Another seven days had passed, and the cold was beginning to settle. It wasn't a good sign for either Maggie or Negan that winter was approaching as quick as it was.
A drop of rain fell on Maggie's cheek, the piercing cold of it nearly making her shudder. She didn't know if it was of her own mind or her body anymore that was actively curling into Negan's arms, but she found herself not caring so much in the face of the biting cold.
''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?''
Nestled in the crook of his arm, Maggie rolled her eyes as Negan chuckled softly. Already she could hear the pitter-patter of rain bouncing off the leaves of the trees besides the road Negan carried her on.
Maggie searched his face from where she was. Looking at him now as the sky continued to darken, that haunted look in Negan's gaze never diminished. It only grew with time, but he tried to keep it hidden with jokes and smiles.
Sometimes the woman thought she was going crazy. She'd wake up in the middle of the night to hear him talking and whispering in the distance, words Maggie couldn't make out except for the distinct sound of his voice. At first she thought they had company, her hand already tightly clasped around her holstered gun for the first sign of trouble.
She waited to hear another voice in the midst of the growing cold of the night, but it never came. Maggie didn't know what to think of it yet. She wasn't sure if he was just talking out loud like he usually did to bridge the silence, or if it was something more severe.
It reminded her of when she confronted him the day before Alexandria fell, of her growing doubts after he had killed a score of Whisperers. What was real and what wasn't with the man? For sure he wasn't as powerless as he made himself out to be when she threw him to the wall to see him in the light, but was he just as broken as he made her believe him to be?
Maggie saw more and more of those moments where the man was stoic and silent, serious to the point where she wondered if he was Negan at all. Other times he was like how she remembered him to be all those years ago, joking and laughing and swaggering about like his dick was the biggest and it needed to be known.
Maggie stopped herself from rolling her eyes. It'd become a bad habit before long if she did it every time Negan managed to get on her nerves with his show of theatrics.
Seven days had passed since she decided to continue with the way things were since the fall of Alexandria. In that span of time Maggie understood that Negan showed that old side of him that didn't fit his current appearance only when he was in her presence.
When he thought she was asleep that shit-eating grin of his would immediately fade, the silence he desperately attempted to fill freely breathing and alive. Sometimes she would catch glimpses of this new and unfamiliar side of himself that she knew nothing about, and most of those times were when he was caring for her physically or in the dead of night when he thought her asleep and to himself.
Maggie knew it never crossed his mind to think her watching him in those moments. When he laid her to rest he would put himself at a distance, and through barely parted lashes she would take in this new man. Each night she studied him carefully, drinking in each of his movements. From the way his eyes wandered to the moon and stars to how he would stare at his hands for long periods of time. The way he pulled up his sleeve every night and traced the ink on his right arm or held a palm to the ink on his chest.
She had never paid attention to his tattoos before, not until she saw the way he acted. They meant something to the man, enough for him to get lost in thought for hours looking at the ink across his arm in the midst of night. It confused her then when he would make sure to keep them covered and hidden, like they never existed at all.
Maggie thought back to all the times she had seen Negan, and not once did he expose his arms or chest. The man always wore long sleeved shirts, and if not for when he had to bathe her and himself, she never would have known he had tattoos.
The desire to study the ink and discover what they meant only grew, another thing added to her growing list of things she wanted – no, needed to know about the man.
It was in those moments that she knew she'd seen a side to him she was never meant to see or know about. Something more profound and deep that nearly made her feel guilty for even looking. Nearly, but not quite.
When he had to put his lips to hers, he never joked or taunted. When he cleaned her and kept her warm by putting her on his lap, he never made dirty remarks or leered at her. Yet when those moments of care came to pass he'd become the old Negan she knew.
It was a delicate game he was playing at, and it had worked in some part. Him being serious when it mattered made all the difference to Maggie, and him being playful and talkative was his flailing endeavor at bringing her out of her shell, even if it meant pissing her off as a result.
The man of her thoughts let out a small groan as he shifted her weight in his arms. Maggie nearly growled in annoyance when he did so, as he had inadvertently moved her head from the crook of his shoulder.
Just as I was feeling nice and comfortable, he moves me! This is the third time he's done it too. I know I'm not that heavy. I swear if he does it again I'm going to – to…
Maggie breathed out deeply through her nose, letting her sudden flare of annoyance go with it. The rational side of her pointed out that Negan had been carrying her for the better part of the day with few breaks in between. Hours of holding her along with carrying the weight of their supplies would take its toll on anyone, and Negan never gave himself enough time to rest.
Maggie narrowed her eyes and bit her lip with a tinge of frustration. She knew she had a bit of a temper, and she tried her best to rein it in when in the company of others who tried her patience. Despite her best attempts at control, the worst of it always desired to lash out at the man who held her.
