Negan X Y/n - Blog Posts

The End Will Justify It All - Chapter 6

A Negan Series

Chapter 5 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 1

Warnings - guns, shooting, wounds, blood, violence, captivity, illness, and some language. 18+ only.

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This was wrong.

There were too many. How had this happened?

She’d sent a note through a Savior to Simon earlier in the day to meet her for a drink at the fire after her dinner with Negan, which meant there should be three guys along the fence: Simon at the fire on the far end, and two guys on guard.

She counted 14 right now, maybe more, they kept moving. She looked at Daryl and Sherry, hunched down beside her, the three of them hiding behind a stack of wood crates. There were enough stacks and barrels between them and the hole she’d strategically placed in the fence that in the dark of night, they could get most of the way unseen.  The last ten yards to the hole was so exposed that no matter how well they timed the run, with this many eyes looking around, they would be seen.

Everything else had gone perfectly today. Fat Joey didn’t question her at all when she told him Dwight asked her to tune up his bike and have it waiting outside the gate for him. She had a whole story ready to explain where Dwight was going and why, but he could not have cared less. He was just happy to be speaking to her. She smiled sweetly at him, and he handed her the keys without another thought.

She’d asked Sherry to deliver Dwight’s lunch to him in front of Daryl’s cell today, so she could get to her target practice early.

“Hey, before I forget,” she said to Sherry as she handed her Dwight’s tray with a BLT, pickle, and glass of iced sweet tea, “can you meet me in the stairwell after my dinner with Negan tonight? I just need to talk for a while.” Sherry agreed, happily, as she walked away with the tray of food.

Her dinner with Negan was normal, if not a little awkward after the events of the night before. They ate, they played Scrabble, and they drank. She needed the drink. She found herself a little too distracted by every move of his mouth, flashes of their encounter last night trying to make their way into her mind. She had to force herself to focus on her Scrabble tiles more than once. It didn’t help that Negan played suggestive words, with that wicked grin, every chance he got. She was starting to sweat. She offered to refill their drinks when they were about halfway through the game and left him staring at his tiles while she worked at the bar cart. She delivered a well-timed joke and they both chuckled as she tipped the small bag of crushed sleeping pills into his whiskey. Swirling the glass around as she walked back, she smiled to herself as the powder dissolved in the amber liquid.

He'd emptied the glass by the time the game finished, him beating her for the first time. She wished she’d purposefully let that happen.  She bid him goodnight. She even kissed him on the cheek before leaving, and grinned again.

Dwight was passed out in his chair outside Daryl’s cell, as she expected. She’d put enough crushed sleeping pills in both his mayo and his sweet tea to knock Fat Joey out, but she couldn’t risk him waking up and ruining it all.

Daryl stared at her wide-eyed when she opened his cell and dragged the sleeping Dwight into it. She wanted to embrace Daryl, kiss him, and explain everything, but she had the escape planned very specifically. There just wasn’t time. She settled for one deep but quick kiss and held his hands as she instructed him to follow her closely, silently, and do exactly what she said.

They tiptoed as fast as they could down the halls, only having to duck into an empty room once to hide from a passerby. When they reached the stairwell, they found Sherry where she’d said she’d be. Sherry seemed to understand what was happening as soon as she saw Daryl, and without a word followed them both down the stairs.

“Wassat?” Daryl asked her as she grabbed a backpack from a dark corner at the bottom of the stairs.

“Supplies,” she answered, flinging it on her back and motioning for them to hide against the wall while she opened the door to outside.

They crouched, scampered, and crawled in the dark, finally making it here, where she was frozen, trying to figure out what went wrong. She hadn’t planned for this many guys; there shouldn’t be this many guys.

“Wha’s wrong?” Daryl asked her, feeling her stress.

“Just let me think for a second,” she whispered back.

She knew it wasn’t possible. She couldn’t get them all out without them being seen. If they were seen, they’d be hunted down. What would follow that made her stomach turn.

She knew what she had to do.

She turned to Daryl, kissed him hard and passionately. She handed him the bag of supplies and told him, “Stay low behind the row of stacks and barrels, when you get to the end, time it so no one sees you, and make a run straight to the fence. There is a hole cut out there, you can’t see it until you’re on it. Whatever you do, just keep going. When you get to the woods, follow the cuts in the tree like you taught me, you’ll find a bike ready to go. Do not wait for me, I will find you. Take Sherry wherever she wants to go, and then you go somewhere else. Daryl,” she held his face in her hands and looked hard in his eyes, “do not go back to Alexandria. Find another community to hide in until it’s safe to contact Rick.”

She looked at Sherry, “whatever happens here, keep going. Make him keep going.”

Sherry hugged her as she said, “I will. Thank you.”

Daryl started to argue, but she gently pushed him. She watched as they turned and slipped away into the dark.

When they’d gotten far enough away, she took a deep breath and stood, stepping into the flood lights. All the guys stopped moving and looked at her. She looked toward Simon, who should have been expecting her, and her heart stopped. Standing right beside him, with his arms crossed and Lucille hanging from one hand, was Negan. Well, his sleeping pills didn’t work, she thought.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” he shook his head, “well, boys, it looks like you were telling me the truth. Unlike Y/N here, who has been lying to me…”

When she said nothing, Negan turned to Simon, “I believe you two were going to be having a drink together? Well, what the hell? Let’s have a drink!”

And there it was, exactly what she needed. What Daryl and Sherry needed. “Negan, I’m so glad you’re joining us!” she exclaimed, seeing a flash of surprise across of Negan’s face at her response. “I love having drinks around the fire with friends! In fact, why don’t we invite everyone?”

She spun in a half circle, looking at each Savior in area. “Negan and I would like to invite you all to have a drink with us right now,” and when only a few moved toward her she added, “on Negan!”

They all moved at that, smiles spreading across their faces, and some swatting her arm in thanks as they passed. She smiled at Negan as they all filed in around the fire, far from the fence Daryl and Sherry should be approaching now.

She thought she heard the ting of metal moving. She smiled to herself.

She spent the next hour and a half making her rounds with the guys at the fire, joking with most of them, asking some of them about their girlfriends or wives. Everyone enjoying the beers she’d provided on Negan’s tab. When she felt she’d given Daryl and Sherry a big enough safety net of time, she said her goodnights and made her way back to the building.

She was almost to the door when Negan called from the group, “Y/n! You can’t go yet! You and Simon barely spoke, and I for one, would like to know what it was you wanted to talk about that brought you out in on this cold night, sneaking around like a rat, to talk in the dark…”

------

She braced herself for whatever he was about to say or do. She could almost see the fury radiating from him in waves. It no longer mattered what happened to her, she could handle it. Or maybe she couldn’t. That was fine, too. Daryl was out, he could be with his family again. He could do good, be good out there. Somehow, he and Rick would take Negan down, she had no doubt about that. Hopefully she would live to see it, she thought, as she saw the rage in Negan’s eyes directed at her.

He opened his mouth to speak, but it wasn’t his voice that escaped his mouth, it was a boom. A gunshot. No, it didn’t come from his mouth, it had come from somewhere behind him. Was someone shooting? Time seemed to slow. She felt a pang in her thigh, she looked down. There was blood, dark and thick, insidiously oozing from a hole in her pants, where the sting came from. Her legs gave out in that moment, and she was on the ground. She could no longer hear anything around her, could only feel the pain. She was on fire. She gripped at her thigh, a wounded animal panicking. She needed to calm down, get help, breathe. When was the last time she took a breath? She willed herself to suck in air, her head clearing some with the effort. She winced as she forced herself into a sitting position and took another breath. Apply pressure, she told herself, stop the bleeding until someone gets the doctor. She pressed, screaming at the added pain, her vision fading at the edges. She breathed again and kept pressing. Why was no one coming to help? Her ears cleared, and she knew without looking that no one would be. She raised her head to see blurs of legs as people ran past her, she heard men yelling, some screaming in pain, more gunshots. There were others here, now. Their faces were covered with what looked like ski masks.

She needed to get somewhere safe or get to some weapons. She tried to stand, stumbled back down, vision almost completely black from the effort. She tried again. Successfully on her feet now, she raised upright to evaluate the best direction to go. She saw it happen from her peripheral, but not in time to stop the metal cylinder from connecting with her skull. She barely had time to register the pain erupt from her temple before she was unconscious.   

She felt the pain before she knew she was awake. She’d never felt anything like it, she could barely breathe she hurt so badly. She couldn’t decide what parts of her hurt worse – her left thigh was still screaming with pain. Her head throbbed, a sharp pain radiating from her right cheek. She could taste blood, and guessed at her stuffy nose that she must have fallen on her face. The pain on her back was new – it stung, as cool air whispered against raw skin. She must have been dragged, she realized. Dragged where?

She opened her eyes. Well, she tried. Only her left eye would open, the swelling from her right cheek forcing that eye closed. Her head still drooping, she was looking at her lap. Her left pant leg was soaked in her own blood. She slowly lifted her hand to survey her head wound, but it wouldn’t move. She noticed then the ropes tying her hands behind her, uncomfortable as her elbows awkwardly tried to bend around the chairback behind her. She saw similar ropes restraining her feet to the legs of the chair she sat in. Do not panic, she told herself, assess.

As slowly as possible, to avoid blacking out, she raised her head. She saw a dark room lit by several camping lanterns placed on the floor. Concrete walls with no windows, some large iron equipment and pipes, possibly a boiler room? She and the lamps were the only occupants. She carefully turned her head, searching for a door. She heard one open behind her, and light flooded the floor in front of her, shadowed by her own hunched figure. “She’s awake,” a man’s voice said.

Two sets of footsteps approached behind her. Another voice said, “We know you’re in some considerable pain…” she didn’t respond. “We’d like to help you, if you want that.”

He waited for her to answer. She didn’t.

“We wouldn’t ask for much in return,” the first voice added, “just some information.”

“You gonna make me talk to the wall or come around and face me like men?” she growled, the effort of speaking sending the pain in her cheek rioting through her head.

One of them chuckled. “I would bet money that spirit is what attracted Negan to you,” he said as he moved in front of her and crouched to meet her eyes. He surveyed her face and whistled, “it might have been your face too, before this.” He touched her cheek on the last word, and she flinched away from him at the fire hot pain it sent through her.

