, he instantly recognized the sound of my footsteps and finally turned around to me.

From the other end of the room, he showed me a warm smile that made my heart flutter.

"Good afternoon, [Y/N]." He said cheerfully while he brushed the dust off his clothes with his hands. "How are you feeling today? Good, I hope."

"Good afternoon, Ford." I said back to him as I tried to sound as nonchalant as I could. "I'm fine, yes, thank you for asking. And what about you?"

"I'm doing great." He answered, still smiling. "In fact, I'm doing very well."

"Really, how so?"

"Well, I can't quite yet tell you much about it, but my current research is coming along nicely, to say it all." He told me with delight.

"Oh, that's fantastic news!" I exclaimed enthusiastically.

I stared at Stanford in the eyes, pretending to be jolly, when my heart rate was in fact racing.

"Oh, but enough about all that." He said as he took a step toward me while gesturing his hands. "Tell me, [Y/N], why are you not outside? I would have expected to see you out there, enjoying such a sunny day."

"You're one to talk, you know?" I teased him with a light chuckle. "But, as for me... Well..."

The old ceiling lamp above our heads emanated a low light that mixed in orange and red, which faintly reflected against the lenses of Stanford's glasses, making them sparkle just slightly.

"You see, Ford..." I started, the volume of my voice diminishing with each word. "God, it's just so hard to say it..."

As my hands began to tremble and awkwardly twist their fingers, he took yet another step in my direction, which brought him right in front of me.

"[Y/N], are you sure everything's all right?" He asked me with concern while he rested a delicate hand on one of my shoulders. "Is something the matter?"

To avoid his gaze, I lowered my head and stared at the ground, at my feet, just in front of his.

"Ford... There's something I have to tell you." I finally managed to say. "It's... really important... to me. That's why I'm here and not outside with the others."

While I spoke, I simply could not resist the urge to look down at Stanford's hand, holding my shoulder in place with a firm grip, yet without too much pressure; and the longer I stared at it, the longer I felt his touch on me, the more I could sense my heart pounding in my chest. I could tell my cheeks were progressively turning pink as I allowed my eyes to wander, leaving his hand to trace up his arm, detailing the outline of his muscles through the sleeve of his coat.

It's undeniable that the 30 years Ford spent stuck in-between dimensions have toughened him up... by a lot. I thought to myself. He's told me before that back when he and Stanley were little, he would get pushed around by other kids, even bullied. Then, growing up into adulthood, as a scientist and researcher, he never quite had a muscular physique, unlike his twin brother. But now, I look at him... and I can't help but feel a sense of pride seeing the man he has become.

I quickly pulled myself out of my thoughts and diverted my eyes from his arm, then cleared my throat before I looked back up at his face.

"I have to tell you that... I'm really glad that Stanley made the right choice to save you and bring you back here... and that Mabel decided not to press that button." I told him with genuine affection. "Stanford, I like you, and—"

"Oh, how sweet of you, [Y/N]." He exclaimed with a smile as he interrupted me. "I know it may not always seem like it, but I'm actually truly happy to be back, to be here, beside you all, even Stanley... And that includes you, of course. I like you too, [Y/N]."

With a grin still displayed on his face, he leaned forward and moved his hand from my shoulder to my head: his palm tousled my hair, after which he started to walk back to his desk, assuming our conversation was over and that he could go back to his work.

"T-Thank you, Ford, but you don't get it—" I said with a sad smile while I shook my head slowly, my eyebrows furrowed. "I like you, Stanford... I love you."

It felt as though my words echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls, surrounding us wholly, resonating within our heads. He immediately stopped walking, his foot frozen in mid-air, and remained still, his back turned to me; although I could not see his face, I could feel mine growing hot with blush, an expression of conflicted emotions on my face.

"... Hum— You know what? Forget I said anything." I mumbled as I stared at his back. "I... don't know what came over me, but just— Ignore it... please..."

The more I tried to express myself properly, the longer I spent choosing my words, the more teardrops escaped my eyes, rolling down across my cheeks and ending their course on the ground.

"This... must sound like complete nonsense to you... I'm sure you're thinking I've lost my mind."

While I still stared at his back, still turned to me, Stanford still motionless, I took a blind step backward, then another.

"... I'm very sorry to have disturbed you, Stanford... You may resume your work, now."

The second I finished speaking, I promptly turned around and nervously pressed the button on the elevator: and as I stepped inside, I anxiously waited to hear him say something, anything, but he remained quiet. I pressed a second button, this time to order the elevator to go back up to the surface. After a second of silence that felt excruciatingly long, the two doors closed, and the moment the elevator started to move, I broke into tears.

I was still sobbing when, shortly after, I walked out of the elevator, climbing the secret stairs back up to arrive back into the room. I was too emotionally compromised to truly scan my surroundings, but I was still able to tell all the others were still busy, as the room was still empty.

I need... to be alone... I told myself. I need to find a place... somewhere, anywhere...

I knew the attic was out of the question, considering Dipper and Mabel could have very well been there, and so was the kitchen, given how much time Stanley spent in it; the only place that was left, the only place I could think of was the secret room Soos had discovered the other day, by pure accident. Once standing in front of the door, I gave it a soft push with my hand, too feeble to put any amount of strength into my movements. But as physically weak as I felt, I stepped inside the room without even an ounce of hesitation.

Once I was in, I closed the door behind me then took a look around the dim room, plunged into darkness, and, soon enough, my eyes spotted a couch: without a second thought, I made my way to it and sat down, bringing both of my legs onto the sofa. The temperature in the room was quite cold, which forced me to bury my face into the sweater I was wearing, a sweater Mabel had knitted for me. And as I sat in the dark, I let my tears flow, pouring out of my eyes like a river.

For a while, although I had no notion of how long it had been, I did not move from my spot, nor did I stop weeping, surrounded by my overwhelming thoughts in the midst of obscurity. That was, until I heard the door of the room open behind me, in such a slow and gentle manner it was almost inaudible.

Without sticking my head out of my sweater, I shook my head at the sound.

"I don't know who you are, but frankly, I don't care." I let out in-between two tears, my voice muffled. "Please... go away... I just need some time on my own..."

Despite my pitiful request, the person decided to walk in anyway, and I felt my heart twist into knots when I recognized the sound of their footsteps on the creaking floor, the sound of old, muddy boots. They continued, growing closer and closer to me, until they stopped, right beside me, and after but only a second, I felt his body sit down on the couch, just next to mine.

"[Y/N]... Please, listen." Stanford started in a tone so gentle it was almost a whisper. "You may think you've lost your mind, but you're far from it, trust me."

His voice and his words reached my ears and instantly enveloped me in a sensation of safety, of warmth, of comfort, and a part of me was already soothed, just listening to them, no matter how much I craved to be alone at that moment.

Though hesitantly, I slowly raised my head from my sweater, revealing the upper part of my face, though the rest was still concealed: and in an instant, my eyes were met with his, his gaze soft and affectionate.

"Because of... what you've told me, you see yourself as a freak... as some kind of monster. And you know this is something I can relate to, [Y/N]. I've had similar thoughts in the past, when I was a child, after other people would make fun of me for my weirdness, especially my polydactyly. But no matter how many times I got pushed around, I always— Well, almost always had my brother by my side, to remind me I should not be ashamed of who I am... Just like you have us."

Ever so gently, Stanford extended one of his hands to me, reaching down into my sweater to grab my chin between his thumb and index finger. And that one single gesture tore my heart in half.

I already know how all of this is going to end... Ford is going to comfort me, to try and make me feel better, but he's not going to bring up again my love declaration, he's going to ignore my feelings for him... He'd rather avoid mentioning it, finding it easier to pretend as if it never happened... and this tension between us would remain.

With my face still held by his hand, he stared deeply into my eyes, though it appeared his confidence was progressively fading away.

"[Y/N], I... I don't... quite know how to say this..."

His face turned pink as he broke eye contact with me, his eyes restless.

"I've never really... done this type of thing... ever, you see, so..."

But eventually, after looking for the right words for some time, he looked back into my eyes, this time with strong determination.

"I love you too, [Y/N]." He blurted out bashfully.

Upon hearing his words, my eyes opened wide and my heart stopped beating. I was already convinced my imagination had played a trick on me, unable to believe what Stanford had just said to be the truth.

"... This... is not something I thought I would say today, but I assure you that I mean it, no matter how unbelievable it may sound to you." He further confessed, his words heavy. "I've had feelings for you ever since the day I first made your acquaintance. I saw you for the first time and... found you... beautiful. I talked to you for the first time and thought your personality was wonderful. Then I saw how well you got along with my family, with Stanley and the kids, and... I felt something I had never really felt before."

He marked a pause, his voice slightly shaky and his face shifting from pink to red.

"... A-And, at first, I couldn't believe it was love, I put the blame on... on the fact that you simply had been the first woman my eyes landed on after 30 years outside of this dimension, but—... But soon enough, I had to be rational and face the truth... I understood I truly had fallen for you."

Although I kept quiet, I could very distinctively tell what was going through Stanford's mind, especially given the facial expressions he was switching between as he spoke.

"But I... I didn't say anything." He continued, lowering his eyes to avoid mine. "I didn't know how to properly apprehend these feelings, how to confess them to you... For a man my age, all of this shouldn't be a problem, but... well, my experience is close to none. I understand your own hesitation regarding your feelings came from our age gap, and, quite frankly, so did mine. I just couldn't find a way to let you know about mine without coming across as a pervert... So I decided to bottle it all up."

After his last sentence, silence reigned for a moment, and I understood his speech had finally come to an end; the two of us were now staring straight at each other, our gazes locked on, neither of us saying a word. Only then did Stanford remember he was still holding my chin, and only then did he realize his speech had gone on for much longer than he himself had intended, judging by the look on his face. His eyes suddenly opened wide, his cheeks still buried under a thick layer of blush as he let go of my face, visibly embarrassed.

"I-I'm sorry, [Y/N]— I said too much, didn't I?" He asked me, seemingly shameful. "I must have spoken for too long— You said you wanted to be left alone, so... I'll be going, now—"

He hurriedly stood up from the sofa as he nervously pushed his glasses on his nose. He promptly made his way to the door of the room, but before I could let him get too far away from me, I extended an arm toward him and reached for the bottom of his coat: as he felt my hand tug at the fabric, he turned back around and looked at me, at the single tear rolling down my cheek.

"Stay." I said in a whisper. "... Please."

Stanford's eyes remained on me, on my face, which was now begging for his presence, and he could feel it; all while staring down at me, he walked back to the couch and sat back down, this time even closer to me, close enough to wrap his arms around my body and bring it down against his as he lay back slightly. His embrace felt warm and secure, yet so overwhelming as well. With my face nestled in the crook of his neck, I closed my eyes and took multiple deep breaths, his natural scent soothing me further with each passing second.

As I listened to the sound of his heart beating faster in his chest, I felt one of his hands rub my back gently, shortly followed by a kiss he left on the crown of my head. Both of us found peace and tranquility within that moment, that moment of serenity and quietness; but the silence did not last for long, as I let out a heavy sigh.

"... I'm sorry, Ford." I said, my voice slightly muffled against his skin.

"What for?" He kindly asked while looking down at me.

"For... all of this. For having waited all this time to let you know how I feel, and for having made you repress your own feelings. Because of me... we've wasted so much time we could have spent... this way."

Stanford chuckled, a genuine laugh that made my heart skip a beat and turned the tips of my ears red.

"You don't need to apologize for such things, [Y/N]." He stated as he brought his hands down on my shoulders.

With slow and gentle care, he pulled me out of his embrace, just slightly, just enough so that he could look down at me, so that our faces could meet, so that he could show me his bright smile.

"You're not responsible for any of this, and if we follow your way of thinking, logic would have it I need to apologize too. But neither of us is at fault, here. So, please, don't burden yourself with guilt."

With a shy smile, I closed my eyes and nodded. When I opened them again, I was still faced with his loving smile, with his affectionate gaze; and, after but a brief moment of uncertainty and indecision, I slowly brought my hand up to his face and gently rested my palm on his cheek, which led to the blush on his cheeks intensifying. As my fingers drifted down along his jaw and then his neck, I tilted my head a little.

I've... never really been this close to Ford before... It might take some getting used to... But I get the feeling that won't be an issue.

Our eyes gazed deeply into one another as my other hand found its way to his torso, my palm slowly rising and falling along his heaving chest, along the rhythm of his heartbeat. One of his hands left my shoulders to hold my waist, while the other held the nape of my neck, his fingers delicately running through my hair. Our faces grew closer to each other, the air around us filled with anticipation and excitement, until we both tilted our heads and closed our eyes: our lips met and our embrace grew tighter, finally sharing together this special moment we had waited so long to see happen.

My hand on his neck moved to the collar of his sweater, which I grabbed passionately while I felt Stanford furrow his eyebrows, his lips sighing against mine, cherishing the moment as he held me against his body. But the moment inevitably came to an end when we both pulled away, slightly out of breath, slightly panting, in an atmosphere that had all of a sudden become heavy. The two of us were still nervous, even now that we had kissed, and I could tell Stanford was feeling particularly awkward: with a soft smile, I tugged at his sweater and leaned forward to leave one more kiss on his lips, catching him off-guard. After I pulled away, I stared into his wide-open eyes with love as I caressed his blushing cheek.

"That was wonderful, Ford." I told him enthusiastically in a reassuring tone.

While still smiling, I readjusted his glasses on his nose a little better, seeing as they had slightly slipped down during our kiss.

"For a man in his 60s who's barely ever kissed a woman before, you're quite a good kisser." I added, teasing him playfully.

My compliment made him chuckle, somewhat awkwardly but mostly with genuine affection.

"Well... Thank you, [Y/N]." He said while blushing. "You're... really good yourself."

My body imitated his and I felt the redness on my face intensify as I giggled lightly. Both of his hands traveled back down around my waist, which he grabbed firmly, though without applying too much pressure.

"Well... The afternoon is far from over, so why don't you and I go back to the basement?" He suggested happily, visibly excited at the idea of keeping this conversation going elsewhere. "I'll show you a glimpse of what I've been working on these past few days."

"I like the sound of that." I replied just as happily.

With the help of my hips, his hands moved my body to the side, freeing his so that he could stand up from the couch: then, as he stared down into my eyes, he opened the palm of his hand to me.

"Then, let's get back to work... Shall we, sweetheart?"