And for good reason too. He's practically askin' for it. Baby girl, I'll show you who's your baby girl. Maggie was already imagining herself kicking Negan's ass. She had to turn her head further into Negan's chest to hide her growing smirk at the thought of him yelping in pain. Thankfully, it was a small movement that went unnoticed by the man.
Also, her cycle had just started. Though Maggie refused to believe that that was the reason why she was more irritable than usual with him.
It wasn't worse than what the man had already seen coming out of her body, but Maggie still felt mortified at how Negan discovered it. Of all the times it could have happened, it just had to have been now when her cycle came with a heavy flow.
It would have been one thing had he seen it when he was in the midst of changing her to a new pair of panties, but instead Negan had come to find out she was on her period when it soaked through the crotch of her jeans. Truly, Negan had seen everything now.
Maggie's only consolation was his initial reaction and shock. She nearly laughed at how Negan stood stupidly still, blinking his eyes like he was dreaming when he first spotted the dark red stain. It took him a while, but the man pulled himself together and tore apart one of his shirts to use as a makeshift pad for her, and every now and then he would stop to check if he had to make another one.
''Holy hell, Maggie. Is it always like this with females?'' He had a look of apprehension when he took out the makeshift pad soaked with blood, though she couldn't understand why.
It's just blood, you idiot. This is what gets to you!? Of all the things you've dealt with concerning my body, its period blood that freaks you out?
Negan chucked the thing into the woods, looking at his fingers stained with her blood with a slight grimace. ''Baby girl I hope this shit is normal. I don't want you bleeding out on me and dying after everything I've been doing to keep you alive.''
Maggie was on the cusp of throwing a silent curse his way when he spoke out. Looking at his face marred with concern, she realized why he had that look of apprehension earlier.
Oh. He's worried about me.
It was around half a month now that she had been on the road with Negan, and still Maggie couldn't wrap her head around his concern and worry for her. She didn't want to believe any of it to be genuine, that he was doing all this out of the goodness of his heart or that he was trying to atone for the past.
What was he trying to prove, really? Who was he trying to prove it to? Herself? Him? Nobody at all, maybe. Perhaps this was just the man he was. Another justification as to why she put up with the humiliation of the past few weeks.
The only way…
It had crossed her mind more than once to just get up and speak, to put an end to all this and confront the man, but Maggie decided she would see this through to the end. It wasn't the right moment yet. She needed to know more, desperate to understand this man for who he really was.
The more Maggie observed, the less she really knew. If it had been the past, she would have never thought there to be more than meets the eye to Negan. A cruel man that waited for the moment to strike, delighting in the agony of others. A monster that hid its true self when defeated and captured to gain sympathy to survive another day until it could bare its fangs once more. The old her held those notions firmly, refused to believe and understand otherwise.
The old me. Maggie wanted to laugh at herself just thinking about it. It wasn't that long ago that I was still blinded. Blinded by the truth of God. Blinded by my hatred for Negan. I was consumed with thoughts of the man and all that I'd do to him once the time came, yet I never understood just who it was that plagued my dreams and stayed my happiness.
Negan had no need to charm now. He didn't seem to find pleasure in her pain. If anything, he was trying all that he could to lessen it, to keep her alive. In his time imprisoned he never pleaded or attempted to garner sympathy. It was just him and her out here, and not once did he give her the impression that he wanted her dead. Everything he had done and was continuing to do was for her sake, his actions never allowing her to doubt that.
But why is he doing this? What's your angle, Negan?
Maggie's eyes fluttered to a close when a droplet of rain fell into her eye. Though her eyes were shut, she painted a perfect picture of Negan in her mind's eye. Ironic, really. She had forgotten the faces of her family, the image of Glenn all but faded. Even the face of her little boy was beginning to blur and smudge in her mind, and she knew it would only get harder with time to recall what he and everyone else who passed on looked like.
And yet, she never forgot the face of the man who held her now. Who killed Abraham and Glenn, broke Rick and terrorized them all. Seven years had passed, and she hadn't seen him once since his capture, yet she pictured him perfectly every day and night. His never faded, never blurred.
Maggie realized that his might never will. For all she knew when her day came and she closed her eyes for good, his face would be the last thing Maggie saw. Those eyes blacker than coal, that chiseled jaw and dark smirk that promised more.
She furrowed her brows at that last line of thought.
The hell? Where did that come from? Is it because I'm on my period? The thought of him made her shudder visibly in a pleasant way. She couldn't get him out of her mind, and her thoughts of anguish and reflection were warping into something she didn't want to understand.
Understand, or refuse to acknowledge?
Memories of the night before arose unbidden to her mind, of lips stained red from berries and the touch of skin against skin.
Thankfully, Negan mistook her violent shudder as her being cold. The man quickened his pace with a short huff of exhaustion to find shelter despite the strain he was already dealing with.
Opening her eyes slightly, Maggie looked to Negan through her long eyelashes. Droplets of rain clung to his long hair and beard, reminding her of that time when he bathed in the lake all those days ago after washing her. He looked more haggard than then, weary now from all the things he had to do to keep them safe and moving.
