Everything had gone to shit when the dead stormed the gates. It was all too late when the realization hit. They came in the dead of night, when all but the sentries were awake. It shouldn't have happened. Called them Walkers for their slow movement, but then some of them actually fucking ran.

Negan couldn't believe what he saw when he first laid eyes on the spectacle, but then he realized what they were – who they were. He had heard the guards talking about them, small skirmishes over the years only growing in intensity.

Whisperers. Terrifying shit. Alexandria fell before it could even make a stand. Gunshots and explosion rang throughout the late hours, and when the sun broke across the horizon – silence.

Negan supposed it was one of God's cruel jokes. Just the night before he had been on his knees begging for death, only to be spared by a fierce woman who understood that living was more painful than death to the man. She never visited him in all those years, perhaps content to let him rot. Maybe she just didn't want to remember he existed. He could never guess why she chose that day to see him, her reason after all that time. Why now?

Maggie Rhee. He saw the hatred in her eyes, and no matter how he taunted and begged she never gave him that mercy. All he wanted was to leave, but she ensured he remained. Promised him he'd never have his freedom.

It had to be a cruel joke played by God. Negan sighed as he readjusted the weight of her in his arms, struggling to keep moving as the threat of rain loomed overhead. He could sense the impending fall, feel the air grow frigid with the building of thunder and lightning. His arms were burning from the strain of carrying her for hours on end, but it was nothing new anymore.

When the war broke out in the dead of night, no one came for him. He was still reeling from the judgement of Maggie, the realization that his cell would be all he knew until his final days consuming the rest of his mind. The Savior whispered in his ear that this was his chance, perhaps his one and only, and so he listened. Amidst the screaming and wails of war, Negan banged himself bloody against the cell bars until something would break, either him or the cage that imprisoned him.

Negan found her on her knees when he broke free, her countenance no different than the one he had sported mere hours before when she visited his cell. Broken, wishing for death. Lost in the fog. Her son had been taken by the dead, half his body crawling over to eat her before he intervened.

He expected her to scream, to lash out when he dragged her away. Maggie never said a word, never lifted a finger to resist. Not then and not now. She was no more than a mindless doll in his arms, a puppet with its strings all cut. Negan put the boy out for good, quick and clean but not before making sure she couldn't see it happen. Maybe it didn't matter, that she had already seen enough of the horror, but he did it anyways. Then he took her before the dead could surround them. Miracle he was able to make it out with her in his arms, maybe another part of the joke God was playing on him. Wasn't funny, but perhaps to God it was. He killed her husband, and he put her son down for good.

Couldn't just leave the boy like that, guts dragging against the pavement as he crawled. The notion that he was the one to do it wasn't lost on the man, but he had to put him to rest. He only wished he could have buried the boy proper, but there was no time.

Negan looked to Maggie nestled in his arms, watching her as a drop of rain fell from the sky and cascaded off her cheek.

''Well would ya look at that. Angels are going to be pissing on us real soon, sweetheart. What do you say we find some place nice to keep dry?''

Nothing. Not that he expected her to say a word now. He stopped trying in earnest to get a rise out of her, to make her say something – anything. It had been half a month since, and he had accepted the way things were now. He only continued with the spiel for his own sake, so that he didn't break down from the weight of it all.

He accepted the fact that he himself couldn't help Maggie. Hell, he couldn't even help himself. All he could do was keep her physically healthy, make sure she was taken care of. In that regard he could, but he couldn't do anything about her mind. Shattered pieces he wasn't willing to try and pick up. Wasn't the man to do it. Anyone but him. He'd only cut himself on the pieces, and he knew she'd more than happily let him bleed.

Years in a cell did wonders on the man. Long and unruly hair on his head and an untamed beard too long for his liking. He didn't recognize the face that stared back, but maybe it was better that he didn't.

Negan knew Maggie was beyond broken when he smelled the shit and piss. He had been shocked when it happened, lost for words when she just let herself go when he carried her at the start to keep moving after the fall. No shame or reaction on her part, nothing at all. Like he wasn't there, like she wasn't aware.

This was a cruel joke, and he was part of it. God's punishment, he told himself. But when would it end? That was all he could wonder as the days were taken by the wind. He had seen more of Maggie Rhee and done more to keep her alive than he would have ever liked. Every contour, every scar. He didn't want to know, didn't want that knowledge with him. Better she was a stranger, but as the days passed he grew all too familiar with Maggie Rhee. The images of her lithe and naked body were seared into his mind, and he wished it wasn't. They only cemented themselves deeper and further as the days passed. Too much, wasn't right that he knew.