I felt my pulse accelerate greatly upon hearing him call me by such a pet name, but I did my best to keep my composure as I nodded and put my palm in his.

~~~~~~~~~~

"He'll be here in a couple hours or so... should be, at least."

"I know."

"I need you to stay put when he shows up, alright?"

"Anywhere you want me to be in particular?"

"No... As long as you make sure to keep as much distance away from him as possible."

We looked ahead, staring at the gentle swaying of the trees on the other side of the street. And we both kept quiet, simply listening to the noises of agitation slowly rising in the air, all coming from the direction of the main gate.

"... You know, I'm not a kid, Rick." I eventually said after some time.

"I never said you were, [Y/N]."

"Even though you sure as hell treat me like one."

"Is that really how you see things?" Rick asked as he turned his body to me, staring me down. "[Y/N], I'm only trying my absolute best to protect you, here. I'm not sheltering you, I'm not forcing you to stay inside and hidden, I'm not holding your hand and telling you what to do... Am I?"

"No, you're not. But you treat me like Carl. You treat me like I can't handle myself and can't think for myself. I'm not like him, Rick—"

"Trust me, that's one thing I wholly agree with you about."

"Seriously, you don't have to tell me about it." I said with a scoff. "I know what he's made of, what he's capable of, what he's been through... I haven't been here for all of it, but enough to know your son's no ordinary little boy. And I mean this in the most positive way possible. Hell, sometimes I even wonder if he isn't actually stronger than me."

"He's not, I can tell you that much." He responded as he looked down at the ground. "He likes to put up this front, convince everyone he's stronger than most and doesn't back down easily... and part of it is true, but I know he's scared deep down, I know he has doubts, he just doesn't like letting it show... he thinks people won't think as highly of him if he shows weakness."

"Hmm, funny how this description reminds me a lot of another Grimes I know of..." I joked with a gentle elbow nudge.

"Tell me about it..." Rick sighed. "He has only grown out to be like this after looking up to me and mimicking my behavior so much... I actually feel more guilty about it than you know, and more than he knows... more than anyone knows, really..."

I took a step closer to him and gently rested both of my hands on his shoulders, a soft expression on my face he could not see, as his eyes remained closed.

"Hey, I know enough as it is... We don't have to get into any of this right now, Rick. Besides, it's really not the place nor the time. We've got to keep our heads in the game."

I gave him some time to recompose himself, after which I let go of him and buried my hands back inside my pockets.

"All I'm trying to make you understand is, you don't have to worry about me more than you do any of the others. Watching over Carl? I get it, he's your son, I know damn well you'd do about anything for him. But I don't want you to take extra measures to protect me, and you have no reason to."

"[Y/N], how could you say that?" Rick asked, sounding almost offended. "Carl is my son, of course... But I still care about you, about Andrea, about Michonne, about everyone here living with us. Just because we're not blood doesn't mean I shouldn't ensure your safety just the same."

With those words, the emotions in his gaze changed, shifting from frustration to anger.

"Besides, you're wrong. I do have reasons to take extra measures to protect you."

"Really? Against what?"

"Do you even need to ask?" He rhetorically said as he grabbed my arm. "I see the way that bastard looks at you whenever you enter his field of vision... I don't like it."

"Trust me, I like it about just as much as you do... But he's Negan, Rick. He looks at every woman the same way, in his eyes I'm not any different from his harem of 'wives' Carl told us about."

"And that's precisely what worries me, [Y/N]." He continued, his left hand still grabbing my arm. "I wouldn't trust a man like him around any woman. So I need you to promise me to always keep your gun on you at all times when he's around. I know you're not too fond of firing your pistol, and I know you're not the sharpest shooter out of all of us, but you know enough to defend yourself if things go south—"

"Woah, woah, Rick!" I cut him off as I shook my head, opening my arms and making him lose his grip on me in the process. "What are you talking about, here? You think I'm going to kill Negan? Have you lost your mind, even suggesting anything like that ever happening? Even if I wanted to— Hell, even if I could, I don't think it'd ever be possible for me to go through with it. I'm not saying I'm a pussy who's afraid of him... Though, I can't deny I'm not too at ease just breathing close to him... But have you seen him? That motherfucker is shaped like a refrigerator, he's almost two heads taller than me, and twice my weight— And it's all muscles... Seriously, Rick, what could I ever do to him?"

"Thanks, you're really helping me feel reassured about you..." He let out, upset, as he rubbed his eyes.

"And you know it's not just his physique that's the problem." I added. "That man is fucked in the head, he's a psycho, a killing machine, a ruthless and unpredictable sociopath. And on top of that, he's smarter and more cunning than he lets on... With or without weapons, he could beat me into the ground in no less than 10 seconds if he wanted to."

"You really think I don't know that? I know he could kill me without breaking too much of a sweat if he really felt like it, and I know I'd be damn powerless against him if that was to happen. So trust me, I have a good idea of how easy it'd be for him to attack you. But your gun's not useless. It never is. If you use it intelligently, to your advantage, it can save your life, even if you're not using it to try and take his."

Another moment of silence settled between the two of us, albeit only briefly.

"... I hear you." I finally said in response, somewhat reluctant to admit he was right. "But don't you worry, I might not enjoy toying around with my pistol too much, but I still sure as hell like to have it holstered around my belt, carrying it around feels good... feels safe."

"That's all I wanted to hear." He said affectionately as he placed his hand on my back. "And thank you, [Y/N]."

"Of course... Rick."

God damn it... I almost called him "dad" again... I thought to myself, feeling my smile slowly fading away. I know it's no big deal, I've let it slip out before, and he didn't make a fuss about it... but I know it's still hard for him to hear it, no matter how much he tries to convince me he's comfortable with it...

I took a deep breath in and closed my eyes in an attempt to regain my composure, not wanting Rick to start worrying even more about me.

I just need to give him some time, to let it go for now, as best as I can, and I'll only—

"That's earlier than expected—" Rick suddenly spoke up, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"What's up?"

Already walking away from me, he did not bother to turn back my way.

"He's here."

Looking in the direction of where he was headed, my eyes landed on the main gate once again, only this time the other side was even more crowded, and not with the dead.

"All right... I'm going to stay by the house." I told Rick before I began turning around myself. "But if I see or hear anything suspicious around here, I can't promise I won't come running to you."

Without another word from either of us, I swallowed the lump of tension trapped inside of my throat and promptly made my way back home, located only a few houses away. I walked without looking back at what was happening behind me, no matter how tempting it was; once having arrived at my destination, I crossed into the small yard and stopped just at the bottom of the steps leading up to our front door. And now came the real challenge: waiting.

I had never been much of a patient individual all my life, and unfortunately for me, the zombie apocalypse we had to live through had only made it worse. But it was at its worst when it had to do with the others, especially Rick. I had come to learn how much of a problem magnet that man was over my time living by his side, and I had also come to learn that wherever he would go, trouble would always follow. And when the trouble following him in question was a near 6' 5" sociopath wielding a baseball bat craftily wrapped in barbed wire, the wait was particularly agonizing.

But I sucked it up and carried his orders, staying put right where I was standing, not moving a muscle, aside from the ones in my neck as I continuously scanned from right to left the street a short distance away from me, watching out for any danger. And just then, my eyes did catch sight of danger: walking down past our house and into the heart of our town was Negan, standing right beside Rick, the two men seemingly in the middle of a serious conversation.

I watched them walk slowly, watched him, a faint sense of unease growing within my stomach; until I watched him suddenly turn his head to me, my heartbeat rising and my eyes widening while his gaze met mine. I froze in place and held my breath as I saw the smile on his lips, a smile I had seen before but which still felt just as unsettling, just as troubling, and just as soul-stirring. I could not bring myself to look away, nor to even blink once, my gaze escorting him down the street, as if afraid to break eye contact with him, as if convinced he would disappear into thin air the moment I would lose sight of him.

Until, eventually, he turned back to Rick and carried on with his end of the discussion, his cold grin slipping from his lips as though he had not just laid eyes on me, as though only a split second had gone by. And there I was, left alone to stand on my front porch, my thoughts completely jumbled up and my emotions scattered about inside me. With Negan and Rick out of my sight, I was left with nothing but time on my hands, so I took the opportunity to quickly get inside the house and grab myself a large drink of water, my throat feeling surprisingly dry; then, just as quickly as I had entered, I stepped back outside, reclaiming my position in front of the steps. And it was back to waiting for me. Waiting for this whole thing to be over, waiting for The Saviors to leave our town, along with half of our resources, a deal I was still very bitter over, but I knew it could not be helped: after what had happened to Glenn, it was clear to me that it was either our rations, or our lives.

Besides, I knew Rick had things under control, I was well aware of his plan: playing along with the contract agreement, making everyone believe Negan had him under his thumb, not going against his orders, while he was actually secretly planning for an attack against him and his army, buying time to build one of his own and retaliate. I found it clever, although undeniably risky, and so I did not bother questioning it.

Rick knows what he's doing. It really is a fucking pain in the ass that The Saviors have to drop by here every now and then to steal half of our shit, in addition to spreading fear among everyone... But it's only necessary for now, it won't last. Eventually, Rick will restore Alexandria and its people to the way they were before, I know he will... I believe in him, and I know so does everybody else.

With that last note of hope in mind, I resumed my job as lookout, carefully observing the perimeter around me to make sure nothing was getting out of hand; growing tired of standing on my feet after a few minutes of uneventful waiting, I began contemplating the idea of taking a seat by the stairs, my legs already starting to feel sore.

There's a whole lot of jackshit happening... Truly no reason for me to stay mounted like this, really. It seems there's nothing to worry about today... I suppose I was too paranoid, as usual.

Yet, before I had time to even turn around and crouch down over the steps behind me, I realized my paranoia had not been unfounded, the moment I saw Negan walking back up our street, on his own, his only companion being the baseball bat resting on his shoulder, with Rick nowhere in sight.

Why's he not with him? I anxiously asked myself.

But as quickly as it had emerged, I discarded my question and brushed it aside: there was no cause for concern, no need to panic, as Rick was surely just busy preparing a part of our offerings to give to The Saviors, while Negan was simply making his way back to his men by their truck. And I was quite convinced that was the truth, up until he turned his attention my way once again and stared me right in the eyes, just as he had done a few minutes prior. Except this time, Rick was not by his side to keep him busy, keep him focused; except this time, he stopped in the middle of the street, his gaze getting my blood pumping. It was then that I felt my entire body suddenly tense up, as he started to unexpectedly make his way towards me, losing all interest in the road he was walking to instead approach the house, his steps slow and heavy, but assured.

Keep calm... Nothing's going to happen... Simply breathe deeply and don't let him sense your fear.

But it was much easier thought than done, and my right hand twitched ever so slightly as it instinctively came to rest on my belt, near my gun. I gulped and straightened my back before I took a couple of hesitant steps in his direction, ready to stand my ground.

"My, my... What do we have here?" He asked as he stepped into the front yard, arms wide open. "Left all fucking alone out here, aren't you, sweetheart?"

His smile was even more bloodcurdling up close. Having stopped barely a foot in front of me, his figure towered over mine, forcing me to crane my neck upwards to look at his face; by simply standing so close to him, I could feel my heart hammering away in my chest, so fast it almost hurt.

"... Well?" Negan asked with a raised eyebrow, his head slightly cocked. "I'm goddamn nice enough to take some of my very precious time and spend it on you, and you won't even fucking indulge me in some small talk?"

My palms already getting sweaty, I slowly clenched and unclenched my fists as I held my breath.

"... Alright, got a topic of discussion in mind?" I asked him in return, my tone solemn.

"As a matter of fact, I do. You." He answered as he pressed his right index finger against my collarbone. "Your name, for starters. Third time I've laid eyes on you and no one's ever fucking bothered telling me what your name is around here. Fucking shame, I know."

"... It's [Y/N]." I told him after a brief moment of silence.

"Marvelous." He said, his grin growing slightly larger. "I won't forget it any time soon, cross my goddamn heart and hope to fucking die... Pardon my poor choice of words, shouldn't throw around phrases like that these days."

I silently listened to him chuckle, still looking up at his face, although it was becoming harder and harder for me to maintain eye contact with him, my instincts screaming at me to lower my gaze, else I would soon come to regret it; just then, he opened his eyes back and it was now too late for me to back down, finding myself trapped once more in the hazel of his irises.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, [Y/N], but you weren't one of the poor bastards who were part of the little run-in me and my men had with your people, were you?" He asked while placing his right hand on his hip, his other still holding onto his deadly weapon.

"Yeah... That's right, I wasn't there."

"Didn't think so." He said with a slow and steady nod, seemingly deep in thought.

"But Rick told me everything." I promptly added, my tone bitter.

"I'm sure he did. I mean, let's not fucking kid ourselves here, we both know— Everyone here knows I made them sit through that shit for a reason." He declared proudly. "I had one hell of a message to get across, and first impressions always need to be done right. So what better way to leave a lasting impact on these people's minds than scarring them for life? Trust me, the shit they saw me do that day, it doesn't just go away after one night's sleep... It lingers on and it makes them talk, then the details get spread around, and more and more people start pissing their pants just thinking about me."

Pausing for only a second or two, he brandished his baseball bat around, as if admiring it.

"Now, as much as that thought gets my dick hard, I can't say I'm too pleased with how things went down... You see, I'd rather avoid having to kill any more of you, if I can. You're no fucking good to me dead, I can't collect shit from you if you're all six feet under— I'm sure you can understand that, you seem like a smart enough girl. Point is, Rick forced my hand and I was left with no other choice but to bash in one of his friends' skulls in retaliation... But hey, in the end that got him to kneel down and let me put the collar around his neck, so who am I to fucking complain?"

Negan paused for the second time, but this time, it was me he was admiring, his body leaning closer to mine by a mere inch.

"Truth is, [Y/N], I don't particularly enjoy going around bashing Asian-American brains, it's not my sport of choice... but it had to be done."

"Glenn. His name was Glenn." I informed him in a firm tone, not giving him a chance to continue talking.

"What the fuck does it matter now what his name was? He's long dead, that's all that matters."

Overwhelmed by my emotions, I was unable to come up with anything to say to him in return as I simply stood before him, in silence; his piercing gaze was still as focused on mine as ever, his expression cold, until a glimpse of sincerity unexpectedly appeared on his face.

"... You know what? I say we stop talking about this Glenn, I can clearly tell you didn't take kindly to my words just now and that you cared a whole fucking lot for that poor fucker... So let's change the topic a bit before you actually snap and jump at my throat."

With these words, the coldness in his traits soon diminished, replaced with a faint playfulness. Ever so slowly, he rested his right hand on his thigh for support and leaned forward, bringing his face close to mine, so close I could feel his warm breath on my skin.

"Do you want to know how I know you weren't there that day?" He asked in a deep voice, even deeper than usual.

Tilting his head just a little, he squinted and pointed right at the center of my face with his index finger.

"It's your eyes." He whispered. "That look you have in your eyes whenever you stare at me... That fucking look... It's not a look I'd be likely to forget, and something tells me I would've seen it that day."

I gulped for the second time, feeling my breath grow shallower and shallower as the seconds passed, as his eyes intensely scanned mine.

"It's like a goddamn firework of emotions in those eyes... I can see anger and of course fear, but not as much as I'd have expected... But there's more, there's so much fucking more... There's hopelessness, confusion, and even a trace of pity, which, I'll have you know, I really don't fucking appreciate. But you know what really catches my attention? It's that spark, that glimpse of... excitement? Thrill? Whatever you want to call it, it's there."

For a few more seconds, Negan lost himself in my gaze, before he finally leaned back and held his head straight, allowing me to start breathing normally again in the comfort of my personal space, despite how close his body still was to mine.

"Out on the road, that day, there sure as hell wasn't a single look like yours on your little friends' faces as I lined them up. They all looked pathetic as shit... It was depressing, frankly. Well, except for Rick, but we both know he's not like the rest."

As he stared down at me, his grin was quick to come back, only this time it covered a single side of his face.

"... I think I'd have liked seeing that look." He said with what sounded like honesty. "Would have made the whole goddamn experience all the more memorable."

Looking away from me for just a few seconds, he turned his attention to his baseball bat as he carefully placed it over his shoulder.

"One thing's for damn sure, though." He said upon turning back to me. "I wouldn't have picked you, [Y/N]."

"I thought you had made your choice randomly?" I asked him, half confused, half suspicious.

"Oh, I did. I couldn't really play favorites, I try not to, ruins the fun too much. But for you... I think I would've made an exception."

My eyes opened slightly wider, the curious and confused voice in my head shouting at me to ask him why, but although my mouth briefly opened, I was unable to articulate even that single word.

"... Killing you would have been a real fucking waste, if you ask me." He added in a surprisingly sultry tone, his smile more prominent than ever.

"What's going on here?!"

Surprised by the sudden voice that had risen behind us, we both turned our heads to the direction of the sound, only to see Rick approaching us at a fast pace, a clear expression of anger on his face.

"Rick—"

"Well, looks like Daddy Rick is back." Negan said as he turned his body and sent a grin his way, although he made sure to maintain his close proximity to me.

"He's not my dad." I corrected him, feeling slightly awkward. "Not... biologically, I mean..."

With Rick only a few feet away from us now, Negan faced me again and slightly lowered his head: I caught myself holding my breath as he reached for my chin with his right hand, trapping it between his thumb and index finger, the leather of his glove feeling cold on my skin.

"I could've easily guessed that. You're way too fucking pretty to be sharing the same genes as him." He said with brutal honesty in a guttural voice, his hand forcing my head to tilt upwards at him.

"I'd appreciate it if you could refrain from touching her." Rick ordered him in a snappy tone, his anger having not toned down in the slightest.

I was still processing his unexpected compliment which had caught me completely off guard when I realized he had not stopped looking down into my eyes, his fingers having not yet let go of my chin; for a few more seconds, neither of us moved, until he finally complied to Rick's request and retracted his hand. And as he did so, he observed my expression and a shimmer of malicious intent appeared in his eyes, his smile remaining present the whole time.

"I'll ask again. What is going on here?" Rick repeated, seemingly exasperated and suspicious while turning to Negan. "What do you want with [Y/N]?"

"Look at you, all worried and protective. How fucking adorable." He teased him in response.

"Rick, everything's alright." I reassured him as I took a step towards him and shook my head, my palms open. "Negan only came up to me because he wanted to talk to me... Believe it or not. We really were just talking, I'm fine, don't worry."

Still skeptical even despite my attempt at dispelling his fears, he squinted his eyes and stared daggers at Negan, as if trying to make him confess.

"I really don't think that look is fucking necessary, no sirree." He said with a light shrug, putting up an innocent front. "You heard the girl, we were just talking. Like two fucking civilized individuals."

"If that's the case, then I say this is the end of your conversation." Rick fired back, not letting down his guard. "If you're done here, you should leave."

With a determined step, he approached him and stood tall in front of him, his gaze piercing.

"... I think your men are waiting for you." He added coldly.

For a few seconds, Negan stared back at him in silence, visibly pondering over his thoughts: his eyes then traveled to me, lingering, and by the time they were back on Rick's, his lips had shifted to a faint smile.

"... Let them wait longer." He finally said. "As a matter of fact, I am not fucking done here."

Wariness could be read on Rick's face as he listened to him, as Negan opened one of his arms.

"I've been doing some good fucking thinking over here, while you were busy telling me to fuck off your lawn." He said with his head slightly tilted to the side. "I'd like to make a deal with you."

"We already have a deal in place." Rick began to protest. "You're already taking half of our resources away for yourself... Is that not enough?"

"If you had the decency to let me fucking finish, you'd know that's what I want to talk to you about, asshole." He quickly responded, his brow furrowed in irritation.

I stood beside the two men in silence as I watched their exchange go down, not quite daring to interrupt either of them.

"As you said so just now, I pay this little town a visit every week or so to claim what's mine— And yes, before you start fucking protesting again, those offerings are rightfully ours, it's the rules of the game." Negan continued. "But we've got one hell of a problem on our hands— Well, you've got one hell of a problem on your hands. And I'm offering you a way to help. I'll be expecting a mother fucking 'thank you' after all of this is over."

His left arm still open, his other still holding his baseball bat over his shoulder, he leaned forward by just an inch.

"You're running out of damn near everything." He said while pointing to the houses around us with his thumb. "I would know, I take half of it. And don't even get me fucking started on your food and ammo."

Hating having to admit he was right, Rick's eyebrows furrowed in frustration, which conveyed his inner feelings clearly despite his silence.

"I can see times are tough for your people lately, so I'm willing to make you an offer they'll all fucking appreciate. How generous of me."

"Just get to it already." Rick ordered him, not fully convinced.

"Fine, you impatient prick." He said in a snarky tone. "This time around— And this time only, I won't be taking a single fucking thing from your stocks."

Both Rick and I raised our eyebrows in surprise, but we knew there had to be more to it: Negan turned to me, smiling threateningly.

"... In exchange for her." He finished as he pointed right at me with his index finger.

"Woah!" I exclaimed. "Wait a minute—"

"What?!" Rick interrupted me, just as shocked. "You're saying you want [Y/N] to be your offering?! That's your deal?!"

But above and beyond the confusion, what could be truly perceived in his voice was anger.

"You're expecting us to just hand her over to you?! What makes you think we'd be ok with that?!" He carried on, his body language now frantic. "And what good would that even do you? Why would that benefit you over taking half of our supplies?"

"Because I want insurance." Negan answered, his expression grave. "The last fucking time I saw you, you were out on the road, on your way to meet me. And how mother fucking convenient it was for us to run into each other like that..."

The look in Rick's eyes subtly changed, and we both understood very clearly what he was trying to imply.

"... But I know that was more than a simple fucking coincidence." He added as he leaned closer to Rick. "No, you knew exactly where the fuck you were going... I'm not quite sure how, but you did."

I remained completely silent, not wanting to give anything away, though I could not help but nibble at my lower lip in discontentment: that day, we had indeed taken to the road with the intent of getting Carl back from him, which we had only been able to do with the directions given by Jesus, the only one of us who knew exactly where his base of operations was. And now, he had figured it out and we could no longer keep it hidden from him.

"But here's the thing... My Saviors and I don't appreciate unwelcome guests in our little Sanctuary."

Without diverting his eyes from Rick, he outstretched his arm in my direction once again and opened his hand.

"So, you scheming piece of shit, this is my offer... The only thing I take back with me today is the little lady right here, and you can count on me to treat her fucking right... Make her feel right at home. Now, none of your goddamn people comes knocking at my front door, none of my men gets attacked by yours... I don't lay a fucking finger on her. And ten days from now, when I come to visit you again, I'll return her to you, in perfect condition. Free fucking shipping. But if you try anything— And I mean any-fucking-thing while she's with me... Well, let's just say I won't be keeping any of my promises."