Maggie didn't know much of anything about him, but she set herself on the path to do so on that day at the lake. Intuition told her that her gamble would pay off in the end, and already she was beginning to see her patience rewarded.
Though he hadn't spoken much about himself, Negan's actions did so for him. Never would she have thought he could be so gentle and considerate. So giving in his endeavor to care for her. He was beyond resourceful, able to track and hunt and set traps.
The day before he had stowed her away in a ruined outpost as he left to hunt. He told her what he set out to do, leaving her with everything save for what he carried on his person. Moments after he left a thought occurred to her, one that shook her to the core.
Maggie could have taken everything and left without so much as a word. By the time he'd return to the deserted outpost it'd be too late for him to do anything about it.
Maggie thought long and hard when he departed as to why he'd do such a thing. Negan was many things, but she didn't believe the man to be a fool, trusting her not to just get up and leave with the supplies in tow.
Then again, he does believe you to be all but dead inside.
Would he really put the supplies on the line for that, though? Negan hasn't given up on the notion that I can snap out of it, so why wouldn't he think I could come to my senses when he's not around?
Regardless of why he left the supplies behind, if Maggie did take the supplies and leave, Negan would be a dead man truly. The days were only getting colder, and without the supplies in the pack it would take a miracle for him to endure and survive for long.
In the end Maggie could only assume Negan didn't care, perhaps even hoping she would finally do something that aligned with his impression of her. After all, it wasn't like he knew she was changing – had changed.
It was a stark reminder to Maggie that Negan was doing everything in his power to keep her alive and well, all the while believing in his mind that at any moment she might just leave when he was asleep or kill him when he wasn't looking. Not once did he try and change her perspective of him.
Maybe he doesn't try and change it because he agrees that he's a monster. Maybe he doesn't care to try and sway my perception of him because he thinks I can't be swayed.
Maggie couldn't find fault with that last part. If it hadn't been for any of this – all of this – she would have still been blinded by her anger and pain. She would have refused to believe he could be anything other than cruel and evil.
In the end who am I to Negan? Who the hell is he to me?
The more she discovered the less she knew. Thinking about it now, Maggie didn't want the man to still see her in that light. Oddly enough, part of her wished it was trust that Negan was giving rather than just not caring if she left him to die or not.
The more she thought about it the more it bubbled up inside her, refusing to let go. Why does it matter so much what he thinks of me? What the hell is wrong with me?!
Maggie shoved away that train of thought for another time. As of right now there was nothing she could do to change what he thought of her, and she wrestled with herself as to why she wanted it to change at all.
Instead she thought back to Negan, his skills and abilities shown through his actions. He had returned with killed rabbits and foraged berries. The skills of a hunter, though she hadn't seen it personally that particular day, were displayed in full.
With mixed emotions Maggie thought back to the memory of that day. By nightfall the berries were all but gone, eaten away after their meal of roasted rabbit. What remained of the hunt was smoked and dried for the harsh days ahead.
The fire had died down considerably, not much but embers that gave the area a dull glow and a faint warmth to the cold wind of the night. Negan had turned to her after tending to the fire and smiled when his roaming eyes stopped short at her lips.
''So that's what you would look like with lipstick. Red looks good on you Maggie. Better than good, really. The color suits you perfectly.'' Negan smiled and raised a brow at the expected response of silence. ''What, don't believe me?''
Negan shuffled forward with a huff of false exasperation and drew her to his lap, unsheathing her knife in the process. Maggie had honed it to a mirror-like polish. Sharpening her knife whenever it dulled had always been a pastime for her whenever she was bored or to simply pass the time, and Negan – with one arm around her waist to hold her steady on his lap – angled the blade to catch her reflection.
Maggie's lips were slightly plump from the kissing between her and Negan when he had to feed her the berries and meat, and the stain of the crimson juice on her lips only highlighted it. She was entranced by the sight, unable to take her eyes away as her heart began to thrum with excitement the longer she looked.
Negan held the angle for a bit longer before moving it upwards to catch the gleam of her eyes illuminated by the dying fire. The emotions held within would have scared her had Maggie been thinking straight at that moment.
''I can't tell which is more beautiful, Mama,'' whispered Negan softly into her ear. ''Those lips of yours or these emerald jewels.'' There reverence in his voice made Maggie's breath hitch and her heart flutter. His mouth was at the nape of her neck then after he spoke, and it was the sight of his eyes partially reflected in the blade that drew her gaze now rather than her own.
His eyes were tender and worshipping, lost in her image in the blade he held. Maggie felt the hot breath of his mouth lap at her skin when he laughed lowly, and it sent a pulse of heat from the nape of her neck straight down to the center of her core.
The peaks of her breasts stiffened as the hand that held her flush against his chest began to move in mindless circles across her stomach. The tips of his stroking fingers would sometimes brush lower past unintentionally, catching the top of her mons but never to where her body was desperately throbbing and slick.