It was all one big joke. Had to be. Wiping her shit, washing her when he could to keep her clean, feeding her by the god damn fucking mouth like a momma bird would just so that she would swallow the meals he scavenged and hunted.

He knew Maggie, knew that stubborn pride of hers. She couldn't just go and off herself. When he first undressed her to do what had to be done, he knew she was probably hoping he'd rape her or some shit, so that she could put a bullet in his head before putting one in hers too. She was broken, withdrawn into the recess of her mind, but Negan knew she was there. Watching, listening. Waiting for him to reveal the monster that she knew he was.

Give me a reason. Negan thought he could hear her whispering that over his shoulder, but the woman in his arms never spoke. She didn't need to for him to know she could easily grab his holstered knife and slit his throat while he held her in his arms. Finish what Rick started. Open the old scar and do it right.

Negan was crossing all sorts of lines that he never wanted to cross with her, but he never crossed that one, not for her or anyone else. Didn't kill children either. Maggie Rhee didn't know that though, and he could see that hope of hers die when all he did was clean her and dress her back up in clean clothing.

Negan made sure to keep her armed too, not that she'd reach for the gun or knife unless it was to kill him. She'd do nothing if the dead approached. Nothing but drag him with her to their death. She didn't do anything at all anymore but wait for something to kill her. Something that wasn't him.

It was driving him insane how he had to do it all, but it was his obligation to her. His life belonged to her, and until he brought her to safety he'd do what was needed. He owed her that and more. So much more. But he wouldn't stay once he got her to her friends, her people. There was no place for him in these parts, not that he wanted to linger anyhow.

Survive. Whatever it takes, bring Maggie Rhee to her people. Then he'd leave. Never look back.

The rain was starting something heavy. He found a car by the roadside just in time to place Maggie in the back before he moved to the driver's seat. Grabbing some sheets from his backpack he covered the windows and made himself comfortable in the meantime.

Negan couldn't stand the silence, but thankfully the rain made up for it. For now he could rest, think a bit and wait for the rain to subside before making dinner and tending to Maggie.

It took a while, but he was able to make it work. He was able to look out for the tell-tale signs for when she needed to relieve herself and developed an ear for when she was hungry. Progress, he told himself. He could finally figure other shit out, like where her people were.

There was a few options in mind. Hilltop would have been his best guess. It was where Maggie originally came from with reinforcements when he was at war with her and her group, back when the Saviors existed. She was their leader after Gregory, that shit stain. Hilltop would have been his best guess, probably right too, but it had been overrun with the dead once the Whisperers came onto the scene.

Negan didn't know much about it, but he knew that the survivors from Hilltop all migrated to Alexandria once their home had been hit hard. That was a few years back, and he'd never heard much of Hilltop since. Kingdom, Oceanside, he hadn't heard anything about from the guards or his infrequent visitors.

Hers were the strong type, all of them. Had to be to survive this long in this hell of a world. No doubt some of them were dead from the fall of Alexandria, but he knew there'd still be the resilient left alive. He needed them to be, so that Maggie could be left in better hands. So that he could be left alone.

The roads were becoming familiar again. He was on track to return back to the old factory that housed himself and the Saviors. Sanctuary. He had his private quarters and some hidden stashes with the supplies they'd need. New clothes for Maggie and a bigger pack to carry more things, a radio hopefully and some dry rations for when the going gets rough.

He was past worrying about how it would affect Rhee. Old familiar would help to get him fully back on his feet, enough resources for the long journey. He was relying on old memories to lead the way, but he needed the map that had the communities that paid tribute. He needed to know where he could go to send Maggie on her way. Something to start with, to work with before he lost his mind.

…

Negan's eyes fluttered open, a silent yawn escaping him as he realized he had fallen asleep. He took a moment to compose himself, almost forgetting where he was. For a second he was about to call out for Lucille, half his mind thinking about coaching at the school.

Those memories were hard to recall. A little more faded with each passing day. Was he really a P.E. coach? Did he really go to college and get married? More and more he was thinking it to be a dream rather than his past.

Negan didn't want to dwell on it. Couldn't. Not with her at his side.

''You asleep back there, Maggie? Hungry darlin'?'' Negan chuckled to himself as he put on that accent she spoke with, though his was a pale imitation. Silence on her part, par for the course now, but he expected it.

Negan carefully lifted a part of the cover he had put on the windows to the car to peek outside. The rain was nothing but a light drizzle, something he'd have to put up with else they'd have to wait to eat till the next day.