I was left speechless, unable to figure out how to even react: Negan wanted to use me as a token of peace to ensure Rick would not launch an attack on him any time soon, even if it was at the cost of not getting his weekly rations from us. And although he was no longer as agitated, I could tell Rick was just as opposed to the idea as before.

"[Y/N] is not an object for you to just take." He told him, the revolt in his voice audible. "Besides, this is all unnecessary... You don't have to do any of this."

"Bullshit I don't." Negan promptly responded as he tapped on Rick's chest with his index finger, visibly applying more pressure that time than he had done with me earlier. "I need to do this, because I can tell you still don't fucking trust me— You still don't fucking think I can be reasonable... Fucking shit, I returned your little boy to you safe and sound after he'd snuck into my goddamn property, didn't I?"

"And it's precisely because you already took Carl before that I don't want to put [Y/N] through it now!"

"In case you forgot, I didn't take your asshole son." He corrected him. "He willingly invited himself inside my truck... He knew exactly what he was getting himself into. And not only did he try to fucking kill me, but he also shot down over five of my men. You should be grateful I didn't make him pay accordingly— And so should he. Yet I didn't hear a single fucking 'thank you' then, and I'm still not hearing one now."

"Uh... If neither of you minds, I'd like to speak for myself." I hesitantly jumped into the conversation, my tone expressing a tinge of frustration.

Both men turned to me, their gazes deep and their expressions solemn, which only further lowered my confidence; I gulped and straightened my back, trying as best as I could to stand tall and proud beside them.

"This is me we're talking about here... I think I'm allowed to have a say in this."

As uncertain as Rick seemed to be about the entire situation, I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was understanding of my wish to express my personal point of view. Negan, on the other hand, stared at me with the same intensity as before, only this time his usual grin was nowhere to be seen.

"Rick, I appreciate you standing up for me, I really do... Thank you." I told him as I smiled at him. "Frankly, you have every right to be against the idea of entrusting me into Negan's hands... Believe me, I'm not too enthusiastic about it myself. So I completely understand your reluctance."

With those words, I looked down for a second, collecting my thoughts and putting them in order, before I raised my head at Negan.

"... But I think I want to go." I assuredly declared.

"[Y/N], I can't—"

"No, let me finish." I interrupted him with a hand gesture. "... Please."

I was not surprised in the slightest by Rick's reaction, I had expected as much from him: fearful and distrustful, he only wanted to keep me safe and make sure he would not let anything bad happen to me. But that was my chance to show him I could hold my own and pull my weight just fine, for the good of the community.

"I know you see this as sending me on a suicide mission... But I see it differently." I explained as I turned back to him. "Negan is right in saying our resources have become scarce... You know this better than any of us, really. We've got a lot of people to feed here, we've burned through a considerable amount of our ammo already, and the shelves in the infirmary are barely half full. If me leaving for ten days means our supplies don't have to leave Alexandria, even if it's only for ten days... That'll still be something. A head start of some sort."

Locking eyes with him, it was obvious to me that he was finding it difficult to swallow these truths, no matter how much faith he was ready to have in me.

"Besides, I know how you feel about it, but even you have to admit that nothing happened to Carl when he was away. Negan was even willing to make the trip all the way here just to drop him off... Which I know is only par for the course, but he could have very well just put him through much worse, had he wanted to."

"Some fucking recognition at last." Negan peevishly spoke up while rolling his eyes.

"Not only that, but it was different for Carl." I continued, ignoring his snarky comment. "He tried to infiltrate the place armed with a machine gun, I'd be walking in through the front door as a 'guest'... The circumstances are vastly different. More than that, he's a child and I'm an adult, I can handle myself."

Finally, Rick's expression progressively began to soften and I knew I had managed to start making him change his mind; but a trace of hesitation remained on his face, and it persisted.

"... Why would it have to be you out of everyone here?" He asked doubtfully as he slowly shook his head. "And I am not saying I would rather send someone else in your place— Ideally, I would not want anyone to go..."

"Why do you think?" Negan answered him, his trademark smile back on his lips. "Only her can guarantee proper fucking insurance."

His cold gaze moved over to me for a moment, too short for me to stare back at him, but long enough to make me feel uneasy at my core.

"It's crystal fucking clear that after your son and your special lady, she's the one person you'd do anything to keep safe."

Leaning close to Rick, his smile grew even further.

"... Something tells me your overprotective ass wouldn't risk doing anything too fucking stupid if you knew it would put her in danger... Or am I wrong?"

The silence that followed only confirmed his hypothesis, which he seemed to find great satisfaction in.

"And what better mother fucking way to prove you I can be goddamn reasonable than by having her come with me?" He asked with his arms open. "I seriously doubt you can question my trust again after I bring her back here, unharmed, untouched."

His body then pivoted, now oriented between the two of us, his arms still outstretched and the glimmer in his eyes more taunting than ever.

"After all, I've already given your first prick of a kid the tour of my Sanctuary before, so why not give it to your second one as well?" He joked, clearly amused by the situation.

"I'm not a kid." I fired back without masking my irritation.

The words had barely left my mouth when I felt Negan's hand on my face, both of my cheeks pinched between his fingers as he forced my chin up.

"Are you a virgin?" He asked me outright, his deep voice deprived of any shame.

Utterly flustered by such an unexpected, intrusive question, I raised my eyebrows high and opened my mouth slightly, though no words came out.

"That's none of your damn business!" Rick exclaimed, visibly offended on my behalf.

"Kindly shut the fuck up." Negan angrily ordered him as he turned his head to him. "This conversation is between her and I."

Bringing all of his attention back to me, his head above mine, he stared right down into my eyes.

"So... You still have your virginity?" He asked again with the same genuine curiosity.

His grin had never looked more off-putting than at that moment: maintaining eye contact with him was becoming harder and harder. But despite my reluctance to share such private details about myself with him, I felt compelled to give him an honest answer, whether or not it was the one he would want to hear.

"... No." I bashfully confessed.

My cheeks turned pink, the temperature of my face feeling higher than usual, even with the cold leather of his glove on my skin.

"... I'm 23, not 16." I added in a frustrated tone.

He silently scanned my expression, as if it would help him learn more, until he finally let go of me.

"I suppose you're less of a fucking kid than I thought you were." He let out teasingly.

Indignant and upset, I glared at him with nothing to say in return, simply watching him bring his baseball bat to rest on his shoulder, after which I crossed my arms on my chest.

"... Either way, I am going." I told the two men in front of me, reiterating my choice. "I've already stated my arguments, and I think I'm enough of an adult to make this kind of decision... If anyone should have the right to say whether or not I'm going, it's me."

And with that, the debate was closed. Rick once more looked at me with those eyes, understanding yet desolate; not angry, not sad, but purely bereft.

"Okay then. If everything's settled, let's not waste any more fucking time here." Announced Negan with a sign of the hand. "You got ten minutes to pack whatever shit you have to take with you while I tell my men to unload the truck."

Letting his eyes glide over me one last time, he showed me his smile before turning around and stepping off our front yard, walking away back to the gates. So, without a second to lose, I followed his command and made my way inside the house; Rick hot on my trail.

"[Y/N]—" He began calling out.

But I ignored him as I opened the front door and entered the living room, only to find Carl sitting on one of the sofas, a book in his hands.

"Is everything alright?" He asked while looking up at us both. "... Is Negan causing trouble here today?"

"Everything's fine, Carl. Don't worry." I reassured him with a smile.

Walking past where he was, I stopped right by the couch and could feel my smile turn bittersweet as I looked down at him.

"... I'm just going to have to leave Alexandria for a few days."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Rick will have to explain everything to you, I don't really have the time to get into details right now... Sorry." I answered, my smile now completely gone.

Not wishing to elaborate any further or waste any more time, I kept walking and went up the stairs, heading for my bedroom.

"[Y/N], wait." Rick called again, still following behind me.

Once inside my room, I crouched to pick up my backpack from the floor then put it down on my bed.

"I'm listening." I finally told him while opening my bag.

"I appreciate you wanting to do your part for the community, I truly do and I want you to know it. But this isn't just a bad idea, [Y/N], it's also a very dangerous one."

The first item I packed was my toothbrush, sitting in a glass on my nightstand; even without having toothpaste, I found it important to keep it with me.

"What, you think I don't know that? I'm the one making this willing decision to go, and trust me when I say I hate having to make it."

Second was my comb, sitting right beside the glass; it was no brush, but enough to help me keep my hair in check.

"Then why are you so determined on going? I know you're smart enough to know the risks, and I know it's hurting you having to do this... So how can you be so sure of yourself?"

Third came my notebook and my pen, tucked away in a corner of the room; having had them since the very beginning of the outbreak, they were always handy to have around.

"I'm not, I'm only being realistic. You know well he wouldn't have taken 'no' for an answer... Even if he disguised his supposed deal as something we could have declined, it's clear he would've forced my hand had I not made up my mind on my own."

Then followed a couple of books, piled against one of the walls; some had been with me since the beginning, others I had borrowed from friends in Alexandria.

"No, there's more than that... I'm convinced we could have reasoned with him, maybe asked him for another deal that wouldn't have involved you going. But instead, you agreed almost immediately..."

Finally, I took all of the clothes I had, scattered about on my bed; it was no more than a few spare shirts and pants, but it could not hurt to pack it all.

"... It's like you want to go." He added, a trace of judgment in his voice.

"Well, a part of me does, yes." I told him as I turned around, finally looking him in the eyes for the first time since the beginning of our conversation. "Rick, can't you see? This is perfect, perfect for us, perfect for you..."

I paused for only a second, the time for me to close the door to my room.

"... Perfect for your plan of attack." I finished in a quieter voice, not wanting Carl to hear us from downstairs.

The surprise on Rick's face was unconcealed.

"How do you know about that?" He asked me with a hint of concern. "I haven't yet told you anything about it..."

"I know... I've overheard you talking about it with Andrea lately." I replied while sitting down on my bed.

A moment of silence settled between the two of us, brief but still heavy.

"... I'm sorry if you've felt like I've been lying to you and keeping things hidden from you." He apologized, his sentiment genuine. "It's just a very risky plan, and I'd rather handle it on my own for now."

"I know. You don't have to apologize to me, I'm not mad at you for it... Really, I get it."

"I hope everyone else will react the same way when I tell them." He scoffed. "... How much do you know, exactly?"

"Pretty much everything, I believe." I answered while shrugging. "I know you're secretly preparing to launch an attack on The Saviors, I know you're lying to everyone in Alexandria by making them believe Negan's got you defenseless and submitted to him, I know you've been hard at work trying to recruit members of other communities to fight alongside you... And I know that Dwight guy has come in contact with you just a day ago or so to let you know he's ready to turn his back on Negan."

With a sigh, he mirrored my movement and sat down as well.

"That's about all of it, yeah."

"I know you're scared about me leaving with Negan for ten whole days... but, if anything, this is a golden opportunity." I explained. "I can gather information while I'm there, a lot more than what Carl could tell us after he came back... Anything that could help you. Hell, now that we know that Dwight is on our side, I could even try approaching him and exchanging information with him while I'm there—"

"Absolutely not." Rick cut me off dismissively. "We don't actually know for certain whether Dwight really is on our side or not... I still don't fully trust him, I want to make sure he's not hiding any tricks up his sleeve... I don't want to take any risks when it comes to Negan."

"Alright... That's fair." I nodded. "But at the very least, we should take advantage of the fact that I'll be this close to him and discuss what I could try doing... I mean, who knows, maybe I'll get a window of opportunity to strike—"

"Are you out of your mind?!" He exclaimed as he stood up from the bed. "Whatever happened to 'I could never kill Negan'?"

Unable to give him a valid answer, I simply remained silent and looked down at my hands on my lap.

"We've been over this already, you simply couldn't do it... And even less so while you're staying there." He continued. "Let's say— For the sake of argument, you do get a chance to kill him— Then what? You'd be trapped inside a huge factory, surrounded by the dozens and dozens of men under his command... You wouldn't make it out alive. Even if it means successfully getting rid of him, doing it under such circumstances isn't worth it if it costs you your life."

I could discern the worry in his tone, walking hand-in-hand with desperation.

"No, I do not want you snooping around while you're there." He firmly stated. "I know I've told you before, and I know you've told me you're well aware of it, but you don't seem to realize the gravity of it— This is dangerous, [Y/N]. You're not going on a scouting mission, you're letting yourself become Negan's hostage. While you're away, with him, you'll have to do whatever he asks of you... You won't have a choice but to do things his way, live by his rules. And you, having to stay there for so long, is already risky enough as it is... I don't need you putting your life on the line trying anything too reckless and uncertain."

Although his words were assertive, the footsteps that followed after them were light, slow, and gentle: standing in front of me, Rick reached for my shoulder with his left hand and held it tight.

"... This is why I'm scared for you, [Y/N]." He said affectionately. "Even if it was me going, I'd fear for myself."

I stared up into his eyes, so caring, before I covered his hand with mine and smiled faintly.

"... I understand. I'll be careful, I promise."

With those few words of comfort, he removed his hand, allowing me to stand up as well; though there was no way for me to accurately keep track of time, I could tell my ten minutes of remaining freedom in Alexandria were almost over, and it was time for me to go see Negan. But before leaving my room, I crouched and picked up my crowbar lying by the leg of my bed, then crammed it into my backpack.

"I'm not you, but I can still hold my own." I confidently told him as I zipped my bag.

Throwing it over one of my shoulders, I walked out of my bedroom, Rick still following behind me; making my way back downstairs, I passed Carl in the living room once more.

"Alright, it's time for me to go." I told him. "I'll see you in a few days, Carl... Take good care of Rick while I'm gone, okay? Don't let him do anything stupid and make sure to protect him."

Getting a chuckle out of him and a scoff out of Rick with that playful remark, the two of us exited the house and headed for the front gates. There awaited Negan, standing beside his truck, one hand on his hip and the other still clinging onto that baseball bat of his.

"You sure took your sweet fucking time..." He said sneeringly as I approached him.

"You're the one who gave me ten minutes."

"Just because I did doesn't mean you had to use all fucking ten of them."

His eyes looked past my face and at Rick, standing behind me, which brought his usual, oddly-friendly-looking smile back.

"And would you look at that? Daddy even came to see you off." He teased us.

I sighed and rolled my eyes at him, not bothering to engage and instead walking up to the passenger door of the van.

"Ladies first." He said while opening it for me, his arm outstretched.

I leaned forward and took a peek inside, only to notice that there were not even two full seats beside the driver, already sitting behind the wheel.

"... I'm riding here?" I asked as I turned back to him, unsure. "There's hardly enough space for three people... I'd have to squeeze in the middle."

"If you want to be so fucking picky, you can always ride inside the truck." Offered Negan while pointing to the storage section of the vehicle. "But I should warn you..."

Letting the beginning of his sentence hang still in the air, he got closer to me and stared down into my eyes.

"... All my men are in there, and they are more than a little fucking pissed that they came all this way just to leave empty-handed." He quietly spoke, trying to intimidate me. "... I don't think they'd be too happy to see your goddamn face right now."

Not quite daring to test whether his threat was empty or not, I gave up and climbed inside the front of the truck: moving over to the middle, on what was barely large enough to be considered a seat, I sat next to the driver, not uttering another word.

"Pleasure doing business with you." I heard Negan say to Rick before he joined me in the front and closed the door.

Adjusting himself comfortably by the window, I felt my body tense up the second he sat down: with what little space we had, and with how physically imposing he was, I found myself cramped tightly next to him, my body almost fully against his. I gulped as awkwardness began to invade me, leaving me silent.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was late in the afternoon that day, the sun had already started setting over the city. [Y/N] was making her way back to her apartment, mindlessly strolling down the streets with her headphones on, until her nose picked up on a rather odd smell.

Is that... the smell of cigarette? But...

While plenty of people would smoke around her neighborhood and the smell would become recognizable in an instant, that particular kind somehow caught her attention.

The young woman looked in the direction of the odor, which seemed to be emanating from deep within an alley; for some inexplicable reason she could not quite justify, she felt compelled to follow the smell, her steps a little hesitant as she braved the darkness and walked away from the lively, vibrant streets.

Why am I not going back home like I was supposed to? What am I even doing right now? I probably shouldn't be here... Especially for something as trivial as some weird smell...

But before she could find any answers to any of her questions, she paused her movements the moment her eyes, having adjusted to her dimly-lit surroundings spotted a man sitting down on the ground, his back to a wall. A cigarette trapped between his lips, he exhaled a slow, green cloud of smoke.

Then, though his eyes remained hooded by his hat, what |Y/N] could see was his head turning to look up at her.

"... Hey there." He casually said, a smile on his face, his tone friendly.

Too friendly. She thought.

"H-Hello, sir..." She said in response as she slowly took off her headphones, letting them hang around her neck.

He could hear the uncertainty in her voice, and he could see it, as well: out of fear, or perhaps simply out of instincts, [Y/N] clutched her purse a bit tighter against her side, her eyes not leaving the mysterious man's face, still half concealed.

Noticing the slight, almost imperceptible movement, he let out a chuckle, the sound surprisingly reassuring to hear.

"Easy there, little lady. No need to be scared, I'm not gonna hurt you." He told her with a smile as he puffed out more smoke. "And why the 'sir'? Do I really look that old now?"

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you in any way." She explained herself, feeling extremely awkward at the unexpected situation she had found herself in. "It's just... I live in this neighborhood, and I've never seen you around here..."

And yet... He doesn't actually look like such a bad man, on closer inspection.

[Y/N] allowed herself to take a good look at him from where she was standing: from what she could see through the dark enveloping him, she could tell he seemed to be relatively tall and strong, though that might have been in part due to his baggy clothes hiding his true figure. Moving up to his face, she had to admit he, indeed, did not look old; probably not enough to be called 'sir' by a 23-year-old woman.

He must be in his early- to mid-thirties, at most. She estimated.

But although he was shrouded by smoke and shadows, there was something about him that convinced her he was kind, that he would not do anything to her.

The man could feel her eyes roaming over his form, he could feel she was undeniably inspecting him from head to toe. And that made him chuckle once more, the situation amusing and almost entertaining to him. Undisturbed by her gaze, he let her carry on with her examination with a gentle smirk, following her eyes as they briefly flicked to his lips the moment they puffed out yet another cloud of smoke.

"... Then again, it's not like I roam these alleyways often." She added in a softer, slightly quieter voice, her eyebrows raising for a split second. "... I suppose I wouldn't know what's going down here most of the time, nor who lives here."

He hummed thoughtfully, bringing his cigarette back up to his lips as he listened to her.

"You got a point." He said with a shrug, his mouth still leaking green smoke. "But that makes me curious, little lady. If you don't usually hang around this corner of town, why is it you're here right now?"

That sense of awkwardness was back, only this time it brought embarrassment along with it.

"W-Well... To tell you the truth, it's your smoke that drew me here. Or, rather, its smell, I should say." She admitted truthfully, but for some reason felt bad about it. "I was walking down the streets, on my way home when I smelled it... and decided to trace it back to its source, I suppose."

"Heh, I sorta had a hunch that's what it was." He tilted his head to the side in response as he spoke.

For a moment, he held his silence as his gaze began to jump from one part of her body to another: his eyes were still completely invisible to hers, tucked away in the shadows of his hat, but she could still feel their weight on her.

Then, his smirk widened and out came a deep, throaty chuckle; one that strangely made her hold her breath.

"... Still, I wouldn't have bet on the smell of smoke catching the interest of a girl like you." He stated, his left arm now resting over his knee. "... You a fan of cigarettes, little lady?"

"Not... necessarily, no." She answered honestly.

But if I really am honest, why does it feel as though I should have answered him differently?

"It's more so because of the smell itself..." She added, stubbornly continuing to try to find his eyes. "I know what cigarettes smell like... Hell, a few friends of mine smoke pretty regularly. But the odor of yours... is kind of odd... I've never really smelled anything like it before."

[Y/N] watched the smoke leave the cigarette in his hand and float upwards, its green hue slightly glowing amidst the dark.

"... And I guess I kind of just got curious when I smelled it and wanted to know what it was exactly." She finished with a shrug.

Only then did it hit her.

"I didn't mean to intrude or disturb you- I'm sorry if I've bothered you by coming all this way-"

"Woah, there." He interrupted her, his head slowly shaking from left to right. "You don't gotta be so quick to apologize, you're not bothering me one bit by being here."

His voice echoed within her, his words resonated inside her mind: just like that, with only a sentence and a smile, he had managed to make her feel reassured.

"Really, you're all right." He added, hands gesturing, smoke swaying in the air from between his fingers. "If anything, I should thank you for the company. I appreciate it."

... God, this man looks lonely.

She could not bring herself to smile, no matter how warm and comforting his tone sounded: she felt a great deal of pity for him, at the sight before her.

I feel so sorry for him... yet I don't even know who he is. He seems so kind, so good... so deserving of something more than this, something better than this...

Thinking back to his words, still bouncing around her brain, her gaze turned downward, the green cloud leaving her sight for the first time that evening.

He really does appear to have no one by his side... I know you're not supposed to talk to strangers, especially if they're a shady-looking man smoking in the corner of a dank alley in the early evening... but, maybe, it's not so bad I ran into him... or, rather, that he ran into me.

Clearly, he could tell something had ticked in the young woman.

"Feeling alright, little lady?"

But he already knew the answer.

Having died out after one last inhale, the dry cigarette butt came crashing down on the musty concrete, the stranger letting it drop after he had pinched it with his fingers; he was quick to pull another one out, wasting no time to place it between his lips.

"You're looking kinda distressed." He continued, his words accompanied by the click of his lighter.

His tone was light as he spoke, his expression still gentle, yet it sounded as though the worry he felt for her was genuine.

It took some time, but eventually his words reached [Y/N]'s ears and pulled her out of her thoughts. She blinked rapidly, as if to redirect her focus back to him.

"I'm fine..."

The words slithered out of her mouth, almost like they were instinctive for her; she shook her head, slowly, once, twice, her eyes closed, her thumb and index finger on the bridge of her nose.

"But thank you for your concer-"

Her sentence was abruptly cut off by her own eyes opening to an unexpected sight.

The man's arm was extended, his hand within her grasp, his fingers offering her his cigarette.

"You look like you could use a smoke." He said, the corners of his lips still turned upward into a smile. "It'd help you relax."

The warmth of his tone matched that of the mist that slowly, gently rose between the two of them, its green coloring still as mesmerizing to the young woman. His hand was immobile, frozen in mid-air as he held the stick of tobacco and patiently waited for her to make a decision.

And then, he uttered words that would forever alter the course of her life; words that would forever mark her; words that would forever symbolize a new beginning, for both of them.

