Boy, does she look shitty. Poor little thing. Should have just put her out of her misery the first time 'round. Does beg the question, don't it? Why are you doing this old man? No – wait! I know why!
Negan clutched at his head as the laughter rang out, desperately trying to hush the Savior. Years in that cell only made the monster's voice fester; grow stronger. He couldn't take the silence, so his demons kept him company. Manifested themselves into a single form.
Seven years. From a hushed whisper across the shoulder to seeing him standing in the corner of his cell. The Savior became ever present, always observing. That hushed whisper only grew louder, real as the cycles passed endlessly.
The monster was a mirror image of himself, because who else could his demon possibly be? Younger, tall and strapping with a dashing yet sinister grin to his shadowed jaw. Before the graying hairs and isolation. When he was Negan, the leader of the Saviors. The Savior.
She. Is. Not. Lucille. This isn't your redemption arc, old man. No. Not for us! Not for monsters. We got lucky with her, didn't deserve her. And Maggie? What's the angle here with the widow? She has no reason to live. We killed the pappy to her boy, and then we put the boy himself to rest. You think bringing her to her friends is going to do anything? Change any of that?!
''You don't know a goddamned thing.'' Groaned out Negan in pain. He felt a splitting headache come on to him like a knife was piercing the back of his skull. He covered his ears, but he heard the Savior all the same.
She is a beauty, even broken like this. Wait - is that what this is all about? The Savior cocked his head, that shit-eating grin never leaving his lips.Years in a cell without some pussy?
''Lucille would have wanted me to try! Okay?! You fucking bastard. Why can't you just leave me the hell alone! I…I'm trying to be what she always saw in me. I owe Maggie and them all for what I did. It'll never be enough, I know that. But I need to try.''
Lucille would have wanted us to stay! There it was. That anger, the wrath caged within. The monster. It was always us who felt the need to try, be stubborn about things. We weren't there when she needed us most, because we felt the need to try! That was on you, old man. The weak man that you are, unable to bear the anguish. So you left Lucille alone! You! And for what? She just wanted it to be over, and us by her side before she closed her eyes forever. But we weren't, were we? When she needed us most…we weren't there. We left her in that house alone, when we should have fulfilled our promise to show her the world one last time.
Negan grit his teeth and let the tears fall silently. He didn't say anything, couldn't as his vision blurred from the tears and his heart twisted from the truth. It was only after moments had passed that he could say something, but all he could let out was a shuddered breath.
All Negan could think of was Lucille's gorgeous smile, slowly fading and growing pained as the years passed. The news of the cancer made sure she never smiled like she used to, but he tried nonetheless. He should have accepted the change, but he couldn't. He didn't want to let her go.
Letting go was always his problem. Power, lust, his wrath. Never could quite put them down for good. Even when Lucille passed, he still couldn't let her go. Named a stupid baseball bat after her, and for what? All he did was tarnish her name.
Negan shook off the hand that grabbed his shoulder, scowled at the look of pity his monster gifted him.
''I hate you, Negan.'' uttered the man with pure vitriol laced into his tone. He wasn't looking at the monster before him, but down at his own hands as he uttered those words. They were stained with blood in his eyes. Dripping red with pools of it collecting at his feet. There was red everywhere. All he saw was red.
I know. I hate us as well. The Savior looked up to the night sky overhead, the sea of stars shining beautifully upon this damned world before looking back at Negan. You know she won't let you go if you help her to snap out of this. Her and everyone else won't let you just leave. You said it yourself. It'll never be enough for the things we've done to them.
The Savior fell to one knee before Negan, his tone pleading as he spoke. Stop before it's too late. You've done more than enough, but to what end? What if she never snaps out of it? You think her friends are going to be willing to do everything you're doing now for her? Care for her every need? Bathe her maybe, but wipe her shit and piss like a newborn baby? Feed her mouth to mouth because she refuses to eat or drink? Think they'll have the stomach to do any of it? All of it? They have their lives to live, and they won't always be by her side like you are now. Hell, they might just put her out of her misery instead. Then what'll this all be for? Everything you've done so far and will do before that moment in time…meaningless.