“Shooo, I bet that does hurt.” He cooed at her. She glared as best she could with one open eye.

“We have some medicine, a doctor here, that could at least make that hurt less,” he said, “all we need to know is how many people Negan has working for him, and where they are stationed.”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” she said nonchalantly. She couldn’t think clearly from the pain, but she knew she didn’t want to give these assholes anything they wanted. “I think I’m good.”

The man in her face smiled, the smile not unlike one she’d seen on Negan’s face plenty of times, before making a point. “Well, I guess we need to change that,” he said viciously, before his right hand made forceful contact with her left jaw, sending her head flying right, only to see the back hand of the other guy flying toward her wounded cheek. She went unconscious again.

When she woke the next time, she heard thumping. Unrhythmic, sporadic, and it was coming from several different directions. She heard her two new friends talking in low, panicked voices behind her. “I thought we’d have more time!” one of them said, “how did they find us after only two days?” “I don’t know, but we gotta do something.” “What? They have us surrounded, and they’ve already killed most of our people!” The pause in their conversation gave her mind a chance to catch up, to realize what she was heard was gunshots.

“Did you really think,” her words were slow, the effort of talking through her newly bruised jaw slowing her down, “you could hit him at home, and he wouldn’t retaliate?” The guys moved from the door to stand in front of her while she talked. “You didn’t even know how many people he had, and you thought you could beat him?” she forced a laugh through the excruciating pain.

“You think this is funny, bitch?” one of them responded. “Well I’ll show you what I think is funny,” he said, lifting his metal pipe, the one she assumed gave her the busted face, like a baseball bat.

“I would not do that if I were you,” a familiar villainous voice growled from the door behind her, and her heart fluttered. Negan was here. For her. She was surprised at the relief she felt. “Not that holding back now will save you.”

Two Saviors appeared from behind her, holding guns. Her captors raised their hands, and the Saviors forced them to their knees. She felt her wrist restraints cut and fall, and rubbed her arms as she watched Negan cut her foot restraints. He placed her arm around his shoulder and helped her to stand on her good foot. With most of her weight leaning on him, he helped her to limp toward the door. She stopped him before they exited and turned back toward the room.

“If I can’t be the one to do it, I need to see it,” she told him. He nodded in understanding, and then toward the Saviors. She didn’t flinch at all at the gunshots, or as their lifeless bodies hit the floor.

Negan picked her up, then, carrying her from the room. He rushed down passages, and out through double doors. Blinking her good eye against the blinding sun, she heard continued shooting, and saw bodies, both Saviors and not, on the ground as Negan ran with her toward a truck. He placed her in the passenger seat as easily as he could and made for the driver’s side. She heard him yell orders to whoever was near as he climbed in and started the truck, not hesitating before throwing it in reverse and speeding away from the battle.

------

The truck sputtered and steam flooded from the hood.

“Shit.” Negan grumbled as the truck came to a stop on its own. “It must have been shot before we got away.” He frantically searched the cab of the truck. “Of course there is no damn radio in here! Is everyone an idiot?”

He thought for a moment, and finally asked, “Can you walk at all?”

It was the first time he’d spoken to her since they’d fled, they had been driving for about thirty minutes. “I… um, I can try,” she replied.

She steeled herself. This was going to hurt, but she knew there was no alternative. With all the gunfire, they didn’t know how many walkers were on their way toward them, and who knew how long it would be until their guys started heading back. If there were any guys left to come back… she shook the thought from her head as Negan opened her door and helped her out of the truck.

Immediately she knew she couldn’t do this, but she refused to tell Negan that. Refused to let him see the severity of her pain. So she began trying to find a rhythm of step, lean into him, hop. Each hop sent a white-hot flare of pain through her whole body, but she kept going. She was grateful that he would stop often to let her catch her breath, using the time to also wiggle her jaw, which was getting stiff and even more sore from clenching her teeth.

She guessed they’d been slowly hobbling down the road for about two hours when they saw an old barn ahead, a short distance from the road, in a field. He jerked his chin in the barn’s direction and said, “we need to stop here for the night.” It was nearly dusk already, and she knew if they kept going, they would risk tripping in the dark. The thought of that pain alone made her flinch.

Inside the barn, Negan gathered a mound of hay and gently set her down on it. After securing the doors behind them, he sat down across from her, resting his head against the wall behind him and closing his eyes. She watched as he seemed to be calming himself down, if she didn’t know better, she would have thought he was meditating.

“Who were those guys?” she asked, finally breaking the tense silence.

“One of the communities we own,” he said without opening his eyes, “we caught one of them at the Sanctuary when they took you. Took the bastard a whole day to break and tell us where they’d taken you. It took us half the next day to get there.” He finally lifted his head and surveyed her, lingering on her wounds. “It’s gonna be a long walk back…”

She nodded, fighting back the stinging tears at the thought of the long journey ahead of her tomorrow.

He moved to her, gingerly touching her wounded face and looking more closely at the wounds in the fading rays of light barn walls were allowing in. He met her eyes, still lightly holding her face in his hands. It hurt, but she didn’t mind.  

“I saw you go down,” he said slowly, “from the first shot. But I didn’t see where they’d hit you. By the time I got to where you fell, you were gone. I thought you were dead, until Simon said he saw them load you up and take off.” His eyes shone with pain.

“I didn’t know if anyone would come for me,” she said softly. She hadn’t admitted it to herself in that boiler room, but she had not been hopeful of making it back out of there. “When I heard you…” her voice broke as her tears finally flooded. He gently pulled her into his chest and wrapped her in his arms as she wept. When she stopped, she said into his shirt, “we really gotta stop hanging out like this.” They both chuckled as they separated.

It was dark now, and the temperature was dropping. Negan made a dugout in the hay and helped her to lay down in it. Once she was settled, he settled in behind her, pulling her close for warmth. They laid that way for a long time, listening to each other breathe, when she eventually broke the silence.

“I believe I still have two free questions,” she said in lighthearted tone.

“You definitely used two already,” he quipped back.

“Yes, but you only answered one of them,” she said, lightly pressing him with her elbow. “So, I get the second one back.”

“I’ll allow it,” he said, pulling her a little closer and nestling her head under his chin.

She laid there a few more minutes before asking, “you showing up there today, was that… well, was that to find me? Or for retaliation for attacking you?”

He didn’t answer for long enough that she wondered if he’d fallen asleep. “It wasn’t about retaliation,” he said finally. “As for your other question… Lucille was my wife, before. And during. She died, because of me… because of my inaction. I wasn’t going to let inaction be the cause of your death, too.” Something in her ached at his response, some twinge beginning of understanding how he’d become the Negan she knew.

The cold crept deeper into her. She shivered, despite the warmth Negan wrapped around her.

As she succumbed to a pressing urge to sleep, she thought she heard Negan say, “you are burning up.”

------

When she woke up, she was in Negan’s bed in the Sanctuary. An IV in her arm snaked to two pouches of liquids hung from a metal pole beside the head of the bed. She couldn’t remember getting here. In fact, she couldn’t remember much at all following the night in the barn. There were brief flashes of trees rushing past while Negan carried her, the doctor holding her non-wounded eye open and flashing a light into her eye, and the occasional voice talking to her, or someone beside her. It was an unnerving feeling, remembering nothing between one place and the next, but somehow knowing that time had passed.

She realized suddenly how dry her mouth was, and how thirsty she felt. She looked around the room to find a glass of water on the nightstand beside her. Beside the nightstand, in the leather armchair that used to be in the sitting area, Negan slept. He couldn’t have been comfortable, she thought, with his neck at that angle against the back of the chair. He looked a little haggard. Dark circles under his eyes, his scruff longer than he usually kept it, his hair unwashed and a little unkempt. He stirred as she reached for the water glass, just slightly too far away, and sat up when he realized she was awake. He stood, handed the glass to her, and walked out of the room. A moment later, he returned with the doctor.

As he assessed her, she asked questions to fill in the gaps. Her bullet wound was a good one – all the way through, no major arteries nicked, it didn’t hit bone. It would take some time and some effort, but the muscle it pierced would heal and she’d be able to walk again. It had become infected while she was tied up, and the infection had gone deep. Her fever had gotten dangerously high, which explained her sleeping through the last four days. Her cheekbone was likely fractured, though he expected it to heal well, too. Her nose had been reset, and her jaw and cheek bruises were already turning shades of greens and yellows. The swelling had receded enough that she could open her right eye enough to see out of. She turned down the offer to see herself in a mirror. Negan listened intently, not saying anything and not meeting her eyes.

The doctor left her with orders to drink as much water as she could, eat as much as she could, and sleep as much as she could. Once the infection cleared and the gunshot wound had closed, she could start working on walking again.

She looked at Negan, who was staring at the door the doctor had shut behind him.

“I vaguely remember you carrying me through the woods… you must have nearly killed yourself carrying me that far. I can’t thank you enough,” she said, meaning every word. He did not turn his head.

“I can ask the doctor to help me move to my room, so you can have your bed back.”

“No,” was all he said, before leaving her alone.

She told herself not to stress about whatever that was. If it was about her, he’d eventually have it out with her, and if it wasn’t then it would go away. But sitting there, in his bed, with nothing to do but think, stressing about it is what she did. She went over every possible reason he would be pissed at her, when she was literally unconscious for four days. After an hour or so of spiraling, the door opened, and she was surprised to see Tanya enter with a tray of food. Tanya set the tray up on the bed and made her way to sit in the chair near the bedside.

“Um,” she said to Tanya, with a raised eyebrow, “thank you?”

Tanya seemed to know she wasn’t asking about the food and explained. “Negan sent me to sit with you for a while. If you need anything I can get it for you. Or I guess if you want to talk, that’s what I’m here for, too.” Then she added, quietly, “which will be a nice change of pace.”

“Wait,” she asked Tanya, pulling the tray of food closer, “what does that mean?”

“Oh,” Tanya pushed a breath out of her nose in a sort-of laugh, “you’ve just been asleep every time I’ve been in here before.”

“You... you came to see me?” she was surprised. She and Tanya weren’t exactly friends. With Sherry gone, she wasn’t sure she had any friends here anymore.

“Well… Negan didn’t want you to be alone. He sat with you almost all of the time, but if he had to leave for whatever reason, he sent one of us to be with you. Said we had to stay awake in case you woke up.”