~~~~~~~~~~

With a shaky hand, I reached inside my purse for my keys, which I inserted into the keyhole before I turned the knob and opened the front door. To my surprise, the lights inside were on, their brightness hurting my eyes and making my head dizzy.

And, sitting in the very center of the living room was Dick, sat at the table, which he almost knocked over with his legs as he promptly stood up upon seeing me enter the apartment.

"Dick? What are you doing still up?" I asked him hesitantly.

In all honesty, it mattered little to me why he was not asleep: I was just glad he was not. It was past midnight, and I needed him. I needed his company. I needed his presence.

There was nothing else I needed, nothing else I wanted.

Dick and I lived together in the same cramped apartment we rented, but we were just roommates. Just roommates. Nothing else, nothing more.

That was what I had always told myself.

But that night, after what I had just gone through, I could not deny that I craved his embrace.

And judging by the concerned look on his face and the worry in his eyes, I could tell he, too, was relieved to finally see me being back home.

"I've been worried sick about you, pal! Where have you been all this time?" He asked me in return.

I had always been a bit of a night owl, but even for me, that was later than usual. The last time Dick and I had spoken — which, admittedly, had been in the late afternoon — was when I had informed him that I had plans to meet up with a friend for drinks and dinner.

But I had told him I would be back before dark.

"I know it's late... I'm sorry..." I started with a trembling voice. "I didn't want to make you worry... I didn't think you would..."

I barely took a step toward him before I froze, standing still as I turned my head to my feet, my eyes shut tight.

"... Dick, I... I was walking on the way back home, and, it was dark, and... there was this dog..."

I took another single, slow step closer to him, still in the same stance, but this time with my hands holding my arms, which hugged my chest.

"... Dick, I was so scared..." I murmured with a heavy breath.

"Hey, hey—" He started hurriedly, trying to calm me down. "You're safe now, you're home. That's all that matters."

I was acting very strangely; I knew I was. And I could tell by the timber of his voice that Dick was greatly concerned.

"Did the dog hurt you? Was there anyone else out on the street?" He asked further, trying to get me to open up. "What happened, [Y/N]?"

I remained silent at first, listening to the sound of his voice as I kept my eyes closed, my heart rate progressively slowing down until I felt able to speak clearly.

"... I was walking up the road down the street, and all of a sudden a dog came onto the road out of nowhere." I began to explain while I sheepishly looked up into his eyes. "But it wasn't at all a dog like Missile— Well, actually, it technically was— It was a guard dog, trained for hunting, but it wasn't well-behaved and trained like Missile is... It was a German shepherd, and it came running at me, barking violently..."

"What?!" He exclaimed in both surprise and fear.

The disbelief in his tone told me the description I had made of the dog painted a terrifying mental image in his head: a German shepherd, known for being large, physically imposing, and potentially aggressive, attacking me in the dead of night.

"What happened then? You weren't hurt, were you? Are you okay now?"

"I-I wasn't hurt, don't worry—" I answered in a tone which was meant to reassure him, while I shook my head a little. "I... I guess the gate to its owner's house was opened, so it snuck out... or maybe there was a hole in the fence, or something... Either way, the dog was in the middle of the road and ran up to me while barking, and it kept barking until I backed away far enough..."

I looked back down at my feet as I slowly shrugged.

"It was protecting its house, I guess? I don't know why it was so aggressive, but it didn't bite me... But it did back me into a corner of the road... It was terrifying..."

I closed my eyes once more before I took a few deep breaths, trying to remain composed.

"... I was eventually able to walk past its house after I waited for it to return inside, but it was a really close call... I really thought I wouldn't make it back home in one piece, Dick..."

"But you're here and safe now, pal, and that's what's important." He immediately told me.

Probably due to how pale and shaky I was, I saw him give me his best attempt at a reassuring smile; since Dick and I had first met, he had never gotten to see me so terrified.

And I would have preferred for things to stay that way.

"I can't believe how dangerous this neighborhood's become since all that crime started..." He grumbled under his breath. "This is supposed to be a safe quarter, for God's sake."

"... I wish you'd been there, Dick." I spoke softly after a moment of silence.

As I uttered those words, I felt the temperature of my face rise slightly.

Surely, it was only the stress of the situation getting to me; surely, there was no other reason for me to suddenly flush.

"I kept thinking of you... of how you could have protected me if you had been with me..." I continued, my voice still low. "I just... wanted you to be there, and I wanted to be by your side... I couldn't wait to finally be home."

"I wish I could've been there too, pal..." He responded, his words gentle and tinged with regret.

Silence came to settle between us once more, the room only filled with the gentle noise of the air conditioner running. That, and the sound of my heartbeat resonating within my ears, so loud and so fast it was almost overwhelming; I convinced myself it was only beating at such a rate due to how much stress and fear my encounter with the dog had stirred in me.

I convinced myself it was the only reason. The only explanation behind my increasing shyness.

And, in fact, that very same reason was what pushed me to look up into Dick's eyes at that moment, as my eyebrows furrowed lightly and my fingers started to fidget.

"... Dick... Could... Can you hold me?" I asked him out of the blue, my voice sounding slightly awkward. "I... I could really use a hug right now..."

I witnessed his cheeks turning slightly pink as he slowly nodded.

"Uh... Yeah... Of course I can. Come here." He said, beckoning me towards him.

I took a step forward while still staring into his eyes, until I was faced with his torso, my gaze falling to his chest as he wrapped his arms around me. His strong, warm, comforting arms, the only form of solace my heart sought at that instant.

I felt the slightly sweaty palms of his hands on my cold back, I smelled the scent of his cheap cologne on the collar of his dress shirt tickling my nose, I heard the regular rhythm of his heavy breaths close to my ears, I saw the soothing rises and falls of his chest as his heart beat steadily right before my eyes.

It was pure bliss. It was exactly what my heart desired.

And it was real. Oh so real.

"There..." Dick whispered, gently stroking the top of my head to his chest as he cradled me. "You're safe now."

And for the first time that night, I did feel safe: in his arms, draped in his warmth and his affection, graced with his soothing voice and his comforting presence.

And yet, I remained completely silent. Not necessarily by choice; there were thoughts restlessly running through my mind as we hugged.

God, the things I wanted to say to him.

You feel amazing...

You're so comfortable...

Don't let go...

You mean so much to me...

Your embrace is really warm...

I want to feel your arms around me more often...

But no words came out. None of these thoughts made it past my lips. And I kept quiet as I melted into his arms, as I let all my worries fade away.

Dick, too, remained in silence as he held me; he simply continued to stroke my hair and kept me as close to him as he could. Perhaps he was thinking the same things I was thinking at that moment: but I could not be sure, as he did not utter a word. Not that it was necessary anyway.

The hug we shared was pleasant and comfortable, and his gentle aura surrounding mine was more relaxing than anything. I soon began to feel my heartbeat gradually slowing down and the tension within my chest progressively ebbing.

I took a shaky breath, closing my eyes as I leaned further into his chest, my body all of a sudden feeling rather heavy.

And I could still hear the beating of Dick's heart, slow and steady, even despite how intimately close we were to each other; the sound lulled me further into tranquility, making me feel all fuzzy from the inside.

There was only one thought in my mind at that moment.

I don't want to let go...

But I knew I had to. I could not possibly keep him standing like that forever, after all.

And so, I reluctantly, slowly pulled away from him, feeling a great deal of frustration as I did.

Dick looked down at me with his kind, concerned eyes, keeping his hands firmly on my shoulders.

"Feeling better now, pal?" He asked me in that deep, yet soft voice, the gentleness of his tone and the sweetness of his facial expression making me want nothing more than to dive right back into his arms.

"Yeah... A bit better, yeah." I nodded, the movement as timid as my eyes. "... Thank you, Dick."

I took another deep breath while I let my gaze fall on the small hallway behind him, before it returned to his face.

"... I think I'm going to go to sleep now, I need some rest." I told him with the softest expression I could conjure up despite my weariness. "... You should too, you know... You've stayed up late for me... You shouldn't have. You must be tired."

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine. You get a good night's rest for now, though." He responded, his words quiet and gentle as he slowly released his grip on me. "And if you need me for anything, I'll be in my room... Just knock on my door."

I lost track of time for a brief instant, my mind focused solely on the sensation of his grasp on my shoulders loosening.

"Alright... Thanks." I said with a weakened smile.

Slipping away from his hands completely, I took a weary step forward.

"... Well, you have a good night." I added as I slowly started making my way to my bedroom. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"... Yeah. Good night, pal." He echoed, his voice soft as I felt his eyes gently following me as I shuffled down the hallway. "Sleep well."

And with that, I retreated to my room and closed my door, followed soon after by the sound of Dick doing the same, the two of us parting for the night.

I did not bother turning on the lights right away: I simply made my way over to my bed, my mind occupied by nothing but the thoughts of everything that had just unfolded. Of the way Dick had gently held me in his arms, how he had whispered reassuring words to me, how his hands had stroked my hair as he was keeping me close, how his heart had beaten in such a steady, relaxing rhythm.

I plopped on the mattress and buried my flushed face into my pillows as my heart thumped in my chest, now for an entirely different reason.

Dick was a kind soul. I had always considered him as my best friend; the best friend everyone would ever wish to have. Yet, when I thought back to that moment, back to his tight embrace, it all felt to me like it was much more than a simple gesture between friends.

But it was impossible. I knew it was.

We were roommates. And beyond that, best friends. Nothing more.

So I pushed it all away. All the thoughts. All the emotions. All the sensations.

All the doubts.

I stood up from my bed with a huff, went to the bathroom, got myself ready for the night, then entered my room once more. I undressed, changing into a tank top and shorts; lying back down on my mattress, I took a breath and pulled the sheets over my body.

But now anxiety took over me once more: now that I had chased Dick from my mind, all that remained were my fresh memories of that dreadful dog I had encountered.

The animal's silhouette haunted me as I closed my eyes. I heard the sounds of its low growls echoing inside my ears. I felt its breath as it panted with aggression. I smelled the strong stink in its fur.

