weareallnegan (weareallnegan) wrote in helladjacent, @ 2017-03-25 16:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | !jumps: the walking dead, character: erik lehnsherr, character: judith grimes, character: negan |
Who: Negan, Judith Grimes, and later Erik Lehnsherr
What: Running from the herd
When: Saturday, after this
Where: Starts at the gas station, ends at the hotel
Warnings: Language
Status: Completed log
Adrenaline surged through Judith’s system like the dirty gas in the motorcycle beneath her- and not just from the sea of Dead flooding the streets behind her. The bike was bulky and heavy, too much to be comfortable for her frame, but she could handle it for the short burst that covered the last three quarter mile between her and the gas station.
She took the last turn carefully, then opened the throttle up for the last block; the engine’s roar echoing off the empty buildings announcing her presence a good minute before she actually pulled to a stop in the station’s side lot, where Negan was waiting.
Judith didn’t kill the motor, but she did kick the stand down and scoot back to the Bitch seat without wasting any time.
“This thing’s heavy as a fuckin’ tank,” she shouted at him over the engine idle, implying clearly that she didn’t have the weight or balance to handle it with the two of them. What she didn’t acknowledge was the three inch long cut bleeding considerably under her right cheekbone, or the bloody tear in her jeans at the hip. “You drive.” she said, holding a hand out for Lucille. “I’ll pinch-hit.”
As soon as Judith’s message came through on the PDAs, Negan told everyone at the gas station to get whatever shit they could, and get the fuck out. It was a good thing Judith and Erik had been out scouting. Everyone had a decent shot at getting back to the hotel alive if they didn’t spend too much time fucking around.
By the time he could hear her coming, Negan was standing outside the gas station, holding a backpack with supplies in each hand, and Lucille along with one of them. He knew it was her before he could see her coming, and he was already running toward her when she put the kickstand down.
“What the fuck happened to you?” he asked, mainly to acknowledge her injuries, but he wasn’t expecting an answer. He handed off Lucille and one of the backpacks, strapped the other to his front, and got on the motorcycle in front of her. Then he kicked the stand back up, revved the engine, and they were off in the direction of the hotel.
It took no time for them to catch up to the group already making the trek down the cracked and abandoned streets, though debris from the storm occasionally slowed everybody down. Going over thirty was pushing it for safety and balance, but plenty fast to herd those on foot and cut down straggler Dead with carefully timed swings from Lucille. They didn’t have very far to go, but together they cut a clear, straight shot for the others; by the time they rounded the corner that faced the hotel, Judith’s shoulders were screaming from the combination of force plus speed, and Lucille was a sticky mess of blood, skin, and matted hair.
But all of that temporarily evaporated from her mind when she laid eyes on what was happening in front - and around - the hotel.
There was an eight-foot wall of metal surrounding the perimeter of the hotel. From a distance, it was hard to tell what it was made of, but the train car still hovering in the air, and being ripped apart, gave it away. Negan slowed down just so he could stare at it a little bit longer.
“Holy fucking shit,” he managed, and then he couldn’t help but grin because this blew everything else the hotel had thrown at them out of the fucking water in terms of how fucking unbelievable it was. And there, standing on the roof, was Erik.
“I take back any fucking bad shit I ever said about your boyfriend,” he yelled over the motorcycle’s engine. There was still a gap in the wall, and Negan had a hard time keeping his eyes forward rather than staring upwards as they passed underneath the train that was being dissected above them. He didn’t cut the engine until they were just in front of the hotel doors.
“Why the fuck couldn’t we have him around back in our world?” he asked, loud enough to be heard over the loud groaning of bending metal.
Judith was a quiet creature to begin with, but being stunned silent was a rare occurrence, even for her. She couldn’t even answer her father’s impressed comments, watching the massive pieces of a goddamn train be shaped and folded like aluminum foil in mid-fucking-air, mesmerized to the point of staring even after they’d pulled to a stop and he cut the engine.
Finally, she cut a truly amazed and awestruck laugh, tasting her own blood with how wide her grin spread.
“I told you I’m keeping him,” she said, sorely handing off Lucille so she could climb off the bike. Any anxiety she’d had about this plan of Erik’s not working in some capacity had completely vanished- as did most worry about how they all would fare with the herd, once it arrived at the hotel. They weren’t getting through that wall. She doubted anything could.
