"Violet, Eric."

I leaned over their woven bassinet. They're so small they lay snug next to each other. My little miracles. "Mommy loves you."

Their dark hair and blue eyes wandered around the room. My perfect little insta-family in one little homemade basket. I hummed as the muddled array of emotions hit me afresh.

My beautiful, sweet bundles.

This was followed by guilt. I didn't deserve happiness after what I did to Daryl. He was so damaged, so broken, and I stuck that knife in so deep. But, what was I supposed to do?

I've picked that day, five weeks ago, into tiny little pieces and ran them back and fourth through my mind. So many hypotheses had been tested and simulated in my head, wondering if I could've done something else.

The words I'd said spilled out of my mouth in a bumbling repetition. I'd be feeding Eric and Violet at some ungodly hour, and I'd blurt out, "I'm sorry! Can we-"

Negan would shoot up, cup my face and see if I was alright ... at first. But with our combined exhaustion, and round the clock demands of two, his eyes glazed over, his usual gusto taking a back seat to this quiet and unsure stranger.

It was a major case of the blind leading the blind. I wanted to fix it, but after changing what felt like a store full of diapers, being stuck for half the day as a human cow I hardly knew my name, let alone how to talk to my husband.

I looked over to the fireplace, a small fire crackling, rugging up under my sheets. Violet had been suffering from reflux, and I'd just been able to settle her, her desperate shrill cries making my heart hurt. After that marathon, my brain was too wired for sleep. I'd passed that precipice weeks ago, to be honest.

"Negan?" I breathed. It'd been days since we'd shared a single word.

"Mmmm?"

"Waaaaaahhhhhhhh!" Eric squealed, reaching a key I didn't know was humanly possible.

Who needs a dog whistle...

I'm so wired up, I roll out of bed at warp speed, flicking my legs out like some Bruce Lee extraordinaire ... was how I thought that played out. What ended up happening was my face quickly propelling onto the cold-slate floor. "Fuuuuccckkkk, m'liiiiffffeeeeee!"

"Are you okay, Bo-Peep?" My husband drawls, as I hear the springs release. Must've gotten up.

The crying immediately stops, causing me to peel my face off the floor. I rested my chin on the bed, watching my half-naked husband rock his son, tightly cradled in his arms. A small hand breaks free from my novice swaddling job, and he swung his tiny hand to and fro.

Negan lifts his head, edging towards me. "Are you okay, Mommy?"

"I'm fine. There's always been two of you, right?" I tease, rubbing my forehead.

Negan laughs.

I burst into tears, causing my exhausted husband to panic.

"They're so beautiful, you know!" I blubber, shoulder's rattling with my emotional outburst. "I mean! I'm so fucking tired, I want to poke myself in the eye repeatedly, just for a change of torture, but ... I love them so much!"

My husband holds a hand out to me, pleading with me, "I'll get one of the baby sitters! We can't keep going on like this!"

"I'm a terrible mother," I wail, waking up our daughter.

I can't even keep my big, fat mouth shut!

Negan shuffles for his walkie, tweaking the dial and muttering in the box, "this is Negan. Can we have Glenda up to my room please?"

"I'll go wake her." A familiarly flat voice rings through. It's Arat. It just had to be Arat, didn't it?

"There's only one thing I'm supposed to do, and I can't even fucking do that!" I tug at my roots, kneeling on the unforgiving floor.

"Just give me a minute!" Negan looks at me with pleading eyes. He doesn't like the lack of control. I don't like my lack of control either, but I can feel it slipping further and further away.

I roll up into a ball, trying not to cause my babies anymore distress. Terrible mother! Terrible, terrible mother!

Glenda arrives, all bright eyes and bushy tailed, excited to take the babies for a "little cuddle session" as she liked to call them. I couldn't even look at her, or the interaction between my husband and the fucking fairy princess.

I've seen it all before. They smile and laugh, and have a great time.

Probably fucking her too...

That niggle bursts through my head, becoming stronger and stronger as I grow weaker and weaker. I hold onto my breath until she leaves, not wanting to show how weak I am.

The door closed and Negan pads his way over to me, kneeling in front of me. "Time for bed, princess!"

I nod, still trying to regulate my breathing.

Before I can move, he scoops me up, kissing my forehead. "I'm not."

"What?" I breathe.

"Fucking her. Your face went practically purple when Glenda walked in." He smirked. "I couldn't."

"You used to." I retorted, the idea of him sneaking around clawing at my fragile heart. "Before me, you used to. What's so different?"

"When I found out you fucked Daryl..."

The silence was palpable. He hadn't talked about Daryl since he was sent to Alexandria. It just wasn't on the cards.

"... I thought..." But I stopped. He knew why, and it didn't make it any better.

"I know, princess." He places me down on the bed, a rare glint of heart flashes through his Amber irises. My heart is racing too quickly, my tears still flowing.

Pulling his arm, he collapses on the bed beside me, wrapping his arms around me. "Do we have to go tomorrow?"

I cuddle into him, my eyes finally becoming heavy. "We have to. We told Rick we would, and it's only fair on ... him."

Negan gulps, but pulls me in closer, nestling his nose into my hair. "Can we go in late? And leave early?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

We finally drift off to sleep.