Goosebumps appeared all over the surface of my body while I felt my skin crawl, my arms wrapping around myself in a futile attempt at bringing me comfort; futile, as it did not work. My mind continued to be tormented by the canine's image.

"... Help me..." I whimpered under my breath, my grip tightening around my own body, my face flushing with heat as tears gathered in the corners of my eyes.

I wanted it to end.

I wanted to sleep.

But I could not rest. My heart was pounding in my chest, my breathing was shallow, and my limbs were shaking as if I were trapped in an ice house.

"... Dick..." I continued to whisper to myself, my voice shaky, my eyelids too heavy to keep open. "... I need you..."

And I knew I needed him.

Tears still tickling the edges of my eyes, I threw my bedsheets aside, unable to bear their weight any longer, and stumbled out of bed. My vision was hazy and my knees felt weak under my weight: I could barely stand, but I did not care. I made my way out of my room and, with trembling knuckles, knocked on my roommate's door.

I waited a few seconds while my heart beat with increasing force. I stood helpless and hopeless, until, finally, the door before me slowly opened by a fraction, revealing a half-asleep Dick standing behind it, his eyes half-open.

"... [Y/N]? Do you need something?" He asked quietly, his voice filled with concern despite the sleepiness. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Y-You... You said that... if I need you for anything... I can knock on your door..." I murmured between breaths.

My gaze was fixed on the floor for a moment, before I glanced up at him.

"... Can I come in... please?"

"Of course, pal." He nodded without a trace of hesitation, his eyes still heavy but his voice still soft.

He stepped aside, holding the door open for me.

"Come in, it's all right."

I slowly entered his bedroom as he closed the door behind us, then took a brief look around: at his bedside lamp, at his messy bed, and, ultimately, at him. Even in the dim light, I could see he was close to bare, wearing only a pair of dark brown boxer shorts that matched his eyes, leaving his broad and muscular chest exposed.

"... Thanks, Dick..." I eventually said quietly. "I... I'm sorry for waking you up like this... I know it's late... You already stayed up for much longer than you should've for me, and I'm sure you just want to sleep already..."

"... Tell you the truth, I've been havin' trouble finding sleep myself. I was kind of dozing off... but not asleep asleep." He told me with a chuckle, his voice gentle as he slowly sat down on his bed. "So don't ya worry about that, really."

Somehow, inexplicably, a part of me was put at ease knowing we were both going through the same situation, knowing we could relate to each other.

The only response I gave him was a subtle, gentle nod, the slight pink on my cheeks hardly visible in the darkness of the room.

"... So, what's on your mind? Are you still stressed about the dog?" He calmly asked me after a moment of silence. "Don't tell me you can't sleep 'cause of the shock, pal."

The pink hue on my face turned darker in shame. I said nothing at first, too embarrassed to admit it.

"Hey, don't be embarrassed, it's okay." He reassured me, his voice sweet and his smile warm. "You've nothin' to be ashamed of, pal. You went through something really scary, it's totally normal you're having trouble sleeping after something like that."

"... I'm scared, Dick..." I let out in a shaky whisper, my eyes falling to my feet. "I can't get rid of that image... of its smell... of the sound of its barks... They've all been haunting me since it's happened... And I can't rest because of it... Not with those fresh memories stuck in my head..."

I brought my hands up to my arms, hugging myself defensively.

"... I've been trying to fall asleep since I told you good night, but... but I just can't manage to." I carried on. "All I've been thinking about is everything that happened... I can't help it. It just... won't go away, no matter how hard I try. It's like it's stuck in my head... I can't stop seeing that dog..."

"It's alright, [Y/N], I understand." He said in return, nodding his head slowly. "And you're safe now. You're here, with me, and that mutt can't get to you here. Hell, even if it could, I wouldn't let it... I know it's hard for you to forget about it right now, but eventually you will and it's all gonna be okay."

As I listened to him talk, I raised my eyes to his face and saw the most sympathetic expression I had ever seen from him, his gaze filled with kindness and understanding.

His words were comforting and soothing: exactly what I needed. But I knew his words were not enough. I knew my heart and soul ached for something else, something more.

"... Dick, I... I know it's... a little strange of me to ask... and a little... awkward, but... Could I... Could I maybe sleep in your bed tonight?" I asked hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper as I continued to shyly look into his eyes. "... I don't think I can stay alone tonight, and... I don't think I'm ready to go back to my bedroom... So... if I could... stay with you tonight... I think I could maybe manage to find sleep..."

A few seconds of silence followed as those words left my mouth. My roommate simply stared at me with an expression of surprise and bashfulness plastered on his face. He sat, quiet and frozen, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes slightly wide, his face slightly flushed.

"... Y-Yeah... Sure." He finally replied with a nod after his moment of contemplation. "... Of course you can, pal... Go ahead, you can hop in."

With a gentle sigh of relief, I nodded my head back at him before I slowly made my way toward his bed and timidly lay on the mattress by his side.

"Thanks, Dick..." I muttered as I slipped between the covers, their softness and warmth providing me with instant comfort. "... Really."

"Don't mention it, [Y/N]." He said in a sweet voice as I felt him lying down beside me. "Like I said, I'm here for ya, pal... I'll always be here for ya."

With those words, he turned off the light on his nightstand and turned his back to mine. The room was now dark. Silence lingered between us as I gently pulled the blanket up to my chin. My body was still a bit tense, but only because I could feel Dick's warmth by my side. And although the fear of that earlier encounter was still there, although the memories were still present and prominent in my mind, I felt safe.

I was there, lying next to Dick, in his own bed. I was safe. I was protected. I could not help but blush as that realization occurred to me.

Even if a small part of my brain refused to shut off and was insisting on bringing those dreadful memories back, I did my best to push them aside, determined to focus on the warmth of the moment instead; and on the warmth of the person sleeping next to me, just inches away.

Time passed as I lay there with my eyes fixed on the wall, the minutes stretching for what seemed to be ages; although exhaustion weighed heavily on me, slumber simply refused to take hold of me, my thoughts too loud to let me drift off to sleep.

I delicately rolled over onto my other side, my body making barely audible sounds as it brushed between the sheets and the mattress. Dick was still lying with his back to me. I could hear the quietness of his breathing.

I observed his figure in the darkness of the room, unable to take my eyes off him: I lingered on the shape of his muscular shoulders, on the broadness of his back, on the way his spine rose and fell slowly while he inhaled and exhaled.

And then I could no longer hold myself back.

Without a word or a sound, I moved closer to him until my body was pressed into his; I almost recoiled at the sudden sensation of his bare skin against my limbs. I restrained myself and only twitched slightly as I timidly wrapped an arm around his torso and hesitantly rested my head against his back.

On impact, a soft gasp of surprise escaped him at the same time as his body tensed up around me, his whole frame going rigid, save for a shiver that I felt run through him.

"[Y/N]? W-What are you—" He began to ask me in a trembling voice but cut himself off before he could finish.

As he fell quiet, I held my breath: I was suddenly filled with dread at the thought that, perhaps, I had made a terrible mistake.

"I-I'm sorry— I know this must be weird for you..." I said quietly, my tone as uncertain as my emotions. "... I know t-this is very sudden and probably strange to you... b-but... I just..."

My voice drifted off into silence as I struggled to find the right words to express myself.

"... I just wanted to be close to you..."

Silence continued to weigh on us; then, I heard him exhale slowly, felt his body tensing up ever so slightly.

"... Do... Do you... wanna be even closer?" He hesitantly asked, and I could picture the flush on his face through his voice. "Because... I don't mind... if that's what you want."

His offer caught me off-guard and left me stunned, but I quickly composed myself and nodded against his back as my heart started racing.

"... Yeah... I do." I answered, my murmur tender.

There was another moment of silence, and then he gently took my hand in his and cautiously intertwined our fingers. The gesture was so soft, so delicate, as if he was afraid I would pull away from him at any second. But that was the last thing I wanted to do, my heart swelling with a spark that made me crave his touch more than anything.

As I lay there, pressed against Dick's warm body, my heart racing and my breath uneven, I could not help but feel a strange mixture of emotions swirling inside me: I was nervous and excited, I was vulnerable and protected, all at once. His gentle touch, the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of his breathing against my face; all of it was both familiar and foreign, and yet, it felt right.

I closed my eyes and buried my face against his back. The muscles of his shoulder blades beneath my cheek were firm, strong, but the hair on his chest was soft and relaxing to caress. He was so much bigger than me, so much stronger in so many ways: and despite it all, in that moment, I felt so perfectly secure with him.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as I clung to him, unable to find the will to let go. My body may have been tired, but my mind was wide awake, caught between a strange mixture of confusion and relief. I pondered over my feelings, marching through them as they raged inside me, Dick's embrace keeping me grounded in comfort and serenity.

As I lay there, listening to the sound of his breathing, I knew I had at last found the solace I had been seeking since the very beginning: a solace I never wanted to let go of.

"... I think I'm in love with you." I suddenly blurted out in the quietest of whispers, my grip on him tightening as the words slipped through my lips.

At my unprompted confession, I felt his body tense up once more under my touch. He held his breath for a moment, his fingers gripping my hand firmly.

"... Did... Did you... just say that you're in love with me?" He asked in a trembling voice, a note of disbelief in his tone.

I nodded shyly, my heart hammering so hard in my chest I thought it would burst out; I was unsure of what his response would be, of whether he would reject me or reciprocate my feelings. But, at that moment, all I cared about was being honest, with him and myself.

"... I think... I always have been." I spoke up after a moment, my voice barely above a whisper.

Both of us remained perfectly still, lost in our respective thoughts and emotions. Then, to my surprise, Dick shifted slightly under my touch, rolling over onto his other side so he could face me. He pulled me impossibly closer to him, wrapping his strong, muscular arms around me in a gentle, but firm embrace.

"... I... I've always felt the same way about you, too..." He confessed quietly, his voice filled with emotion. "I just... I never really knew how to tell you... and I didn't know if you could feel the same way... and I was too afraid to say anything, because I... I didn't want to risk losing you..."

His heavy words affected both of us: his breath against my skin, warm and reassuring grew unsteady, while my heart palpitated with happiness and relief. All this time, we had both been harboring feelings for one another, too scared to express them, but now we had finally taken that leap together, and it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck, the steady rhythm of his pulse beating against my skin. I had never felt so loved and safe.

"... I'm so glad you were brave enough to tell me." He whispered softly, looking into my eyes affectionately. "And... And I want you to know that I'll always be here for you, no matter what happens. I'm never gonna leave your side, not for anything in the world."

One of his hands slid from the back of my head to my face, gently cupping my cheek as he made me look into his eyes.

"... I love you, [Y/N]." He murmured, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the room as he locked his gaze with mine.

"... I love you too, Dick." I replied in a tone as quiet as his, my words filled with sincerity and warmth.

And then, as if in a dream, his lips met mine, capturing them in a soft and tender kiss. As our lips connected, the world around us immediately faded away: the worries and fears that had plagued me earlier began to melt into distant memories, leaving only the feeling of his touch, of his warmth, and of his love. In that moment, all that mattered was he and I, joined in a way that words could never fully express. I could feel the electricity in his touch pulsing through me, igniting a fire within my core that burned with passion and desire.

And I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I never wanted to let go of him.

We gently pulled back from the kiss, both of us full of an intense mix of emotions. Our foreheads rested against each other, neither of us speaking as we simply lay in his bed, enjoying the feeling of being so close to one another, savoring this newfound intimacy between us. As I gazed into Dick's eyes, I felt a sense of awe and wonder: this man, this incredible man who had always been there for me, had now become mine, and I had become his.

Although I wished for the moment to stretch out into infinity, fatigue eventually began to claim us both: as our eyelids started to droop, Dick pulled me even closer to him and planted a tender kiss on my temple.

"Let's get some rest, now." He lovingly whispered in my ear, his voice a tickling murmur against my skin. "I'll keep telling you how much I love you some more in the morning, but for now, we should both be gettin' some rest... Together."

I nodded with a small, tired smile, exhaustion settling in and enveloping me like a warm blanket.

~~~~~~~~~~

As I listened to the sound of the rain pouring against the bedroom window, I peacefully awoke to the feeling of a gentle touch on my skin, a touch I very well knew the origin of; I decided to keep my eyes closed, making this pleasant sensation last, even if just for a little longer. Then, after a few minutes had passed, minutes of silence broken by the wind and rain, I slowly opened them. And when I did, my gaze landed on Roman, his face leaning close to mine, his tender lips kissing my cheeks, my chin, my neck, in a soft and delicate manner. While his mouth traveled across my face, his smooth beard caressed my skin in such a way that it sent shivers all the way down my spine.

Although I was now awake, I willingly kept my body still, not moving, leading him to believe I was still asleep. However, he eventually stopped kissing me and looked up at me, only to see my eyes open.

"Good morning, precious." He said with the most affectionate of smiles.

"Good morning, honey." I said in return.

We exchanged a delicate kiss, after which Roman slipped his arms around my body and pulled me against him, holding me tight; as he did so, I turned my head to the window, watching the rain fall against the glass loudly.

"Trash weather today, right?" He asked rhetorically when he noticed where my eyes were looking.

"Yeah... I really don't like when the sky is so gray, when there's so much wind and rain..."

This made him chuckle, a soft and genuine laugh that was accompanied by a caress on my cheek by his thumb, while his other hand began to play with my hair affectionately.

"Well, I personally like it. 'Cause without it, there'd be no reason for me to be here, watching over you and keeping you cozy through it all."

The wholesomeness of his words made my cheeks blush and I instinctively tucked my head in the crook of his neck, my face partly on his bare chest.

Roman always cares so much for me... I thought to myself, my eyes staring into nothingness. Whenever he opens his eyes before me in the morning, he always makes sure to wake me up with kisses, to ensure my day starts on a tender, loving note...

Though my mind was swirling with thoughts, I remained silent and did not utter a single word, only listening to both the rain and his breathing above my head; I sighed a deep exhale through my mouth as my fingers traced his arm, my eyes still closed.

"... Is everything all right, darling?" He softly asked me, having noticed the look on my face.

"Yeah, yeah..." I started with a brief nod. "It's just... This is going to sound ridiculous to you, but... It's still so hard for me to believe that your strong arms, your sweet lips, your wholesome words... They're all for me, and me only."

For a second, Roman did not react, until he put the palms of his hands on my shoulders and placed my head in front of his so that he could look at me, so that I could see the concerned expression on his face.

"... Am I really deserving of it all?" I asked in a broken, quiet voice.

"[Y/N], don't ask yourself such a question, please..." He replied in a voice equally as broken. "You can trust me when I say these arms couldn't have found a better body to be around than yours."

His words were so utterly sweet, so utterly sincere, they almost made me tear up, so I turned my head to the side instead, back to the window, to the outside world.

"Thank you, love." I told him in a whisper. "... It's probably nothing, just the weather making me all moody."

"Do you want me to go outside and ask the rain to stop falling for you?" He asked playfully as he rested his chin on one of my shoulders.

I could not suppress a smile upon hearing his question, his silliness already starting to cheer me up.

"No, but in all seriousness, sweetheart, please, don't worry so much about things like this." He continued, regaining some semblance of a serious attitude. "There's no need for you to wonder whether you're worthy of me or not: I love you, wholly, and I love to be with you, like I am right now, and I love to have breakfast with you every morning, and I love to go out with you every day. You're my motivation to open my eyes and get up in the morning, because I know that when I do, you're there, beside me. And you are deserving of it all, because I've chosen you to be."

A single tear rolled down my cheek as I listened to Roman, a tear he gently wiped from my skin with his thumb: I could tell, by the genuine love in his voice that each and every single one of the words he had spoken were true, that he truly meant them, and that simply melted my heart down to my core.

"... Thank you, Roman." I said softly after a moment of quietness, my lips shaped into a shy smile.

He smiled back at me before he pulled me into his embrace once more, and while one of his hands was now wrapped securely around my waist, the other started to trace my back with its fingers, ever so gently, spreading goosebumps over my skin.

"Are you feeling any better, now?" He asked me in a caring tone. "If not, my offer to go shout at the rain still stands, you know."

"Yes, I am." I answered with a chuckle. "Don't worry, love, there's no need for you to go outside just yet. In fact, I want to keep you right here, with me..."

~~~~~~~~~~

I slowly opened my eyes, only to find myself enveloped securely in a pair of tender arms; I turned my head to the side and saw Dean, his eyes closed, still peacefully asleep. My arms were wrapped around his bare chest while both of his hands rested on my waist and thighs. In the bedroom reigned a powerful mixture of aromas, combining love and passion, with a hint of sweat. Although I could still smell what was left of my own perfume on my skin, the one scent my nose picked up on was Dean's cologne against his neck and collarbone, the fragrance intense yet soothing. As I breathed in his scent, I closed my eyes and held his body closer to mine, the palms of my hands resting on his back; I nestled my face against his chest, seeking warmth and serenity in the crook of his neck.

Just as I did so, I felt a faint grip on one of my arms, shortly followed by a gentle stroke: when I turned my gaze to my left, Dean's smiling face appeared, his eyes now open, meeting mine with softness.

"Good morning, baby." He whispered sweetly as he combed my hair with his fingers. "I see you woke up before me... for once."

I chuckled lightly at his comment, before I reached for his hands and intertwined my fingers with his; it had become a habit of Dean to be the first one awake, no matter the day, as he greatly enjoyed preparing breakfast in bed for the both of us.