Negan took Lucille, kicked the stand down, and climbed off the bike, switching the backpack from his front to one shoulder. As long as everyone got back to the hotel, it didn’t technically matter if the herd got in or not. As long as they died in the hotel, they were fine.
But it was one hell of a fucking relief knowing they weren’t going to die. With a grin that matched Judith’s, Negan wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they made their way inside.
“Now you are gonna tell me what the fuck happened to you,” he said. “And you’re gonna let me clean that shit up. I stuffed a first aid kit in both our bags.” His tone, while it was relaxed enough now that they were safe, didn’t leave room for arguing.
The weight of his arm twinged the stretched muscles in her shoulders, but Judith didn’t mind. Relief was a rare commodity for both of them; it was nice to milk it, even for just a little while.
“Did you think I wasn’t gonna tell you?” she smirked at him rhetorically. On the thought, she wiped one palm over her cheek and looked at the aftermath; she knew she was bleeding, but maybe not that much. Fucking face cuts always did. The gash on her hip made her stride a little uneven, too.
“Ran into a couple locals,” she explained, cleaning her hand off on her over-shirt, dusty and splattered with blood itself. “They didn’t play nice.”
“Bastards,” he sighed, shaking his head. “At least you got a fucking motorcycle out of it.” He’d put two and two together pretty quickly.
Since they were presumably still locked out of their rooms, Negan headed in the direction of the lounge. Everything was still covered in a thick layer of dust, grime, or mold, but at least the lounge had comfortable seating. He picked one of the small tables with a few chairs seated around it, setting Lucille down in one of them and his backpack on the table.
“Wonder where the fuck the army of dead assholes outside’s been hiding this week,” he said, mostly thinking out loud, as he dug the first aid kit, a bottle of water, and a truck stop t-shirt out of the bag. Then he turned to take a better look at Judith’s face, and grimaced. “Fuck, Princess. That shit ain’t pretty.”
Other than the little stings that shot through her cheek when she moved it too much, the cut didn’t actually hurt that much. It was clean, and not terribly deep; just the result of a reflex from the knife holder trying to scare the wrong woman. It was her fault for not pulling back fast enough when she shot him in the knee.
“I’ve had worse,” she murmured, trying to keep still as he examined the cut. “My guess is they were penned in somewhere damaged from the storm.”
As Negan took a closer look, he could tell that it wasn’t too bad, but like any face cuts, it just liked to bleed. He gestured for her to sit, and tugged one of the other chairs closer so they could sit face to face.
“Might be a school or some shit nearby,” he mused, ripping the t-shirt into a few pieces, and soaking one in water. He started wiping the blood away from her face, being as gentle as he could, and falling quiet for a few moments while he concentrated. When he folded the cloth in on itself so he could dab at the cut, he smiled.
“Remember when you were six, and you fell running up the stairs?” he asked. He’d been doing that over the course of the week, because he could remember it. He remembered everything. “That black and blue was fucking nasty. You looked like you tried to fight the fucking stairs with your face.”
Despite her attempts to keep very still, a soundless snort puffed from Judith’s nostrils.
“No. I very specifically do not remember that.” She did remember that, albeit with vague, flash-image details. She remembered the wave of panic as her toe caught, then the alien object in her mouth that happened to be half of one baby tooth. That was it- and further, clearer details were not needed.
However, the fact that he remembered still tended to warm her eyes.
Negan just chuckled and shook his head, turning to the first aid kit and ripping open one of the sealed alcohol wipes. The cut wasn’t bad, but this shit was going to sting.
“Didn’t stop you from running up the stairs every fucking day after that, though,” he went on, carefully and quickly wiping at the cut on her face. It could definitely be worse, but she’d probably have a decent scar. Unless the hotel got rid of that kind of thing, too. Either way, Negan decided to stick a few butterfly bandages over it to keep it from just fucking bleeding everywhere.
She smirked a bit, similarly to the way she would temper her grins and smiles while in the company of everyone, instead of just him. That, she remembered, as the self-drive goal to best those stairs, then herself as she got older, all until the day they left that Sanctuary for the new one. Negan hadn't lived to see that day.