“I guess that explains why he looked so rough,” she commented.

Tanya replied, “yeah, I don’t think he’s had much sleep since he carried you in.”

She contemplated all of this while she ate the food Tanya had brought her. It didn’t take her long, she found with the first bite that she was famished.

When she finished her meal, she asked Tanya to fill her in on what she’d missed. She put on her best surprised face when Tanya told her Daryl had escaped. As Tanya informed her that when Negan was gathering the troops to come after her and her captors, they’d discovered Dwight missing, and the wives had not seen Sherry for a while either. They assumed both had run away together. Then two days ago, Negan suddenly remembered Daryl was locked up and with Dwight gone, no one was making sure he was fed, but they opened the cell to find Dwight in there, half-starved and feral. He said Sherry had drugged his food, and he woke up in Daryl’s cell.

“Sherry and Daryl ran away together?” she asked Tanya, dumbfounded.

Tanya couldn’t believe it either, “Negan was furious. He sent Simon and a group to Alexandria to find Daryl, but they haven’t been able to find him.”

She didn’t let Tanya see the relief she felt. This had worked out surprisingly well for her. She had planned to deal with Dwight later, though she hadn’t quite decided how at the time she’d locked him up. And Daryl had listened to her and didn’t go find Rick, that, too, was a relief.

After a few more minutes of chitchat, and Tanya getting a couple of books for her to read while she was bedbound, she told Tanya she was feeling very tired. According to Tanya, Negan wanted Tanya in there anyway, so she got a book for herself, and moved to Negan’s couch.

Sleep quickly consumed her, and she woke hours later to find Negan gently shaking the foot of her good leg to rouse her.

“Dinner,” he grunted, motioning to the tray on the bed.  He helped her into a sitting position before seating himself in the chair beside the bed.

“You don’t want to eat, too?” she asked him. 

“No,” he bluntly replied. Still in a mood.

She ate in silence for a few minutes. She was trying to decide how to proceed in conversation when he beat her to it.

“Free question,” he declared. “And don’t lie this time.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “When did I lie to you?” she asked him, not looking away from her stew as she took a spoonful.

“When I asked you before why you were really here. You lied. I want the truth this time.”

Her food turned leaden in her stomach, and she suddenly had no appetite.

“You came here to get Daryl out, didn’t you?”

She looked up at him, held his hard stare.

“Yes.”

“And you succeeded, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I knew the moment we couldn’t find Dwight and Sherry was gone, too, there was more to it than them running away. They’d already tried that and failed miserably; Dwight is too spineless to try a second time. And that douchebag in Alexandria, Spencer, he’d let it slip that you and Daryl had a little thing going before you met me… so, I checked Daryl’s cell,” he confessed, “and who did I find, sleeping like a baby, not a scratch on him?”

“Negan,” she started, but he cut her off.

“Here’s the other thing, you didn’t just drug Dwight and get Daryl out… you tried to drug me, too. Didn’t you?”

She didn’t respond.

“I took one sip of that whiskey and could tell something was off about it. But I wanted to see what you were doing.”

She swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. She couldn’t run, she knew screaming would be useless. All she had on this tray was a spoon and some hot stew… she could throw it in his face, but that would only piss him off… she had no option but to take whatever punishment he had in store for her.

“Are you going to burn my face?” she asked him, no fear in her voice.

He stared at her for a long time before responding.

“No,” he said, defeat laced his tone. “No. You covered your tracks well. Dwight believes Sherry drugged him, and everyone else believes it, too.”

She loosed a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She wanted to thank him, but she didn’t think he’d receive it well.

They sat in silence for the rest of the evening, Negan removing her tray when she didn’t touch it for a while. He retreated to the bathroom, and she heard the shower turn on. She settled in, feeling tired again, and closed her eyes. Sleep didn’t come, but she kept her eyes closed, as Negan completed his shower and came back into the room. She heard him click lamps off, his footsteps moving around the room. She felt the bed dip as he climbed in beside her.

He'd found her out, revealed her plans, she had confessed it all, and now he was going to sleep beside her. She turned to her side to find his bare back facing her.

She knew she shouldn’t press her luck, but now curiosity was getting the best of her.

“If you knew when those guys took me… why did you come for me? Why lose all those guys to get me back?”

She watched his back decompress as she sighed, and then as he turned to his side to face her.

“How is the answer to that not obvious by now?”

She searched his eyes and watched as they moved to her mouth and then back to her eyes. He moved in close, their lips nearly touching. Then he kissed her. This kiss was not like the last time he kissed her. This was gentle, passionate, soft but powerful. She kissed him back.

When he pulled away from the kiss several minutes later, her silently cursing her wounds and the IV preventing them from going further, Negan said softly to her, “you will have to decide one of these days. You can try to survive with Daryl, or you can thrive here with me. You can’t be in my bed and his, too.” With that, he turned over and went to sleep.

The End Will Justify It All - Chapter 5

A Negan Series

Chapter 4 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 1

Warnings: adult themes, adult language, rough/slightly violent smut (18+ only)

A/n - my husband got a new video game so my Friday night was wide open to work on this. It's my favorite in the series so far, and I apologize for how long it is. Feedback is welcome! And a quick inspo credit to @green-eyedladywrites - she reblogged this photo of a statue in a sex museum in Korea several weeks ago, which stuck in my brain and brought about this sex scene. I hope you all enjoy! (ps - I was having major keyboard glitches so if there are bad typos I'm sorry!)

Being part of a Savior crew seemed to come naturally to her. It wasn’t a surprise; she’d been part of groups like these before. She’d learned how to work them to her advantage many times over. Simon started her as a grunt, sending her on the errands and tasks no one else really cared to do, but she didn’t mind. Every task gave her more information about the place, another advantage in her planning.

One of the tasks she was assigned was to check on Dwight’s guard team. Dwight and a couple of his guys took shifts guarding Daryl’s cell door or taking him out for his work with the walkers at the gate. She would check in with them a few times a day, bring them meals when they were on duty, and occasionally kept them company for a while. She cherished this task, the chance to be so close to Daryl. She had to force herself not to pay him any attention, but she stole as many glances as she could when his guards weren’t looking.

All the guys in the crew took to her quickly. They began including her in jokes, games, often inviting her for drinks after their shifts.  Simon especially seemed to enjoy her company. They soon had a rapport full of banter and laughs. It didn’t take long for her to move out of grunt work, although she suspected being a wife helped her rise in rank, too. No one wanted to be the one sending Negan’s wife on dumb errands and risk his anger. As her status on the crew rose, Simon began asking her advice. Much like Negan with Rick’s group, he was looking for the best ways to exploit the weaknesses of  leaders of the communities he collected from. It was unsettling to her how good she was at it. She had always been good at reading people. She’d used that in the past to survive, but this was different. This was no longer survival, this was… dominance. She couldn’t deny there was a part of her that found naming a stranger’s weakness and using it to get what the Saviors wanted somewhat thrilling. The more Simon asked that of her, the better she got at it. It became a point of pride for her amongst the crew. After a few successful runs, Simon started asking her to stay behind. They would spend hours debriefing or discussing the next run, sometimes over drinks.

It was during one of these after collection debriefs with Simon that she noticed a shift in him. She was sitting on the edge of the back of a refrigerated truck where Simon was leaning against it right beside her. They were laughing about one guy that wet his pants when she had gotten in his face, whatever threat she made hitting the nail on the head.

Suddenly Simon wasn’t laughing, he was staring at her. An intense look in his eye, like he’d just seen her for the first time. She squirmed shyly and nudged his arm gently with her shoulder.

“We make a good team, huh?” she grinned at him.

“We do… but I think it’s more you than me.” He replied, nudging her back.

She heard boots crunch in the gravel nearby. She put a hand on Simon’s arm and leaned a little closer as she said in a low voice, “I’m glad Negan put me on your crew.”

A Savior appeared from around the corner of the truck and both she and Simon quickly separated, attempting to look as casual as possible. The Savior stared at them for a moment, seeming to debate saying something. Finally, he informed them, “Negan called a gathering in the warehouse. He wants everyone there, you especially,” he looked at her. “You should find the other wives for this.”

She did as she was told, finding where the wives were standing, and making her way to stand beside Sherry and Amber. Amber looked pale and gaunt.  Y/n raised an eyebrow at Sherry to ask what was up with Amber. Sherry jerked her chin to show her. Following the direction Sherry motioned, she saw a handsome guy strapped to a chair, in front of a blazing fire.

Oh no. Mark. Amber’s lover. They’d been stupid – they’d been caught. She’d tried to warn Amber it was a bad idea – Negan only had one rule for the wives: do not cheat on him. She was honestly amazed only Mark sat before the fire now. Someone must have done some convincing to get him to let Amber off… She looked around, seeing Dwight at the fire with the poker – her blood boiled. She already despised him, but the more she learned of him from Sherry, and the more she saw how he treated Daryl, her dislike had transitioned to blind hate. Her eyes moved from Dwight to the person beside him and she nearly gasped when her eyes met Daryl’s. They locked eyes and she instinctively began to move toward him.

She was stopped short as Negan entered then, walking forward to talk to the crowd. She didn’t hear a word he said, though, as she saw who came in behind him. The Sherriff’s hat gave him away first, and her heart stopped. Why was Carl here? When had he gotten here? Had Negan taken him?

Her eyes shot to Daryl, and she found him still looking at her. What the fuck? She mouthed at him. He subtly shook his head, and she turned her attention back to Carl, willing him to look at her. His face changed at something Negan was doing, she felt Sherry move to Amber and saw her embrace her, so she turned her attention back to the spectacle. Dwight was pulling the hot iron from the fire and Negan was gloving his hands to take it.

She couldn’t let this happen. Mark and Amber had been dumb, but they didn’t deserve this. Amber was not the strongest, she wouldn’t handle this well at all. And Carl… Carl didn’t need to see this. How could she stop it?

She didn’t know what drove her to do it, barely registered her own voice as she called to Negan, “wait!” He put his outstretched hand down and looked at her, fury building behind his eyes at the public challenge. If she shut up and sank back now, he’d probably let this go. That would be the smart thing to do. She felt all eyes on her as her body did the exact opposite and she found herself standing in between Mark and Negan. Idiot. What are you doing?