I know he likes cooking breakfast for me because it makes him feel useful and allows him to add a loving touch to our relationship, and even my life in general, and I'm extremely grateful for such an affectionate gesture... but he never seems to realize that he doesn't need to feel obliged to do it every morning. I thought to myself as I stared into his eyes. I've already told him plenty of times before, it's not necessary for me to be any happier than I already am or even to make me understand how much he loves me, I know he does. But every time I argue with him about it, he insists and still ends up being the one to take care of breakfast... I wish we could switch roles, for once.

Dean leaned closer to me, sticking his face against my neck to kiss it tenderly, which pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Hmm... I can smell my cologne on your skin... It's hot." He said, his voice slightly muffled as his nose sniffed my collarbone.

"No wonder, I spent the whole night snuggled against you." I told him with a smile, my cheeks slightly pink. "We were practically glued to each other all night long... Not that it bothered me."

Dean chuckled as he lay his head on his pillow, closing his eyes, and a yawn escaped his lips. Still properly adjusting to the bright rays of sunlight that were peeking through the bedroom window, I gently rubbed my eyes. Then, with a chuckle of my own, I reached for his cheek as I tilted my head slightly.

"But enough of all that." I stated with assertion. "What do you say I make us breakfast in bed today?"

My question coupled with my enthusiastic tone led Dean to open his eyes back and wide.

"I would really like to do it, this time around." I continued with a smile. "Besides, it seems you're too tired to take care of it, anyway."

"I don't really know, [Y/N]..." He answered hesitantly.

"What, do you not trust me with it? Or are you simply too obsessed with that little ritual of yours?" I asked him in a teasing tone.

"Nah, don't be ridiculous." He replied in an attempt to be nonchalant, though the faint blush on his face betrayed his voice. "I don't even know what you're talking about, I'm not tired."

The very second he finished his sentence, his mouth opened wide and came out a yawn, which he tried his best to conceal by turning his face to the side, as if to hide it from my eyes.

"Come on, Dean..." I laughed as I spoke.

With a gentle hand, I grabbed his face once more, lovingly caressing his skin.

"All I'm asking you is to let me do it, just this once. You always take such good care of me, I just want an opportunity to give it back."

Dean turned his head back to face me, his eyes staring into mine deeply: and, after a moment of silence, he closed his eyes and sighed.

"Alright, fine." He said with a smile and a slow headshake.

"Thank you love!" I exclaimed happily.

I leaned forward and left a soft kiss on his lips as a token of my gratitude.

"Now, I know the quality of the breakfast is obviously not going to be as premium as when you do it, but I'll do my best to reach your level of excellence." I said jokingly while I shifted into a sitting position on the bed.

"I swear I won't be too harsh on you." He said back, just as playfully.

I pecked his lips with mine one last time, the sensation of his rough beard rubbing against my skin sending shivers all the way down my spine, after which I stood up from the bed; I outstretched both my legs and arms while a yawn escaped through my mouth, then made my way out of the bedroom, heading for the kitchen. As I walked to the door, I passed by our large full-length mirror that was attached to the wall and caught a brief glimpse of myself: my hair was completely disheveled, my oversized t-shirt was sliding off one of my shoulders, and my limbs were covered with marks the bedsheets had left all over my skin.

After having exited the bedroom, I set out for the kitchen, which was just as messy as I was: the counter was littered with beer bottles from the previous night, the majority of them being empty, which I proceeded to throw away before I grabbed a cloth and cleaned the surface of the counter. I took this time to clean other corners of the kitchen, though without wasting too much time. And then, after a few minutes, I finally got down to cooking breakfast for Dean and myself.

Once I was done, I took an empty tray and filled it entirely, with both food and drinks of a wide variety, which I knew would satisfy him just as much as it would me. With the heavy tray in my hands, I carefully made my way back to the bedroom, assuring I would not break anything; I walked through the open doorframe with a glowing smile and my eyes landed on Dean, who was still comfortably lying in bed, his eyes closed.

"Your breakfast is ready, sir." I solemnly declared before I chuckled.

He opened his eyes upon hearing the sound of my voice and an excited smile shaped his lips when he took notice of the tray in my hands.

"That's... a lot of things, baby." He told me with genuine surprise.

"I know, I know." I said as I felt a faint layer of blush spread across my face.

As I approached the bed, Dean outstretched his arms and moved his body on the bed, sitting with his back straight so that he would be in a more comfortable position to eat. I could see by the look in his eyes that I had managed to impress him, and this filled me with a great feeling of pride and happiness.

"Here you go." I said while I set the tray down on the sheets, over his legs.

I began to arrange the bed a little in order for us to be physically at ease by flattening the sheets and setting the pillows to the side, when he unexpectedly reached for my face and kissed my lips gently, catching me by surprise and leading my skin to grow yet even redder. After he pulled away, he stared deeply into my eyes, his thumbs brushing my cheeks.

"Thank you, sweetheart." He said sincerely. "I know I always insist on being the one to take care of it...  but it really means a lot to me to have you prepare breakfast for me this morning."

With a shy smile, I sat down next to him and slid my legs under the blanket, squeezing them against his.

"You're more than welcome, Dean." I told him with an affectionate smile. "I'm happy to do it for you, too."

While displaying a smile of his own, he brought me closer to him, close enough for me to rest my head on his shoulder, before he pulled the tray toward him.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the quiet Chief's Office, Gant sat at his desk, legs crossed, flipping through a multitude of documents and reports. Hearing a series of soft, somewhat apprehensive-sounding knocks on his door, he looked up with a smile.

"Come on in!" He exclaimed cheerfully.

Swallowing what remained of the knot in her throat, [Y/N] slowly opened it, before taking a step inside.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" She asked, not fully assured as her eyes peeked over the door to find him.

As she tentatively stepped into the room, Gant's smile widened into a grin.

"Ah, [Y/N]!" He said happily. "You're right on time! Punctual as ever!"

Gathering all sheets of paper on his desk into one pile he set aside, he leaned back on his chair slightly as he folded his hands in his lap.

"Oh, and close the door behind you, before you make your way over here." He ordered her in his jovial, usual tone.

"Yes, sir." She immediately responded with a quick bow of the head.

As per his request, she carefully closed the office door behind her, before she turned back around and paced to his desk.

As she padded her way over to where he was seated, he took a moment to appreciate her small, yet curvy frame: between how she moved, how she dressed, and how she carried herself, she reminded him of a small woodland animal, or something similarly skittish.

Still bearing his amused smile, he tilted his head slightly and gave her an appraising glance upon watching her stop in front of his desk, in front of him.

"Now, then." He started while idly fixing the clasp of his tie. "Knowing you, you're probably wondering why I wanted you in here today... Right?"

Straightening her back fully and placing both of her hands over each other on the front of her skirt, [Y/N] looked her boss in the eyes.

"Yes, sir." She repeated, nodding briefly once more.

He chuckled, the sound warm yet intimidating to her ears.

"[Y/N], my dear, no need to be so tense around me... View me as a friend, rather than as your superior, and relax." He told her in an attempt to ease her mind. "... Swim much lately?"

"As a matter of fact, I have." She answered, her gaze drifting away briefly before she focused back on his face.

"Wonderful! That's great to hear!" He clapped his hands in satisfaction, his tone patronizing. "I've been doing my best trying to encourage more of the department to have communal swimming sessions for a while now, but they always turn me down... At least someone around here understands me."

Taking the time to process his indirect compliment, she looked to the side once again.

"... Swimming is a highly beneficial activity." She hesitantly stated. "It allows you to put your entire body at work, to build strength and endurance, to burn calories efficiently, and to improve sleep... I personally find it quite advantageous when practiced occasionally."

"Couldn't have said it better myself!" He enthused, seemingly proud of her as he clapped his hands once more. "... You and I should have a good ol' session together, one of these days."

A chill ran through her whole body at his suggestion.

"... That'd be my pleasure, sir." She responded with a faintly noticeable smile.

"Splendid, splendid!" He exclaimed joyfully, rubbing his hands together. "In the meantime, you should keep at it. Swimming is a good way to battle stress, I'm sure it could help you in that regard."

Marking a short pause, he opened his eyes and leaned forward in his chair, his joined hands resting on his desk and his gaze resting on her.

"Now, as for why I called you in here..."

Staring straight at her, his smile persisted and a knowing look appeared in his eyes, as if he could peer into her thoughts.

"... I'd like to ask you a bit of a personal question, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind, sir." She told him, her posture as straight as ever, her apprehension barely audible in her voice. "You can ask away."

"Excellent." He remarked in response, seemingly satisfied. "A straightforward, upfront answer. Something we could use more of in this precinct."

Leaning back in his chair, he took a moment to formulate his thoughts before speaking.

"Now, refresh my memory a bit... How long have you been working for the force, again?"

"5 years, sir." She answered, nodding briefly. "But only 2 of those years have been spent in this precinct, since I was once working in another jurisdiction before being assigned here."

"Ah, I appreciate the clarification." He acknowledged, taking in the information with a nod of his own. "... So, you started in that other jurisdiction and were then transferred here, yes?"

"That... is correct, yes." She replied, somewhat frustrated.

How can he not remember? She thought.

Yet, even stranger, why was it that him not remembering her resume affected her so much?

Pushing her thought aside, however, she put herself in his shoes and rationalized the situation: a man like him, in such a position of power, was surely incapable of keeping track of each and every detail of each and every one of his subordinates' lives, knowing how many of them he had employed. Besides, five years was already a while back for the two of them, she could not blame him for having forgotten her history.

"... Now, I don't know if you recall your first week or so of your arrival here." He started, idly tugging at his hair as he mused. "... But do you remember talking to me on your very first day?"

[Y/N] was caught off guard by his seemingly trivial question, but only a little; however, she needed a moment to organize her thoughts, to pick the correct way to answer him.

"... I do indeed recall my first day here, sir... However, I did not get to talk to you, then." She told him, her eyes drifting away momentarily. "At the time, you hadn't yet been promoted Chief of Police... I believe you were Deputy Chief. You and most of the precinct were very busy working on a particular case... SL-9 was its name, I believe."

Once more, she paused: only this time, her expression looked more sorrowful than pensive.

"... Given I was only a new recruit to this jurisdiction, the investigation never reached me and I was kept out of it. About a week after my arrival, the case was closed, and you became Chief as you are now... Only then did I get to make your acquaintance."

As he listened to her talk, he kept his eyes on her face, his expression unreadable; then, there was a short moment of silence between the two of them after she had spoken her last word.

"... Very impressive memory." He commented nonchalantly, bringing up a hand to his bearded chin. "You remember the name of the case, even though you weren't assigned to it, my position at the time, even though I hadn't been introduced to you yet, and my following promotion, even though you had only been there for a week... You even remember our first meeting."

She could not prevent the thin blush on her cheeks and the shy, bashful look in her eyes.

"I... have been praised countless times for my memory, ever since I joined the force... However, these are only details of events that mean a lot to me, as they symbolize the beginning of my career here... It's only natural for me to remember such things, they're not to be forgotten." She said in response, as if to justify herself.

Yet, his compliment had still managed to affect her a little.

"... Nevertheless, thank you kindly, sir." She added, gently bowing to him.

At her gesture, Gant sighed to himself.

"My, my... Here you go again. Always so uptight, formal, and polite with me." He grumbled, shaking his head with feigned disappointment. "I've told you many times before, [Y/N]. There's no need for you to be so proper around me, especially not with all the bowing and whatnot."

His words cut her breath short.

"Ah—"

With a slightly panicked gasp, she immediately straightened her back and stood upright; as if the sheer tone of his voice had sent a shockwave through her.

"Sorry, sir..." She muttered apologetically and looked straight ahead.

Upon hearing the anxiety in her voice, his face softened and he gave her an understanding look, accompanied by a brief chuckle.

"Here you go again..." He repeated himself, his voice slightly gentler this time. "Don't apologize. I didn't mean to startle you. I'm just saying you don't need to be so formal and stiff with me, especially not in private... We're not on duty at the moment, for Christ's sake. So relax a bit, will you? Frankly, it breaks my heart seeing you be so scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you, sir." She corrected him, her voice gentle, earnest, wanting him to believe her.

Her soft and delicate-looking lips remained slightly parted for a moment, as though she had more she wanted to say, perhaps a way to justify herself once more, but she remained quiet.

As her words came to his ears, he was tempted to laugh but resisted the urge; still, his smirk was ever as present.

"Really, now? If that's so... how are you feeling right now, if not scared?" He questioned, his eyebrow cocked in silent amusement.

She took a deep breath; that question was one she was nervous about answering, but she knew he expected her to be honest with him.

She opened her lips again, just a little, yet all that came out was hot air.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm her unsteady heartbeat, before she slowly, shyly looked into his eyes.

"In—... Intimidated." She murmured in response.

His smirk widened ever so slightly at her reply, his attention focused wholly on her.

"And why, pray tell, would a little thing like yourself feel intimidated by a man such as me?" He enquired playfully.

"... I believe you've just answered your own question, sir." She told him after some pondering. "You're my superior... As such, I aim to please you... I want to meet your expectations. Your status is much higher than mine, and you have much more experience than me... I have a lot of respect for you, and with it comes a desire to be the best I can be, for the sake of the department... for your sake."

As she explained herself, he found himself both amused and impressed: the fact that she wanted to make herself as perfect as she could be, and for his sake nonetheless did not go unnoticed by him.

"... That's quite the answer you've given me." He remarked while running a hand over his bearded chin. "... Very detailed, too. I was half-expecting you to say something along the lines of 'Because you're twice my size'."

"Well—"

A pause; short, but heavy.

"... It'd be a lie for me to say there isn't a part of... truth to this." She admitted.

Her voice was shy, her cheeks were pink, and her mind was fuzzier than ever: clearly, she was extremely embarrassed.

"... If I may, sir... Your... physique certainly does play a part, as well... Your grand stature is quite... imposing. Additionally, it's... undeniable you have a strong presence... I will admit this all contributes to the way I... behave around you."

Amusement: that was the only way he could describe the feeling brewing inside him. Oh, how cute she looked when she spoke like that, so shy, so timid, so innocent.

"... You're sweet, you know that?" He told her with a smirk. "I never would've taken you for such a smooth talker... That's quite the flattery you've given me."

Seeing her get so flustered, so shy, such a blushing mess, all for his sake, all because of him: it was almost endearing to him, in a way. But, mostly, it was arousing. He relished the power he had over her at that moment.

A powerful, manipulative, charming, and handsome man like himself could make someone as vulnerable and delicate as [Y/N] all weak in the knees with just his speech and his presence alone. That sheer thought and the feeling it gave him was a thrill unlike any other.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, still smiling, and started to make his way around his desk, hands in his pockets, towards the trembling woman in front of him.

"... You certainly know how to make a man feel good, don't you, [Y/N]?" He said in a low tone, his smirk now turning into a sly grin. "... Your partner must be quite the satisfied man, with you by his side."

At that, the young woman's blush deepened into a light red.

"... Actually... I currently have no partner... sir." She informed him, visibly ashamed, her tone low, her eyes looking away.

The news made another wave of excitement run through Gant's body; a look that could have only been described as pure satisfaction washed over his face as her timid, nervous confession came to his ears.

"No partner?" He repeated with exaggerated surprise. "You're telling me a beautiful, kind, and respectful woman like yourself is single?"

He took a few more steps towards her, his pace slow and methodical.

"How intriguing..." He mused with a smirk, studying every little nuance of her expression. "I'd have bet a woman like yourself would have men begging to take you out... But I assume you've actually yet to find a man to your liking, who fits your standards... Am I correct?"

Yes, he was correct; of course, he was correct. But [Y/N] simply could not allow herself to answer him: she could not convince herself to speak up and validate his theory.

So, instead, she remained utterly silent, keeping her thoughts to herself, and continued looking away.

Another wave of enjoyment went through his body at her silence, at the sight of her completely cornered by him, by his words.

"... In that case, then... I do wonder what sort of man a woman like yourself would find most attractive." He spoke, the smirk never leaving his face. "For example, do you find yourself attracted to men who are, say... much older than you?"

He was now standing right next to her, looking down at her from his towering height as he rested his right hand on the surface of his desk.

"... Or, perhaps, men with high statuses, who possess a lot of power?" He added, his deep voice barely above a whisper as he stared at her intently.

His eyes slowly trailed down from her eyes to her lips, then came back up again. He took a moment to study her face; her rosy cheeks, her timid, almost fearful expression, her breathlessness. The poor thing's heart was palpitating so fast, he could almost hear it hammering in her chest.

He found her state so endearing and entertaining. It was almost adorable seeing her act so tense and on edge like that.

"... Could even be both, I suppose." He continued in that same tone, smooth and quiet, yet also teasing. "An older man with the right standing in the community, preferably, someone with quite a lot of control over the people beneath him, someone with a lot of authority, with a lot of power..."

He was so close to her now, he could smell the light, flowery scent of her hair, a fragrance so sweet and refreshing it made him want to bury his face in it. The urge to touch her, to take hold of her and feel her frail, delicate body beneath his fingers, to possess her entirely, was very strong at that moment.

"I assume you find that sort of man quite appealing." He said with a voice lower than her breath. "A commanding man, with a presence that's impossible to ignore, a man you wouldn't easily be able to escape from, even if you tried."

He leaned down towards her, slightly, just slightly, just enough for his voice to come whispering straight into her ear.

"... Someone like me, perhaps?"

[Y/N]'s eyes opened wide, a mute gasp getting stuck in her throat; she felt her chest tighten, as if she was being deprived of oxygen.