''Beautiful,'' he murmured. Negan dropped the knife and rested the crown of his head against her shoulder. ''Fierce and strong. You'll make it, Maggie. I know you will. The world can't hold you down. Nothing can, not even me.'' he stated softly.
His words made her throat pang in a nearly painful way. Maggie swallowed hard. His words and touch, the way his eyes held her own on the polish of the blade, it made her throat feel thick, like her heart was swelling and migrating up in her chest.
She didn't know what to think of it, not that she could think much of anything in the moment. The way he touched her birthed this growing need within her body that yearned, but his words lit a pulse of life in her cold heart that died not that long ago.
In the end he held her a little while longer before laying her on a bedroll and draping a winter blanket over her body.
Don't go…
The warmth of his skin and the feeling of safety when held in his arms, the blanket was a pale replacement to that of him. It was a multitude of things that made her want him to stay, the ebb and flow of her sex a definitive voice, but also because she didn't want the moment to end. To see what she had seen nights before when Negan was left to himself, when he let the silence breathe and come alive.
Negan sat close beside the fire, and she watched him through barely parted lashes.
The smile and softness in his eyes faded into nothingness, and Maggie felt an ache in her heart that hadn't occurred the nights before when she did watch him. Looking at him then when the fire finally died and darkness painted his face, she could only close her eyes and stifle the sob that nearly left her.
The ache in her chest was faint and didn't last long, but the knowledge that it had happened never left her.
She had no choice but to chalk up that night to her tangled hormones, the dried evidence of her body's desire thankfully gone as blood washed over. She'd rather Negan find out she was on her period than that her body had been in heat from the night before.
Maggie was changing – had changed. Faces were getting hard to recall, names forgotten in the wind. The hatred and bitterness that strung her up and kept her always on guard was slipping away despite her best efforts to hold on to them.
Seeing his face didn't bring out those same emotions anymore. More often than not she just let it go, let those feelings slip away because it was more exhausting to hold on to them than anything else.
She had changed, and if she could change, then maybe so could Negan.
Negan…
The man could lead, control and brainwash others into worshipping him. Maggie knew him to be resourceful in that area, to charm and influence. But what else? She never cared to look further until now, and she wondered. He wasn't always the leader of the Saviors. He was someone else before the apocalypse, a different man entirely.
Who was Negan? Where did he come from? For a man who could be so gentle and caring for her, how could he be so cruel and monstrous? Did he turn into that man who haunted her all those years ago, or was he always like that? Was he changing then, trying to be better? And if so, why? For who? Was he trying to be a better man for her?
The softness in his eyes bleeding out when he thought himself alone popped up in her head, and with it another ache in her chest that faded just as quickly as it came.
Who is the man named Negan?
From those questions to even what in the hell his last name was, Maggie yearned to know now. From then when she first met him on that terrible night to now, Negan consumed her still – but her need and desire to kill him had changed, twisting into something else entirely. To what she still didn't know, but Maggie was aware that something within her was changing regarding the man.
It would have scared her had she not been so stubborn to challenge whatever it was head on. All her life she never shied away from the unknown. Where others would have given in and backed off, Maggie moved forward.
It was why she still moved forward even now. Her path was lost, gone in the wind after the death of her son. Others that stumbled and fell would have stayed down now that the path forward was unknown, but she picked herself back up and kept going. One step at a time, one foot ahead of the other. For better or worse, she'd walk the darkness until her path was made known to her. And if it never did, then so be it then. Such is life.
Her thoughts turned to Negan's path, but in a literal sense. To be so stubbornly determined, he had to have had a place in mind. A destination he desperately wanted to reach. When he wasn't looking she searched around their surroundings, taking in the roads they walked hoping for a sign of anything familiar. A landmark or a sign, but nothing of that nature had appeared. Just the same road they walked on since the start with nothing but dense trees to either side.
That same night they shared rabbit meat and berries her curiosity got the better of her. Maggie waited until the dead of night to make sure Negan was deep asleep to get up and move around. She drew a sharp breath when she put down her weight on her feet. The moment she did a wave of pins and needles washed over her. She nearly cursed when her weight gave way and her knees folded.
The grass beneath her boots softened the fall and the sound, but she didn't move for some time in fear that Negan had been roused. Minutes passed by and Maggie blew a huff when she detected no movement from the man.
It took a few minutes to get her weight under her again, a tentative step forward before making another. It brought back a sense of normalcy to be back on her feet, but a restlessness settled in her gut at the same time.
She wasn't really thinking when she did it, led on by that restlessness that settled in, but before Maggie knew it she was hovering over Negan's sleeping form. He was slightly shivering, the breath he let out slightly visible in the cool air.
Leaning a bit forward to get a closer look, she saw that his hands were balled up tightly into fists, his brows furrowed with a slight sheen of sweat on the crown of his head. If she listened close enough, Maggie could faintly hear a whimper coming from the man.