''I can't just give up now. I'm a man of my word. I'm going to get her to her people, and what happens then – happens then. The plan still stands. Sanctuary, the storage unit in Fairwood, the Colt. I'm not going back in that cell, or any cell. I know what I have to do. What must be done.''
The Savior sighed and shrugged his shoulders as he stood. You can't deny my words, old man. I only speak the truth. We should have killed them all. No hesitation. No mercy. Too much time has passed, the world has changed again and we've been left behind. The information we possessed is outdated, our maps more than likely useless. Who knows if our contacts are still alive, if the favors we earned still stand.
''I know, but it doesn't matter. What's done is done. We make our choices and endure the consequences. The rest is void.''
Fine…Fine. I won't bother with the widow anymore, but don't say I didn't warn you. When that day comes – and it will – she'll want her pound of flesh.
The Savior chuckled lowly before fading to nothingness, leaving Negan to close his eyes momentarily and sigh. When he opened his eyes Negan's gaze wandered to the sleeping form of Maggie nearby, watched as her chest subtly rose and fell with every breath of life that she took.
Negan looked to the sea of stars above, a lone teardrop falling from his eye. The weight of the world was pushing down on the man, but he tried to carry it nonetheless. One last time...and then he can rest.
''…And she'll have it.''
…
Maggie first came to on the seventh night of being on the road with Negan. He was cradling her in his arms as he lowered her head into the lake to wash her hair. That part of her that housed her instincts flared, told her to fight as a trace of fear pulsed in her veins. A small part of her feared the man was going to drown her, and she saw the moment he realized her fear. No doubt felt the pain of her nails clinging to his flesh, sinking into the arms that held her for dear life.
That primal fear of drowning was what aroused her from her lulled state of mind, bringing her to the present. It was like waking up suddenly, chest heaving and heart racing as all the senses came crashing down on her.
''It's alright, Maggie. I'm not going to hurt you. Just relax.'' His voice became her lifeline, a thread she desperately clung to. He caressed her check with the pad of his thumb, forcing her to look him in the eye and nothing else.
Maggie blinked, her racing heart slowly calming under his gaze and touch. ''You're safe. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise. It's okay…it's okay…''
Negan's voice was a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. Different from how she remembered it to be. Maggie remembered why after a moment, looked to the faint white scar at his throat. The trauma to his vocal cords only made his voice a lower timbre, rich and rugged and all too charming. Maggie felt herself getting lost in it the more he spoke, the gentler he lulled her to peace.
Unbeknownst to Negan, the man didn't realize that she was fully awake, actually aware of everything unlike the past few days. To him this was normal. He had already gotten used to it. For Maggie, she was actually registering what was going on, what he was doing for her for the first time.
Calmed and focused, Maggie saw that he was shirtless, could see his inked skin and toned muscles flexing and come alive as he bathed her in the shallow waters. She herself was naked fully in his arms, and if it weren't for her not wanting him to know she was fully conscious Maggie would have hurt him. Bad. How dare he strip her naked? How dare this man touch her like this? There was no lust in Negan's eyes, the only thing she could take comfort in as his hands raked softly against her scalp to wash away the blood and grime of the days prior.
Maggie could feel the grime falling away at his touch, how gentle he was not to pull a single strand of her growing long hair.
Negan. Why was he doing this? She looked to his face, wanting to see the monster she always saw in her nightmares, but the man who held her was stoic, the pools of his eyes darker and deeper than she'd ever thought they could be. Eyes blacker than coal, she thought. Where was the monster? Where was the pathetic excuse of a man she threw against the prison wall as he pleaded for death? To be reunited with his Lucille?
It had been years since she saw him, and the night she paid him a visit the light was dim and dull, barely enough for her to take in his new appearance. With the sun above a clouded sky, she could see him clearly now, a man she could barely recognize as the monster who took from her. Streaks of ash colored his long black hair, a look that somehow suited him. A beard unkempt and just as long, pure ash under the rays of faded light.