She wanted to answer him. To tell him that he was right. That he was exactly right. But nothing came out of her, her nervousness, embarrassment, and timidity all too strong for her to even open her mouth, as if her lips were sewn.

Her body was frozen, stiffer than ever, and all she could do was stand there, overwhelmed by his presence, by his body beside her, by his voice in her ear.

Gant chuckled, his smile turning into a knowing smirk as he witnessed her reaction. Her tense body, her silent gasp, her inability to answer him; everything about her in that moment was so precious to his eyes, because it all symbolized how much she was utterly dominated by his mere presence.

"... Well, it's alright." He whispered into her ear as he assessed her silence. "You don't have to answer me. I can tell I'm right from just looking at you."

He slowly brought up his left hand to her face and ran his gloved fingertips down the side of her cheek before gently hooking them under her chin, very carefully raising her head until their eyes met.

"I can see it in your eyes... You're terrified." He said with a dark smile. "And yet, you find yourself unable to move away from me... Don't you?"

His hold on her chin kept her head raised for his viewing, forcing her to look straight into the green of his eyes.

"Because while I intimidate you, I also excite you, don't I?" He continued, leaning forward to be just a few inches away from her. "You feel the need to be perfect for me, you need me to acknowledge you, to pay heed to your hard work, to notice and praise your efforts... Because you find my praise more rewarding than anything else."

His hand moved from her chin to her cheek, gently caressing her skin with his thumb in a circular motion as he continued to stare into her wide eyes.

"You feel excited every time you come into this office, knowing I'll be here. You relish the idea of speaking to me, of pleasing me, of me giving you my attention."

Gant simply loved how she responded to him, how she could do nothing but just stand there, in his grasp: the amount of control he had over her in that moment was so sweet, so thrilling.

He began to gently run his thumb across her bottom lip, watching her expression and taking in every single second of it.

At the touch, [Y/N] quivered. The cold, thick leather on her lip felt good, so good, so much so that it was intoxicating. She was paralyzed, completely trapped, and all she could do was stand there.

But as she stared into his eyes beyond the pink-tinted glasses, she could feel it: desire. She let him slowly part her lips open and locked gazes with him, her eyes needy.

The look in her eyes brought yet another wave of excitement through his body. She looked so submissive, so willing to let him do anything to her, and it was a view that sent a shiver through his spine. He felt his trousers tighten at the sight of this trembling, weak woman, at the sight of her wanting him so badly.

He could not resist it any longer: the urge to feel her lips against his own and the desire to taste her were far too strong not to be allowed. He leaned in towards her, slowly, until his mouth finally made contact with hers.

His lips were firm and demanding against hers, taking full dominance over her with ease while his left hand slid down from her face to the side of her neck, cupping the nape and gripping her skin with his fingers.

Before she could even process what was happening, she was taken away: she felt Gant's lips press on hers, she felt his right hand leave his desk and reach for her hip, she felt his body forcefully moving her around, she felt her lower back come in contact with the desk behind her, she felt the muffled gasp that left her throat as it all happened.

His hand on her hip squeezed her hard, pushing her to sit on the edge of the desk and allowing him to position himself between her open legs as the hand on her neck pulled her towards him further. His lips continued moving over hers, parting her open, his tongue starting to explore her mouth hungrily.

His fingers on her hip promptly traveled upward and stopped at the front of her shirt, blindly, dominantly unbuttoning it as he pushed his body against hers and pinned her in place on the desk. Both of their chests rose and fell rhythmically in rapid succession, as he ravaged her mouth with his.

He broke the kiss after what felt like an eternity, only to quickly find a new target in the curve of her neck: he proceeded to plant hot, wet kisses and licks on her sensitive skin, while his hand continued to unfasten the buttons of her shirt.

[Y/N] barely had enough time to catch her breath after their kiss that needy sighs and gasps of pleasure left her lips at the sensation of his mouth on her neck, of his thick beard on her flesh, of his hands working to undress her.

Against her own volition, her twitching hands reached up to his arms and shoulders, her fingers shyly holding him.

"C-Chief Gant—" She let out in what was both a gasp and a sigh.

He pulled away from her neck just a little, hovering mere inches above her now exposed collarbone as his hands began to push her shirt off her shoulders.

"I don't want to hear you call me 'Chief' right now." He mumbled in a breathless, low voice.

Her eyes widened: never before would she have even fathomed the idea of calling him by his first name, of employing it to address him. But in that instant, he wanted her to.

Timidly, she clung to his body just a bit tighter.

"Y-Yes, sir— I-I mean... D-Damon..."

He let out a quiet, pleased hum as he heard her say his name. It sounded so good to him, so delicious on her quivering, breathless lips. The sheer sound of it made everything even more thrilling, more exciting, leading him to feel his manhood throb from the confines of his trousers.

"Good girl." He murmured on her bare skin as her shirt slid down her body.

He began to slowly run his hands over her exposed, supple skin; over her arms, her shoulders, her collarbone, and her breasts over the lacy fabric of her bra. His touch was firm and dominant, mapping out every curve and dip in its path.

"You've got such lovely skin..." He said, his voice now a deep, low growl as he caressed her, as he admired her perfect body. "... And it's all for me, isn't it?"

The young woman shivered at the cool, rough sensation of his gloved palms gliding over her flesh. As she let him drink in the sight of her defenseless figure, she sheepishly looked up into his emerald eyes and nodded shyly.

His mouth came back to her neck and he began planting more kisses and licks, mixed in with the occasional bite that was not quite painful, but also not gentle enough to feel pleasant. His hands glided over the warm, smooth skin of her slender back, moving upward to the clasp of her bra.

While his mouth continued its assault on her vulnerable neck, his fingers gently played with the hook, trying to undo it without looking: however, it only seemed to make matters worse, his large hands far too big and his gloves far too cumbersome.

"Damn it—" He muttered annoyingly against her neck.

Noting his frustration and impatience, [Y/N] thought for a second before hesitantly speaking up.

"Do... Do you want me to..." She shyly asked, her offer left unfinished as she reached for her back with her hands to meet his.

He looked up at her face in mild surprise as she spoke and saw her shyly move her small, delicate hands to help his fumbling ones. He could do nothing but take in the sight of that slender, fragile body of hers at that moment, and he felt his desire for her spike even more.

"... Yes, do that for me." He said in a breathless, commanding voice.

As he spoke, he leaned back slightly and, as if to pass the time while waiting for her to take off her bra, his hands promptly began to expertly remove his suit.

His suit unbuttoned, he shrugged the article of clothing off his shoulders then decided to remove his gloves; as they came off, revealing his large, powerful hands, he quickly returned them to his chest as he swiftly rid himself of his tie.

Just as her fingers had grabbed hold of the hooks of her bra, she went stiff: there, to her eyes, was a sight that surpassed even those from her wildest fantasies, the sight of him undressing right in front of her, for her eyes, a body she was about to see partially bare for the first time, and which made her heart beat exponentially faster.

She took a breath in and tried keeping her composure when she saw him starting to unbutton the last remnant of his upper body, his black shirt; in tandem with his movements, she slowly, timidly undid the clasp of her bra, before removing it and discarding it on the floor.

Gant felt her eyes on his chest as he removed his shirt, he felt her gaze on his bare torso. Her eyes on him made the thrill even more powerful, the sight of her seeing his strong muscles, his wide shoulders, and his firm pecs; it made his hunger for her even stronger.

His eyes darted down to her chest as she removed her bra and he sucked a sharp breath from the sight. She looked perfect.

Even through his pink-lensed glasses, he could see everything he wanted to: her soft, perky breasts, her round, rosy nipples, her flushed face and quivering lips. He stared hungrily, his gaze locking on her before he quickly came to stand in front of her once more, his body towering above hers.

Both of his hands promptly found her now-exposed chest: his touch was demanding, his grip on her skin firm and almost possessive as he explored every curve and inch of her, his lust progressively rising.

"... You have no idea how much I'm going to enjoy taking you." He growled, his breath hot and heavy as he spoke.

His palms inched up to her breasts, cupping, squeezing, before his fingers moved to the rosy nubs and pinched them between his thumbs and forefingers: and all the while, his sharp, piercing eyes drank her in.

[Y/N] moaned upon feeling his touch, her eyes squinted and her shoulders heaving. She felt utterly owned, her flesh melting in his palms, molded through his fingers, her torso fully offered to him, her chest feeling so small in his big, dominant grasp.

He savored the sounds of her moans and watched her shudder with satisfaction as he toyed with her sensitive skin: he could see in her eyes how powerless she was to his whims, how much she was willing to give him.

He leaned in and lowered his head, moving to bite, lick, and suckle on the tender surface of her neck.

As he continued to take over her body with his burning touches, he let one of his hands idly wander down the smooth, bare skin of her side and around to her back, his hands moving lower while he kept his lips on her neck.

Finding her waist, he did not waste any time grabbing the top of her skirt: he promptly undid the button on her hip, his movements meticulous as he pushed the thin fabric down her legs, past her knees, and around her ankles, before letting it drop to the floor.

He continued to push his body against hers, his left hand remaining on her hip and holding her down while his right moved across the front of her underwear. His touch was deliberate and confident as his thumb and forefinger hooked around the top of her panties.

As he slowly began pulling the item of clothing off of her, he raised his head from her neck.

"Lift your legs." He ordered her in a low, commanding voice.

At that, [Y/N]'s limbs were like paralyzed: eyes wide opened, she stared up into Gant's gaze in realization. She was about to completely give herself over to him. She was about to let him admire her, fully bare. She was about to be at her most vulnerable, right on the very desk of his own office. It was all so exhilarating, so scary, so thrilling, so stressful. And she wanted it.

Her gaze in his, she swallowed and nodded briefly, before she obeyed and lifted her legs for him.

Excitement coursed throughout his being as he watched her raise her legs for him. It was so incredibly empowering to know he had her completely at his mercy: there she was, that young, fragile, innocent thing, submitting herself to him, the almighty District Chief of Police who dominated everything and everyone in his path.

He firmly pushed her legs apart and stepped closer, standing between them as he slowly removed her underwear.

Once the last piece of clothing was tossed away, he stood back and enjoyed the luscious view of her naked, trembling body, of her curves, of her smoothness, of her flesh, of the pink of her flush.

"Such a pretty, young thing..." He whispered to her, his hands finding her inner thighs.

He moved slowly over her, caressing her flesh, tracing his fingers back and forth as he moved them inward.

"Such a pretty, young detective... who looks nothing like her typical, proper self." He continued, his face inches apart from hers. "... You know what you look like right now?"

She bashfully looked up at his face, her legs gently trembling under his touch; a spark of helplessness in her gaze.

"A... A w-whore?" She replied quietly, unsure as to whether that was the answer he had expected.

Gant laughed. A deep, loud, genuine, wholehearted laugh.

"My, my... I was about to say 'a plaything, a toy handmade specifically for me, all for me to use and move around'..." He started, a smirk playing on his lips.

He leaned in even more, until his mouth was right next to her ear.

"... But 'whore' actually fits just as well." He finished, his lips tickling her skin as he spoke.

He gently kissed her ear. Just the slightest, most gentle touch of his lips, but it felt so good, and sent such chills through her body. He nipped at the curve of her ear and slowly moved down to her neck, while his hands spread her legs further apart.

He left a few more kisses below her ear and along her jaw before moving back to her lips: hungrily placing one more time his mouth on hers, he then withdrew from her. His hands left her legs, somewhat reluctantly to move to his own waist, to the front of his pants.

He undid his belt, his eyes still fixed on her. Then, letting it fall to the floor after a brief moment, he proceeded to unbutton and unzip the front of his suit pants.

Soon, they, too fell to the ground next to the rest of their discarded clothes, and he kicked them to the side, leaving only one last article of clothing between them: his black boxer briefs, which had by then grown tight and restraining.

He could feel the tension. He could see her eyes fixate on the thin fabric that did a poor job of hiding his member, on the visible bulge, on the tension and anticipation that he felt all throughout his body. The look on her face was exquisite; the way she quivered, her body so tight and so warm.

He made sure to enjoy that look on her face for a moment longer, then he slowly moved a hand to the top of his boxers, hooking the edges with the tips of his fingers while his palm pulled it down.

[Y/N] watched intensely as his boxers moved lower and lower, revealing more and more of his flesh: his hips, his abdominal muscles, his thighs, until, finally, they fell and joined the other clothes on the floor, leaving him completely bare. The young woman's eyes instinctively opened wide at the sight of his manhood, now free from its confines and visibly rock-hard.

Gant took note of the look in her eyes and chuckled smugly. He had every right to feel pleased with himself: despite his age, he was still a man at his physical peak. And, being the arrogant, egotistical, narcissistic man that he was, he could not help but be proud of himself for sparking such feelings of desire in the young woman's heart.

He took a step, bringing his body to stand right in front of hers on the desk. Taking her hips in his hands, he pulled her forward, sliding her body closer to him while he spread her legs just a bit more, positioning himself between her thighs.

He held her gaze for a moment, the air thick between them. Her soft, smooth skin was against his rough, calloused hands. Her warm, supple breasts were squeezed against his bare torso.

Her face was only inches apart from his.

"I've waited so, so long for this..." He murmured huskily, his voice a low growl as he spoke.