No fires at night, nothing that could attract the living or the dead if he could help it. To put it bluntly, Rhee was dead weight. Carrying her like a bride in his arms for miles only increased his chances of getting bit or shot, something she was probably betting on if he had to guess.

In the beginning his arms winded up cramping from holding her weight, but just like everything else he learned to carry it all the same. Travel was slow with the backpack and Maggie, both weighing him down, but he marched on for hours each day.

He made up his mind to go to Sanctuary even though Kingdom was closer to Alexandria. He didn't quite know his way to Kingdom like he did his home grounds, and he thought it a smart choice to put distance between him and the Whisperers. They were on the warpath; most likely Kingdom would be next. Oceanside was a possibility, but it would take time to lead the Walkers there.

The Whisperers were a formidable group. Negan often wondered throughout the years how his Saviors would fare against them had he never met Rick and his group. The man was reminded of the night Alexandria fell. It was only seventeen days ago, but the memory was still fresh on his mind.

It was a storm of screaming from both the dead and the living that day. Charcoal skies not unlike the ones above his head now. Some people just stood and died from the shock of it all. Some weren't used to fighting and killing. Others maybe just tired of it all, the inevitable of the walking dead. Everything just happened too quick. He had been hoping to spot Judith or Gabriel or anyone else, but all he found was Maggie Rhee. Damned Maggie Rhee.

He wasn't meant to turn down that road. Dead were walking all over that corner of the street opposite to freedom, but something made him go that way regardless. Headfirst into the danger when he could have just made a break for the opening. Would have been easy too, so why didn't he? Why the hell didn't he just leave?

Being on the road with her reminded him of the past. It had been years since he was on the road like this. Maggie reminded him of when his Lucille was sick. He had left to find medicine for the chemo, had to stay quiet and watch for every little thing. Way back then he had to live and survive for another, he had to wade through the muck and the shit for the woman he loved.

Maggie wasn't his wife. He didn't love her. She was a woman all right – good looking too, but Negan didn't care for her like he did Lucille. So why? Why was he so determined to save her where he couldn't save his wife? Taking care of Maggie was consuming him, leaving him no choice but to ignore his own demons. He didn't want to fail this time. He was slipping from the madness, but he stubbornly endured. For her. For Maggie Rhee of all fucking people.

So many parallels to then now that he thought about it. Maggie was looking like Lucille when she was struggling to find a reason to live. Maybe that was it. Maggie reminded him so damn much of his wife when she was struggling. Only Maggie wasn't struggling. She lost her reason to live, but there was nothing he could do about that. Least of all him. Never him.

She won't die despite that, not on his watch. This time…this time he'd make it. Whatever it takes…Then he'd go. Leave. Out to the cold North, far – far away.

''You stay put sugar plum while I make us grub. Do me a favor and watch out for any strangers, alright? I'll call you when dinner's ready.'' She stayed in the same position as he had put her in. Hey eyes were open, but they stayed glossy and still.

The road was clear thankfully. He'd make a fire with the bit of dry wood in the backpack and put a tarp down against the car to shield the flames from the rain. Nothing fancy mind you, just enough fire for a few minutes of cooking time.

Didn't take long at all to set up the tarp and make a small fire. Every now and then he'd glance through the backseat windows to check on Maggie, wondering if she'd move or do something, but still not a thing from her.

Negan sighed and ran his fingers through his long hair, something he was doing more often now that he was taking care of Maggie and everything that entailed. Streaks of white coursed through his long hair, his beard longer as the days passed. He really should shave, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

Water boiled to soften dry rabbit meat. He threw in some salt and pepper packets he had found into the pot and a few old potatoes he had sliced with his knife. A makeshift stew that wouldn't take more than a couple minutes, something easy for him to work with that Maggie could accept. Well, he'd have to force it down her throat, more often than not making a mess in the process. Maybe she'd relent this time around. Maybe.

Negan stood up from the pot of poorly made stew and put out a hand to the drizzle beyond the tarp. The rain was cold to the touch, not a good sign to move out until it stopped. There wasn't a building for miles, and if they got wet they wouldn't be able to afford a good fire to dry their clothes. If Maggie got sick there was no medicine to help her, something he put a mental note on for when he scavenged.

''Food's ready, Maggie. Nothing like a hot stew for a cold day like this am I right?'' No response, nothing at all. Damn it all, but he'd still try.

''You coming out Darlin' or do I have to get you out? Don't make me ask twice now.'' Negan sighed as he pulled out two small wooden bowls and spoons. He filled them up both near to the brim before setting them aside to make room for Maggie.