He was thin, something she became aware of when she first saw in in that cell, but seeing it in the light like this made her fully realize the extent. Gaunt cheeks where the bone seemed to want to pierce through, flesh tight around the bone that pointed to a man starved for too long of everything life had to offer. Of everything that had been taken away from him by her and the people he hurt. It showed in his eyes, the pain. Sorrow too, but for what? For her? For the past? Himself maybe?
Questions with answers only he could give, and she didn't know if she wanted to know them. It almost pained her to see him like this. Almost. She felt that budding touch for concern want to come to life, but she promptly smothered it with the memories of the past before it could take its first breath. This wasn't a man who deserved concern or sympathy, or anything of the like from her. No…What he deserved was her hate, but Maggie found herself unable to draw from that well of poison. She was just too tired. Exhausted from the tragedies that befell her in life.
God just kept throwing stones at everything she built, and all she could do was watch as it all came crashing down. Before she could dwell on it all, Maggie was drawn back to Negan's ministrations on her body.
Negan was meticulous in his care for her, something she'd come to better understand in the coming days. He held her afloat with one hand on her back, the other gently scraping off any dirt that clung to her skin.
Maggie's heart pounded against her chest as his hand reached lower and lower south in time, ensuring every nook and crease was free from filth. Maggie only felt more and more dirty, felt like every swipe and touch was painting her in his colors. She felt locked in her own head while watching as it happened with little resistance on her part.
She'd have gone for the jugular had she not been looking at him the entire time he cleaned her. His countenance never changed, never spared her a second thought. He was trapped still in that pain and sorrow, looking at her yet past her all the same. His heart was somewhere that wasn't here even as he wiped clean her womanhood.
Maggie's mind reeled from what was happening, shocked at Negan's actions and herself – at how her body betrayed her. Her body took comfort wherever he gave it, something she just couldn't understand. Her confusion at the whole situation – herself and him – only grew when her arms latched onto him more closely, her head moving all on its own to firmly cradle itself against his chest.
Maggie looked up to him, hoping he would be confused as well, but he didn't show anything of the sort. He still had that faraway gaze even as he looked down at her. Had she done this before? Why did she so easily cling to him, want to get closer to his warmth?
She'd have expected glee on his part, to gloat at the whole situation they were in. Negan did nothing of the sort, said nothing but assuring words when she panicked. He was too silent now, this serious and stoic man something she couldn't handle – not when she was used to the asshole who couldn't shut the hell up.
A whirlwind of questions assaulted her mind, and Maggie was never one to leave things unanswered. It was hard to think about the past. Maggie feared going down that road, but her stubbornness won out. It always did. She never could quite let things go, even when she should. Hatred, the desire for vengeance and retribution, to give up and stay down. Seven years that she never saw the man who held her now, but he plagued her mind like he never left. Imprisoned at Alexandria while she was miles away at Hilltop, yet in her head he walked free.
And so she traveled down that long and winding road.
The farm…meeting Rick and his people – Glenn…the prison…Woodbury and the Governor…death and tragedy, pain and loss. Again and again. Over and over. It never seemed to end. Why couldn't it end? Maggie traced piece by piece bitter memories and happier times until it led her from one tragic moment in time to another – until finally she reached the end of the road.
The Whisperers. They struck hard at Hilltop, the first time their forces fully engaged with one another. It was a crushing defeat, but they had gleaned from it some crucial information. Alpha and Beta, the mind and the muscle behind the enemy group. They utilized the Walkers like no other, herding them and setting them loose to wreak havoc.
The Coalition were learning from the skirmishes and their first full engagement with the enemy, but still on the backfoot. Reeling from the devastation. The survivors led by her migrated, but during that time the Kingdom was hit hard, and Oceanside had been radio silent.
Alpha, the ever-elusive leader of the Whisperers. They didn't know a thing about this person, but there had been many a night where the leaders of the Coalition spoke of beheading the head of the snake, if only they could find the person in question.