He inhaled her scent once more, his hand raising to move against her hair, his fingers tangling into her silky locks.

~~~~~~~~~~

Feeling as though I was waking up from a deep slumber, I opened my eyes slowly, and immediately found myself surrounded by a familiar smell; not too soft, but not too strong at the same time. It did not take me long to realize I was lying on a bed, although, not in my bedroom, therefore deducing I was not at home. I looked around and down at my body, only to find it buried underneath the sheets of a large double bed, reigning in a large bedroom, entirely illuminated by sunlight shining through a window to my left which forced my eyes to open wider as I felt the rays warm the skin of my face.

After having truly awakened, I made an effort to move to the other side of the bed, next to which the nightstand was; however, the slightest movement of my body made me quickly realize how physically weak I was, as pain instantly flowed through my muscles. Once I had rolled over to my right, I turned my head to the clock resting on the nightstand and saw it was midday, around noon. Next to it, on one corner of the bedside table, I also noticed some pills and what seemed to be medication, though I had no idea what they were for, or who they were for; in fact, I had no idea what I was doing in this bedroom whatsoever.

I closed my eyes firmly as I took a deep breath in to try and remember my latest memories, but no matter how deep I dug, I had no clear recollection of what the past few days had been like for me.

Brushing my worries away, my attention was once more drawn toward the scent, the tender and affectionate smell that was emanating from the bedsheets and enveloping me whole. Rising into a sitting position ever so slowly, I pushed the sheets aside and got out of bed: but as I set foot on the cold floor, my legs immediately bent under my weight, as if having not carried me for a long time. I managed to steady myself by holding onto the side of the nightstand, stopping my body from falling back on the bed, and as I took more and more steps, started to regain balance.

By the time I had stabilized myself, I was out of the bedroom and into a short hallway; walking through it quietly, I was then faced with a flight of stairs that took me almost directly into a kitchen, neatly cleaned and ordered. Once there, a rather small piece of paper set on the counter caught my attention before I could really take in anything else in the room. Picking it up curiously, I first read my name on it and understood it was a memo addressed to me.

"Thursday, March 10.

If today is the day you wake up, you'll find some cereals and loaves of bread in the left-side cupboard in case you want to make yourself breakfast. If you're rather looking for a dish for lunch, you'll find some chicken and leftovers of stir-fried vegetables in the fridge. I cooked them yesterday so don't worry, they're still good to eat. I can only imagine how hungry you'll be after waking up, so don't hesitate to grab whatever food you want. However, please wait for my return if you want to cook something intricate, you won't be fully recovered and I don't want you to harm yourself or push yourself too hard until I come back.

Lastly, if you're looking to change into other clothes, you'll find a good portion of your wardrobe in the closet of my bedroom, on the right-side shelves."

No signature had been left at the end of the memo, but I did not need one to recognize it was written in Chris' handwriting.

Chris...

I held my breath, along with the piece of paper in my hands as I started thinking of him; a part of me felt taken aback, as if I had forgotten about him before and was only now remembering him. However, it felt to me like something was not quite right. I tried my best to remember what led me to end up in what evidently seemed to be his house, in addition to why it was empty, but no clear answer came to my mind. Instead, I focused on scanning the kitchen briefly, until spotting a bin, somewhat transparent and open, revealing its content to me.

Right away, I noticed from afar what appeared to be crumbled pieces of paper, and my suspicions were verified when I approached it: I grabbed the first one on top of the pile, unfolded it, and read it out loud. It bared the date from the day before, the 9th of March, and followed the same pattern as the up-to-date memo I had read barely a few minutes before. And still, it was in Chris' handwriting. I set it aside to pick up a few others, only to see they repeated themselves, with only the types of food available changing from one to another. Reading these notes, I felt something shake deep within my core, moving me, triggering something in me, without knowing what it was exactly.

Determined to find answers to my never-ending questions, I threw all the crumbled notes back in the bin, before deciding to wander around the house in hopes of finding even the slightest of things that would help my memory tick. Letting my hand drift on the walls gently, I progressed through each room, and soon felt some pieces of the puzzle starting to connect in my mind: this was indeed Chris' house, and I could recall that I had been there before, countless times. And although I was still unable to justify my presence there, or even why Chris himself was not home, I kept on venturing from room to room.

I eventually found the bathroom and stepped inside, walking towards the sink: looking at myself in the mirror, I found my face to be pale and frail, expressing fatigue. Only then did I notice I was only wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts, both from my personal wardrobe.

I deserve a proper change of clothes... and a shower. Feels like I haven't taken one in over a century.

Giving my face one last look in the mirror, I took my clothes off, set them aside, and stepped into the shower. Turning the water on, its contact with my skin instantly soothed me, easing me into a warm and cozy sensation. I allowed myself to spend as much time as I needed inside the shower, letting the hot water cleanse me, feeling it slowly trickle along my body. After having enjoyed the water's heat for long enough, I grabbed what I assumed could only have been a bottle of Chris' shampoo I had spotted nearby earlier, as well as a bottle of shower gel, confident that he would not mind me using them. Opening the cap of the shampoo bottle, I was instantly surrounded by yet another familiar smell, once again, like one of the bedsheets. The scent wrapped me completely, in a feeling of warmth and comfort; holding the bottle tight with my fingers, I let my mind roam deep into thoughts as I washed my hair and body.

After having spent quite some time washing, I stepped out of the shower and stared at myself once more: this time, I found that I looked considerably better, and, surely, less tired-looking. Wrapping myself in a towel, I threw my clothes in the dirty laundry basket and waited to have dried a bit before heading back to the bedroom, in search of the clothes Chris' memo had told me about. While waiting and as I made my way upstairs slowly, I could not help but think deeper about him, my mind still swirling with questions and interrogations.

Once in the bedroom, though, my concerns vanished, replaced with my longing to open the closet in which I would find new, clean clothes to change into; and, indeed, I opened the doors to find some, if not a considerate amount of my clothes, as rightfully indicated by Chris' note. A smile formed on my face and I felt a touch of blush appear on my cheeks as I wondered if he had personally chosen the clothes stored here himself, noticing they were mainly the ones I wore most often, as well as some of my personal favorites. I started taking some of my clothes off the shelves, wondering what to wear, depending on what would be most comfortable, as it was my top priority.

I feel like wearing these pants, but with this sweater, I might be too ho—

All of a sudden, I heard the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs, abruptly interrupting my thoughts; it was quickly followed by a couple of slow and heavy footsteps. A moment of silence ensued, then the sound of paper bags dropping on the floor tiles was immediately followed by the loud echo of yet another set of footsteps, this time, rapidly climbing up the staircase leading to the bedroom.

In the blink of an eye, the footsteps stopped and I was faced with Chris, barging out the bedroom door I had left unclosed, eyes wide open and exhaling from his mouth. We looked at one another in silence, staring into each other's eyes, and an indescribable feeling started filling me up.

"[Y/N]..." He whispered in a voice expressing shock and surprise, but a deep sense of relief as well.

I felt as though time had stopped, my breath held sharp, my eyes lost in Chris', until he took a step in my direction; I instinctively backed away, holding my towel close to my body, with visible hints of red spread all over my face. He suddenly stopped himself in his tracks and a thin layer of blush appeared on his cheeks as he cleared his throat and turned around to exit the room, both executed with embarrassment, before closing the door behind him.

Another silence reigned, this time heavy and tense. But barely a few seconds after the door had closed, I heard the sound of something hitting it lightly on the other side.

"Of course you'd wake up when I'm not home..."

Judging by how close his voice sounded, I guessed the sound I had heard was of his head resting against the door; feeling myself blush harder by what had just happened, I released the pressure of my hands on my towel, reassured Chris was not in the room anymore to see me in such a way.

"When did you wake up?"

"About half an hour ago."

I heard him exhale in relief from the other side of the door as I took in the composition of the bedroom; only then did I actually take a look around it, making my way slowly through the room.

"And how are you feeling?" Chris asked.

I walked to the other side of the bed and observed the ashtray set on the other nightstand.

"I've seen better days, but I'm fine."

Another sigh of relief.

"I see you've already taken a shower..." He started, his voice expressing light awkwardness. "That's good, I'm sure it must have felt refreshing."

I smiled a little as I gave him a nod he could not see. He cleared his throat again, the slightly lower volume of his voice making me understand he was backing away from the door.

"Well, I'll let you finish dressing up, in the meantime I'll go into the kitchen to clean the groceries I left on the floor. Join me downstairs once you're done."

"All right."

I looked down at my hands and played around with my fingers, listening to the sound of his footsteps as his words echoed through my mind; it had been way too long since I had last heard the sound of his voice, and it made a part of me feel warm and fuzzy. Quickly, I went back to the closet to slip into a pair of stretchy jeans and a t-shirt, trying my best to set my thoughts aside. But as I was about to close it back, my eyes fell on some of Chris' clothes, and, almost instinctively, I followed the voice inside of me telling me to pick one of his shirts up; slowly, I brought one of his turtlenecks up to my face, holding the fabric delicately, and taking in the scent emanating from it. Sudden sounds of rustling in the kitchen brought me back to my senses and I promptly put the shirt back on the shelf, my cheeks covered with red.

I briskly made my way down the stairs and entered the kitchen to find Chris putting food inside his shelves and fridge; he turned around to look at me and sighed once more, as if he was looking at the ghost of someone he had long lost hope of seeing again. I smiled at him and the second I did so, I saw his eyes shine brightly with a radiant spark. He gave me a slightly awkward smile back, before going back to store his groceries away.

I watched him go back and forth between his bags and his shelves, neither of us saying a word; it was as if everything was normal, the way it was supposed to be. But something was still off for me.

"Chris... can you fill me in as to what the hell's happening?" I started, placing an elbow on the counter. "You don't seem as confused as me, but I'd like to know why I woke up in your bed this morning, and why I feel so... strange."

His arm stopped midway into motion, hanging in the air for a few seconds, and he turned around with furrowed eyebrows.

"You don't remember what happened?"

"What happened when? My memory is really blurry, I've got no idea why, but it seems like I've been missing a part of my life recently."

Looking at me with concerned eyes, Chris slowly put a hand on the counter.

"[Y/N], you were practically sleeping for a week straight."

Like a kick to the guts, I was left stunned, keeping my mouth open for a few seconds, but falling speechless.

"... What?"

He gulped, visibly troubled, before finally setting down the pack of drinks he was holding, turning all his attention to me.

"About a week ago, you, me, and the rest of the squad were on a mission over on the other side of the country. Long story short, it was exhausting and required us to stay alert for a long while. You above all the others invested too much of yourself into it... and we later found out you'd deprived yourself of sleep for multiple nights in a row, just to keep your guard up. Not only that, but you weren't taking proper care of your diet either. We eventually decided to launch an attack plan, and you went into it with a weakened physical condition."

Chris marked a break in his story, looking down with what felt to me was remorse.

"You ended up getting hit. It wasn't anything serious, but it was enough to knock you unconscious. The second I saw you fall, I came to pick you up and gave you to Canine to watch over you until we'd be outta there. After we were done, we took off and brought you to a medic, who told us you had nothing severe, not enough to put you in a hospital, at least, but that you needed rest. He'd actually said we should expect to see you sleep for days on straight..."

He scoffed under his breath while slowly shaking his head, which was still lowered.

"Hell, even I didn't know it was possible to sleep for that long."

I looked into his eyes as I registered one by one each piece of information he had given me.

"And you brought me to your house."

Chris raised his head and looked back into my eyes with a sincere expression.

"I brought you here, so that I could keep an eye on you and treat you. I told the squad we'd set aside every mission we had planned until you'd wake up and fully recover, so I've been spending all my days at home since, set aside the occasional grocery shopping."

I felt the very core of my soul heat up as I smiled shyly.

"Thank you, Chris. For everything." I said warmly.

He looked down, seeming pensive, before turning back to unpack his last remaining groceries.

"Don't thank me yet. I haven't had the chance to lecture you properly about your behavior during the mission, and don't think you'll escape from it."

He's still the same old Chris. I thought while failing to suppress a gentle scoff. Nothing has really changed in the span of a week.

"You've got yourself injured and that's nothing to take lightly, [Y/N]." He continued with the same serious tone. "And speaking of which..."

Leaving his sentence unfinished, he closed the cupboards as he stored away his last supplies; he walked to me and put a gentle hand on my back, escorting me out of the kitchen to take me into the living room instead.

"Sit down." He ordered me, though not too roughly as he pointed to the couch in front of us.

"What for?"

"I have to inspect you to see if you're fine." He answered, already on his way to the couch.

I let a chuckle escape from my lips as I complied, too amused by the situation to disobey. He sat down beside me and I suddenly felt my smile disappear, replaced by shyness, feeling him so close to me on this couch, occupied mostly by blankets and pillows, leaving the both of us little room to sit, and forcing us to squeeze next to each other. He started grabbing my arms and inspecting me, holding my chin to make my head turn left and right.

"How have you been feeling since you've been awake? Any vertigo, any pain?"

"Chris, I'm fine." I said with a smile.

I tried making him understand it was pointless, that nothing was wrong with me, but he kept on inspecting me nonetheless, searching for any issue.

"Chris..."

"You were hit on the head, [Y/N], I can't overlook that."

Bringing his face close to mine, he grabbed the back of my head to examine it, feeling the surface of my skin with his palm to try and spot any abnormalities.

"Chris!"

He stopped moving, his face inches from me, his eyes locked on mine.

"I'm fine, really." I told him with sincerity.

I smiled from one corner of my mouth as I looked down at him quickly, before bringing my eyes back on his face.

"I'm just hungry."

He stared at me for a few seconds with a soft expression before backing away with a sigh.

"All right. It's time for lunch anyway."

Chris finally got off me and stood up from the couch, heading back to the kitchen, leaving me to smile at myself as I felt butterflies dancing in my stomach. This feeling reminded me of how much I had missed him during these seven days I had spent sleeping, how I was happy to fill this gap now that he was with me again; or, more so, that I was with him.

Getting up from the couch as well, I joined him in the kitchen, lured in by the sound of pots and pans. Seeing me beside him, Chris turned his head to me and looked into my eyes, his cheeks sprinkled with blush.

"Wanna cook with me?"

"Sure." I answered enthusiastically. "I'm not gonna let you prepare lunch all by yourself, after all."

"All right, but there are certain things I'm not gonna let you do, I don't want you to exhaust yourself too much." He replied, ever so seriously.

His concern once again made me laugh, given it was clearly unnecessary. I proved him wrong and showed him I was in good shape by helping him make lunch, fetching him ingredients and carefully making the dishes, though he made it clear he wanted me to stay away from any knife or sharp utensils, fearing I would hurt myself. Throughout our cooking session, I felt his attitude and behavior soften, seeing him let his guard down as he allowed his inner self to relax and enjoy this time with me.

I knew better than anyone that Chris needed to be eased into a sense of comfort and intimacy to make him drop his cold exteriors and reveal his true face; my light temporary amnesia had taken away parts of my memories, including some I had shared with him, but it did not take me long to recover them, little by little, as I laughed and joked with him in his kitchen. Once we had finished making lunch, we sat down in front of the counter to eat, facing each other.

Just as I was about to take my first bite, my mouth let a deep yawn out; as soon as I opened my eyes back, I laughed seeing Chris look at me with an unbelievable expression.

"I know what you're gonna say..."

He shook his head as he started digging his fork and knife into his meat.

"Seven days wasn't enough for you?"

"Apparently not." I said with a chuckle.

He brought his food to his mouth and I mirrored his movements; the second my palate tasted the dish I had cooked with him, I felt my body react as if it was only now waking up truly, suddenly regaining strength. Only then, as I filled up my stomach more and more with each bite did I realize how much I had craved food, and how my body had missed it during these seven days of slumber.

"I don't know if it's just me because I haven't eaten anything in a week, but this tastes delicious." I told Chris with my mouth full in-between two bites.

"No, it's not just you." He said with a chuckle. "It really is good, I'll admit we did a great job."

But his smile soon faded away to be replaced with a pensive expression instead.

"Seven days, though..." He started, shaking his head slowly while bringing his fork up to his lips. "There's no way you actually spent every one of your days here sleeping... Do you remember anything? Maybe you opened your eyes every now and then before dozing off again?"

I swallowed the bite I had in my mouth before shrugging quickly.

"I don't know... I think I do remember some vague moments when I woke up in your bed, but they never lasted long, and nothing much happened."

I took another bite as I looked up at Chris with curious eyes.

"By the way, where have... you been sleeping all this time?"

A part of me had already theorized a potential answer to that question, but instantly dismissed it away, thinking it was too crazy to even take into consideration.

"On the couch in the living room." He replied casually.

"Chris!" I let out with an exaggerated yet light gasp as I put my fork down. "The couch? You wanna lecture me about my sleeping habits when you're spending your nights on the couch?"

I saw his expression shift into a more serious one as he slowly stopped eating too.

"Don't start."

I was obviously joking around, purposefully making a big deal out of something which was not important, toying with him just a little.

"I know you've got sleeping problems, Chris, and spending seven nights on a couch is not gonna make things better. Why didn't you take the bed?"

"Because you matter more!" Chris suddenly exclaimed as he slammed his fist on the counter, making me jump in surprise. "You were the one who needed a proper bed, it didn't matter where I'd sleep, as long as you were safe... Goddammit, [Y/N], I was worried sick about you."

He did not shout, but his voice was loud enough to make me hold my breath. I looked down, not knowing what to reply, before grabbing my plate by the edge and standing up from my chair.

"I'll go warm up my plate in the microwave, it's gone cold." I spoke in a very low tone.

But as soon as my feet touched the ground, I limped and lost balance, barely managing to put my plate back down on the counter before almost letting it fall and break.

"Shit—"

Chris immediately stood up from his chair and hurried toward me to grab me, holding me tight by the arms and waist, making sure I was stable and would not fall.

"It's ok— I got you—"

The tone in his voice had softened dramatically as his first instinct was to reassure me. And it worked just as intended: the second I heard his words of comfort, I felt warm and secure, draped in a blanket of tenderness. He led me to the couch and helped me stabilize myself with each step I took, all while holding me close. His hands against my skin, strong but delicate sent shivers down my spine, and somehow made my limbs even weaker.

"Are you all right?"

"Y-Yeah, don't worry." I managed to articulate. "I think it's just my body reacting to receiving food after such a long time without it... I may have eaten more than my stomach can hold."

Chris held his gaze on me with a concerned expression.

"... Are you sure it's not because you were too active when making lunch?"

Before leaving me time to consider this factor, he bit his lower lip lightly and diverted his eyes from mine.

"God, I knew it was a bad idea..."

I placed a shy hand on his torso, which made him turn back to me; I smiled at him warmly, making him understand without a single word that he needed not to feel guilty, and he replied with saddened eyes and a small nod. Having reached the couch, he set me down gently, and we sat similarly to before, only this time I did not push him away: as he held me, I let myself lean against him, until being entirely wrapped in his arms. I heard him take a deep breath in as I rested my head on his chest, calming down to the sound of his speeding heartbeat.

"I've missed you." I spoke up in a warm and emotional voice.

I felt Chris tighten his hold on me just a little as I talked.

"I'm sorry I exploded at you." He said, almost in a whisper.

"No, it's fine. It's my fault for joking around at such an inappropriate time. I can't imagine how much stress you've been under because of me over the past week."

Another silence reigned, during which the two of us cherished that special moment.

"I've missed you too."

He gently stroked the top of my head while I heard him inhale deeply once again.

"And I want you to know that I worry about you, [Y/N], because I love you."

I could not help but hold tighter onto his shirt, feeling my breath sharpen.

"It... may not be anything new to you... I've been told by a few of the guys I'm kinda obvious..." He spoke shyly, clearly embarrassed.

Nevertheless, despite his awkwardness, he kept on keeping me close to him with a love that expressed confidence.

"But, frankly, I never cared much whether you noticed or not, all I ever wanted you to know was that I'd be here for you, by your side and keeping you safe no matter what."

As much as my heart was melting, as much as I wanted to bury myself deeper into his chest, I gathered the strength to pull away and look up at him. His eyes met mine in a moment of weakness, before I felt a blush forming on my cheeks and promptly looked away.

"You know, I never noticed..." I confessed. "Not once did I consider you could feel attraction for me, it felt... surreal, to me."

I looked up into his eyes again to find a loving warmth in them.

"Because... I love you too, and my mind was unable to convince itself that you'd ever reciprocate my feelings..."

As I lowered my eyes back down, Chris raised my chin up with two of his fingers, an ounce of a smile on his face.

"Well, your mind was wrong."

I smiled shyly, feeling his contagious grin spreading to me. My chin still held by his thumb and index, it however progressively vanished, an intense expression of passion taking shape on his face instead. In silence, he moved his hand to my cheek, caressing the surface of my skin delicately with his thumb. He leaned his face closer to mine and grasped the side of my waist as our lips touched, embracing each other lovingly.

I was instantly filled with warmth and tenderness, although the kiss itself was quite rough, Chris' beard scratching my skin; his lips, slightly rugged, hugged mine perfectly as if they had only been made for each other. We barely had time to pull away from our first kiss that we both asked for more, his hand bringing my face close to his again. With each kiss, I felt my soul lift up, and my body liquefy further with each touch Chris gave me.

Once we both pulled away, I snuggled against his chest once more, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

"I can't believe this is real..." I said, my voice muffled.

He chuckled in an incredibly endearing way as he lay more comfortably on the couch, allowing me to stretch myself further against him.

"You sure I'm not sleeping anymore?"

Chris lifted my head with both of his hands, holding the sides of my face tenderly.

"You're not." He said with a smile.

His eyes sparkled with a burning love I could not help but feel too, in the very core of my being.