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The distinct sound of two melodic tones, one after the other, cascaded down from the bannister, rattled against the concrete floors, and reverberated up into the stale stagnant air. Fingers wrapped tightly around the metal railings that groaned under the weight of her body. She stared down onto the factory floor, lips still rounded to whistle, eyes glued to the figure that sat on the black leather couch.
“You’ve grown predictable, Negan.”
He breathed her name but couldn’t tell if the sound made it to her ears as she pushed herself backward and began walking down the corridor. She disappeared out of sight, swallowed by the endless hallways that now felt foreign to him.
There was no time to get lost in the past. Action propelled him forward, speaking in his rushed movements. He climbed the steps, two at a time, his toe catching on the last as his gaze fumbled. His balance wobbled as he caught himself and continued toward her.
Her silhouette extended across the walls, crawling over the cinderblocks. Her steps dissipated, floating into the air and dispelling to nothing. Negan wondered if he had truly seen her. Was he compensating and coping with the decision he had made earlier that morning? He questioned if he had begun to hear things. Years of almost entire isolation left him to wander the caverns of his mind. Perhaps he had latched onto the one thing that made him feel.
His head scanned the open doorways, finding nothing but emptiness.
The soles of his shoes clicked against the concrete floors as he walked down the hall. It didn’t feel like he was moving, more like drifting along the corridor. Reality was rifting as he reached for the door handle. It was cold, feeling as though nobody had been there.
When he pressed his ear to the door, he could hear nothing. It creaked open slowly and mechanically; he could hear the brief whisper of the voices that haunted the space.
His heart stopped, skipping a beat in a painfully real reminder that he was alive.
“Reliving the glory days?” She met him through the top of her lashes. Boots, dusted slightly with the stagnation of the Sanctuary, stared back at him. Her ankles crossed one over the other atop the table, mirroring the position he often fell into when he sat there.
Her head cocked as she curled her lip. She opened her arms, pushed back slightly so her chair rested on its back legs, and motioned with grandiosity to the empty room. “This is your life’s work, reduced to nothing.”
The words that left her were not meant to be agitating or aggravating. If anything, she was more melancholy. Memories of the Sanctuary in its prime still flashed through her eyes like nightmares.
Negan pushed through the air that suddenly felt thick. He could see her clear as day, but the setting felt unfamiliar - like he no longer belonged. He took the chair at her side, unease flowing through his veins as he lowered himself to sit. He was physically there but mentally distant. Shadows of those lost danced in the corners of his eyes. Their voices called out to him, beckoning him further into the recesses. They were distinct and clear, but he could not recall their faces.
What felt like a lifetime had passed since he called this place home. Eons separated himself from the man he once was.
“Negan.” She softened, her feet sliding down from the table. “…sorry. I- uh. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.” He nodded quickly, a slight bounce to his head as he met her concerned gaze. “You’re right. All of that… everything… for nothing.” He looked around the room but stayed present in the moment. “They really put you in charge of all of them.”
“And they hated me for it. More than they hated Daryl.” The corner of her mouth pulled into a bitter smile. “I think your regime instilled a little sexism.”
“My regime.” He repeated, the word sour on his tongue. When he looked up from his closed hands, he met her eye and wondered why he had fled Alexandria in the first place. “How’d you know where I’d go?”
The bitterness in her features subsided and melted into amusement. Her eyes sparkled in the way that he had grown to love.
“It’s the only place you know. I just wish you’da told me you wanted a field trip. Would have saved me time this morning preparing your breakfast.”
Negan’s gaze was soft, watching her in a way that was vastly different from the last time they met in that room. “What was on the menu?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She teased. “I spent hours on it this morning - woke up at the crack of dawn. It was a special ‘thank you for not escaping’ breakfast.”
“Oatmeal again?”
She pulled air through her teeth and smirked a sound that landed somewhere between playful and sly. “It had sugar in it. I found some on the last supply run.”
“You’re getting too soft with me, sweetheart.”
After returning from the Sanctuary and reintegrating into Alexandria, she was assigned to his watch. They started out rocky. Negan would antagonize, she would react with silence. Over time, something clicked. Something sparked. A low kindling of a newfound friendship that glowed in the moonlight ignited between them - much to the displeasure of others.
“If you come back, I’m never gonna do another nice thing for your sorry ass.” The rubber toe of her boot bounced off Negan’s shoe as she kicked her foot into his. “You gonna start hating me for that, too - being soft on you?”
If.