A bad dream. She frowned. What could Negan possibly be dreaming about?
Maggie didn't know how long she stood there watching him. She had meant to find out where he was taking her and readjust herself to moving on her own two feet, but she couldn't pull away.
Have I really changed? Am I changing?
She needed to know, to better understand. Just as she needed answers to the man before her, she needed answers to herself. Maggie straightened and took half a step back as she tentatively unholstered the revolver at her waist, drawing the gun to where she knew Negan's heart would be.
I need to know…
The handle was cold to the touch, and that ache in her chest flared the moment she cocked back the hammer.
I need to know…
Maggie ignored it, searched for that old well of poison she knew was still there somewhere. It would never fade, never die. The only question was whether she could find the strength to pull from that well, drink from it that familiar poison of hatred and wrath that had consumed her for years to have this man dead.
I need to know…
Maggie found the well just as she always did, but this time was different from the days past where she couldn't draw the strength needed. The gun was in her hands. Negan was defenseless, unaware.
It should have been easy, so why?
Why is my hand trembling? Is it the cold?
The woman bit her lip and drew blood. She focused on the pain to steel her resolve, her finger curling around the trigger.
It was right there! Just a little more and he'd be dead. If he died, the changing could stop. Maybe with his death she could go back before it was too late.
Go back to what? What's there to go back to?!
The poison was in her hand, but before she could lower her head to drink from it the poison fell through the gaps between her fingers. Only the coolness of it remained, a bitter memory.
I had to know for sure.
It wasn't there, not the way she needed it to be to pull the trigger. Lowering the revolver, Maggie shook her head as the word mercy surfaced in her mind. It wasn't mercy that made her spare his life. It wasn't then, and not now.
But things have changed since then. I really have changed. I am changing…
Maggie carefully rested the hammer back in place and put away her gun. She tried not to think about whether or not killing him then and there was the right choice. Part of her reasoned she should have for all the people he harmed, the people he killed. Glenn, Abraham, and who knows who else before them.
But everyone else gave way to Rick's decision. Negan had broken him; she saw that firsthand. Maggie hated how changed Rick was by Negan, but then he gathered everyone and waged war with the Saviors. In the end they won, and Rick spared Negan's life.
In time everyone accepted it. Everyone but her. Rick and the rest loved Glenn just as much as she did, but they accepted the decision made. In the end Negan had saved her, prevented her from being eaten by her own son.
It wasn't something she wanted to dwell on, but the man had saved her. As ironic as it sounded, he was her savior. Cared for her in every way possible. Not once had he harmed her, taken from her where she had once expected him to.
It was an unbelievable thought, but he was a gentleman where it mattered. He really did try, and Maggie couldn't fathom why. She had her guesses, but the man never made it known why he went to the extent that he did.
Eventually Maggie couldn't stand anymore. Her feet were sore from standing still in the same place for who knows how long just watching him and mulling over whether to shoot him once and for all.
In the end she didn't get a chance to find out where they were. It was a bad idea anyhow, seeing as Negan could have been roused from his sleep had she been away from the area only to find her gone.
Better to go back to sleep.
Maggie made to move away, but she glanced down at Negan instead. The ache in her chest lessened when she put the gun away, but it was still there. Her heart was aching at seeing the man so…vulnerable, and Maggie didn't know what to think of it. Of any of it.
So she decided not to. Not when she gently kneeled at his side and rested her small hand over his big and scarred one, stroking his knuckles until his curled fists let themselves ease. Not when she swiped away the sheen of sweat with the cuff of her sleeve. And not when her eyes darted to his lips, slightly stained red from the juice of the berries.
She didn't think when she moved her hands to the side of his head, her head of hair a curtain that drowned out the moon and stars overhead, leaving only him and her to a world of their own.
Maggie wasn't thinking at all, just blindly giving way to her aching heart as her lips faintly brushed against his. It was the slightest of things. Nowhere near a kiss, but fully on the verge of the precipice.
The memory of last night lingered to the new day. It was beginning to rain now, and Negan had rushed to get them inside a car he had spotted by the roadside.
It didn't take the man long to fall asleep, and though Maggie tried to keep her eyes open a while longer, her thoughts of last night and everything else had exhausted her mentally. She fell asleep moments after to the sounds of falling rain.
…
''You asleep back there, Maggie? Hungry darlin'?''
I was until you woke me up with your stupid voice.
She opened her eyes just as Negan let out a chuckle. Such a small thing, but the accent he put on along with his laugh really tested her mood.
What the hell was I thinking last night? I should have shot him.
She was joking of course, but if Negan mocked her accent one more time…Maybe she'd just shoot him in the ass for being one.
Maggie watched as he peeked through the sheets he had put up on the windows. Negan might be an ass at times, but at least he wouldn't get them killed from making amateur mistakes.