''You are positively killing me Rhee. My old bones aren't happy with you.'' Negan opened the backseat door and carefully scooped up Maggie into his arms. He grimaced a bit as he shuffled her weight so he could close the door and plop down with her between his legs. Gentle to keep her back against his chest, he reached out for her bowl first – sliding it close as he took a spoonful of the stew.

''C'mon Maggie, don't make me have to bird feed you. You and I both don't want that, so what do you say you open that pretty little mouth of yours and eat my homecooked meal?'' Negan grimaced when he finished his sentence. He hadn't meant for it to come across as sexual.

Negan didn't know how long he had waited with the spoonful of stew in the air near her lips, but he knew it was long enough that the steam had faded away. ''Maggie please.'' His tone was serious this time, a pleading tone to his words that came across as desperate.

Negan clenched his jaw as he set down the spoon into the bowl and shifted to get a better angle. He looked her straight in the eyes as he held her face, tilting her chin up just a bit as he parted her lips with his fingers.

The other hand reached for the bowl, bringing it to his lips as he took a bit of the stew into his mouth. He looked her in the eyes, waiting for anything, something so he didn't have to do this. It never came, she just looked at him with those pearly green eyes of hers. The pools of her eyes were desolate, his image reflected in them clearly.

Negan met her lips with his, moving the chewed rabbit and poorly made broth into her mouth before easing it down her throat with his hand to relax her. He pulled back and repeated the process, taking a bit of stew from the bowl before bringing it to Maggie's lips. He did this until the wooden spoon scraped bare wood, nothing left for him to give.

The first time he had to do this was when a day had passed and Maggie wasn't giving in to his requests. She wasn't moving, not talking, neither was she eating or drinking. Doing this was his last resort, and first time he made the mistake of not chewing thoroughly enough and easing her into swallowing.

Cruel joke. Had to be. Maggie Rhee nearly died cause he didn't chew enough, almost died with the food from his mouth stuck down her throat. Water was easier, but just as messy. He thought maybe she'd snap out of it after the first time, get some sense into her that this wasn't going to work, but she never did.

Negan didn't have much of an appetite after feeding Maggie. Felt wrong having to feed her like that, the sensations of having to push chewed food through his mouth to hers uncomfortable at best, downright disturbing on the worst of days. He'd have to take care of her other needs soon enough as well, none of which were helping to get back his appetite.

The man laughed lowly at it all and groaned as he took his now cold bowl of stew into his hands. He had placed his too far on the edge, some of the rain no doubt watering down the stew something fierce. He'd have gone without the meal, but he needed his strength if he was going to continue carrying Maggie.

''Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't, but we're heading back to the Sanctuary. Kind of hoping you freak the fuck out so that this situation we're in changes, but nevertheless that's not why we're heading there in the first place.'' He spoke between mouthfuls of stew, holding Maggie by the waist with one arm before laying her in a more comfortable position on his chest. He tried not to think about how he used to hold Lucille like this, how Maggie's warmth brought him comfort as he had her in his lap.

''Been a good while, but I'm sure my secrets still hold up good. Got a few hidden caches and before shit hit the fan I had my quarters closed off. New clothes, fresh supplies, and a map to get a better scope of the land. I meant what I said to you.''

Negan was caressing Maggie's hair, something he used to do for Lucille when she was having her panic attacks. He wasn't really thinking as he did it, but it comforted him in a way just as it did his wife. Kept him present in the moment rather than getting lost in the fog. Staved of the demons that'd drown him when he wasn't looking.

''I'm going to get you to your peoples, Maggie. I know that's not what you want. I know you let me take you because you want me to die with you, drag me to hell, but I'm not going to let that happen. I'm not going to let you die, and I'm not dying by anyone's hand but yours.''

It seemed that finally his words had an effect on her. Negan could feel her body tense as he held her close, but it was only for a moment before she relaxed herself like nothing happened. Nonetheless it made Negan happy, but he chose against speaking on it.

Instead he reached for the red scarf wrapped around his neck, taking it off and holding it close. The scent of Lucille was long gone, but the touch of it brought him back to better days. To her. Aside from the leather jacket he wore on him now, this scarf was all he had left of her.

''Hold on to this for me, would you?'' Negan moved Maggie a little forward to gain access to her neck, carefully wrapping the red scarf snug around her before securing it. He also took off his leather jacket before putting it on her.

''I trust you'll take care of these for me. It'll do you good as the weather gets colder, keep you warm. I…I made a promise that I intend to keep, and when it's been fulfilled, I'll take them back.''