The word latched onto his ears the second it left her lips. If he was coming back. The notion of leaving hadn’t even crossed his mind since he heard her whistle. She was like a shadow in the sunlight; standing out and offering reprieve from his blindness.
The chair she sat in let out a terrible screech as she stood.
“Look.” Her gaze was gentle, a calm unspoken understanding settled into her features. The palm of her hand was warm as it pressed lightly against his cheek.
Over the years, his face had shallowed and sunken. In his prime, unrestrained and belligerent, he was full of color. There were no limits to the hues he shone. Every color refracted from his being, only to muddle and mix upon his downfall. Now his shoulders hunched, his eyes were somber, and his spirit lay beneath the tree where Rick bested him.
“I’m not gonna force you to come back.” Her shoulders tensed as his relaxed. His head felt heavy as he melted into her touch. “You can go - run off and leave all of this behind if you want… I’ll tell them I couldn’t find you.”
Her other hand danced from his cheek to his neck and onto his shoulder. The slight squeeze she gave him sent a chill down his spine.
He wondered if she felt it too.
He followed her touch like a magnet as she pulled away. The allure she held over him was one thing he wasn’t willing to battle. She was radiant from the moment they met. There was no fight too great, no fear too overwhelming. Persistence dripped from her body as she displayed an acute determination that even the bravest soldiers didn’t have.
And when everything was done, when Rick made the finite decision to keep Negan alive, she stood by his decision.
Negan remembered the first time he felt her touch. His body was growing cold, death’s cruel and unforgiving tendrils were drawing him toward the darkness. Warm blood oozed from his throat and trickled down his chest. The world blurred as his vision tunneled; voices faded into one another. As he began to close his eyes, he met hers.
Her hand was pressed firmly against his neck, uncaring of the stains being left on her fingertips. She cradled the back of his head and looked at him in a way that no other had since the end of the world.
Part of him wished for the end, but something - someone, kept him there.
“I’ll give you time to mull it over.” Her voice called from the doorway. Only then did he realize she wasn’t in his space anymore, the distinct outline of her figure left him empty. “If you aren’t down in the yard in ten minutes I’ll take that as your answer…
and if that’s the case, then it’s been nice knowing you - the real you. The one you were hiding behind all of this.”
Negan couldn’t tear himself away from the empty doorway after she left.
As she descended the staircase, the air grew husky. It was metallic, rusted, and smelled faintly of mildew. The once bustling courtyard was abandoned now. Life had shriveled into a wasteland, inhabited only by the dead.
Her bike creaked as she leaned against it.
It felt like forever ago that she stood on these same grounds for the first time. Eugene’s usefulness transferred to her as he shared the bullet-making process and suddenly, she was useful.
She thought of the first time she met Negan. Tall and slender, he was conventionally attractive in a nextdoor neighbor kind-of-way. He sauntered from the RV with arrogance in his step and a bat on his shoulder. Brutality tingled at his fingertips, radiating unnerving energy with each curse that passed his lips. He was an omen of death that flew too close to the sun.
The leather seat of her bike crackled as she dragged her finger along the surface. Her mind wandered to the hushed conversations, the shared dinners, and the prolonged card games that she and Negan shared. He would drag them on for hours, doing his best to keep her there.
He was nothing like himself at the beginning of his captivity. As control slipped through his fingers, he desperately tried to cling to anything he could. Words quickly became his weapon, calling her every name in the book. He tried to pick apart her insecurities, her hopes, her dreams, anything he could have said was spoken into the walls that contained him. It never dissuaded her, she always returned.
Time passed and reluctance settled into the pit of her stomach. Her head craned upward as she stared at the war room’s window, unable to see anyone looking back.
She would return alone - a failed mission.
She would explain to Michonne that Negan was long gone.
She would find a new normal without the person that became her constant.
Her bike grumbled as she kicked her leg over the side and rested her weight onto the seat. The ignition bubbled and growled as she twisted the key. She felt like she was leaving part of her behind, a small piece that Negan would hold with him forever.
“You aren’t leaving without me, are you?”
The factory door was parted where Negan exited the building. A refreshed smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He was resolute in his decision.
His chest tightened at the sight of her face. Her lips parted slightly in disbelief before exploding into a grin.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
He crossed the yard and stood at her side, mirroring the position she held at the table. A hand, cold but warming, pressed into the plushness of her cheek.
“You know I can’t leave you.” His thumb traced the delicate space beneath her eye. “This place… there’s nothing for me here. Never was.”
He brought his other hand to the opposite side of her face, caressing her fully now. His eyes were soft and filled with certainty.
“Let’s go home.”