“I’ll take it. Burn me instead.” She heard some gasps and murmurs from the crowd. She refused to look at Daryl, who was no doubt readying to fight off every Savior in this building for her.

Negan tilted his head as he asked, “Now why would you do that? Why would I do that?”

“Mark is an incredible shot, way better than I’ll ever be, and very valuable to his crew. If you burn him, he’ll be down healing for weeks, and you’ll be lucky if his aim is ever the same going that close to his eye” she pointed at Dwight’s scarred eyed. “I’m barely more than a grunt. If I’m down a few weeks, the worst that happens is Fat Joey doesn’t get his sandwich delivered and he has to go get it himself.” Some guys chuckled behind her.

She could feel the crowd lean in, could feel their pity, and their gratitude – Mark was beloved by a lot of these people. He was a good guy, that’s why Amber liked him so much. And she’d made good points – his crew needed him. They were already short-handed with the redistribution of men following Rick’s massacre at the satellite station. Losing another one from their barebones crew would hurt. They would not be happy about it.

“That’s so very noble of you, sweetheart,” Negan cooed at her. “But what lesson would that teach Mark? How is he going to learn the importance of following the rules if someone else can just step in and take his consequences?’

After a long pause, Negan reached again for the hot iron and added, “and your face is plenty hot enough as it is.”

Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the crowd as Negan advanced toward Mark. She stumbled back with them, and as the screaming started, she turned and left. She could feel the rage of the crowd behind her as she exited. She walked until she reached Negan’s apartment and sat down against the wall outside his door to wait.

She didn’t have to wait long before Negan and Carl approached. She stood as they neared Negan’s door and gave Carl a hard look.

“Carl,” Negan drawled, “I don’t believe you have met my new wife!” Carl scowled at her at the realization.

“Negan, could I speak to you?” she asked him, glancing at Carl pointedly, “privately?”

“As much as I would love a little romp in the sack with you, I am a little busy right now.”

“Negan.”

He moved closer to her, a cat on the prowl. “I said not right now.” He leaned in close enough to whisper in her ear. “I’ll find you later. I have some things to discuss with you too.” His breath on her neck tickled, causing goosebumps to rise. He gently kissed the area, and she saw Carl tense and clench his fist. Negan left her in the hall, leading Carl into his room.

Frustrated, and still confused about Carl being here, she stomped back to her room to wait.

-----

Her time with Negan since the night he held her while she cried in her room had been, well, confusing. He called her to dinner again the following night and they played their question game again, both seeming to ask more interesting questions about the other. She’d learned a lot about him that night, his softer side. It surprised her. She’d also been given a gift, a “reward” he’d called it for such good information about Rick.

“Anything thing you want, ask. A new, badass gun? A bottle of the whiskey we took from Hilltop? Name it. I am in a giving mood, and you earned a good gift,” he’d told her, flirtatiously but genuine enough.

“Do I have to name it right now, or can I think on it a bit?” she’d asked.

“My generosity does have limitations, but you can take the rest of dinner to think on it.”

After dinner, and a few shots later for each of them, she’d chosen what she would ask for.

“I know what I’d like my reward to be,” she declared after he downed his 4th shot, dodging a question about his love life before the old world fell. He smiled at her and nodded in invitation to ask.

“I would like…” she said, drawing it out to tease him a little. The three shots of Whiskey she’d taken had her in a playful mood. He raised an eyebrow suggestively at her. “Oh, you wish,” she fired back. “No. Nothing like that. What I’d like is, well... 5 free questions. I let you know when one of my questions will be the free pass, and you have to answer, 100% truthfully, with no option to back out by taking a shot.”

She quickly saw the loophole in her request so she added, “and I can use them whenever I want, no time limits.” She replayed her words in her head, making sure they were airtight. She felt like she was dealing with a genie from a fairytale.

Negan studied her, a mix of pleasant surprise and something else behind his eyes. “I will give you 3.”

She grinned at him, about to agree when he added, “but I get 3 of the same.”

“Wha- how is that a gift if you get it too?” she whined back.

“Because the gift is from me, and those are my conditions. If you’d like to change your choice to that gun or something a little more… intimate, I will allow it.” He bit his lip, and something in her heated. Stupid whiskey.

She knew it wasn’t a good idea, it was risky to commit to that.  But the thought of him having to answer her with no possibility to back out was too tempting to pass up. She prayed the reward would be worth this risk.

“Deal.” This was the second deal she’d made with the devil in a week.  

The following nights were unpredictable. She wasn’t invited back for dinner for a few nights, and by the third, she felt unnerved by it. Not afraid, just... bored.  On those nights she’d make her way down and usually found Simon eating outside by a fire, where she’d sit and drink and talk with him until she felt tired enough or tipsy enough to go to bed.

The nights she did have dinner with Negan were the same: eat, questions, drink. Sometimes she’d ask to play a boardgame, and they’d continue their game of questions over Scrabble (which she always won and let him hear about it).

One night, after a brutal placement of the word “quiz,” she used her first free question.

“Negan,” she approached it gently. He looked up from his scrabble tiles with curiosity. She didn’t use his name often. “I’d like to use my first free question.”

He slowly grinned at her. “Alright,” he agreed, “let me finish my drink first. I’m sure I’ll need it.” And he downed the remainder of his whiskey in one go. “Okay, shoot.”

“We’ve had a lot of these dinners together,” she prefaced, “and at our first one, you said as a wife I would have to perform ‘wifely duties.’” She paused.

“There a question in there?” he teased her.

She took a deep breath, suddenly nervous to ask this. “Well, you haven’t, um… touched me. At all. You haven’t even asked to… so I guess my question is, why not?”

Negan chuckled. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s not your looks, if that’s your concern.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. He knew that wasn’t what she was asking.

“Fine. No, I haven’t tried or asked, but it isn’t because I don’t want to.”  He winked at her. “In fact, I want to so bad it drives me crazy when you leave here at night. None of my other wives leave here until I’m satisfied… but I knew from the night you came in here and told me to make Rick hold Lucille that you wouldn’t be like my other wives.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, encouraging him to continue.

“You’re different. I want it to be different with you. I told you before, I have enough obedient dogs. So as badly as I want it, I will not touch you until you want it too. And trust me, darlin’, you will want it,” he purred in that Negan arrogance.

She would never want it, she told herself. She told herself so many times she started dreaming it. But no matter how much she told herself she would never want it; it didn’t stop a part of her from heating every time she thought of those words.

She was invited back the next night, where instead of their typical drinking game of questions, Negan upped the ante with a rousing game of strip questions. If they didn’t answer a question, they had to remove an item of clothing.

She was thanking her lucky stars she’d come straight to dinner from a collection with her crew, so she had a lot more clothing on than she normally would at dinner.

With such high stakes, the questions got very personal. “Where is the craziest place you’ve ever fucked?” started it off, and it moved into first loves, worst heartbreaks, hardest kills, and eventually biggest fears.  They were both on the couch, him sitting a little too close to her, and both down to their underthings when he used his first free question.

“Free card question,” he stated, leaning a little closer to her. He kissed her bare shoulder, and it sent goosebumps down her arm. Tracing circles with his finger where his lips just were, he asked in a growly tone, “why did you really volunteer to come back with me that night in the woods?”

Uh oh. She sent a silent thank you up to whoever was listening for not being three shots deep into this game. She paused a minute, what could she tell him?

“What?” she flirted, buying some time to think, “you don’t think you impressed me enough for me to want to go with you?”

“No,” he replied, still tracing circles on her shoulder. “I knew when the words left your mouth it wasn’t true. I’ve been trying since then to figure out why you’re here. I thought maybe it was to spy, help Rick take us down from the inside. But you’ve proven to be working against him, and other communities, over and over since then.” She cringed inside at that. Had she gotten that bad? “Then I thought, maybe you were just biding your time to get close enough to kill me. And that could still be true, but the way your body is reacting to my every touch right now, I am doubting it. So, I’d like to know now, what was your reason?”

Think, y/n. Think. It had to be believable. She obviously couldn’t tell him the truth. She feigned a little nervousness, hoping it sold her story.

“I… well…I wanted to kill Dwight,” there was plenty of truth in that. “Honestly, I still wouldn’t mind doing it. I thought my best bet was to get inside here with him.”

He waited for her to continue. “He killed the girl I was seeing. The doctor in Alexandria. Shot her through the eye with Daryl’s crossbow.”

“Wow,” Negan replied. “You play for both teams? I did not see that coming!” He laughed. “I will remember that for our future. As for Dwight… well, I don’t hold a special place in my heart for him, but I’d like him to stay alive for the time being. If or when that changes, you will be the first to know.”

He seemed satisfied with her lie.

“I’m glad it wasn’t to kill me,” he purred, leaning into her neck, “I think you would have missed things you don’t want to miss…” his hand found her knee and began slowly trailing from up her thigh. His lips found skin again, this time on a tender part of her neck.

No, no, no, no. She thought, though her body was responding differently. She franticly searched for any sort of distraction to stop where this was headed. Her eyes scanned the room, anything to ask about, to suddenly find fascinating enough she needed to look at. Then she saw it, leaned against the wall under a window.

“I have a question now. A free one.”

“Mmhmm?” he moaned out, still kissing her neck in a way that was making her quiver.

“Lucille,” she said, putting a hand against his chest and pushing a bit. “Where did you get the name?”

He froze, his lips no longer on her skin. He didn’t seem to breathe for several long seconds. Then he was standing, putting on his pants, and walking toward the door.

“We’re done here,” he said firmly, holding the door open for her.

She stared in shock for a moment, and when it was clear he was not joking, she quickly grabbed her clothes and fled his room.

That was the last time she’d seen him, until now, with Carl in tow. It had been days, maybe a week. What she’d thought was an innocent question had really struck a nerve.

-----

Negan didn’t send for her until late in the evening. She’d had supper already, a bath, and was about to settle into bed with a book when the guard knocked on her door.  She didn’t bother dressing up, she decided her leggings and cropped sweatshirt would be just fine if he was pulling her out of bed. She had half a mind to tell him he could see her at a decent hour tomorrow, but she desperately wanted to know what was going on with Carl.

She didn’t knock when she got there, she just walked right in, to find him sitting on the couch with a drink in one hand, and the other hand dragging down his face in exhaustion.