Her reverie was broken when Negan pushed open the door to the driver's side and got out. She hadn't heard much of what he said before exiting, but she thought she heard something about food.
Watching him straighten out and stretch with a yawn, Maggie's gaze was drawn to his clothing. He was wearing his signature leather jacket and scarf. She didn't know where he had gotten them, but it weighed on her mind to know he had them stored away this whole time until now.
It was within reason to wear the clothing now that Winter was settling in, but like so much of what was happening Maggie didn't know what to think of it. It felt like a slap in the face after what she had done last night, though she disregarded the action by chalking it up to hormones and not thinking straight.
Still, it had happened, and to see him dressed as he was all those years ago made her begin to doubt everything.
Maggie shook her head and let out a sigh. You're thinkin' too much all because of a stupid leather jacket and a red scarf. It doesn't matter whether he has them on or off. His face is still the same. Those eyes haven't changed. What matters is on the inside. Everything else can remain the same, but has his heart changed?
''Food's ready, Maggie. Nothing like a hot stew for a cold day like this am I right?''
Maggie swallowed her saliva and licked her lips at the thought of stew. The texture was easier on the tongue, something her body had adapted to but her mind hadn't when she became fully consciouses.
At least I'm not suffering alone. Negan had shoved himself away to throw up the first time he had to do it. Thankfully he washed his mouth before he made a second attempt at feeding me.
''You coming out Darlin' or do I have to get you out? Don't make me ask twice now.''
Maggie narrowed her eyes. He's pushin' it now. Just you wait, Negan. You're going to be real sorry later on. I'll show you just how much of a darlin' I can be.
The sinister thoughts she conjured would have made Negan flee without hesitation had he been able to see them, but if Maggie had her way, he'd be able to know them first hand sooner rather than later.
''You are positively killing me Rhee. My old bones aren't happy with you.''
Good. I hope they break, she snarled in her mind. And don't call me that!
She didn't want to be reminded of the past. Maggie had been a slave to it for seven years, and all she wanted now was to let go. She needed to let go.
Don't call me Rhee. I'm not that woman anymore. Not Rhee. Not Greene. It was more so a reminder to herself.
I'm just Maggie.
Maggie quickly relaxed her expression into a passive one as she realized he was opening the backseat door to get her. She watched him grimace slightly while shuffling her weight so he could close the door and plop her down between his legs.
Here comes the fun part, she thought sarcastically as Negan reached out to take a spoonful of the stew from one of the two wooden bowls. She knew what he was going to say, what would come inevitably just as everything else the man would do to keep her alive and safe.
''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?''
Before she could bristle at his words, she felt him tense. The momentary silence that ensued was all she needed to know that he hadn't meant it that way. Not that he hadn't made pushed the envelope like last night, but he never made inappropriate remarks when he was going through the process of caring for her like now.
It was a line he hadn't crossed, and though it didn't seem all that meaningful compared to everything else, it meant a lot to her. It would be a shameful thing for anyone to experience, and Negan displayed his respect by not demeaning her when he had to feed her and clean her.
His apology wasn't explicit, but rather subtle in the way he squeezed her thigh for a second before holding the spoon of broth and softened rabbit meat to her lips.
''Maggie please.'' She was pulled away from her thought by his voice. Maggie didn't like it at all that it tugged on her heartstrings when she could hear the pleading to his tone. It didn't mean she would budge, but she wished he would just accept that it wasn't going to happen.
As if her thoughts were made known, Negan shifted himself at an angle and held her chin. The look of his eyes told her he had given in for now, replacing that ache in her heart with a faint sense of anticipation and apprehension.
Maggie kept still and lifeless, but if only Negan could hear her heart as he parted her lips with his thumb. The sound was deafening if not for the gentle fall of rain that surrounded them.
With bated breath she watched as he put a spoonful of the stew into his own mouth. Negan worked through the meat at a slow and steady pace, another of his tactics to give her the chance. A chance for her to still take matters into her own hands.
It might have worked in the beginning had she been aware then and things between them hadn't developed as far as they did, but now there was only determination on her part to see her decision to its end. The choices of the night before only further cemented that.
The night before…
Maggie fought the urge to lick her lips as she remembered the tart taste of the red berries and the dull heat of desire that pooled within her only hours ago.
Whatever breath she still had in her lungs was stolen the moment his lips met hers. Maggie knew Negan hadn't meant for it to be anything other than care, but care was the furthest thing from her mind as his other hand wrapped itself around her throat.
She swallowed at the gentle massaging of his thumb at the notch of her throat, the warmth of the ill-seasoned broth and broken-down rabbit meat passing down with ease.
Maggie felt the dribble of saliva interlaced with the liquid of the stew escaping from the edge of her slightly parted lips. Negan's mouth was still inches from hers, and though she couldn't see it she felt the hot slickness of his tongue trace over the trail of dribble, catching it before it could fall further.