“I remember driving everyone with a hangover crazy,” she remarked on the thought; her hour (sometimes more) of running up and down, up and down the cement and cinderblock staircase did a number on anyone trying to sleep in the vicinity. When he was finished, she leaned back, taking the wet piece of t-shirt with; Judith sighed, continuing on as she angled herself on one hip to clean away what she could see of the damage to the other. “Sometimes I miss those stairs.”
Negan leaned back in his own chair, grabbing the bottle of water he’d already opened so he could take a drink. He was being sparing, since they didn’t have that much, now, but at least they only had a couple more days left in the week. Being thirsty for the last couple of days wouldn’t be terrible.
“You got plenty of fucking stairs here,” he said, but he knew what she meant. He just preferred not to think about the fact that she’d moved on from the Sanctuary after he died.
The sound of heavy, dragging footsteps caught his attention, and despite their relative safety, he turned around quickly to find the source, half expecting a stray dead prick who found their way into the hotel. Instead, it was Erik, who paused to lean in the doorway when he saw Judith and Negan, letting his eyes close for half a second as he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Well if it isn’t the fucking man of the hour,” Negan said, and clapped his hands together, his grin wide. The clap made Erik wince, and open his eyes again. He’d wiped the sweat from his forehead, but his hair was practically dripping, and the exhaustion was etched into every line of his face.
Rather than say anything, because he couldn’t get his throbbing brain to work fast enough to form words, he raised a hand towards them in acknowledgement, and went straight for one of the loveseats in the room. He grabbed the arm of it, and fell gracelessly back onto it with a low grunt, only realizing Judith had come to help him when his head didn’t smack back against the wall.
“Jesus-” Judith huffed, catching her balance before going down with him. With a high-browed glance at her father, she rounded the loveseat and sat on the edge by Erik’s side. She took his face gently in her palms, then swiped one across his brow and back through his hair, hovering, looking for signs of any injury she might recognize, mostly by reflex. “Nod if this is normal, babe-” she urged, the calm in her voice hiding a wire of anxiousness.
Erik snorted at the implication that any of this could be normal, bringing one of his hands up to wrap around her wrist, rubbing his thumb slowly over her skin. He nodded, letting out a slow exhale through his nose. He couldn’t remember
the last time he’d felt this exhausted. It was mind-numbing, and he could feel it in every muscle in his body.
“Water?” he murmured, but Negan was already on the way over with a full water bottle and an apologetic look on his face.
“I think I’m gonna go find some shit to read,” he said, excusing himself since he was clearly not needed. Not that he minded. He gave one of Erik’s shoulders a squeeze, and a “Nice fucking work, man,” before he left the room.
After taking the water, Judith shot her dad a knowing look that both thanked him and promised she’d find him later. She turned her attention back down to Erik, gently moving her wrist from his hand so she could take it with hers.
“You gonna live?” she murmured, studying his face with more than just concern. Even racked by what looked like four straight days of hard labor, to her- especially right now- he was one of the most gorgeous things she’d ever laid eyes on. She couldn’t stop looking at him, her gaze laced by amazement.
“Mmm… maybe,” Erik murmured, lacing his fingers through hers. He knew he would, but right now, he felt like he could sleep for at least a day. After another deep breath, he blinked his eyes open, grateful that the lounge was significantly darker than the blazing sunlight outside. He saw the look in her eyes and gave her a small, tired smile.
“Are you?” he asked, and brought his other hand up to cup the injured side of her face, running his thumb along her jaw.
Judith returned the smile without tempering it at all, even though it sent little pinpricks through her cheek. His touch didn't bother it one bit.
“I'll manage,” she lulled at him, warm and promising. She leaned down to kiss him, slow and chaste, but pregnant with meaning. He was soaked with sweat; she could feel how hard his body was working through the exhaustion back to normalcy. She closed her eyes, resting their brows together. Her hand squeezed his.
“Sleep,” Judith whispered. “I'll be right here, then I'll wear you out again when you wake up.”
Erik kissed her back, a low, tired noise humming in the back of his throat. While he would have much preferred a bed, he was too exhausted to really care. He didn’t even care that he was still sitting upright. With his eyes closed again, he could already feel sleep tugging at the back of his mind, keeping his eyelids weighted shut. Her comment still made him smirk, and breath out half a chuckle.
“Gonna be waiting a while,” he sighed, giving her hand another squeeze. If she responded to it, he wouldn’t hear it. Within his next few breaths, he’d already fallen asleep, letting the exhaustion weigh on him, heavy and deep.