“Long day?” she quipped, looking around for any sign of the Grimes boy.

“You could say that,” he replied, humorless.

She decided not to waste any time with flirting or working up to her questions.

“Where is Carl?” she demanded.

He stared at her, and she was not sure he was going to answer her at all when he finally said, “he’s back home with daddy and baby Grimes, safe and sound.”

Relief washed over her. “What was he doing here?”

Negan chuckled. “He was here to kill me. You weren’t lying when you said the kid was reckless. I like the little bastard.”

“He just showed up to kill you?” she asked, surprised but not shocked. It was a very Carl thing to do.

“He snuck in on a supply truck earlier today. Killed two of our guards before we got to him.”

She didn’t let her face show the pride she felt.  “And you just let him go?” she accused.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to question anything I do,” he replied angrily.

“What the hell does that mean?” she challenged. He’d shut her out and ignored her for a week now, she’d lost any desire to filter her annoyance with him.

“I think you know exactly what it means.”

She glared at him, at a loss. What was he accusing her of?

“Tell me,” he said, standing up and taking a few slow steps toward her. “How many people were you screwing in Alexandria?”

“What?” she asked, incredulous.

“Carl seemed real pissed when he learned you were my wife. I just wonder how many people in Alexandria you went through before coming here to expand your selection. Rick, obviously. Your little girlfriend, who else? The redhead? The mullet guy? Spencer? Yeah, I met that douche bag today. Is there anyone else I should know about? I hear you’ve gotten mighty friendly with Simon. Practically throwing himself yourself at him, touching all over him, going to him every night, not days after licking your lips and batting your lashes at me. Anyone here you got your eye on?”

She heard a slap, Negan’s face turned abruptly to the side, she felt a sting in her palm, and a redness began spreading across his cheek.

She’d slapped him. Shit, she’d slapped him.

She bit down the terror of the realization – she’d seen very bad things happen to people who’d done a lot less to him. She willed her face into a rebellious glare, daring him to retaliate, promising hell if he did.

Negan’s stare was just as hateful, never breaking eye contact as he rubbed his cheek and flexed his jaw. Suddenly he sprang toward her, his hand was on her throat, and he was shoving her backwards, she could barely keep upright they were moving so fast. Her back slammed against the concrete wall. Negan’s face was within an inch of hers, she could feel his warm breath on her mouth as he growled, “that. will. not. happen. again,” pausing on each word like a forceful bite. She was prying at his hand with both hands, trying to loosen his grip enough that she could take a breath, refusing to show him the panic rising in her.

He let his grip loosen a bit. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she breathed out as she gasped to fill her lungs again. He did not remove his hand from her throat or yield even a centimeter to her.  He continued to stare daggers into her eyes, but there was something other than anger behind them. What is that?

Desire, she realized. Animalistic desire.  It was then she noticed just how close their bodies were, his hips pinning hers in place against the wall, her feet barely touching the floor. She could feel his growing erection pressing into her. She felt a tingle in her core, her body betraying her. Her breath suddenly felt heavy, her chest heaving against his. An image of their naked chests pressed together flashed in her mind, it was as if she could already feel his bare skin. Did she really want this? From him? After all he’d done? She knew she shouldn’t, but with him pressed against her, hand still on her throat, and looking at her like that… she couldn’t deny the desire growing in her, verging dangerously close to need.

He must have read that on her face, because suddenly Negan’s mouth was on hers, crushing her lips with his, his scruff scraping her chin and cupids bow as he sucked, unrelenting. His tongue began forcefully pushing against her lips, like a battering ram, demanding entrance. She conceded. He tasted her mouth like he was eating for the first time in a week - hungrily, greedily, but savoring the taste of each section of her mouth he explored. Then she was kissing him back, just as greedily – no, angrily. It became not a dance of lovers, but a battle of opponents. His tongue pushed, hers pushed back in turn. Her lips sucked, he fought for dominance with his. She bit – not gently- down on his bottom lip and slowly dragged against his lip until it was free. He pulled away from her face at that and his eyes met hers, amusement dancing in them now. He’d met his match. He grinned at the realization.

Their noisy, shallow breaths filled the otherwise silent room, awakening her from the trance his tongue had put her in. She fought to stay above the fog, forcing herself to remember the things he’d done, to remember Daryl, but the memories would not come. All there was in this moment was him - his body, and hers. His dark eyes held her stare a moment longer, and then they were closed, and his lips were crushing hers again. His hands began lifting her sweatshirt from around her waist, his fingers trailing up her stomach. He explored with gentle fingertips, caressing up and down her sides, his knuckles grazing across her lower abdomen, leaving no patch of skin untouched, a trail of goosebumps in their wake. As his hands creeped up her torso, his touch became fiercer. He reached her breasts, found them bare under her shirt, and groaned into her mouth as each hand took a full palm of breast and began massaging. He was not gentle, but she did not pull away. He backed away from her only enough to allow room to remove her shirt and expose her fully. His lips were back on hers in an instant, no less demanding than before. They moved to her neck, and she felt one of her traitorous hands move to the back of his head, tangling her fingers in his short hair. She hadn’t planned on encouraging this, but she gripped his hair harder as he his trailed his lips down her chest, finding a breast and softly biting down. An involuntary moan purred in her throat. He moved to her nipple and began a rough pattern of sucking and biting, causing the heat between her legs to flare.

Again, it was as if he read her mind, as he worked her breast with his mouth, he quickly pulled down her leggings, taking her underwear with them. She was thankful she had not put on shoes to come here tonight, providing no obstacle to kicking out of her pants as he sank to his knees and began moving his lips down her stomach. Further.

“Jump,” Negan growled against her stomach.

“Wh- what?” she barely stuttered out.

“Jump.”

She hopped slightly, then she was being lifted her by her backside, her thighs placed on either side of his head, her bodyweight now shared between the wall and his shoulders. He did not waste time kissing those thighs, or staring lustfully, or slowly working his way to her center. Hungrily, almost angrily, he dove straight for her, parting her lips with his fingers to make way for his tongue. He lapped at her liked a parched animal at water, and found she was just as wet. She arched away from the wall in response. His warm tongue hitting her clit at every angle as it moved. He sucked, and her eyes rolled back in her head as she cried out. Both hands now in his hair, gripping in response to each flick of his tongue, encouraging his rough movements. She rode his face, rolling her hips, her thighs unapologetically pressing in on his head. She wouldn’t last much longer; she could feel her climax building quickly. Now his tongue was at her entrance, teasing as he gently licked around it. She pushed his head into her, needing him to be inside her, desperate to be filled and to find release. He plunged his tongue in, flatting it as he found the underside of her clit, and slowly dragged it back out and up, never breaking contact. He plunged in again with no pause. Dragging, plunging, dragging, plunging. He worked her with expert pressure, she was all but screaming at the sensation. On the last slow drag of her clit, he swept up as he exited, an unrelenting pressure on her sensitive bud, sending her orgasm exploding through her. She threw her head back and did not recognize the noise that escaped her open mouth as she came against his face. He lightly flicked his tongue against her until he was sure she had fully completed.

Before she knew it was happening, she was back on the floor, and he was walking away from her.

“You’re dismissed,” was all he said as he moved to open the door.

She gathered her clothes – she would need to have a word with him about this new habit of sending her from his room undressed – and made for the door. She paused in front of him and turned to meet his eyes, letting him see a twinge of hurt in them.

“Since you asked, and I am counting this as one of your free questions, I did not sleep with Rick or anyone else in Alexandria. And I have about as much romantic interest in Simon as you do,” and with that she made her way back to her room, naked but not caring who saw her.

Back in the dorm, she raced to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before vomiting. Sherry must have heard her, because moments later she was sitting beside her, holding her hair back. Sherry sat with her until she was finished, and then let her lay her head in Sherry’s lap while Sherry stroked her hair.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t shake. She wasn’t traumatized. She hated herself. She hated herself because she knew then she didn’t hate Negan, and she didn’t hate what they’d just done. She hated herself because she wanted more.

It’s time, she vowed to herself, tomorrow we leave, even if we have to burn this place to the ground to get out.

The End Will Justify It All - Chapter 4

A Negan Series

Chapter 3 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 1

Warnings - mention of death, mention of torture, other Walking Dead themes.

Part of me wants to apologize that these chapters are going so slowly, but I don't think I will. I do hope you're enjoying them, though! Feedback is always welcome.

She awoke the next morning, the sun higher in the sky than she’d expected, and a dread in her stomach like a rock. She fought to shake the grogginess of the two sleeping pills she’d taken last night – the first time she’d used the gift from Shery, although Sherry left a new supply in her room after every dinner with Negan. As the fog in her mind began dissipating, her memory wasted no time filling the open space with the events of the day before. She’d seen Daryl, worn down and abused, and decided to do exactly what Negan had asked of her. She wouldn’t let him be tortured more than he already had. Not because of her.

So she’d gone to dinner that night, not touching the food, and told him everything she was willing to risk. She drew the layout of Alexandria for him, noting the armory, the make-shift infirmary, and Rick’s house. She’d told him all about Rick. She told him about his love for Glenn and how hard his death would have hit Rick, about his family, the things that made him angry, the things that made him happy, but most importantly, the fears that drove him – the love for his people and the responsibility of protecting them. Negan wanted his next move, and she gave it to him. Keep driving home that he could take any of Rick’s people from him, threaten even one of them, and he’d fold like a lawn chair. She’d told him all about Carl and his recklessness. She’d even gone as far as to suggest that guns were known to be unaccounted for, from time to time.

Negan leaned back in his chair when she finished talking, nodding and staring at her, eyes narrowed as if he could see everything in her mind. “I think you’re holding out on me,” he said after studying her for a long minute. Her stomach dropped, but she gave no physical sign of nervousness. He leaned closer to her.  “Tell me,” he demanded, lifting her chin with his thumb grazing her lip. Her stomach fluttered at the touch. Nerves, she’d told herself, nothing more than fearing him.

He had guessed right. She did have another idea. She knew where it had come from, and she wasn’t proud of it. It had come to her while she soaked in her pre-dinner bath, from a part of her that had hardened and darkened after the world fell. A part of her she’d buried deep enough that she hadn’t felt its presence in months and thought she never would again. She hated it, hated the idea it had given her. She didn’t want to tell Negan. If she told him, if she put it out there, there’d be no pretending this dark part of her didn’t exist. No denying it ever again. She feared what it might unleash within her again.