The apex of her thighs throbbed at the all too intimate act. Her mind quickly clouded in a fog of lust, deepening as he repeated the process of feeding her. Again and again he would part her lips to meet them with his. Again would he brush his fingers across her throat, pressing gently at the notch to have her accept the meal in his mouth.
Too lost in that fog of lust, Maggie didn't notice that Negan had already turned to feeding himself as he kept her still on his lap. She was panting, reeling from the overwhelming sensations of Negan's care.
I don't know how much more of that I can take if it's going to be like that every time. I don't even remember when Negan stopped.
''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.''
What?! Maggie almost asked out loud had she not been winded. Negan's words were akin to cold water dousing out the fire that still clung to her.
Why the hell are we headed there? There's nothing there for us!
Us. When did she start grouping herself with him? That thought was quickly pushed aside by a growing doubt and fear.
Negan isn't that man anymore. He can't be, right?
Everything seemed to be taking on a darker shade. Everything that he had done that she believed was genuine was twisting in consequence of his words, and she couldn't help but think, Was everything a lie?
Maggie couldn't help but take comfort in the man that held her in his lap, his arm firmly wrapped across her waist. Though he did 'freak her the fuck out' with his words, Negan became a steady presence that gave Maggie a sense of warmth and security, and she used it greedily to drive away those doubts and fears.
You're not being rational. She took a deep breath to slow her racing heart before letting out a silent sigh. I'm going to die from a heart attack if I keep going from one extreme to another.
Maggie leaned further into Negan's chest slowly so as to not catch his attention. Fear was replaced with bristling anger now that she felt the uncomfortableness of her slickness clinging to her thighs.
Insufferable bastard. I really should put a bullet in his ass for stressing me out while I'm on my period.
''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.''
What? Maggie was feeling like a broken record playing the same tune. Sanctuary had been cleaned out last she remembered. Every faction that took part in the Coalition scoured the place and took what remained as spoils of victory. If what Negan said was true, then he kept his secrets well.
She wondered why he even felt the need to hide away supplies. Maggie didn't think Negan was the type of man to even consider the prospect of defeat, but then again she was beginning to learn that he was more than meets the eye.
Maggie felt a tad embarrassed at her loss of composure. Had she just waited a bit longer Negan would have clarified.
But he took so long to say it. He really was wanting me to freak out, and I did. Thankfully I didn't show it.
The additional supplies would be a welcome boon if they were indeed truly there. Winter was here to stay for a long while, and they would need all the supplies they could get their hands on to survive.
Just as she thought that, Negan began to caress her mane of untamed hair. Maggie fought back a moan as his fingers dug through the wild curls to massage her scalp.
''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.''
Maggie tensed as her mind suddenly went blank. What to think or feel, she didn't know as his words struck a chord with her heart. All this time she questioned as to why he was doing any of this for her. Leaving her with the supplies when he left to hunt, caring for her at his expense, tending to her with a gentleness she couldn't believe was real.
She couldn't help but doubt the man every step of the way, but now she finally heard the reason as to why. It was genuine. All of it was, and though a part of herself really wanted to resist and doubt, Maggie couldn't help but latch on to his words and actions. She wanted to believe, and at this point she needed to. For her sake and his, she needed to.
Negan's words reminded her of an earlier worry, one she pushed aside just as she did so many other things when it came to the man.
Maggie wondered whether she should care at all that his perception of her remained the same, but now she knew the answer. It hurt something awful to know his true thoughts, that he really didn't care to die if it meant it was by her doing.
If it were only that, then maybe the pain wouldn't be so bad.
He really thinks I'm out to get him, she thought. Maggie certainly couldn't blame him for thinking that. For seven years that was the plan, and only a few days ago had it changed.
Changed to what, exactly?
Maggie still didn't know, but she knew with certainty that his death wasn't included. Not by her, or by anyone.
So many things have changed. So much changing before my eyes and without me seeing. Maybe I should be afraid and turn back before it's too late.
Maybe she should have, but Maggie was born stubborn. It was with that acceptance that she slowly relaxed into Negan's embrace, lulled into a gentle ease by his gentle caress and the calming sounds of rain.
I don't want him to die. Not anymore…
Maggie thought back to the first thing he said, getting her back to her people. The thought of reuniting with her friends and loved ones hadn't crossed her mind once, and though Maggie felt some guilt at not thinking of it sooner, she also found herself reluctant.
Part of her didn't want to know who survived and who didn't. Part of her didn't want to go back, to have those closest to her ask and have her be reminded of what she lost. Maggie was more than content to be here alone with Negan in their own little world away from it all.
To just be Maggie.
Just Maggie. With Negan.
So lost in her thoughts, Maggie hadn't noticed Negan had shifted slightly away from her to take off his scarf and jacket.
''Hold on to this for me, would you?'' The rough baritone of his voice instantly drew her out of her head, leaving Maggie confused until she saw a glimpse of red cloth through the corner of her eye move to coil around her neck.
