Poker Face

Chapter 63 - What Happens Next

Aven spent a lot of the car ride trying to figure out just what she was angry about. At first, it was Negan's domineering attitude but she soon realized that the lingering anger was mostly at herself: for getting her throat cut, for running outside when the Alexandrians attacked and losing sight of Negan, for starting to cry when he told her she'd be leaving, and for making such a big deal of it when she ultimately made the same decision anyway.

When everyone arrived at the Satellite outpost, Negan and DJ introduced Aven to the other Saviors who helped Simon run things, and then Negan gave her a brief tour, wary of her being on her feet so long. And rightfully so, because by the time they made it back to the front entrance of the building, she was fatigued and having trouble catching her breath.

"Move out in twenty," Negan said to the small group of Saviors going back with him, who dispersed to finish unloading the supplies that were brought. "I'll show you your room," Negan said not even trying to disguise his solemn tone. He didn't want to leave her side; he didn't want to go back to the Sanctuary if she wasn't there. But he had to.

Negan offered to carry her but Aven quickly caught her breath and they made their way inside, up a set of stairs, and down a long hallway of bedrooms. They stepped into what appeared to be the largest one, decorated like a smaller, tackier version of Negan's at the Sanctuary.

"This is my room but I've only stayed overnight a few times," he said. The fact that it was his made Aven feel a little better. The sheets on the bed were messy and unmade from the last time Negan had been there, and as she walked up to it and hugged one of the pillows against her, she vaguely caught his sent on it. He came up behind her and turned her around, taking the pillow and tossing it on the bed before taking both her hands in his.

"Everything is going to be okay," he said softly. "You're going to be okay, real fuckin' soon."

"Yeah," she sighed dismissively, looking away to hide the tears again welling in her eyes. She didn't remember herself as someone who used to cry this much, but now it seemed like it was every day, even before the injury, and she hated it.

"Hey," Negan breathed, tilting her face towards him with his gloved hand. "It's been a rough fuckin' week but I imagine you've been through much fuckin' worse." He pulled her into a hug and was relieved when she returned the gesture, wrapping her arms tightly around him and nuzzling her face against his jacket. "Yesterday you said you need me. And as much as my ego would like to fuckin' believe that, you don't need me."

"You've saved my life, like, three times," she mumbled against him, still feeling useless to protect herself.

"You've saved my life a couple times now too," he retorted.

"Once."

"Look," he sighed at her continued negativity. "I really don't mean to sound fuckin' insensitive but you do know you're gonna feel a hell of a lot better once your not PMSing anymore."

"I know."

"And I understand, bad injuries can be fuckin' miserable." His voice was low and gruff, the way that always sent warm, comforting vibrations through her. She finally started to relax. "I busted my fuckin' knee in high school playing baseball and I couldn't really walk for a few weeks. I thought I was losing my fuckin' mind. You can't fuckin' expect to feel like your normal badass self if your body isn't up to it yet."

Negan was never so rational as when he was trying to debunk the few irrational thoughts Aven expressed to him. He'd had plenty of his people go through plenty of injuries and usually anyone whining about recovery just annoyed him. Of course he always acknowledged that it sucked, but he didn't care so much and needed to get people back to work as soon as possible. But with Aven, he desperately wished she would just give herself a break for once.