“Tell me,” he said again, his voice a little softer, purring a little. She felt herself flush at the sound of it.

“Make him hold it,” she said finally. “The bat. Lu- Lucille.  Make him hold it for you the next time you visit him. For as long as you can, make him carry it around for you.”

Negan sat up straight in surprise. “That,” he said, pausing as a wicked grin crept across his face. “That is sexy. as. hell! Somehow, I knew you had that in you. Man!  have never been more turned on than I am right now.” Again she felt that flutter in her stomach, and waited for his next move.  But it never came. He’d simply poured them both a drink, laughing to himself as he did. She drained her glass quickly, and walked as fast as she could to her room when he’d dismissed her, where she took her pills and laid shaking in her bed until she was dragged into a dreamless oblivion.

She made her way down to the kitchens for some coffee and breakfast, noting the lack of guard at the wives’ dorm door. That was a first in the 4 days she’d been here.

As she made her way down, she noticed… well, she noticed that she didn’t notice anyone. It was eerily empty in the halls for this late in the morning. When she reached the ground level, she exited the building and found - where there would typically be no less than 20 saviors hanging around - there were only two guys standing guard. She walked around the building to the area where they all parked their bikes and trucks – empty. Except for one box truck and a few pickups that were now being loaded with what seemed to be the remaining Saviors.

She noticed Simon talking with one guy and heading for a truck.

“Simon!” She called after him. He stopped and turned, waiting for her to catch up to him. She and Simon had only had a few short interactions since she got to the Sanctuary, but she’d developed a small sense of safety with him. She liked him, or thought she could if she spent any time with him. “Where are you headed?” She asked as she approached him.

“We are going to see a guy that’s supposed to be dead.” He answered, chuckling a little.

Greg… Hilltop. She remembered the deal Rick had made – the event that marked the start of this whole mess. 

“Is everybody else already there?” She asked him, gesturing to the empty – well, everything.

He chuckled again. “Nah, Negan took a big crew to visit your old pals a little earlier. I imagine they’ll be gone most of the day.”

Her heart sank. She knew Negan wouldn’t ignore her advice, but she didn’t know he’d implement it this fast.

She watched as the last of Simon’s crew loaded up and he turned to go, too. “Can I come with you?”

Simon stopped again and turned to look at her. He sighed as he said “I would love to take you along; I think you’d be valuable. But Negan hasn’t okayed you to be on a crew yet.” And with that, he finished his trek to his truck and got in. He gave her a sympathetic look and a nod as they drove past her and out the gate.

When the last truck was out of sight, she turned on her heels and sprinted back to the building.

----

This was her chance. With the place all but empty – at least of Saviors – she could get Daryl out. They’d still have to be careful not to be seen by any of the workers or people who lived here, but that shouldn’t be hard.

She knew where they were keeping him – she’d followed Dwight at as careful of a distance as she could manage after seeing Daryl in the hallway yesterday. She’d watched him put him in a dark room, lock the door, and start playing some godawful song that sounded like it was from a 70s sitcom on a boombox outside his door.

She almost slammed into a wall turning the corner into his hall. And there it was – his door. His door was open. Wait. Open? She rushed into it and immediately deflated. In the light from the hall, she could make out a puddle of vomit in a corner. It was completely empty otherwise. Of course Negan had taken Daryl with them. What better way to remind Rick that Negan could hurt his people than by bringing the one he now owned? She thought for a moment, before quickly making her way to a room she had barely registered as an office when she ran past. She grabbed a pen and found a small piece of paper. She scribbled out a note to him. She needed him to know she was still with him, still working on a plan.

Stay strong. I’m coming for you soon. -Sunshine

She folded it as small as she could and pulled the door behind her in the cell just shy of closing. She followed the small stream of light from under the door and placed the note on the edge of it. No one else would notice it, she hoped.

She took one last look around his cell. Fury rose in her as she pictured him sleeping on the cold concrete for the last 3 nights. Her shoulders sagged and she felt suddenly exhausted as she made her way back to her room. How long could she go on like this? How long could she hold onto hope that she really would get Daryl and herself out of here? Back in her room, she crawled into bed and stared at the wall until she let herself slip into a restless sleep.

----

She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, but when she opened her eyes again it was dark outside. She blinked away the blur of a long nap, and almost shouted when she heard a throat clear in the dark.

“You’re awake.” Negan. In her room? Her pulse quickened. He was back, which meant Daryl was back… had someone found her note after all? Was he here to punish her? She slowly moved into a sitting position with her back against the headboard, and looked to where he sat in the armchair in the corner of her room.  She furrowed her brow in a question.

“I wanted to tell you something,” he said in answer, “but I found you asleep. Sherry said you’d been asleep since 2pm. I was worried you might be sick.” She saw what looked like genuine concern in his eyes. He was worried about her? He waited for her to respond.

“I’m fine.” She croaked out, with a dry mouth.

“Good!” He exclaimed suddenly and stood to walk to her bedside. He sat down beside her, grinning that wicked Negan grin. “I have good news for you! I went to see your old friends today, and I have to say, it went so. much. better. than I had hoped. And that is all thanks to you!” He patted her leg on the last word, a little high on her thigh, and a jolt shot through her from the touch.

“I just did what you asked,” she answered humbly.

“Oh, you did more than that,” he chuckled, “and like I told you, I am a generous husband. You start with Simon’s crew bright and early tomorrow morning!”

She was still processing the information; stuck on a question she was too afraid to ask. He must have read it on her face.

“Well, I had hoped for a little more gratitude…” he said pointedly.

He sighed. “What is it? I thought you’d be happy to get what you wanted.”

“No, I am. Really. I just…” she looked into his eyes, let him see her concern. “You saw…everyone? How was Maggie doing? She was the sick one the night everything happened.”

He went still, his face serious. He shook his head slightly, “she didn’t make it.”

She tried to hold back the tears stinging her eyes, but there were too many. She turned her head away from Negan to wipe them.

He watched her, and when she finally turned back to him, she was surprised to see sympathy on his face.

“I liked Maggie,” she explained, closing her eyes to stop more tears. “She accepted me faster than the others, quickly became my friend. We got close.” She didn’t tell him about the baby – that secret wasn’t hers to tell. Especially not with him.

She felt the bed shift, and suddenly Negan was scooting beside her, wedging himself between her and the headboard. He wrapped his arms around her, and she found herself resting her head on his chest, unable to stop her crying now. She hated that he felt… good, with his arms around her, comforting her. Even though she’d slept most of the day, she felt exhausted with the weight of grief. He held her while she cried, rubbing her shoulder with his hand. She cried for Maggie and Maggie’s baby. She cried for Glenn and Abraham – she had not let herself feel that until now. She cried for Daryl and the unimaginable things he was experiencing. She cried in fear that she might not be able to pull this off after-all, that she might have taken on more than she could handle. And she cried for herself, for the change she could feel blooming in her. It scared her - what she might become. So she kept crying, and Negan kept holding her, until she fell asleep against his chest.

She awoke again a few hours later to feel him standing from her bed and making his way to the door.

“Thank you, Negan,” she said softly as she settled into her pillow. Whether she was thanking him for letting her join a crew, for telling her about Maggie, or for offering her comfort in her grief, she wasn’t sure. Maybe a little of each. “I really am grateful.”

“You can show me tomorrow how much,” he answered from the door, and she could hear that wicked grin in it. It didn’t register that she grinned, too.

The End Will Justify It All - Chapter 3

A Negan Series

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Warnings - not too much in this one. Adult themes and some language.

Feedback is always welcome! This series is challenging me for sure, and I'm loving it. Every time I work on it it gets a little longer and starts heading a direction that was unexpected even to me. I hope you'll hang in with me! I think it'll be worth it in the end.

Three days. That’s how long she’d been here. Three days of watching, waiting, learning. Three exhausting days of pretending to want to be one of them and taking advantage of every second alone to search for Daryl, which hadn’t been many. Between the dinners with Negan, and being stuck in the wives’ room, she had only had a few hours yesteday and today to explore. Three damn days in the enemy’s home and all she had to show for it was a wedding ring. Married to a monster.

She had searched every hall she could reasonably claim that she’d gotten lost in while looking her room, or the bathroom, or the kitchen, or whatever else she could think of. After three days, that excuse was losing merit - she should be more familiar with this place by now. Her heart was racing as she tiptoed, barefoot, down another empty hall of closed doors, quietly trying each doorknob. Locked. Locked. Locked. Leaning her ear against the doors, she couldn’t hear anything or anyone inside.

She tried the next. Another locked door. She was starting to lose heart; this hall was yet again a dead end. Would she ever find where they were keeping him? She twisted the next knob – locked. She sighed, glancing at the next door, when something caught her eye. Light. Two doors down at the corner of the corridor, streaming into the hall from…an open door? She flattened herself against the door in front of her, quieting her breath and listening for any sound of someone in the open room. After several minutes frozen there, she tiptoed closer, stopping every few steps to listen again. As she approached, she noticed a red chair against the opposite wall. It sat empty, facing the open door. Flattened against the wall at the edge of the door she paused one last time, before slowly creeping around to peer in.

The apartment before her was small. There was a sink and counters against one wall, a single bed, a chair, and a metal rack of clothes – mostly flannel button down shirts. No people. She ducked inside to get a better look. The apartment was well stocked. A toaster oven, a tv, lamps, a bookcase full of books, and she noticed a few potted plants. The furniture was well used, but slightly dusty. There was no evidence of anything personal in this room, nothing bought or collected like the other rooms she’d snuck into. No evidence anyone had been here recently. This room was waiting for an inhabitant, she realized. She was about to turn and leave when she heard footsteps coming around the corner. Low voices, male, were growing closer.

Her heart racing, she quickly surveyed the room again, this time searching for the best hiding spot. Under the bed wasn’t an option, the mattress was laid on stacks of wood crates. There were not enough clothes on the rack to hide behind. The cabinets on the wall were too small for her to fold into. The footsteps were getting closer, she only had one option.