Maggie without thinking buried her cold nose into the pervading warmth and softness of the scarf, breathing in nothing but the scent of the man who held her. It was a heady thing, Negan's scent. A musk of leather and rain. It washed over in waves, drowsing her further into comfort and that scarce feeling of safety.
She couldn't get enough of it, and Maggie felt as if she had gained something she didn't know was missing. The leather jacket was just the final nail in the coffin for her as Negan put 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.''
Wetness prickled at the corner of her eyes, and for the first time in what seemed an eternity Maggie felt well and truly relaxed. There was no doubt, no second thoughts. It was real. This was real.
Insufferable bastard really is playing with my heart, she thought softly.
Maggie went from lust to fear and then to anger, and then to feeling something she didn't dare to name despite the traitorous voice in her head saying it all the same.
She felt…loved.
A mirage of memories past.
''Sorry Ford, but it was me or you. I wish I could say it didn't have to be this way, but you knew just as I did what kind of man you are – what kind of man I once was.''
Negan combed a hand through his slicked back hair, a heavy sigh escaping him as he went down on one knee.
''You know,'' he started as he took out a cigarette, ''maybe this was always how it was going to be for men like you and me. Sins of the past and all that shit. You were just as terrible as I was, Ford. I only hope you had a semblance of peace before the end. I did once, but I was underserving. Losing it is a price to pay all in its own. One that haunts me still.''
He patted Lucille as he said that. Negan looked to third grave, the one next to that of the second man he killed. He smiled wryly and gestured his head to the last grave, a bit of mirth in his eyes.
''That one there is Maggie, right?'' Negan lit the cigarette held between his fingers and inhaled. ''Rick told me she was dead,'' he exhaled. ''What do you think Ford, am I really so gullible?''
Negan shrugged his shoulders and chuckled darkly as he moved to get up. ''I thought not. I should hunt her down, but I won't. I have this feeling. A reckoning is on the horizon, and with it my fate. It might be her. It might be Rick. It might be any of them – all of them. Could be Simon or any other that wants to take my place.''
Negan put a hand over his heart and lowered his head with his eyes closed. He paid his respect for the fallen. For both men. Silence bloomed for a moment, and then he spoke once more.
''I'll see you in hell, Soldier. Go on. Don't wait up on me.'' He put his hand on the tombstone for a moment's time before departing, a trail of smoke left in his wake as he flicked the butt of the cigarette off to the wayside.
Negan whistled a haunted tune and sang under his breath as the sun began to set. ''I'll stay with you, by your side. I will hold you, and protect you. So let love warm you…till the moonlight takes you. I'll stay…with you…by your side…so close your eyes…''
He stopped in the middle of the empty road and closed his eyes just as a teardrop escaped him. As it cascaded off his cheek, the man opened his eyes. They were deep and rich with self-deprecation and sorrow. Among it, a grip of boundless wrath and madness bleeding through the veil of sanity.
Negan was that man again once more, if only for a mere moment. The winds seem to howl despite the leaves of Alexandria's trees standing still. Blood not his own fell through the gaps between his fingers. Hands of a woman he forsook wrapping him in her embrace, whispering sweet poison to nurture that wrath and madness within. Ink of his blackest sins etched unto his flesh by her hand, never to be forgotten.
Where Negan stood, the light could not reach. It wasn't real, but it was once. A long time ago. The man had the ink and scars to prove it. He foolishly believed they would fade, but the ink and wounds remained vivid like the days they were carved into his skin. He had hoped the past would remain dead and buried, forgotten in this new world, but then there stood the grave he left in the distance. Ford was dead, but he broke that hope.
Who else from his past still lived on in this new world? Does she still live?
Negan shook his head wearily as he ran a finger across the ink etched unto his forearm. It was cold beneath his touch, but it made the scar across his heart burn. If Ford had survived the outbreak, then he didn't doubt she had as well. That woman only lost because she desired it, because she wanted him to win.
Memories unbidden flashed before his eyes. In your eyes blacker than the darkest of nights I see a kindred soul, Negan. I will make you strong and powerful. I will worship and hone the blade that you are in throes of lust and rage. My conqueror. My beloved. The moon and stars are yours to take. Embrace what you are.
Whispered words of poison that linger beyond the passage of time. A beckoning call that echoed over his shoulder and into his ear for him to return to that man once more. If not for Lucille…
It was with that lingering thought that Negan let go of his right arm, letting it fall to his side. ''Whatever may come,'' he whispered, ''I shall thoroughly savor it. Whether I live or die, nothing will remain. I learned that truth the moment she died, and with her my heart.''
Walking away, Negan twirled Lucille in hand before resting her over his shoulder. It took him a moment, but the grin was firmly held in place, the swagger to his walk like it never left. He was the Savior once more.
The man of before faded to obscurity. It was nothing but a mirage.
A mirage of memories past.
And in the ruins of paradise where the corpses of dreams lie rotting, what could be more fitting than a mirage?