Beta was easier known, killed many good men and women. Daryl had fought him head on, but her longtime friend had only barely survived the encounter. From what he recounted, it had been a close fight, but not enough to get the job done. They both escaped equally wounded.
The Whisperers were well and truly furious then. The coalition had drawn blood, hurt the prideful snake. The Council thought they'd hit the Kingdom again, Ezekiel asking for reinforcements to which Alexandria promptly gave. Maggie had a bad feeling, something she couldn't quite put a finger on, but she raised her hand all the same. A unanimous vote.
It was a grave mistake, an oversight they wouldn't have made had Rick still been alive and Michonne still with them instead of leaving for a dead end. It costed them everything. It costed her everything.
They came in the dead of night, when all but the sentries stood guard. They brought a horde unimaginable in scale, herded them to surround the entirety of Alexandria, or at least the majority of it. And then they struck. Fast and hard with both fury and hatred. Maggie awoke to the main gates being blasted apart, the sounds of yelling and screaming soon erupted with the rain of bullets and fire.
She had scrambled to get ahead, to get her bearing straight as sleep still dulled the mind. In her haste she had forgotten her ring by the bedside table, something she'd only become aware of in the hours ahead. Adrenaline hit her in full when she saw the sea of dead, too many to count. Any one of them could be a Whisperer hiding in plain sight, waiting to strike. Their best fighters had been sent away thinking this battle would have taken place at the Kingdom. With them their firepower and ammunition. Alexandria fell before it could even stand, and it was due to the miscalculation of the council. It was on them, on her. She was responsible for this, should had argued against the decision and trusted her instinct.
Fighting with what they had would bear no miracle. They needed to escape, live to see another day and regroup at the Kingdom with the rest of their parted forces. They could do nothing but flee, but the walls that kept them safe became their cage.
They could only endure and fight, hope to break through when given the chance. It came down to luck, a survivor's worst nightmare. The surprise attack had kept them scrambled and disordered. Most of the people didn't know how to survive like her, hadn't gone through what she did. Those she pulled to her side to fight broke under the tension, the smallest of mistakes costing them their lives.
For Maggie it had been a blur, grueling hours of fear and fury intermixed that kept her on her toes and alive until the sun broke out from under the horizon. She couldn't think so much as just act. Muscle memory and instinct kept her breathing, though just barely.
But she was alone, she realized. Only she had survived the onslaught, but that realization only brought with it a deeper fear. The children. Where were the children?! Maggie mustered whatever she could and fought her way to the building in the east where the children would have been evacuated in case of an attack.
Maggie never made it to her destination. Didn't have to. She saw him in the middle of the street, a trail of blood as he snarled and crawled towards her.
Hershel Rhee, her little baby boy. It crushed her soul when she saw him like that, broke her and made her fall to her knees at the realization that he was gone from her forever.
The night before she had been so angry she unintentionally made her son cry. Hershel thought he did something wrong, not knowing her mind was on the man who took away her husband – his father. She never could stop thinking about him, never allowed herself any sort of reprieve whilst he lived.
Maggie still remembered the words her baby boy said to her before she put him to sleep for the day ahead. Don't be angry mom. Please don't be sad. I love you.
It shattered her heart to pieces to see her boy as one of the undead. A Walker. All she could think of in that moment when her son crawled to her as one of the dead was what Glenn had said to her before Negan killed him.
M-Maggie…I-I'll find you…
Those words echoed in her mind, and in that moment as her son approached closer and closer, she desperately wished them to come true. She kept pleading in her heart for him to find her, because she couldn't bear the pain any longer. Her soul cried for him to save her from it all, the world and all the cruelty she endured.
Find me…find me please…
Her wish came true, but the man who found her wasn't Glenn. When Maggie raised her head in hope as a tall shadow blocked the rising sun, her eyes met with those blacker than coal. Her savior. Strong arms wrapped themselves around her, and in the warmth of those arms Maggie closed herself off to the world. Just let herself give in to that warmth as tears fell.
You lied, she thought. It wasn't you that found me.
It was him.
Her savior was Negan.