She ducked behind the solid door just as she heard a voice greet the approaching steps. “Dwighty boy” she heard, and dread filled her. That was Negan’s voice.  He instructed someone to leave so he could speak with Dwight, and she heard rustling of steps outside the door. She squeezed in close and peeked through the crack of the open hinged door. Her heart stopped.

There he was. Daryl. Three days, not even a hint or whisper of him, and now here he was, less than four feet away from her.

---

She’d hoped when Negan had agreed on her first night to let her try out for the Saviors that she’d be able to ask someone about Daryl. Or that she’d be able to talk to any of them at all, learn anything about the place. She’d had no such luck.

She awoke on her second day in the Sanctuary hopeful and eager to start exploring. She dressed in the most practical clothes she could find in her wardrobe, and even asked the guard at the wives’ door for some boots. He’d obtained them for her, just in time to dawn them before… sitting. And waiting. And waiting. She asked him if she’d been sent any instructions on where to go or who to meet with about training or a job. He told her that her orders would come. So, she’d continued to wait.

The wives had pulled her into different activities in the meantime. Scrabble was a favorite of Frankie’s, and they introduced her to their “spa day” ritual, which she gathered was every day. Homemade face masks, manicures, makeup before dinner. It seemed expected of them to be beautiful, and at least it was a way to pass the time. Her impatience grew, however, with every hour that passed. Each wife often left the dorm to walk around the compound, getting some movement and some air, or smoke a cigarette. They seemed to have unquestioned access to wherever they needed to go. She took advantage of that when it was obvious that she wouldn’t be missed. She’d come up empty handed on those brief searches, and each time she returned, she’d asked the guard if her orders had come. He’d just shook his head.

By the time the instructions came for her to join Negan for dinner a second night, she was fuming.

She stomped into his apartment with as much attitude as her high heels would allow, her arms crossed, demanding to know why she had been cooped up in that room all day when he’d agreed to let her be part of a Savior team.

Negan’s answering smile didn’t meet his eyes, and it made her uneasy.

“Good evening to you, too,” he drawled, holding out her chair at the table for her. “Would you like to eat before you continue to rip me a new asshole, or should we do this on empty stomachs?”

She huffed as she sat and began piling her plate with the potpie in front of her.

“We’ve only been married for a day and you’re already angry with me?” Negan teased her.

She willed herself calm and forced an apologetic smile on her face. She needed to stay on his good side, throwing a fit this early might raise questions or make him change his mind about her access. She needed Negan to trust her.

“I’m sorry,” she began, “I have always had a quick temper. I told you, I’m not great at sitting around. I got impatient. I apologize.”

Again, his answering smile didn’t meet his eyes, but he seemed satisfied with her apology.

“I’d like to play a game to start our evening,” he said after a quiet few minutes of eating. “To get to know one another a little better. We are married now, after all.”

“What game?” she asked around a mouthful.

“A drinking game,” he replied, standing and walking to his bar cart in the corner. When he returned, he brought two shot glasses and a decanter of an amber colored liquid.  “I’ll ask you a question, and if you answer - honestly - you get to ask me a question in return. If you don’t answer, or if I think your answer is unsatisfactory, you take a shot and I get to ask another question.”

“I see. And do the same rules apply to you?”

“Sure,” he replied, mischief dancing in his eyes. “I take the rules of games very seriously.”

This made her nervous. She had no way of knowing what he would ask. She could always skip the question if she didn't like it, but too many questions skipped would certainly raise suspicions. She steeled herself as she took her last few bites of food, preparing for the worst.

When she raised her head, she found Negan watching her. She nodded and plastered a smile to her face.

“Sounds sexy. Let’s play.”

He grinned as he poured two shot glasses of the drink and slid one across the table to her.

“My first question,” he said, “is how long were you part of Rick’s group?”

She silently released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She felt a little relief at how simple the question was. She recounted the basic story of coming upon Rick's group in a small church in Georgia several weeks before they found Alexandria, and traveling with them to Virginia, looking for the family of one of their guys.

“How did you all find Alexandria?” Negan asked as her short story came to an end.

“I think it’s my turn for a question,” she teased him, “unless you want to skip that do a shot?”

He grinned in response and gestured for her to ask her question.

This was more pressure than answering. It was a good opportunity to get information, maybe even find out where Daryl is, if she could ask casually enough... She would have to be very careful how she approached it. She decided to start slowly, not too eager to get telling information from him.

“How many communities do you have working for you?” She asked, after some contemplation. Maybe a train of questions that make her seem curious about his operation would seem less suspicious when she got to Daryl.

“A lot,” he answered proudly, “I won't waste time counting them all. It’s a lot though. It has to be, to feed all our people.” A lot. There were a lot of other communities nearby. Potential allies. She filed that information away for later.

“How did your group find Alexandria?” He asked again, now that it was his turn.

“They found us. Their scouts had been watching us on the road. All but starved to death, desperate, and nearly feral. They took us in and gave us jobs. Have you always been the leader of the Saviors?”

Negan’s dark eyes stared at his glass for a long minute. She wasn’t sure he was going to answer, when he finally said, “No, but the guy before me was weak, he didn’t know what he was doing. It’s been me for long enough, and we’re all better for it. You’ve seen what we’ve become. I got us here.”

There was a pause as she took in what he said. He wasn’t wrong. She didn't really want to be here, but she had to admit that it worked. People were safe and fed, and there was a sense of order. Had she found this before Rick’s group, she wouldn’t have hesitated to become part of it.

“If you only got there a month ago, how did Rick end up in charge?” Negan asked.

“Who said Rick was in charge?” she countered.

Negan gave her a pointed look.

“It wasn’t on purpose, necessarily. There was an attack from some crazy outside group – not your guys. A bunch of walkers got past the walls; lost a lot of people - including the town’s leader. Rick is just the sort of guy that others follow, so the natural option was for him to step into the role.”

She hesitated a moment. “What’s your plan for them?” she asked, risking the question. Hoping it felt like an organic follow up. Negan drained his shotglass, not giving anything away. Damn. “What’s your plan for Daryl?” she was risking even more, now, but she wasn’t sure she’d have an opening again.

“I lost a lot of good fighters,” he answered. “I need more, and I like his spirit. He’ll make a great Savior once I wear him down.” She buried the dread that rose in her at his words and willed her heart to stop pounding.

Now his turn, Negan asked her “Who is Rick’s secondhand man?”

Realization hit her like a slap to the face. She should have guessed sooner his purpose for playing this game. She’d been blind, too focused on her own agenda to bother considering his. She’d have to be more careful about her answers now. If she revealed too much about Rick or Alexandria, she could put her friends in even more danger.

“All these questions about Rick…” she said, with a raised eyebrow and a hint of seduction in her voice, “I’m starting to feel a little jealous…” She took her glass and threw the shot to the back of her throat. She coughed a little as she swallowed. Whiskey had always done that to her.

Negan searched her face before grinning and continuing, “I would hate to have my new wife feeling neglected this soon. Tell me, what did you do before the world fell?”

“That's more like it,” she said with a slight curl of her lip. “Although a little difficult to answer. I worked a lot of jobs; I was putting myself through grad school. Took as many part-time jobs as I could.  I had two semesters left, and was already working on my thesis when the outbreak began.”

“Psychology,” she added, as she saw him start to speak again. He confirmed that was his next question with a slight nod of his head. “Same question to you,” she asked, settling back in her chair to keep the room from spinning. She hadn’t done a shot in ages, and her time on the road left her smaller than she ever was during her college partying era. Another shot or two and she wasn’t sure she could trust herself to answer anymore questions.

“I worked with kids,” Negan responded. “Gym teacher and coach.”

She didn’t try to hide a look of surprise, which made Negan chuckle. “I get that a lot when I answer that question.” She would have to work through that information later, figure out what that said about him as a person. The types of people who chose teaching positions… well, it begged the question what had happened to form him into... this? She didn’t have time to flesh that thought out as Negan launched into his next inquiry.

“You studied psychology, and you spent some decent time with him… if you were me, what would your next move against Rick be?”

Shit. She walked right into that one. How was she so off her game tonight?

She searched his face for a minute, took the decanter of whiskey and filled her glass. She met his glare as she gulped the shot down, stifling her cough this time. As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, she said, “I left their group to join you, but I don’t hate them. I’ll follow orders out there, but you can’t expect me to plot against them in here.”

Negan chewed his lip as he studied her, narrowing his eyes. She waited for his next question or her dismissal. She hoped for the latter.

“If you were me, what would your next move against Rick be?” he asked again, a malicious tone encroaching his voice.

She filled her glass again, but Negan’s hand appeared on its rim, pressing it to the table as she tried to lift it. “I’d like you to answer this one.” He said, threat in his voice despite the polite smile he wore.

As she made to protest, he cut her off. “You see, you asked to be more than just my wife - which stung a little, I won’t lie. But I am a generous husband, I like my wives to be happy. They always did say, ‘happy wife, happy life.’ I’m not one to argue with an age-old adage, but in order to do that for you, to make you happy… give you a job, if that’s really what you want… I gotta know what value you bring. I gotta know if you can do more than just take orders - I have enough obedient dogs out there. You’ve seen the way they bow to me. I don’t need another dog. What I need… is a wolf. A wolf, or a wife. The choice is yours.”

She stared at him, working to keep the rage she felt from burning through her glare. Bastard.

“I’ll give you until dinner tomorrow. Come back with something good, and I do mean something impressive, or settle in as a stay home wife, dear. You asked what I’ll do with Daryl – I guess you get to make that decision. I’d like him to become one of us, but what I need is information, and if you don’t give it, then I’ll get it from him however I have to."

"You’re dismissed.”

---

She’d played that conversation over in her head too many times to count since returning to her room last night. She worked through all her options, even options that weren’t options. How could she live with herself if she gave him all her friends’ weaknesses? How could she live with herself if she didn’t?

Seeing Daryl now, slumped in that red chair, staring into the room she hid in - her heart broke. He was filthy, his hair a level of greasy that was bad even for Daryl. His eyes were cloudy, dark bags hanging under them like he hadn’t slept in days. She shuddered to think what could put him in such a state - her strong, tough Daryl. She knew he wasn’t breaking, but she couldn’t tell how much he had left in him. He was so ragged, so run down.

Her decision was made. She wouldn’t be the cause of more pain for him. She could never forgive herself for that. For him, she could turn into whatever she needed to be. For him, she could be a wolf.

They’d see just how much of a wolf she was.

The End Will Justify It All - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 here

Warnings - there are some adult themes here and some language. 18+ only.

Nothing too crazy in this one, though. Its a bit long, and hopefully it's not a complete snooze, but I think the next couple in this series will pick up the pace. Feedback is welcome!

“No,” was all Daryl said, barely more than a breath, as she climbed into the back of the empty van and sat across from him.  It was dark in the back of the van, but she could feel Daryl’s eyes boring into her. She could feel the anger pulsing off him. She didn’t know if he had heard what she’d said to get Negan to take her, if he understood why she was here, or if he was simply angry that Negan had taken yet another one of his people. She didn’t try to find out. She didn’t speak at all for the duration of the ride. It was too risky to try to let him in on the plan, with Savior ears just a few feet away in the front seat of the van, and anything else she would have wanted to say to him would have given their relationship away. She did risk one well timed touch of his hand, as the guys exited the van and walked around to the back. She squeezed tightly for a fraction of a second, as if she could transfer everything she was doing, or her promise to save him through her grip. A couple of guys ushered her inside before she could see where they hauled him.

“You’ll be in this room,” her less-than-friendly tour guide said, after leading her up 4 flights of stairs and into a large room that looked like it was once a break room. The far wall was lined with cabinets, a countertop midway up the wall, and an industrial looking sink embedded into its center. There were several saggy couches and chairs arranged comfortably in the center of the room, and a small refrigerator tucked into a corner near the cabinets. Each side wall held two doors, one of which her grumpy guide was holding open expectantly.

“Who is she?” a small, black-haired woman appeared in one of the doorways across the room. A taller redhead approached from behind the dark-haired woman, both examining the newcomer with scrutinizing eyes.

“New girl. She’s bunking in here, Negan expects you all to be accommodating,” Grumpy replied before nodding and heading for the hall. A moment after he exited the room, the unopened door beside her opened and two more women came out into the shared common room – a blonde and a tall brunette. Now that she could see all four women, she could see that across the gambit of physical differences – height, body type, hair color and length – they all had one very apparent thing in common. Every one of them was undeniably and objectively gorgeous.  It didn’t take a whole lot of thought to guess who had collected them here.

“I’m y/n,” she awkwardly waved to the four pair of eyes that had not moved from her face since they entered. “I guess you all live here too?”

They blinked at her. No one spoke for what felt like five minutes, and she was just about to turn and acquaint herself with her new room when one of them – the small, raven-haired beauty – finally spoke. “Why are you here?”

Something about the way she asked the question, not gently but not threateningly, told her the question was not a challenge. She wondered what that meant for why each of them was here.

“I was with an outside group,” she answered, “when Negan and his guys found them and… had a discussion. I joined up and came here, and this is where they brought me. I didn’t really expect gender separated dorm-type housing, if I’m being honest. Is the whole compound housed like this?”

“No,” the one-woman welcome committee replied curtly. She’s fun.

“Has anyone talked to you about your role here with the Saviors?” the tall brunette asked, gently.

“No, they brought me straight up here and pointed me into this room. You’re the first people I’ve talked to since we drove away from my old group.”

The women exchanged looks she didn’t understand, like her answer explained everything. They all seemed to relax a little and moved to different seats around the room.

“I’m Sherry,” the brunette offered with a shy smile. “This is Amber,” she pointed to the leggy blonde stretching on the couch nearest Sherry’s chair. “Frankie,” she pointed to the redhead settling into a comfy armchair and picking up a worn paperback book on the table next to it. “And Tanya,” Sherry said as she pointed to the dark-haired one who had welcomed her so warmly, perched on the arm of the sofa next to Frankie. “We’re Negan’s wives.”

Oh. Oh.

Sherry kindly gave a short tour of the common room and their bedrooms. She explained that they had opted to share two to a room - Frankie and Tanya in one and Sherry and Amber in another – because none of them liked being alone at night. She showed her the bathroom through the door beside Frankie and Tanya’s room, and then into what would be her own room. The room was large enough to hold a queen-sized bed, a small makeup table, and a wardrobe. Though the space was clearly corporate before, it was almost homey with a large, plush rug and huge frosted windows letting the afternoon sun in to fill the room in diffused, warm light. Opening the wardrobe, she found a small collection of short, black dresses, stacks of black leggings and tops, and a pair of black high heels.

“If anything doesn’t fit, just take it to one of the guys out in the hall and tell them what size you need. They’ll get it for you,” Sherry explained. “Since you’re new, he will likely want to see you tonight. You’ll want to make sure you’re in one of the dresses.” Sherry gave her an apologetic look. “You’ll also want to bathe right before. It’s one of his requirements.”

---

She was brought to Negan’s room at dinner time. She’d taken Sherry’s advice and bathed. It took two baths to get all the grime of the night before off her. She still felt dirty, but her skin had been a light pink and was a little sore from scrubbing – as if she could scrub away the memory of what she’d seen, what they’d all lost – by the time she got out of the second bath.

She’d chosen the most modest dress in the wardrobe – a short spandex dress with a boatneck neckline, no sleeves, and leather pockets on both hips. She looked good and considered taking this with her when she and Daryl got out. He’d like her in this.

Evidently Negan did, too. He did not hide his predatory smile as he took in every inch of her in the tight dress and the high heels.

“Well, now, if I’d known out in those woods you could look like this,” he drawled, “I would have grabbed you up with the other guy to begin with.”

Never mind.  She’d burn this dress if she got the chance.

“Please, have a seat and join me for dinner,” Negan continued, pulling out a chair for her at the small table in the kitchen area of his studio apartment. She could see a king-sized bed under large windows from where she sat, and had seen the sitting area behind her, with a couch, reclining chair, and coffee table, as she’d come in.

The table was set for two, a small roast on a serving dish in the center, and a large bowl of salad beside it. She realized as she took in the decadent scent that she had not eaten in over 24 hours. Her stomach growled loudly as evidence.

“You must be starving,” Negan said as he took his seat across from her. “Please, help yourself.”

“Do you invite all of your new recruits to a one-on-one dinner?” she asked him with a raised eyebrow and a side smirk.

Ew. Was she flirting with him? She knew she had to play nice but… maybe not that nice. Had he brought that out in her? She pushed the thought away and loaded her plate with the food, though she seemed to have lost her appetite.

“Unfortunately, not all of my new recruits look like you,” he replied with a devious grin. “Nor do they all come from Rick’s group…”

“Is that why I’m here?”

“Partly. We’ll get to that later.” As she forced her first bite of food down, Negan asked, “how are you liking my Sanctuary?”

She smiled sweetly at him as she answered carefully. “Truthfully, I haven’t seen much of it. I was led straight to my room and spent the rest of the afternoon settling in there. I did, however, meet your wives…” she gave him a knowing look as she continued, “I am apparently sharing a living space with them?”

“Ah. We’ll get to that, too. But first, how about an official tour, with the boss himself?” Negan rose from his seat and came around behind her to pull her chair out.

Negan offered her his arm as he guided her all over the factory. She hated to admit it, but he smelled good. Like minty soap, and bourbon. They walked for what felt like an hour, him showing her the living spaces for leaders, soldiers, and workers on each level, the large open warehouse area where he said gatherings and announcements happened. She nodded and asked a few minor questions as he showed her the open floor marketplace and explained the point system his people used as currency. She smiled sweetly at the cooks in the kitchens and oohed over the bikes and vehicles in the garages. Whatever she could do to make it look like she cared about any of this. Anyone they passed kneeled as they approached and didn’t stand again until Negan had well passed them. There was no sign of Daryl during any of the tour, no obvious holding cells for prisoners. Of course not, she thought, I’ve just hiked for an hour in five-inch heels with nothing to show for it…

Once again seated at Negan’s small dining table, a piece of frosted chocolate cake that had materialized in their absence now in front of her, she asked the question she dreaded the answer to. “So, what exactly will my role be here?”

“You haven’t guessed yet? There’s a reason you’re bunking with the rest of my wives.” He answered with a wicked grin. “Of course, if that’s your choice. Women get a choice here; nothing is forced on them. But I would hate for you to start your life here in debt. You see, my wives have everything they need or want. They have access to the whole compound, a queen in a palace. But if someone were to come in, take advantage of those things and refuse my hand… well, that person would need to pay for my generosity.”

Shit. The clothes, the bedroom, the bath she’d taken… this meal she’d forced down… she could only guess how steep the price would be. Her stomach turned again, she swallowed it down and pushed the thoughts away. She got herself here, she had to play the game. Somehow, thrown to the masses, fighting for her space there, and working off a debt to Negan didn’t sound like the easiest way to do what she came here to do.   

She said after a moment, “does a wife ever get the chance to be…more?” She needed a reason to be out and about, a reason to be among the guys and walking the halls. “Like in addition? A working wife, so to speak.”

Negan rubbed his chin, contemplating. “What did you have in mind?”

“I can be useful. I can hunt, I can fight. I’m a decent shot, and I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. In fact, I prefer it. I’ve never been much good at sitting around.”

Negan thought for a moment. “Well now, we just met. I can’t go giving you everything all at once… but I am a reasonable man… I can be persuaded. You prove yourself good enough to be out there with my guys, while keeping up with all…wifely duties,” she had to fight back a shudder at his words, “then I’d say we might have a deal.”

Not ideal, she thought. But surely being both could get her access to places and information she could use. Access to Daryl, if she played it right. This could work. At the very least, it would give her plenty of access to Negan, which is helpful when you’re planning to kill someone.

“So… is there like a ceremony or something?”

---

Her whole body felt heavy as she returned to her room. She was someone's wife now. Not by any legal means, and certainly not from any religious ceremonies. She told herself with each step down the hall, through the common room, and to her bed that it didn't count. It wasn't real. It was all just a means to and end - a means to him. To Daryl.

Her bedside table caught her eye as she collapsed onto the bed. A bottle of water, a piece of paper, and were those pills?

"To help you sleep," the note read, "and not dream."

She knew it was from Sherry, though she didn't know how. What hell had Negan put them all through that their escape was a dreamless, drugged sleep?

She felt it then. Something stirring in her that told her Daryl wouldn't be the only one she would save from this place.